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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/4345-h.zip b/4345-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5abec4d --- /dev/null +++ b/4345-h.zip diff --git a/4345-h/4345-h.htm b/4345-h/4345-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14bb4dd --- /dev/null +++ b/4345-h/4345-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,35499 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Sparrows, by Horace W. C. Newte +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sparrows, by Horace W. C. Newte + +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: Sparrows + The Story of an Unprotected Girl + +Author: Horace W. C. Newte + +Posting Date: August 1, 2009 [EBook #4345] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 22, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPARROWS *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +SPARROWS +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE STORY OF AN UNPROTECTED GIRL +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Horace W. C. Newte +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">ONE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE DEVITTS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWO </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">MAVIS KEEVES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THREE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">FRIENDS IN NEED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">FOUR </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">MAVIS LEAVES HER NEST</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">FIVE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">BARREN WAYS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">SIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">"DAWES"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">SEVEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">WIDER HORIZONS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">EIGHT </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">SPIDER AND FLY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">NINE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">AWING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">"POULTER'S"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">ELEVEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">MAVIS'S PRAYER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWELVE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">MRS HAMILTON'S</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTEEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">MAVIS GOES OUT TO SUPPER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">FOURTEEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">THE SEQUEL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">FIFTEEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">A GOOD SAMARITAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">SIXTEEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">SURRENDER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">SEVENTEEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">SPRINGTIME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">EIGHTEEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">CHARLIE PERIGAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">NINETEEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">THE MOON GODDESS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE WAY OF ALL FLESH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-ONE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">THE AWAKENING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-TWO </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">O LOVE, FOR DELIGHTS!</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-THREE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">THE CURSE OF EVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-FOUR </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">SNARES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-FIVE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">A NEW ACQUAINTANCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-SIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">TRAVAIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-SEVEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">THE NURSING HOME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-EIGHT </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">MISS 'PETT'S APOTHEOSIS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">TWENTY-NINE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">THE ORDEAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">THE "PERMANENT"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-ONE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">PIMLICO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-TWO </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">MISS TOOMBS REVEALS HERSELF</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-THREE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">AN OLD FRIEND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-FOUR </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">MAVIS GOES TO MELKBRIDGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-FIVE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-SIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap36">A VISIT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-SEVEN </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap37">MAVIS AND HAROLD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-EIGHT </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap38">MAVIS'S REVENGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">THIRTY-NINE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap39">A SURPRISE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">FORTY </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap40">A MIDNIGHT WALK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">FORTY-ONE </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap41">TRIBULATION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">FORTY-TWO </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap42">THE WELL-BELOVED</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ONE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEVITTS +</H3> + +<P> +Everyone at Melkbridge knew the Devitts: they lived in the new, +pretentious-looking house, standing on the right, a few minutes after +one left the town by the Bathminster road. It was a blustering, +stare-one-in-the-face kind of house, which defied one to question the +financial stability of its occupants. The Devitts were like their home +in being new, ostentatious folk; their prosperity did not extend +further back than the father of Montague, the present head of the +family. +</P> + +<P> +Montague Devitt did little beyond attending board meetings of the +varied industries which his father's energy had called into being. He +was a bluff, well-set-up man, who had married twice; both of his wives +had brought him money. Each time Montague chose a mate, he had made +some effort to follow the leanings of his heart; but money not lying in +the same direction as love, an overmastering instinct of his blood had +prevailed against his sentimental inclinations; in each case it had +insisted on his marrying, in one instance an interest in iron works, in +another, a third share of a Portland cement business. +</P> + +<P> +His first wife had borne him two sons and a daughter; his second was +childless. +</P> + +<P> +Montague was a member of two or three Bohemian clubs in London, to +which, as time went on, he became increasingly attached. At these, he +passed as a good fellow, chiefly from a propensity to stand drinks to +any and everyone upon any pretence; he was also renowned amongst his +boon companions for his rendering of "The Village Blacksmith" in dumb +show, a performance greeted by his thirsty audience with thunders of +applause. +</P> + +<P> +Harold, his first born, will be considered later. +</P> + +<P> +Lowther, his second son, can be dismissed in a few words. He was a +good-looking specimen of the British bounder. His ideas of life were +obtained from the "Winning Post," and the morality (or want of it) +suggested by musical comedy productions at the Gaiety Theatre. He +thought coarsely of women. While spending money freely in the society +of ladies he met at the Empire promenade, or in the Cafe d' l'Europe, +he practised mean economics in private. +</P> + +<P> +Victoria, Montague's daughter, was a bit of a puzzle to friends and +relations alike, all of whom commenced by liking her, a sentiment +which, sooner or later, gave place to a feeling of dissatisfaction. She +was a disappointment to her father, although he would never admit it to +himself; indeed, if he had tried to explain this displeasure, he would +have been hard put to it to give a straightforward cause for a +distressing effect. On first acquaintance, it would seem as if she were +as desirable a daughter as heart of father could want. She was tall, +good-looking, well educated; she had abundance of tact, +accomplishments, and refinement; she had never given her parents a +moment of anxiety. What, then, was wrong with her from her father's +point of view? He was well into middle age; increasing years made him +yearn for the love of which his life had been starved; this craving +would have been appeased by love for his daughter, but the truth was +that he was repelled by the girl's perfection. She had never been known +to lose her temper; not once had she shown the least preference for any +of the eligible young men of her acquaintance; although always +becomingly dressed, she was never guilty of any feminine foibles, which +would have endeared her to her father. To him, such correctness +savoured of inhumanity; much of the same feeling affected the girl's +other relatives and friends, to the ultimate detriment of their esteem. +</P> + +<P> +Hilda, Montague's second wife, was the type of woman that successful +industrialism turns out by the gross. Sincere, well-meaning, narrow, +homely, expensively but indifferently educated, her opinion on any +given subject could be predicted; her childlessness accentuated her +want of mental breadth. She read the novels of Mrs Humphry Ward; she +was vexed if she ever missed an Academy; if she wanted a change, she +frequented fashionable watering-places. She was much exercised by the +existence of the "social evil"; she belonged to and, for her, +subscribed heavily to a society professing to alleviate, if not to +cure, this distressing ailment of the body politic. She was the +honorary secretary of a vigilance committee, whose operations extended +to the neighbouring towns of Trowton and Devizeton. The good woman was +ignorant that the starvation wages which her husband's companies paid +were directly responsible for the existence of the local evil she +deplored, and which she did her best to eradicate. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Spraggs, Hilda Devitt's elder sister, lived with the family at +Melkbridge House. She was a virgin with a taste for scribbling, which +commonly took the form of lengthy letters written to those she thought +worthy of her correspondence. She had diligently read every volume of +letters, which she could lay hands on, of persons whose performance was +at all renowned in this department of literature (foreign ones in +translations), and was by way of being an agreeable rattle, albeit of a +pinchbeck, provincial genus. Miss Spraggs was much courted by her +relations, who were genuinely proud of her local literary reputation. +Also, let it be said, that she had the disposal of capital bringing in +five hundred a year. +</P> + +<P> +Montague's eldest son, Harold, was, at once, the pride and grief of the +Devitts, although custom had familiarised them with the calamity +attaching to his life. +</P> + +<P> +He had been a comely, athletic lad, with a nature far removed from that +of the other Devitts; he had seemed to be in the nature of a reversion +to the type of gentleman, who, it was said, had imprudently married an +ancestress of Montague's first wife. Whether or not this were so, in +manner, mind, and appearance Harold was generations removed from his +parents and brother. He had been the delight of his father's eye, until +an accident had put an end to the high hopes which his father had +formed of his future. A canal ran through Melkbridge; some way from the +town this narrowed its course to run beneath a footbridge, locally +known as the "Gallows" bridge. +</P> + +<P> +It was an achievement to jump this stretch of water; Harold Devitt was +renowned amongst the youth of the neighbourhood for the performance of +this feat. He constantly repeated the effort, but did it once too +often. One July morning, he miscalculated the distance and fell, to be +picked up some while after, insensible. He had injured his spine. After +many weeks of suspense suffered by his parents, these learned that +their dearly loved boy would live, although he would be a cripple for +life. Little by little, Harold recovered strength, till he was able to +get about Melkbridge on a self-propelled tricycle; any day since the +year of the accident his kindly, distinguished face might be seen in +the streets of the town, or the lanes of the adjacent country, where he +would pull up to chat with his many friends. +</P> + +<P> +His affliction had been a terrible blow to Harold; when he had first +realised the permanent nature of his injuries, he had cursed his fate; +his impotent rage had been pitiful to behold. This travail occurred in +the first year of his affliction; later, he discovered, as so many +others have done in a like extremity, that time accustoms the mind to +anything: he was now resigned to his misfortune. His sufferings had +endowed him with a great tolerance and a vast instinct of sympathy for +all living things, qualities which are nearly always lacking in young +men of his present age, which was twenty-nine. The rest of the family +stood in some awe of Harold; realising his superiority of mind, they +feared to be judged at the bar of his opinion; also, he had some +hundreds a year left him, in his own right, by his mother: it was +unthinkable that he should ever marry. Another thing that +differentiated him from his family was that he possessed a sense of +humour. +</P> + +<P> +It may be as well to state that Harold plays a considerable part in +this story, which is chiefly concerned with a young woman, of whom the +assembled Devitts were speaking in the interval between tea and dinner +on a warm July day. Before setting this down, however, it should be +said that the chief concern of the Devitts (excepting Harold) was to +escape from the social orbit of successful industrialism, in which they +moved, to the exalted spheres of county society. +</P> + +<P> +Their efforts, so far, had only taken them to certain halfway houses on +their road. The families of consequence about Melkbridge were +old-fashioned, conservative folk, who resented the intrusion in their +midst of those they considered beneath them. +</P> + +<P> +Whenever Montague, a borough magistrate, met the buffers of the great +families upon the bench, or in the hunting field, he found them civil +enough; but their young men would have little to do with Lowther, while +its womenfolk ignored the assiduities of the Devitt females. +</P> + +<P> +The drawing-room in which the conversation took place was a large, +over-furnished room, in which a conspicuous object was a picture, most +of which, the lower part, was hidden by padlocked shutters; the portion +which showed was the full face of a beautiful girl. +</P> + +<P> +The picture was an "Etty," taken in part payment of a debt by +Montague's father, but, as it portrayed a nude woman, the old Puritan +had employed a Melkbridge carpenter to conceal that portion of the +figure which the artist had omitted to drape. Montague would have had +the shutters removed, but had been prevailed upon by his wife to allow +them to remain until Victoria was married, an event which, at present, +she had no justification for anticipating. +</P> + +<P> +The late afternoon post had brought a letter for Mrs Devitt, which gave +rise to something of a discussion. +</P> + +<P> +"Actually, here is a letter from Miss Annie Mee," said Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Your old schoolmistress!" remarked Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know she was alive," went on Mrs Devitt. "She writes from +Brandenburg College, Aynhoe Road, West Kensington Park, London, asking +me to do something for her." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course!" commented the agreeable rattle. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know?" asked Mrs Devitt, looking up from the letter she +was reading with the help of glasses. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you know that there are two kinds of letters: those you want +and those that want something?" asked Miss Spraggs, in a way that +showed she was conscious of saying a smart thing. +</P> + +<P> +"I can hardly believe human nature to be so depraved as you would make +it out to be, Eva," remarked Mrs Devitt, who disliked the fact of her +unmarried sister possessing sharper wits than her own. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! I say, is that your own?" guffawed Devitt from his place on the +hearthrug. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't it be?" asked Miss Spraggs demurely. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway," continued Mrs Devitt impatiently, "she wishes to know if I am +in want of a companion, or anything of that sort, as she has a teacher +she is unable to keep owing to her school having fallen on bad times." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she's young!" cried Lowther, who was lolling near the window. +</P> + +<P> +"'Her name is Mavis Keeves; she is the only daughter of the late +Colonel Keeves, who, I believe, before he was overtaken by misfortune, +occupied a position of some importance in the vicinity of Melkbridge,'" +read Mrs Devitt from Miss Annie Mee's letter. +</P> + +<P> +"Keeves! Keeves!" echoed her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember him?" asked his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," he replied. "He was a M.F.H. and knew everyone" (everyone +was here synonymous with the elect the Devitts were pining to meet on +equal terms). "His was Sir Henry Ockendon's place." +</P> + +<P> +The prospects of Mavis Keeves securing employment with the Devitts had, +suddenly, increased. +</P> + +<P> +"How was it he came 'down'?" asked the agreeable rattle, keenly +interested in anything having to do with the local aristocracy, past or +present. +</P> + +<P> +"The old story: speculatin' solicitors," replied Montague, who made a +point of dropping his "g's." "One week saw him reduced from money to +nixes." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt raised her eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean nothin'," corrected Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"How very distressing!" remarked Victoria in her exquisitely modulated +voice. "We should try and do something for her." +</P> + +<P> +"We will," said her father. +</P> + +<P> +"We certainly owe a duty to those who were once our neighbours," +assented Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember her?" asked Mrs Devitt of her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I do, now I come to think of it," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"What was she like?" +</P> + +<P> +He paused for a moment or two before replying. +</P> + +<P> +"She'd reddy sort of hair and queer eyes. She was a fine little girl, +but a fearful tomboy," said Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty, then!" exclaimed Mrs Devitt, as she glanced apprehensively at +her step-daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"She was then. It was her hair that did it," answered her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"H'm!" came from his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"The pretty child of to-day is the plain girl of to-morrow" commented +Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"What was her real disposition?" asked Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"I know nothin' about that; but she was always laughin' when I saw her." +</P> + +<P> +"Frivolous!" commented Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps there's more about her in the letter," suggested Lowther, who +had been listening to all that had been said. +</P> + +<P> +"There is," said his step-mother; "but Miss Mee's writing is very +trying to the eyes." +</P> + +<P> +Montague took the schoolmistress's letter from his wife's hand. He read +the following in his big, blustering voice: +</P> + +<P> +"'In all matters affectin' Miss Keeves's educational qualifications, I +find her comme il faut, with the possible exception of freehand +drawing, which is not all that a fastidious taste might desire. Her +disposition is winnin' and unaffected, but I think it my duty to +mention that, on what might appear to others as slight provocation, +Miss Keeves is apt to give way to sudden fits of passion, which, +however, are of short duration. Doubtless, this is a fault of youth +which years and experience will correct.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Rebellious!" commented Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Spirit!" said Harold, who all this while had been reclining in his +invalid chair, apparently reading a review. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt looked up, as if surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"After all, everything depends on the point of view," remarked Miss +Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there any more?" asked Harold. +</P> + +<P> +By way of reply, his father read from Miss Mee's letter: +</P> + +<P> +"'In conclusion, I am proud to admit that Miss Keeves has derived much +benefit from so many years' association with one who has endeavoured to +influence her curriculum with the writin's of the late Mr Ruskin, whose +acquaintance it was the writer's inestimable privilege to enjoy. With +my best wishes for your welfare, I remain, dear Madam, your obedient +servant, Annie Allpress Mee.' That's all," he added, as he tossed the +letter on to the table at his wife's side. +</P> + +<P> +"Did she know Ruskin?" asked Harold. +</P> + +<P> +"When I was at her school—it was then at Fulham—she, or her sister, +never let a day go by without making some reference to him," replied +his step-mother. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do for Miss Keeves?" asked Harold. +</P> + +<P> +"It's so difficult to decide off-hand," his step-mother replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you think of anything, father?" persisted Harold. +</P> + +<P> +"It's scarcely in my line," answered Montague, glancing at his wife as +he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +Harold looked inquiringly at Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"It's so difficult to promise her anything till one has seen her," she +remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why not have her down?" asked Harold. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, why not?" echoed his brother. +</P> + +<P> +"She can get here and back again in a day," added Harold, as his eyes +sought his review. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, then, I'll write and suggest Friday," said Mrs Devitt, not +too willingly taking up a pen. +</P> + +<P> +"You can always wire and put her off, if you want to do anything else," +remarked her sister. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you send her her fare?" asked Harold. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that necessary?" queried Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it usual?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can give it to her when she comes," said Mrs Devitt, who hated +parting with money, although, when it was a question of entertaining +the elect of Melkbridge, she spent her substance lavishly. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it came about that a letter was written to Miss Annie Mee, +Brandenburg College, Aynhoe Road, West Kensington Park, London, W., +saying that Mrs Devitt would expect Miss Keeves, for an interview, by +the train that left Paddington for Melkbridge at ten on Friday next; +also, that she would defray her third-class travelling expenses. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWO +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAVIS KEEVES +</H3> + +<P> +The following Friday morning, Mavis Keeves sprang from bed on waking. +It was late when she had gone to sleep the previous night, for she had +been kept up by the festivities pertaining to breaking-up day at +Brandenburg College, and the inevitable "talk over" the incidents of +the event with Miss Helen and Miss Annie Mee, which conversation had +been prolonged till nearly twelve o'clock; but the excitement of +travelling to the place of her birth, and the certainty of getting an +engagement in some capacity or another (Mavis had no doubt on this +point) were more than enough to curtail her slumbers. She had fallen +asleep laughing to herself at the many things which had appealed to her +sense of humour during the day, and it was the recollection of some of +these which made her smile directly she was awake. She tubbed and +dressed quickly, although she had some bother with her hair, which, +this morning, seemed intent on defying the efforts of her fingers. +Having dressed herself to her somewhat exigent satisfaction, she went +downstairs, passing the doors of those venerable virgins, the Misses +Helen and Annie Mee, as she descended to the ground-floor, on which was +the schoolroom. This was really two rooms, but the folding doors, which +had once divided the apartment, had long since been removed from their +hinges; they were now rotting in the strip of garden behind the house. +</P> + +<P> +The appearance of Brandenburg College belied its pretentious name. Once +upon a time, its name-plate had decorated the gates of a stately old +mansion in the Fulham of many years ago; here it was that Mrs Devitt, +then Miss Hilda Spraggs, had been educated. Since those fat days, the +name-plate of Brandenburg College had suffered many migrations, always +in a materially downward direction, till now it was screwed on the +railings of a stuffy little road in Shepherd's Bush, which, as Mavis +was in the habit of declaring, was called West Kensington Park for +"short." +</P> + +<P> +The brass plate, much the worse for wear, told the neighbourhood that +Brandenburg College educated the daughters of gentlemen; perhaps it was +as well that this definition, like the plate, was fallen on hard times, +inasmuch as it was capable of such an elastic interpretation that it +enabled the Misses Mee to accept pupils whom, in their prosperous days, +they would have refused. Mavis looked round the familiar, shabby +schoolroom, with its atmosphere of ink and slate pencil, to which she +was so soon to say "good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +It looked desolate this morning, perhaps because there leapt to her +fancy the animated picture it had presented the day before, when it had +been filled by a crowd of pupils (dressed in their best), their +admiring parents and friends. +</P> + +<P> +Yesterday's programme had followed that of all other girls' school +breaking-up celebrations, with the difference that the passages +selected for recital had been wholly culled from the writings of Mr +Ruskin. Reference to the same personage had occurred in the speech to +the prize-winners (every girl in the school had won a prize of sorts) +made by Mr Smiley, the curate, who performed this office; also, the +Misses Mee, when opportunity served, had not been backward in making +copious references to the occasion on which they had drunk tea with the +deceased author. Indeed, the parents and friends had breathed such an +atmosphere of Ruskin that there were eight requests for his works at +the local free library during the following week. +</P> + +<P> +"Good old Ruskin!" laughed Mavis, as she ran downstairs to the +breakfast room, which was situated in the basement. Here, the only +preparation made for the meal was a not too clean table-cloth spread +upon the table. Mavis went into the kitchen, where she found Amelia, +the general servant, doing battle with a smoky kitchen-fire. +</P> + +<P> +"How long before breakfast is ready?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that you, miss? Oi can't see you properly," said Amelia, as she +turned her head. "This 'ere smoke had got into my best oye." +</P> + +<P> +Amelia spoke truly; there was a great difference between the seeing +capacity of her two eyes, one of these being what is known as "walled." +Amelia was an orphan; she had been dragged up by the "Metropolitan +Association for Befriending Young Servants," known to its familiars as +the "Mabys," such designation being formed by the first letter of each +word of the title. Every week, dozens of these young women issued from +the doors of the many branches of this institution, who became, to +their respective mistresses, a source of endless complaint; in times of +domestic stress, one or two of these "generals" had been known to keep +their situations for three months. Amelia was a prodigy of success, a +record in the annals of the society, inasmuch as she had been at +Brandenburg College for two years and a half. She kept her situation +because she was cheap; also, because she did her best to give +satisfaction, as she appreciated the intellectual atmosphere of the +place, which made her hope that she, too, might pick up a few +educational crumbs; moreover, she was able to boast to her intimates, +on the occasions when she visited her parent home, how her two +mistresses could speak four languages, which was certainly true. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't it all beautiful, miss?" asked Amelia, who had listened to +yesterday's entertainment halfway down the stairs leading to the +basement. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonderful," replied Mavis, as she tied on a kitchen apron, a +preliminary to giving Amelia a helping hand with the breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +"And the 'reverend'! He did make me laugh when he gave four prizes to +fat Miss Robson, and said she was a good all round girl." +</P> + +<P> +This joke had not been intentional on Mr Smiley's part; he had been +puzzled by the roar of laughter which had greeted his remark; when he +divined its purport, he was quite willing to take credit for having +deliberately made the sally. +</P> + +<P> +"You managed to hear that?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, miss; an' what the 'reverend' said about dear Mr Fuskin. I 'eard +that too." +</P> + +<P> +"Ruskin," corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee. +</P> + +<P> +Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss +Keeves, who, noticing the girl's dejection, said: +</P> + +<P> +"Call him what you like, Amelia. It's only the Miss Mees who're so +particular." +</P> + +<P> +"Dear gentleman," continued Amelia. "Next to being always with you, +miss, I should like to have been with 'im." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you can't even be with me. I have to earn my own living." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, miss; but when you marry a rich gentleman, I should like to come +with you as 'general.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk nonsense, Amelia." +</P> + +<P> +"But it ain't, miss; didn't the music master, 'im with the lovely, +long, shiny 'air, promise me a shillin' to give you a note?" +</P> + +<P> +"Did he?" laughed Mavis. "It's nearly eight: you'd better take in the +breakfast things." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, if I can't be here, or with you, I'd sooner be with that +dear Mr—" +</P> + +<P> +"Ruskin, Amelia," interrupted Mavis. "Try and get it right, if only for +once." +</P> + +<P> +Amelia took no notice of the interruption, but went on, as she dusted +the cups, before putting them on the tray: +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Mr Fuskin! 'Ow I would have looked after 'im, and 'ow carefully +I'd 'ave counted 'is washing!" +</P> + +<P> +Punctually, as the clock struck eight, the two Miss Mees entered the +breakfast room; they kissed Mavis on the cheek before sitting down to +the meal. They asked each other and Mavis how they had slept, as was +their invariable custom; but the sensitive, observant girl could not +help noticing that the greetings of her employers were a trifle less +cordial than was their wont. Mavis put down this comparative coldness +to their pride at the success of yesterday's festival. +</P> + +<P> +To the indifferent observer, the Miss Mees were exactly alike, being +meagre, dilapidated, white-haired old ladies, with the same beaked +noses and receding chins; both wore rusty black frocks, each of which +was decorated with a white cameo brooch; both walked with the same +propitiatory shuffle. They were like a couple of elderly, moulting, +decorous hens who, in spite of their physical disabilities, had +something of a presence. This was obtained from the authority they had +wielded over the many pupils who had passed through their hands. +</P> + +<P> +Nearer inspection showed that Miss Annie Mee was a trifle stouter than +her sister, if this be not too robust a word to apply to such a wisp of +a woman; that her eyes were kinder and less watery than Helen's; also, +that her face was less insistently marked with lines of care. +</P> + +<P> +The Miss Mees' dispositions were much more dissimilar than their +appearance. Miss Helen, the elder, loved her home and, in her heart of +hearts, preferred the kitchen to any other part of the house. It was +she who attended to the ordering of the few wants of the humble +household; she arranged the meals, paid the bills, and generally looked +after the domestic economy of the college; she took much pride in the +orderliness of her housekeeper's cupboard, into which Amelia never +dared to pry. In the schoolroom, she received the parents, arranged the +fees and extras, and inflicted the trifling punishment she awarded to +delinquents, which latter, it must be admitted, gave her a faint +pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +Annie Mee, her sister, had a natural inclination for the flesh-pots of +life. She liked to lie abed on Sunday and holiday mornings; she spread +more butter on her breakfast toast than Helen thought justified by the +slenderness of their resources; she was indulgent to the pupils, and +seized any opportunity that offered of going out for the evening. She +frequented (and had been known to enjoy) entertainments given in +schoolrooms for church purposes she welcomed the theatre or concert +tickets which were sometimes sent her by the father of one of the +pupils (who was behind with his account), when, however paltry the +promised fare, she would be waiting at the door, clad in her faded +garments, a full hour before the public were admitted, in order not to +miss any of the fun. Mavis usually accompanied her on these excursions; +although she was soon bored by the tenth-rate singers and the poor +plays she heard and saw, she was compensated by witnessing the pleasure +Miss Annie Mee got from these sorry dissipations. +</P> + +<P> +The two sisters' dispositions were alike in one thing: the good works +they unostentatiously performed. The sacrifices entailed by these had +much contributed to their declining fortunes. This unity of purpose did +not stay them from occasionally exchanging embittered remarks when +heated by difference of opinion. +</P> + +<P> +When they sat down to breakfast, Helen poured out the coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"What day does the West London Observer come out?" asked Annie, +presently, of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Friday, I believe." +</P> + +<P> +"There should be some account of yesterday's proceedings," said Miss +Helen. "The very proper references which Mr Smiley made to our +acquaintance with the late Mr Ruskin are worthy of comment." +</P> + +<P> +"I have never known the applause to be so hearty as it was yesterday," +remarked Annie, after she had eaten her first piece of toast. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter, Mavis?" asked Miss Helen. +</P> + +<P> +"A crumb stuck in my throat," replied Mavis, saying what was untrue, as +she bent over her plate. This action was necessary to hide the smile +that rose to her lips and eyes at the recollection of yesterday's +applause, to which Miss Annie had referred. It had amused Mavis to +notice the isolated clapping which followed the execution of an item, +in the programme by a solitary performer; this came from her friends in +the room. The conclusion of a duet would be greeted by two patches of +appreciation; whilst a pianoforte concerto, which engaged sixteen +hands, merged the eight oases of applause into a roar of approval. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you get to Paddington, Mavis?" asked Miss Helen, after she had +finished her meagre breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +"From Addison Road," replied Mavis, who was still eating. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't Shepherd's Bush be better?" asked Annie, who was wondering if +she could find accommodation for a further piece of toast. +</P> + +<P> +"I always recommend parents to send their daughters from Paddington via +Addison Road," remarked Helen severely. +</P> + +<P> +"There are more trains from Shepherd's Bush," persisted Annie. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe, dear Annie" (when relations between the sisters were strained, +they made use of endearing terms), "but more genteel people live on the +Addison Road connection." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Helen dear, the class of residence existing upon a line of +railway does not enable a traveller to reach his or her destination the +quicker." +</P> + +<P> +"I was not aware, dear Annie, that I ever advanced such a proposition." +</P> + +<P> +"Then there is no reason, dearest Helen, why Mavis shouldn't reach +Paddington by going to Shepherd's Bush." +</P> + +<P> +"None, beyond the fact that it is decided that she shall travel by way +of Addison Road. Besides, Addison Road is nearer, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"But the exercise of walking to Shepherd's Bush would do Mavis good +after the fatigues of yesterday, Helen." +</P> + +<P> +"That is altogether beside the point, dear Annie." +</P> + +<P> +"I am never listened to," complained her sister angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"You argue for the sake of talking," replied the other crossly. +</P> + +<P> +They continued in that strain for some moments, and were still at it +when Mavis went upstairs to put on her hat; here, she gave a last look +at herself in the glass. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if I'll do?" she thought, as she dealt with one or two +strands of tawny coloured hair, which were still inclined to be +rebellious. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if I'll meet anyone who remembers me?" she thought, as she +left the room. +</P> + +<P> +Downstairs, the two old ladies were awaiting her in the hall. Miss +Helen was full of good advice for the journey, whilst Miss Annie +dangled a packet of sandwiches, "In case dear Mavis should need +refreshment on the way." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks so much," said Mavis, as she took the little packet, the +brown-paper covering of which was already grease-stained from the fat +of the sandwiches. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't fail to remember me to Mrs Devitt," urged Helen. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't forget," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I put salt and mustard in the sandwiches," remarked Annie. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks so much," cried Mavis, as she opened the front door. +</P> + +<P> +"And don't forget to be sure and travel in a compartment reserved for +ladies," quavered Helen. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't forget; wish me luck," answered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"We do; good-bye," said the two old ladies together. +</P> + +<P> +Directly the door was closed, Miss Annie, followed at a distance by +Miss Helen, hurried into the schoolroom, where, pulling aside the +Venetian blind of the front window, they watched the girl's trim figure +walk down the street. The two old ladies were really very fond of her +and not a little proud of her appearance. +</P> + +<P> +"She has deportment," remarked Helen, as Mavis disappeared from their +ken. +</P> + +<P> +"Scarcely that—distinction is more the word," corrected Annie. +</P> + +<P> +"I fear for her in the great world," declared Helen with trembling +lips; "they say that good looks are a girl's worst enemy." +</P> + +<P> +"But Mavis has profited by the example of our lives, Helen." +</P> + +<P> +"There is much in that, Annie. Also, she should have derived much +benefit from being, in school hours, and often out of them, in an +atmosphere influenced by the writings of the late Mr Ruskin." +</P> + +<P> +With these consolations, the two old ladies toiled upstairs, and set +about packing for a fortnight's stay they proposed making with an old +friend at Worthing, for which place they proposed starting in two days' +time. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, the subject of their thoughts was walking to Addison Road +Station, happily ignorant of the old ladies' fears concerning the +perils of her path. To look at her, she seemed the least likely girl in +London who was about to take a journey on the chance of obtaining a +much-needed engagement. Her glowing eyes, flushed cheeks, and light +step were eloquent of a joyousness not usually associated with an all +but penniless girl on the look-out for something to do. Her clothes, +also, supported the impression that she was a young woman well removed +from likelihood of want. She was obliged to be careful with the few +pounds that she earned at Brandenburg College: being of an open-handed +disposition, this necessity for economy irked her; but however much she +stinted her inclinations in other directions, she was determined, as +are so many other young women who are thrown on their own resources, to +have one good turn-out in which to make a brave show to the world. Not +that Mavis spent her money, shop-girl fashion, in buying cheap flummery +which was, at best, a poor and easily recognisable imitation of the +real thing; her purchases were of the kind that any young gentlewoman, +who was not compelled to take thought for the morrow, might becomingly +wear. As she walked, most of the men she met looked at her admiringly; +some turned to glance at her figure; one or two retraced their steps +and would have overtaken her, had she not walked purposefully forward. +She was so used to these tributes to her attractiveness, that she did +not give them heed. She could not help noticing one man; he glanced at +her and seemed as if he were about to raise his hat; when she looked at +him to see if she knew him, she saw that he was distinguished looking, +but a stranger. She hurried on; presently, she went into a draper's +shop, where she bought a pair of gloves, but, when she came out, the +good-looking stranger was staring woodenly at the window. She hastened +forward; turning a corner, she slipped into a tobacconist's and +newsagent's, where she bought a packet of her favourite cigarettes, +together with a box of matches. When she got to the door, her +good-looking admirer was entering the shop. He made way for her, and, +raising his hat, was about to speak: she walked quickly away and was +not troubled with him any more. When she got to Paddington, she +disobeyed Miss Helen's injunctions to travel in a compartment reserved +for ladies, but went into an ordinary carriage, which, by the +connivance of the guard, she had to herself. When the train left +Paddington, she put her feet on the cushions of the opposite seat, with +a fine disregard of railway bye-laws, and lit a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +It was, perhaps, inevitable that the girl's thoughts should incline to +the time and the very different circumstances in which she had last +journeyed to Melkbridge. This was nine years ago, when she had come +home for the holidays from Eastbourne, where she had been to school. +Then, she had had but one care in the world, this on account of a +jaundiced pony to which she was immoderately attached. Then she +suffered her mind to dwell on the unrestrained grief with which she had +greeted her favourite's decease; as she did so, half-forgotten fares, +scenes, memories flitted across her mind. Foremost amongst these was +her father's face—dignified, loving, kind. Whenever she thought of +him, as now, she best remembered him as he looked when he told her how +she should try to restrain her grief at the loss of her pet, as her +distress gave him pain. She had then been a person of consequence in +her little world, she being her father's only child; she had been made +much of by friends and acquaintances, amongst whom, so far as she could +recollect, no member of the Devitt family was numbered. Perhaps, she +thought, they have lately come to Melkbridge. Then aspects of the old +home passed through her mind. The room in which she used to sleep; the +oak-panelled dining-room; the garden, which was all her very own, +passed in rapid review; then, the faces of playmates and sweethearts, +for she had had admirers at that early age. There was Charlie Perigal, +the boy with the steely blue eyes and the pretty curls, with whom she +had quarrelled on the ground that he was in the habit of catching birds +in nasty little brick traps; also, because, when taxed with this +offence, he had defended his conduct and, a few moments later, had +attempted to stone a frog in her highly indignant presence. +</P> + +<P> +Then there was Archie Windebank, whose father had the next place to +theirs; he was a fair, solemn boy, who treated her with an immense +deference; he used to blush when she asked him to join her in play. The +day before she had left for school, he had confessed his devotion in +broken accents; she had thought of him for quite a week after she had +left home. How absurd and trivial it all seemed, now that she was to +face the stern realities of life! +</P> + +<P> +The next thing she recalled was the news of her father's ruin. This +calamity was more conveyed to her by the changed look in his face, when +she next saw him, than by anything else. +</P> + +<P> +She had been, at once, taken away from the expensive school at which +she was being educated and had been sent to Brandenburg College, then +languishing in Hammersmith Terrace, while her father went to live at +Dinan, in Brittany, where he might save money in order to make some +sort of a start, which might ultimately mean a provision for his +daughter. +</P> + +<P> +Next, she remembered—this she would never forget—the terrible day on +which Miss Helen Mee had called her into the study to tell her that she +would never again see her dear father in this world. Tears came to +Mavis's eyes whenever she thought of it. Orphaned, friendless, with no +one to give her the affection for which her lonely soul craved, Mavis +had stayed on at Brandenburg College, where the little her father had +left sufficed to pay for her board and schooling. This sum lasted till +she was sixteen, when, having passed one or two trumpery examinations, +she was taken on the staff of the college. The last few months, Mavis's +eyes had been opened to the straitened circumstances in which her +employers lived; she had lately realised that she owed her bread and +butter more to the kindness of the Miss Mees, than to the fact of her +parts as a teacher being in request at the school. She informed the +kind ladies that she was going to seek her bread elsewhere; upon their +offering the mildest of protests, she had made every effort to +translate her intentions into performance. +</P> + +<P> +This was by no means an easy matter for a comparatively friendless +girl, as Mavis soon discovered. Her numerous applications had, so far, +only resulted in an expenditure of stationery and postage stamps. Then, +Miss Annie Mee kindly volunteered to write to the more prosperously +circumstanced of the few one-time pupils with whom she had kept up +something of a correspondence. Those who replied offered no suggestion +of help, with the exception of Mrs Devitt. So much for the past: the +future stretched, an unexplored country, before her, which, to one of +her sanguine disposition, seemed to offer boundless opportunities of +happiness. It appeared a strange conjunction of circumstances that she +should have been sent for by a person living in her native place. It +seemed fortuitous to Mavis that she should earn her bread in a +neighbourhood where she would be known, if only because of the high +reputation which her dear father had enjoyed. It all seemed as if it +had been arranged like something out of a book. Amelia's words, +referring to the certainty of her marrying, came into her mind; she +tried to dismiss them, but without success. Then, her thoughts flew +back to Charlie Perigal and Archie Windebank, youthful admirers, rivals +for her favours. She wondered what had become of them; if she should +see them again: a thousand things in which she allowed her imagination +to wing itself in sentimental flight. +</P> + +<P> +She was of an ardent temperament; men attracted her, although, since +she had been grown up, she had never exchanged anything that could be +construed into a love passage with a member of the opposite sex, +opportunities for meeting those whom she considered her equals being +wanting in her dull round of daily teaching. Sometimes, a face she had +seen in the street, or a character she encountered in a book attracted +her, when she would think of her hero, allowing her mind to place him +in tender situations with herself, for the few hours her infatuation +lasted, showing her to be of an impressionable and romantic +disposition. Although she often felt her loneliness, and the consequent +need of human companionship, her pride would never suffer her to take +advantage of the innumerable facilities which the streets of London +offer a comely girl to make chance friendships, facilities which, for +thousands of friendless young women in big towns, are their only chance +for meeting the male of their species. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's pride was not of the kind with which providence endows millions +of foolish people, apparently by way of preventing them from realising +their insignificance, or, at the worst, making their smallness +tolerable. It arose from knowledge of the great and inexhaustible +treasure of love which was hers to bestow; so convinced was she of the +value of this wealth, that she guarded it jealously, not permitting it +to suffer taint or deterioration from commerce with those who, if only +from curiosity, might strive to examine her riches. +</P> + +<P> +She feared with a grave dread the giving of the contents of this +treasure house, knowing full well that, if she gave at all, she would +bestow with a lavish hand, believing the priceless riches of her love +to be but a humble offering upon the shrine of the loved one. +</P> + +<P> +For all this consciousness that she would be as wax in the hands of the +man she would some day love, she had much of a conviction that, +somehow, things would come right. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond thanking the Almighty for the beauties of nature, sunlight, and +the happiness that danced in her veins, she did not bother herself +overmuch with public religious observances. She had a fixed idea that, +if she did her duty in life, and tried to help others to the best of +her small ability, God would, in some measure, reward her very much as +her dear father would have done, if he had been spared; also, that, if +she did ill, she would offend Him and might be visited with some sign +of His displeasure, just as her own father might have done if he had +been still on earth to advise and protect her. +</P> + +<P> +Then, all such thoughts faded from her mind; she looked out of the +carriage window as the train rushed through Didcot Junction. She felt +hungry after the meagre breakfast she had made; she remembered the +sandwiches, and, untying the greasy little parcel, was glad to eat +them. When she had finished the sandwiches, she lit another cigarette; +after smoking this, she closed her eyes the better to reflect. +</P> + +<P> +Then she remembered nothing till the calling of "Melkbridge!" +"Melkbridge!" seemed to suffuse her senses. She awoke with a start, to +find that she had reached her destination. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THREE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FRIENDS IN NEED +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis scrambled out of the train, just in time to prevent herself from +being carried on to the next stopping—place. She smoothed her ruffled +plumage and looked about her. She found the station much smaller than +she had believed it to be; she hardly remembered any of its features, +till the scent of the stocks planted in the station-master's garden +assisted her memory. She gave up her ticket, and looked about her, +thinking that very likely she would be met, if not by a member of the +Devitt family, by some conveyance; but, beyond the station 'bus and two +or three farmers' gigs, there was nothing in the nature of cart or +carriage. She asked the hobbledehoy, who took her ticket, where Mrs +Devitt lived, at which the youth looked at her in a manner that +evidently questioned her sanity at being ignorant of such an important +person's whereabouts. Mavis repeated her question more sharply than +before. The ticket-collector looked at her open—mouthed, glanced up +the road and then again to Mavis, before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Here her be." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Devitt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Noa. Her." +</P> + +<P> +"The housekeeper?" +</P> + +<P> +"Noa. The trap. Mebbe your eyes hain't so 'peart' as mine." +</P> + +<P> +The grating of wheels called her attention to the fact that a smart, +yellow-wheeled dogcart had been driven into the station yard by a man +in livery. +</P> + +<P> +"Be you Miss Keeves, miss?" asked the servant. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you're for Melkbridge House. Please get in, miss." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis clambered into the cart and was driven quickly from the station. +At the top of the hill, they turned sharp to the right, and rolled +along the Bathminster road. Mavis first noticed how much the town had +been added to since she had last set foot in it; then she became +conscious that distances, which in her childhood had seemed to be +considerable, were now trivial. +</P> + +<P> +The man driving her had been a gentleman's servant; seeing that Mavis +belonged to a class of life which he had been accustomed to serve, he +treated her with becoming respect. Mavis incorrectly argued from the +man's deference that it had been decided to secure her services: her +heart leapt, her colour heightened at her good fortune. +</P> + +<P> +If a few moments of pleasure are worth purchasing at a cost of many +hours of crowded disappointment, it was as well that Mavis was ignorant +of the way in which her prospects had been prejudiced by the trend of +events at Melkbridge House since Mrs Devitt had replied to Miss Mee's +letter. To begin with, Mavis's visit had been within an ace of being +indefinitely postponed; it was owing to Harold's expressed wish that +the original appointment had been allowed to stand. The reason for this +indifference to Mavis's immediate future was that, the day after the +schoolmistress had written, Harold had been seriously indisposed. His +symptoms were so alarming that his doctor had insisted on having a +further opinion; this was obtained from a Bathminster physician, who +had confirmed the local medical man's diagnosis; he had also advised +Harold a month's rest on his back, this to be followed by a nine +months' residence abroad. As if this were not enough to interfere with +Mavis's visit, Montague Devitt had met young Sir Archibald Windebank, +the bachelor owner of Haycock. Abbey, when going to discharge his +duties as borough magistrate, the performance of which he believed +might ease his mind of the pain occasioned by his son's illness. +</P> + +<P> +After he had told Windebank his bad news, and the latter had expressed +his genuine concern, Devitt had said: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember Keeves—Colonel Keeves?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of Melkbridge Court? Of course. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"I heard something of his daughter the other day." +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis!" +</P> + +<P> +"She's big Mavis now," remarked Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you seen her?" asked Windebank eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet, but I may very soon." +</P> + +<P> +"She promised to be an awfully pretty girl. Is she?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't seen her. But if she comes down you might care to call." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," replied Windebank. "When you see her, you might mention I +asked after her." +</P> + +<P> +"I will." +</P> + +<P> +"Although I don't suppose she'll remember me after all these years." +</P> + +<P> +Devitt had left Windebank and gone about his business. When he came out +of the court house, and was about to get into his motor, Windebank +again approached him, but in such a manner that made Devitt wonder if +he had been hanging about on purpose to speak to him. +</P> + +<P> +Windebank made one or two remarks about nothing in particular. Devitt +was about to start, when the other said: +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, when you do see Miss Keeves, you might tell her that the +mater and my sister will be down here next week and that they'll be +awfully pleased to see her, if she'd care to come and stay." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't forget," replied Devitt dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell her to come for as long as she cares to, as the mater and Celia +were always fond of her. None of us could ever make out what became of +her." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't forget," said Devitt again. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +Montague told his wife of this; she had replied: +</P> + +<P> +"We will decide nothing till we see her," which meant that, if Mavis +had not fulfilled the promise of her childhood, and had grown up plain, +there would be some prospect of her being engaged in some capacity in +the Devitt family, as her acquaintance with the big people about +Melkbridge might result in introducing Victoria within the charmed +circle, without prejudicing the latter's chances of making a brilliant +match. Mrs Devitt's words likewise meant that, if Mavis were charming +or pretty, her prospects of securing an engagement would be of the +slenderest. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, ignorant of these considerations, was driven to the door of +Melkbridge House. On getting out of the cart, the front door was opened +by Hayter, the fat butler, who showed her into the drawing-room. Left +to herself, Mavis looked about the expensively furnished room. Noticing +a mirror, she walked to it in order to see if hair or hat had been +disarranged by her journey and drive; as she looked at her comely +reflection, she could not help seeing with a thrill of satisfaction +that already the change of air, together with the excitement of the +occasion, had flushed her cheeks with colour; she was looking her best. +She walked to the window and looked in the direction of her old home, +which was on a slight eminence about a mile from where she stood: were +the time of year other than summer, its familiar outlines would not +have been obscured by foliage. Mavis sighed, turned her back on the +window and walked towards the fireplace; something moving in the cool, +carefully shaded room caught her eye. It was the propitiatory wagging +of a black, cocker spaniel's tail, while its eyes were looking +pleadingly up to her. Mavis loved all animals; in a moment the spaniel +was in her lap, her arms were about its neck, and she was pressing her +soft, red lips to its head. The dog received these demonstrations of +affection with delight; although it pawed and clawed the only decent +frock which Mavis possessed, she did not mind a bit. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be here a long time and we shall always be the best of +friends," murmured Mavis, as she pressed the affectionate animal to her +heart. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis waited half an hour in the drawing-room before anyone came. +</P> + +<P> +Victoria was the first to join her; she entered the room with a frank +smile, together with an apology for having kept Mavis waiting. The +latter took to Miss Devitt at once, congratulating herself on her good +fortune at the prospect of living with such congenial companions as +Miss Devitt and the dog. Victoria explained that her brother's illness +was responsible for Mavis having been treated with apparent neglect. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so sorry," replied Mavis. "Is it serious?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at present, but it may be." +</P> + +<P> +"How dreadful it must be for you, who love him!" +</P> + +<P> +"We are all of us used to seeing my brother more or less ill; he has +been a cripple for the last eight years." +</P> + +<P> +"How very sad! But if your brother is worse, why didn't you wire and +put me off?" +</P> + +<P> +"You would have been disappointed if we had." +</P> + +<P> +"I should have understood." +</P> + +<P> +Then, after making further sympathetic reference to Harold's condition, +Mavis said: +</P> + +<P> +"What a dear dog this is! Is he yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's Harold's. She's no business to be in here. She'll dirty your +dress." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind in the least." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me turn her out," said Victoria, as she rose from her seat. +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't. I love to have her with me," pleaded Mavis, adding, as +Victoria acceded to her request: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you like dogs?" +</P> + +<P> +"In their proper place. Jill wouldn't be allowed in at all if Harold +didn't sometimes wish it." +</P> + +<P> +"If I had a house, it should be full of dogs," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand that you were born near here." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, at Melkbridge Court." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what time you go back, but, after luncheon—of course +you'll stay—you might take the opportunity of your being down here to +have a look at the old place." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I might," faltered Mavis, who suddenly felt as if all the happiness +had been taken out of her life; for Miss Devitt's words hinted that her +family was not going to keep Mavis at Melkbridge House. +</P> + +<P> +She looked regretfully at the dog, then inquiringly at Victoria, when +Mrs Devitt came into the drawing-room. +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes at once fell on Mavis's comeliness; looking at her +step-daughter, she found herself comparing the appearance of the two +girls. Before she had offered her hand to Mavis, she had decided that, +beside her, Victoria appeared at a disadvantage. +</P> + +<P> +Although Mavis's hair and colouring might only appeal to a certain +order of taste, the girl's distinction, to which one of the Miss Mees +had alluded earlier in the day, was glaringly patent to Mrs Devitt's +sharp eyes; beside this indefinable personal quality, Mrs Devitt +observed with a shudder, Victoria seemed middle-class. Mavis's fate, as +far as the Devitts were concerned, was decided in the twinkling of an +eye. For all this decision, so suddenly arrived at, Mrs Devitt greeted +Mavis kindly; indeed, the friendliness that she displayed caused the +girl's hopes to rise. +</P> + +<P> +"Luncheon will be ready directly. We are only waiting for my husband," +said Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be hungry after your journey," added Victoria. +</P> + +<P> +"I've always a healthy appetite, whatever I do," remarked Mavis, who +was fondly regarding the black spaniel. +</P> + +<P> +Then Montague Devitt, Lowther, and Miss Spraggs entered the +drawing-room, to all of whom Mavis was introduced. +</P> + +<P> +The men were quite cordial, too cordial to a girl who, after all, was +seeking a dependant's place, thought Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +Already she envied Mavis for her family, the while she despised her for +her poverty. +</P> + +<P> +The attentions that her husband and stepson were already paying her +were a hint of what Mrs Devitt might expect where the eligible men of +her acquaintance were concerned. She felt the necessity of striking a +jarring note in the harmony of the proceedings. Jill, the spaniel, who, +at that moment, sprang upon Mavis's lap, supplied the means. +</P> + +<P> +"What is Jill doing here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I really don't mind," exclaimed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"She shouldn't be in the house. There's no reason for her being here at +all, now Harold is ill." +</P> + +<P> +"If you wish her to go," said Mavis ruefully. +</P> + +<P> +Jill was ordered from the room, but refused to quit her new friend's +side. Lowther approached the dog; to emphasise his wishes, he kicked +her in the side. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked up quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Come along, you brute!" cried Lowther, who seized the spaniel by the +ear, and, despite its yell of agony, was carrying it by this means from +the room. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis felt the blood rush to her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +Lowther turned to look at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop—, please don't," she pleaded, as she went quickly to Jill and +caught her in her arms. +</P> + +<P> +Lowther looked down, surprised, into Mavis's pleading, yet defiant face. +</P> + +<P> +"It was all my fault: you're hurting her and she's such a dear," +continued Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Better let her stay," said Devitt, while Mrs Devitt, seeing the girl's +flushed face, recalled the passage in Miss Mee's letter which referred +to Mavis's sudden anger. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt hated a display of emotion; she put down Mavis's +interference with Lowther's design to bad form. She was surprised that +Lowther and her husband were so assiduous in their attentions to Mavis; +indeed, as Mrs Devitt afterwards remarked to Miss Spraggs: +</P> + +<P> +"They hardly ever took their eyes off her face." +</P> + +<P> +"Never trust a man further than you can see him," had remarked the +agreeable rattle, who had never had reason to complain of want of +respect on the part of any man with whom she may have been temporarily +isolated. +</P> + +<P> +"And did you notice how her eyes flashed when she seized Jill from +Lowther? They're usually a sort of yellow. Then, as perhaps you saw, +they seemed to burst into a fierce glare." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Hilda, is there anything I don't notice?" Miss Spraggs had +replied, a remark which was untrue in its present application, as, at +the moment when Mavis had taken Jill's part, Eva Spraggs had been +looking out of the window, as she wondered if the peas, that were to +accompany a roast duckling at luncheon, would be as hard and as +unappetising as they had been when served two days previously. +</P> + +<P> +This was later in the day. Just now, Mavis was about to be taken down +to luncheon by Montague Devitt; she wondered if her defence of dear +Jill had prejudiced her chance of an engagement. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that picture covered with a shutter for?" asked Mavis, as her +eye fell on the padlocked "Etty." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well-it's an 'Etty': some people might think it's scarcely the +thing for some young people, you know," replied Devitt, as they +descended the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Really! Is that why it's kept like that?" asked Mavis, who could +scarcely conceal her amusement. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt, who was immediately behind, had detected the note of +merriment in Mavis's voice. "Scarcely a pure-minded girl," she said to +herself, unconscious of the fact that there is nothing so improper as +the thoughts implied by propriety. +</P> + +<P> +It was not a very pleasant time for Mavis. Although the luncheon was a +good meal, and served in a manner to which she had been unaccustomed +for many years, she did not feel at home with the Devitts. Montague, +the head of the house, she disliked least; no one could be long +insensible to his goodness of heart. Already, she could not "stand" +Lowther, for the reason that he hardly took his eyes from her face. As +for the women, she was soon conscious of the social gulf that, in +reality, lay between her and them; she was, also, aware that they were +inclined to patronise her, particularly Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs: +the high hopes with which she had commenced the day had already +suffered diminution. +</P> + +<P> +"And what are your aims in life?" Miss Spraggs asked presently; she had +found the peas to be as succulent as she had wished. +</P> + +<P> +"To earn my own living," replied Mavis, who had seen that it was she to +whom the agreeable rattle had spoken. +</P> + +<P> +"But, surely, that doesn't satisfy the young women of today!" continued +Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"I fear it does me; but then I don't know any young women to be +influenced by," answered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought every young woman, nowadays, was thirsting with ambition," +said Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose everyone, who isn't an idiot, has her preferences," remarked +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mean that. I thought every girl was determined on living her +own life to the exclusion of everything else," continued Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" asked Mavis in some surprise, as she believed that it was +only the plain and unattractive women who were of that complexion of +thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Despise marriage and all that," put in Lowther, his eyes on Mavis as +he tossed off a glass of wine. +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't despise marriage," protested Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" said Mrs Devitt, whose sensibilities were a trifle shocked by +this remark. +</P> + +<P> +"If two people are in love with each other, and can afford to marry, it +seems a particularly natural proceeding," said Mavis simply. +</P> + +<P> +"One that you would welcome?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she raised her +thin eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +"One that someone else would welcome," put in Devitt gallantly. +</P> + +<P> +But Mavis took no notice of this interruption, as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. Nothing I should wish for more." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Spraggs made two or three further efforts to take a rise out of +Mavis; in each case, such was the younger woman's naturalness and +self-possession, that it was the would—be persecutor who appeared at a +disadvantage. +</P> + +<P> +After luncheon the womenfolk moved to the drawing room; when Victoria +presently went to sit with her invalid brother, Mrs Devitt assumed a +business-like manner as she requested Mavis to sit by her. The latter +knew that her fate was about to be decided. They sat by the window +where, but for the intervening foliage, Mavis would have been able to +see her old home. +</P> + +<P> +"This is our best chance of a quiet talk, so I'll come to the point at +once," began Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"By all means," said Mavis, as Miss Spraggs took up a book and +pretended to be interested in its contents. +</P> + +<P> +"How soon do you require a situation?" +</P> + +<P> +"At once." +</P> + +<P> +"Has Miss Mee applied to anyone else in the neighbourhood on your +account?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not that I'm aware of." +</P> + +<P> +"And you yourself, have you written to anyone here?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no one I could write to. There's not one of my father's old +friends I've kept up. They've all forgotten my very existence, years +ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who am I to remember?" asked Mavis simply. +</P> + +<P> +It was on Mrs Devitt's lips to give the girl Sir Archibald's message, +but the thought of her unmarried step—daughter restrained her. She +addressed Mavis rather hurriedly (she tried hard to act +conscientiously): +</P> + +<P> +"I may as well say at once that the opportunity that presented itself, +when I wrote to Miss Mee, has passed." +</P> + +<P> +The room seemed to move round Mavis. Mrs Devitt continued, as she +noticed the look of dismay on the girl's face: +</P> + +<P> +"But I need hardly tell you that I will do all I can to do something +for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you get anything to do in London?" +</P> + +<P> +"I might." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you tried?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis felt tears welling into her eyes; she would never have forgiven +herself if she had displayed the extremity of weeping before these +people, who, after all, were not of her social world. She resolved to +change the subject and keep any expression of her disappointment till +she was safe from unsympathetic eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you know my father?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't live here, then. I married Mr—my husband six years ago." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose he knew him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I gather so." +</P> + +<P> +Very soon after, the two men came into the drawing-room, having +considerably curtailed the time they usually devoted to their cigars. +</P> + +<P> +"We were discussing getting something to do for Miss Keeves," said Mrs +Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't thought of anything?" asked her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," replied his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you wouldn't care to go into an office?" he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"A lot of girls do that kind of thing nowadays," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Or a shop?" put in Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis glanced up. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean a—flower shop," corrected Miss Spraggs, misliking the look in +Mavis's yellow eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked towards where she could have seen her old home but for the +intervening trees. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'd better see about my train," she said as she rose. +</P> + +<P> +"Must you, dear?" asked Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +The men pressed her to stay, particularly Lowther. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll go. I want to get back in good time," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll drive you to the station, if I may," volunteered Lowther. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you; if it's giving you no trouble," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +Lowther left the room. Mavis said good-bye to the others, including +Victoria, who joined her for this purpose, from whom the girl learned +that Harold was asleep. +</P> + +<P> +As Devitt conducted Mavis to the door, which the fat butler held open, +she heard the snorting of a motor; the next minute, a superb car, +driven by Lowther, pulled up before the front door. Mavis had never +before been in a petrol-propelled carriage (automobiles were then +coming into use); she looked forward to her new experience. +</P> + +<P> +She got in beside Lowther, waved her hand to Devitt and was gone. She +was surprised at the swift, easy motion, but had an idea that, soon +after they left the house, Lowther Devitt was not travelling so fast as +when they set out. +</P> + +<P> +"How delightful!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"I've never been in a motor before." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I really haven't. Don't talk: I want to enjoy it." +</P> + +<P> +Seeing that the girl was disinclined for speech, he increased the pace. +Mavis was quite disappointed at the short time it took to reach the +station. They got out, when Mavis learned that she had twenty minutes +to wait. She was sorry, as she disliked the ardent way in which Lowther +looked at her. She answered his remarks in monosyllables. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you're no end angry with me," he said presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" she said coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I punished Jill for disobedience." +</P> + +<P> +"It was cruel of you." +</P> + +<P> +"I made sure she was worrying you." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"But it was almost worth while to upset you, you looked so fine when +you were angry." +</P> + +<P> +"Did it frighten you?" she asked half scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost. You looked just like a young tigress." +</P> + +<P> +"I've been told that before." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you often get angry?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I'm annoyed. But it's soon over." +</P> + +<P> +"I go up to town sometimes," he said presently. +</P> + +<P> +"How clever of you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I go up to my club—the Junior Constitutional. May I look you up when +I run up next?" +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the train coming in." +</P> + +<P> +"Bother! It's so nice talking to you. I'm no end of sorry the mater +isn't taking you on." +</P> + +<P> +"I am too," replied Mavis, who, at once, saw the meaning that Lowther +might misread into her words. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I look you up when next I'm in town?" he asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes, you can look me up," she replied diffidently. +</P> + +<P> +"We ought to go out to supper one evening." +</P> + +<P> +"I should be delighted." +</P> + +<P> +"You would! Really you would?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you brought your sister. I must find a seat." +</P> + +<P> +"No hurry. It always waits some time here; milk-cans and all that. By +Jove! I wish I were going up alone with you. And that's what I meant. I +thought we'd go out to supper at the Savoy or Kettner's by ourselves, +eh?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him coldly, critically. +</P> + +<P> +"Or say the Carlton," he added, thinking that such munificence might +dazzle her. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get in here," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing Mavis select a third-class carriage, his appreciation of her +immediately lessened. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell you what," he said to her through the window, "we won't bother +about going out to grub; we'll have a day in the country; we can enjoy +ourselves just as much there. Eh, dear? Oh, I beg your pardon, but +you're so pretty, you know, and all that." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis noticed the way in which he leered at her while he said these +words. She bit her lip in order to restrain the words that were on her +tongue; it was of no avail. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you something," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yes; quickly, the train is just off." +</P> + +<P> +"If my father had been alive, and we'd been living here, you'd not have +dared to speak to me like that; in fact, you wouldn't have had the +chance." +</P> + +<P> +It was a crestfallen, tired, and heartsick Mavis who opened the door of +Brandenburg College with her latch-key in the evening. The only thing +that sustained her was the memory of the white look of anger which +appeared in Lowther Devitt's face when she had unmistakably resented +his insult. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOUR +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAVIS LEAVES HER NEST +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis did not tell the whole truth to the two old ladies; they gathered +from her subdued manner that she had not been successful in her quest. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was too weary to give explanations, to talk, even to think; +the contemplation of the wreck of the castles that she had been +building in the air had tired her: she went to bed, resolving to put +off further thought for the future until the morrow. +</P> + +<P> +Several times in the night, she awoke with a start, when she was +oppressed with a great fear of the days to come; but each time she put +this concern from her, as if conscious that she required all the rest +she could get, in order to make up her mind to the course of action +which she should pursue on the morrow. +</P> + +<P> +When she definitely awoke, she determined on one thing, that, unless +pressed by circumstances, she would not ask the Devitts for help. +</P> + +<P> +The old ladies were already down when she went in to breakfast. Miss +Annie, directly she saw Mavis, took up a letter that she had laid +beside her plate. +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard from Mrs Devitt, dear," she said, after she had asked +Mavis, according to custom, how she had slept. +</P> + +<P> +"What does she say?" asked Mavis indifferently. +</P> + +<P> +"That she regrets she is unable to offer you anything at present, but +if, at any time, you would take a clerkship in one of the companies in +which her husband is interested, they might be able to provide you with +a berth," replied Annie. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" said Mavis shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"She has also sent me a postal order for your fare," continued Annie. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +The two old maids glanced significantly at one another; presently, +Annie Mee was emboldened to ask: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think you would like to earn your living in the manner +indicated?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have decided not to," replied Mavis shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, if you would prefer to stay with us," began Miss Helen. +</P> + +<P> +"If you have no objection, I will leave for good tomorrow morning," +said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave for good!" cried the two old ladies together, who, now that they +believed Mavis to be going, were dismayed at the prospect of living +without her. +</P> + +<P> +"It will be better for all of us," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"But have you anything in view, dear?" asked Miss Annie. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing very definite. But I've every hope of being settled in a day +or two." +</P> + +<P> +The two old ladies heaved a sigh of relief; for all their affection for +the girl, they found that her healthy appetite made serious inroads +into the meager profits of the college. After breakfast, Mavis went +upstairs for her hat. She opened the drawers at the base of her +old-fashioned looking-glass and counted up her possessions. These +amounted to seven pounds, thirteen shillings and sevenpence halfpenny; +in addition to which, there was a quarter's salary of four pounds ten +shillings due to her; also, there was her fare which Mrs. Devitt had +sent, a sum which she was undecided whether or not to accept. At any +other time, Mavis would have thought that this money would have been +ample provision with which to start life; but her one time ignorance on +this matter had been rudely dissipated by her fruitless search after +employment, when she had first decided to leave Brandenburg College. +Beyond her little store of ready money, she owned a few trinkets which, +at the worst, she could sell for a little; but this was a contingency +on which she would not allow her mind to dwell just now. One or two +things she was determined not to part with; these were her mother's +wedding ring, a locket containing a piece of her father's hair, and a +bracelet which he had given her. The two old ladies would be leaving +for Worthing on the morrow; Amelia was going to Southend-on-Sea for a +fortnight. As Mavis had resolved to sever her long connection with the +college, it was necessary for her to seek lodging elsewhere. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later, she set out upon this wearisome quest: she had +never looked for London lodgings before. Although nearly every window +in the less frequented streets displayed a card announcing that +apartments were to let, she soon discovered how difficult it was to get +anything remotely approaching her simple needs. She required a small +bedroom in a house where there was a bathroom; also, if possible, she +wanted the use of a sitting-room with a passable piano on which she +sought permission to give lessons to any pupils whom she might be +successful in getting. +</P> + +<P> +Most of the doors she knocked at were answered by dirty children or by +dirtier women; these, instinctively, told Mavis that she would get +neither cleanliness nor comfort in a house frequented by such folk. +When confronted with these, she would make some excuse for knocking at +the door, and, after walking on a few yards, would attack the knocker +of another house, when, more likely than not, the door would be opened +by an even more slatternly person than before. Now and again she would +light upon a likely place, but it soon appeared to Mavis that good +landladies knew their value and made charges which were prohibitive to +the girl's slender resources. +</P> + +<P> +Tired with running up and down so many steps and stairs, Mavis turned +into a milk-shop to buy a bun and a glass of milk. She asked the +kindly-faced woman who served her if she happened to know of anyone who +let clean rooms at moderate charges. The woman wrote down two +addresses, said that she would be comfortable at either of these, and +told her the quickest way of getting to them. The first name was a Mrs +Ellis, who lived at 20 Kiva Gardens. This address proved to be a neat, +two-storied house, by the side of which was a road leading to stables +and a yard. Mrs Ellis opened the door. Mavis, with a sense of elation, +saw that she was a trim, elderly, kindly-looking body. +</P> + +<P> +The girl explained what she wanted. She learned that there was a small +bedroom at the back to let; also, that she could have the use of the +downstairs sitting-room, in which was a piano. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you very much mind if I had one or two pupils?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit, miss. I like young people myself, and look on music as +company." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to see the bedroom." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Ellis took Mavis upstairs, where the girl was delighted to find +that the room was pleasant-looking and scrupulously clean. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only a question of terms," said Mavis hesitatingly. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better see the sitting-room and try the piano, miss, before you +decide," remarked Mrs Ellis. +</P> + +<P> +They went downstairs to another room at the back of the house; this was +adequate, although Mavis noticed that it was stuffy. Perhaps the +landlady suspected the girl's thoughts on the matter, for she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I have the window shut to keep out dust and smell from the yard, miss." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, satisfied with this explanation, looked through the window, and +saw that the yard was much bigger than she had believed it to be. Three +or four men in corduroys were lounging about and chaffing each other. +</P> + +<P> +"You try the piano, miss; I shan't keep you a moment," said Mrs Ellis, +who, also, had looked out of the window. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, left to herself, did as she was bid. She found the piano, +although well past its prime, to be better than the generality of those +that she had already tried. She got up and again looked out of the +window, when she saw that the men, whom she had previously seen idling +in the yard, were now hard at work. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment, Mrs Ellis, looking rather hot, re-entered the room. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had to talk to my men," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"You employ them?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, the lazy rascals. It was my husband's business, but since he died +I've kept it on." +</P> + +<P> +"You must be very clever." +</P> + +<P> +"It wants managing. You didn't open the window, miss?" This question +was asked anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"How much did you wish to pay, miss?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis explained that she didn't wish to pay more than five shillings a +week for a bedroom, but after some discussion it was agreed that she +should pay six shillings a week, which would include the use of the +sitting-room, together with a morning bath, bathrooms not having been +supplied to Mrs Ellis's house. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm letting it go reasonable to you, miss, because you're a real young +lady and not like most who thinks they are." +</P> + +<P> +"Here's my first week's rent in advance. I can't say how long I shall +stay, because I may get a place where they may want me to live in the +house," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't the money I want so much as the company. And if you'd like me +to supply the meals, we shan't quarrel over L. s. d." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure we shan't. I shall come in without fail tomorrow morning." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis then took a bus to Kensington Church; here she got out and walked +the few yards necessary to take her to the Kensington Free Library, +where she put down the addresses of those advertising situations likely +to suit her. This task completed, she walked to Brandenburg College. +When dinner was over—the Misses Mee dined midday—Mavis wrote replies +to the advertisements. After parting with the precious pennies, which +bought the necessary stamps at the post-office, she came home to pack +her things. This took her some time, there being so many odds and ends +which had accumulated during her many years' association with the +college. As it was getting dark, she slipped out to tell the nearest +local agent for Carter Paterson to have her boxes removed the first +thing in the morning. +</P> + +<P> +Hurrying back, she ran into Bella Goss, a pupil at the college, and her +father. Mr. Goss was the person who was behindhand with his account; he +supplied Miss Annie Mee with the theatre and concert tickets which were +the joy of her life. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Miss Keeves!" cried Bella, at which her father raised his hat. +</P> + +<P> +Bella, looking as if she wished to speak to Mavis, the latter stopped; +she shook hands with the child and bowed to Mr. Goss. +</P> + +<P> +"You're leaving the college, aren't you, Miss Keeves?" asked Bella. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dear," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Going to be married?" asked Mr. Goss, who secretly admired Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to earn my living; at least, I hope so," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you anything to do, then?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing settled," Mavis answered evasively. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you wouldn't care for anything in the theatrical line?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not think that she would. +</P> + +<P> +"Or, if you want anything very badly, I might get you into a house of +business." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean a shop?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"A big one where they employ hundreds," said Goss apologetically. +</P> + +<P> +"It's awfully kind of you. I'll come to you if I really want anything +badly." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Miss Keeves. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night. Good night, Bella." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hurried home and to bed, to be kept awake for quite two hours by +fears of the unknown perils which might menace the independent course +which she was about to travel. +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast the next morning was a dismal meal. Mavis was genuinely sorry +to leave the old ladies, who had, in a large measure, taken the place +of the parents she had lost. +</P> + +<P> +They, on their part, were conscious of the break that Mavis's departure +would make in their lives. All three women strove to conceal their +distress by an affectation of cheerfulness and appetite. But little was +eaten or drunk. Miss Annie Mee was so absent-minded that she forgot to +spread any butter upon her toast. The old ladies were leaving for +Worthing soon after eleven. Mavis purposed taking leave of them and +Brandenburg College as soon after breakfast as she could get away. When +she rose from the table, Miss Helen Mee said: +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to see you in my study in five minutes from now." +</P> + +<P> +The study was a small-sized room, which was reached by descending two +steps at the end of the hall further from the front door. Mavis +presented herself here at the expiration of the allotted time, where +she found Miss Helen and Miss Annie solemnly seated behind the +book-littered table, which stood in the middle of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Pray close the door," said Helen. +</P> + +<P> +"Please take a seat," added Annie, when Mavis had obeyed the elder Miss +Mee's behest. +</P> + +<P> +The girl sat down and wondered what was coming. It was some moments +before Helen spoke; she believed that delay would enhance the +impressiveness of the occasion. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Mavis," she presently began, "before I say a few parting words, +in which my sister most heartily joins, words which are not without a +few hints of kindly admonishment, that may help you along the path you +have—er—elected—yes, elected to pursue, I should like to press on +you parting gifts from my sister and myself." +</P> + +<P> +Here she handed Mavis her treasured copy of The Stones of Venice, which +contained the great Mr Ruskin's autograph, together with a handsomely +bound Bible; this latter was open at the fly-leaf. +</P> + +<P> +"Read," said Helen, as she looked at Mavis over her spectacles. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis read as follows: +</P> + +<P> +"TO DEAR MAVIS, FROM HER FRIEND, HELEN ALLPRESS MEE. +</P> + +<P> +"ARE NOT TWO SPARROWS SOLD FOR A FARTHING? AND ONE OF THEM SHALL NOT +FALL ON THE GROUND WITHOUT YOUR FATHER. +</P> + +<P> +"FEAR YE NOT THEREFORE, YE ARE OF MORE VALUE THAN MANY SPARROWS.—St +Matthew x. 29, 31." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked Miss Mee and was about to press on her the trinket that +she had previously purchased as a parting gift for her old friend; but +Helen checked the girl with a gesture signifying that her sister was +about to speak. +</P> + +<P> +Mis Annie was less prosy than her sister. +</P> + +<P> +"Take this, dear, and God bless you." +</P> + +<P> +Here she handed Mavis her much-prized copy of Sesame and Lilies, +likewise containing the autograph of the great Mr. Ruskin; at the same +time, she presented Mavis with a box of gloves. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked the generous old ladies and gave them the little presents +she had bought for this purpose. To Miss Helen she handed a quaint old +workbox she had picked up in the shop of a dealer in antiquities; to +Miss Annie she gave her A three-quarter-length photograph in a silver +frame. +</P> + +<P> +The two old ladies' hands shook a little when they took these +offerings; they both thanked her, after which Miss Helen rose to take +formal farewell of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +She spoke the words that she always made use of when taking final leave +of a pupil; usually, they came trippingly to her tongue, without the +least effort of memory; but this morning they halted; she found herself +wondering if her dignity were being compromised in Mavis's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Mavis," she said, "in—in issuing from the doors—er—portals of +Brandenburg College to the new er—er—world that awaits you beyond, +you—you may rest assured that you carry—" +</P> + +<P> +The old lady stopped; she did not say any more; she sat down and seemed +to be carefully wiping her spectacles. Mavis rose to go, girl-like; she +hated anything in the nature of a scene, especially when made over such +an insignificant person as herself. At the same time, her farewell of +the two old ladies, with whom she had lived for so long, affected her +far more than she would ever have thought possible. Halfway to the +door, she hesitated; the noise made by Miss Annie blowing her nose +decided her. In a moment, she had placed her arms about Miss Helen and +Miss Annie, and all three women were weeping to their hearts' content. +</P> + +<P> +Some seventy minutes later, it was two very forlorn-looking old ladies +who stumbled into the train that was to take them to Worthing. +Meanwhile, Mavis had packed her few remaining things and had gone down +to the kitchen to say good-bye to Amelia. +</P> + +<P> +Directly Amelia caught sight of her and she burst into tears. Mavis, +somewhat disconcerted by this evidence of esteem, gave Amelia five +shillings, at which the servant wept the more. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, miss! what shall I do without you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll get on all right. Besides, you're going for a holiday to +Southend." +</P> + +<P> +"Moind you let me come to you when you're married," sobbed Amelia. +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't count on that if I were you." +</P> + +<P> +"Do 'ave me, miss. I'll always troi and 'and things so no one sees my +bad oye." +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't that I don't want you; but it's so unlikely that I shall ever +have a home." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis offered her hand. Amelia wiped her wet hand (she had been washing +up) upon her apron before taking it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, miss, you are good to me, and you a reel lydy." +</P> + +<P> +"Be a good girl and look after your mistresses." +</P> + +<P> +"That I will, miss. Whatever should I sy to that there Mr. Fuskin, when +I meet 'im in 'eaven, if I didn't?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Amelia." +</P> + +<P> +"There! I forgot," cried Amelia. She went to the drawer of the dresser +and brought out something wrapped in tissue paper. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis undid this, to find Amelia's offering to consist of a silver +brooch forming the word "May." +</P> + +<P> +"It's the nearest I could get to your nime, miss," she explained. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you so much." +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't good enough for you: nothin' ain't good enough for you. +Wasn't you loved by the music master, 'im who was so lovely and dark?" +wept Amelia. +</P> + +<P> +It was with a heavy heart that Mavis left Brandenburg College, the +walls of which had sheltered her for so long: she did her best to be +self-possessed as she kissed the Misses Mee and walked to her new +address, to which her two boxes had been taken the first thing by the +carriers. +</P> + +<P> +The rest of the morning, and after the simple meal which Mrs Ellis +provided, Mavis unpacked her things and made her room as homelike as +possible. While she was doing this, she would now and again stop to +wonder if she had heard the postman's knock; although she could hear +him banging at doors up and down the street, he neglected to call at +No. 20, a fact which told Mavis that so far no one had troubled to +seriously consider her applications for employment. A cup of tea with +Mrs Ellis put a cheerful complexion upon matters; she spent the next +few hours in finishing her little arrangements. These completed to her +satisfaction, she leaned against the window and looked hungrily towards +the heavens. It was a blue, summer evening; there was not a cloud in +the sky. +</P> + +<P> +Although the raucous voices of children playing in the streets assailed +her ears, she was scarcely conscious of these, her thoughts being far +away. She was always a lover of nature; wildflowers, especially +cowslips, affected her more than she would care to own; the scent of +hay brought a longing to her heart; the sight of a roadside stream +fascinated her. Now, she was longing with a passionate desire for the +peace of the country. Upon this July evening, the corn must now be all +but ripe for the sickle, making the fields a glory of gold. She +pictured herself wandering alone in a vast expanse of these; gold, +gold, everywhere; a lark singing overhead. Then, in imagination, she +found her way to a nook by the Avon at Melkbridge, a spot endeared to +her heart by memories that she would never forget. As a child, she +loved to steal there with her picture book; later, as a little girl, +she would go there all alone, and, lying on her back, would dream, +while her eyes followed the sun. Her fondness for this place was the +only thing which she had kept from her father's knowledge. She wondered +if this hiding place, where she had loved to take her thoughts, were +the same. She could shut her eyes and recall it: the pollard willows, +the brown river banks, the swift, running river in which the +forget-me-nots (so it appeared to her) never seemed to tire in the +effort to see their reflection. +</P> + +<P> +Darkness came out of the east. Mavis's heart went out to the summer +night. Then, she was aware of a feeling of physical discomfort. The +effort of imagination had exhausted her. She became wearily conscious +of the immediate present. The last post, this time, knocked at the door +of Mrs Ellis', but it brought no letter for Mavis. It seemed that the +world had no need of her; that no one cared what became of her. She was +disinclined to go out, consequently, the limitations of her +surroundings made her quickly surrender to the feeling of desolation +which attacked her. She wondered how many girls in London were, at the +present moment, isolated from all congenial human companionship as she +was. She declined the landlady's kindly offer to partake of cold boiled +beef and spring onions in the status of guest; the girl seemed to get +satisfaction from her morbid indulgence in self-pity. +</P> + +<P> +As she was about to undress, her eye fell on the Bible which Helen Mee +had given her earlier in the day. Mavis remembered something had been +written on the fly-leaf: more from idle curiosity than from any other +motive, she opened the cover of the book, to read in the old lady's +meager, pointed hand: +</P> + +<P> +"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not +fall on the ground without your Father. +</P> + +<P> +"Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows."—St +Matthew x. 29, 31. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's heart was filled with contrition. She was not forgotten; there +was Someone who cared what became of her. Although she was now as one +of the sparrows, which are never certain of their daily food, she could +not fall without the knowledge of One who cared, and He—- +</P> + +<P> +Mavis knelt: she implored forgiveness for having believed herself to be +utterly forgotten: she thanked Him for caring that a poor, friendless +girl, such as she, should not fall. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FIVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BARREN WAYS +</H3> + +<P> +There followed for Mavis many, many anxious days, spent from the first +thing in the morning till late at night in a fruitless search for work. +Her experiences were much the same as those of any attractive, +friendless girl seeking to earn her livelihood in London. To begin +with, she found that the summer was a time of year in which the +openings she sought were all obstinately closed, the heads of firms, or +those responsible for engaging additional assistance, being either away +on holidays, or back from these in no mood to consider Mavis' +application. +</P> + +<P> +Another thing that struck her was that, whenever she went to interview +men, she was always treated civilly, cordially, or familiarly; but the +womenfolk she saw were invariably rude, directly they set eyes upon her +comeliness. Once or twice, she was offered employment by men; it was +only their free and easy behaviour which prevented her accepting it. +Mavis, as yet, was ignorant of the conditions on which some employers +of female labour engage girls seeking work; but she had a sensible head +screwed on her pretty shoulders; she argued that if a man were inclined +to be familiar after three minutes' acquaintance, what would he be when +she was dependent upon him for a weekly wage? It was not compatible +with her vast self-respect to lay herself open to risk of insult, +suggested by a scarcely veiled admiration for her person after a few +moments' acquaintance. It was not as if she had any qualification of +marketable value; she knew neither shorthand nor typewriting; she could +merely write a decent hand, was on very fair terms with French, on +nodding acquaintance with German, and had a sound knowledge of +arithmetic. +</P> + +<P> +On the face of it, her best course was to get a situation as governess; +but Mavis, after a week's trial, gave up the endeavour. The mothers of +possible pupils, with whom the girl's credentials from the college +secured an interview, were scarcely civil to the handsome, +distinguished-looking girl; they were sure that such looks, seeking for +employment, boded ill for anyone indulgent enough to engage her. Mavis +could not understand such behaviour; she had read in books how people +were invariably kind and sympathetic, women particularly so, to girls +in want of work; surely she furnished opportunity for her own sex to +show consideration to one of the less fortunate of their kind. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis next advertised in local papers for pupils to whom she would +teach music. Receiving no replies, she attempted to get employment in a +house of business; this effort resulted in her obtaining work as a +canvasser, remuneration being made by results. This meant tramping the +pavement in all weathers, going up and coming down countless flights of +stairs, swallowing all kinds of humiliating rebuffs in the effort to +sell some encyclopedia or somebody's set of novels, which no one +wanted. She always met with disappointment and, in time, became used to +it; but there were occasions when a purchaser seemed likely, when hope +would beat high, only to give place to sickening despair when her offer +was finally rejected. On the whole, she met with civility and +consideration from the young men (mostly clerks in offices) whom she +interviewed; but there was a type of person whose loud-voiced brutality +cut her to the quick. This was the West-end tradesman. She would walk +into a shop in Bond Street or thereabouts, when the proprietor, taking +her for a customer, would advance with cringing mien, wringing his +hands the while. No sooner did he learn that the girl wanted him to buy +something, than his manner immediately changed. Usually, in coarse and +brutal voice, he would order her from the shop; sometimes, if he were +in a facetious mood, and if he had the time to spare, he would make fun +of her and mock her before a crowd of grinning underlings. To this day, +the sight of a West-end tradesman fills Mavis with unspeakable +loathing; nothing would ever mitigate the horror which their treatment +of her inspired at this period of her life. +</P> + +<P> +Then Mavis, in reply to one of her many answers to advertisements, +received a letter asking her to call at an office in Eastcheap, at a +certain time. Arrived there, she learned how she could earn a pound a +week by canvassing, together with commission, if her sales were +successful. She had eagerly accepted the offer, when she learned that +she was to make house-to-house calls in certain London suburbs (she was +to commence at Peckham), armed with a bottle of pickles and a bottle of +sauce. She was furnished with a Peckham local directory and was +instructed to make calls at every house in her district, when she was +to ask for the mistress by name, in order to disarm suspicion on the +part of whoever might open the door. When she was asked inside, she was +to do her utmost to get orders for the pickles and the sauce, supplies +of which were sent beforehand to a grocer in the neighbourhood. Mavis +did not relish the job, but was driven by the goad of necessity. On her +way home to tell Mrs. Ellis that she would be leaving immediately to +live in Peckham, she slipped on a piece of banana skin and twisted her +ankle, an accident which kept her indoors for the best part of a week. +When she had written to Eastcheap to say that she was well enough to +commence work, she had received a letter which informed her that her +place had been filled. +</P> + +<P> +Now, she was sitting in her little bedroom in Kiva Street, a prey to +despair; she had no one to comfort her, not even Mrs. Ellis, this +person having gone out on a rare visit to an aunt. +</P> + +<P> +Her little stock of money had sadly dwindled; eighteen shillings and +her trinkets stood between her and want. She had fought and had been +vanquished; there was nothing left for her to do but to write to Mrs +Devitt and ask if the offer, that had been mentioned in her last letter +to Miss Mee, still held good. During all these weeks of weary effort, +Mavis had been largely kept up by the thought that she was a sparrow, +who could not fall to the ground without the knowledge of the Most +High. Now, it seemed to her that she could sustain her flight but a +little while longer; yet, so far as she could see, there was no one to +whom her extremity seemed to matter in the least. +</P> + +<P> +Apart from her desire to earn a living, the girl had struggled +resolutely in order that she should not seek work of the Devitts. She +disliked the family; she had resolved to apply to them only as a last +resource. +</P> + +<P> +She had gone one day to Brandenburg College to call on her old +employers, but she found that the name-plate had been removed, and that +the house was to let. She had made inquiries, to learn that her old +friend Miss Annie Mee had died suddenly at Worthing, and also that Miss +Helen had sold the school for what it would fetch, and no one knew what +had become of her. Mavis grieved at the loss of her friend, but not so +deeply, or for so long, as she would if she had not been consumed with +anxiety on her own account. She had not forgotten Mr Goss's offer of +help: she had called at his house twice, to learn on each occasion that +he was out of town. Presently, Mrs Ellis came in; finding Mavis moping, +she asked her to the downstairs sitting-room for a cup of tea. The girl +gladly went: she sat by the window watching the men working in the yard +behind, while Mrs Ellis made tea in the kitchen. Mavis, wanting air, +opened the window, although she remembered her landlady's liking for +having this particular one shut. No sooner had she done so, than she +heard a woman's voice raised in raucous anger, the while it made use of +much bad language. It abused certain people for not having done their +work. The bad language getting more forceful than before, Mavis moved +from the window. Presently, the voice stopped. Soon after, Mrs Ellis, +looking red and flustered, came into the room. When she saw that Mavis +had opened the window, she became redder in the face, as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, miss; I couldn't help it." +</P> + +<P> +"Help what?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Talking to the men as I did. I always wanted the window down, so you +shouldn't hear." +</P> + +<P> +"It was you, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you know, miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not altogether. It was something like your voice." +</P> + +<P> +"If I were to talk to them ordinary, they wouldn't listen; so I've to +talk to them in my 'usband's language, which is all they understand," +said Mrs Ellis apologetically. +</P> + +<P> +The contrast between Mrs Ellis's neat, unassuming respectability and +her language to the men made Mavis smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you've taken it sensible," remarked her landlady. "Many's the +good lodger I've lost through that there window being open." +</P> + +<P> +Tea put fresh heart into Mavis. It was ten days since she had last +called on Mr Goss: she resolved to make a further attempt. He was in, +she learned from the maid-of-all-work, who opened the door of Mr Goss's +house. +</P> + +<P> +On asking to see him, she was shown into a double drawing-room, the +front part of which was tolerably furnished; but Mavis could not help +noticing that the back was quite shabby; unframed coloured prints, +taken from Christmas numbers of periodicals, were fastened to the walls +with tin tacks. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Goss came into the room wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. +Mavis feared that she had interrupted a meal. Whether she had or not, +he was glad to see her and asked if he could help her. Mavis told him +how she was situated. In reply, he said that he had a friend who was a +man of some importance in a West-end emporium. He asked her if she +would like a letter of introduction to this person. Mavis jumped at the +offer. When he had written the letter, Mavis asked after his daughter, +to learn that she was staying at Margate with her mother. When Mavis +thanked and said good-bye to Mr Goss, he warmly pressed the hand that +she offered. +</P> + +<P> +The next day, she presented herself at the great house of business +where Mr Goss's friend was to be found. His name was Evans. It was only +after delay that she was able to see him. He was a grave, +kindly-looking man, who scanned Mavis with interest before he read Mr +Goss's letter. Mavis could almost hear the beating of her heart while +she waited to see if he could offer her anything. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," he said, as he folded up the letter. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis could not trust herself to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Very sorry I can't oblige you or Mr Goss," continued the man. "All our +vacancies were filled last week. I've nothing at present." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis turned to go. +</P> + +<P> +"You want something to do at once?" said Mr Evans, as he noticed the +girl's dismay. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nodded. The man went on: +</P> + +<P> +"They'd probably take you at Dawes'." +</P> + +<P> +"Dawes'!" echoed Mavis hopefully. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know anything of Dawes'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Everyone knows Dawes'," smiled Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"But do you know anything of the place, as it affects girls who live +there?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," answered Mavis, who scarcely heeded what Mr Evans was saying; all +her thoughts were filled by a great joy at a prospect of getting work. +</P> + +<P> +She was conscious of the man saying something about her consulting Mrs +Goss before thinking of going there; but she did not give this aspect +of the matter another moment's thought. +</P> + +<P> +"What name shall I ask for?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Orgles, if you go." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you so much. May I mention your name?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you decide to go there, certainly." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked him and was gone. She, at once, made for Dawes'. The girl +knew exactly where it was, its name and situation being a household +word to women living in London. Arrived there, she glanced appealingly +at the splendid plate-glass windows, as if beseeching them to mitigate +some of their aloofness. She approached one of the glass doors, which +was opened by a gorgeously attired official. When inside, she looked +about her curiously, fearfully. She was in a long room, down either +side of which ran a counter, behind which were stationed young women, +who bore themselves with a self-conscious, would-be queenly mien. The +space between the counters, to which the public was admitted, was +promenaded by frock-coated men, who piloted inexperienced customers to +where they might satisfy their respective wants. One of these +shop-walkers approached Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Where can I direct you, madam?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see Mr Orgles." +</P> + +<P> +The man looked at her attentively. +</P> + +<P> +"I've come from Mr Evans at Poole and Palfrey's," murmured Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The man left her and spoke to one of the regal young women, who stood +behind the counter as if trying to make believe that they were there, +not from necessity, but from choice. +</P> + +<P> +The man returned to Mavis and told her to wait. As she stood in the +shop, she saw the young woman whom the man had spoken to mouth +something in a speaking tube; this person then whispered to two or +three other girls who stood behind the counter, causing them to stare +continuously at Mavis. Presently, the speaking tube whistled, when a +message came to say that if Miss Keeves would walk upstairs, Mr Orgles +would see her. The shop-walker walked before Mavis to show her the way. +She could not help noticing that the man's demeanour had changed: he +had approached her, when he first saw her, with the servility peculiar +to his occupation; now, having fathomed her errand, he marched before +her with elbows stuck out and head erect, as if to convey what an +important personage he was. +</P> + +<P> +She was shown into a plainly furnished office, where she was told to +wait. She wondered if, at last, she would have any luck. She sat there +for about ten minutes, when a man came into the room, shutting the door +after him. He was about sixty-five, and walked with a stoop. His face +reminded Mavis of a camel. He had large bulging eyes, which seemed to +gaze at objects sideways. He looked like the deacon at a house of +dissenting worship, which, indeed, he was. Mavis rightly concluded this +person to be Mr Orgles. +</P> + +<P> +"You wished to see me?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Orgles?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's my name." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis explained why she had called: it was as much as she could do to +hide her anxiety. Mr Orgles not making any reply, she went on speaking, +saying how she would do her utmost to give satisfaction in the event of +her being engaged. +</P> + +<P> +While she was pleading, she was conscious that the man was looking in +his sideways fashion at her figure. He approached her. Mavis suddenly +felt an instinct of repugnance for the man. She said all she could +think of, but Mr Orgles remained silent; she anxiously scanned his face +in the hope of getting some encouragement from its expression, but she +might as well have stared at a brick wall for all the enlightenment she +got. Then followed a few moments' pause, during which her eyes were +riveted on Mr Orgles's nostrils: these were prominent, large, dilating; +they fascinated her. As he still remained silent, she presently found +courage to ask: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you take me?" +</P> + +<P> +He turned his face so that one of his eyes could look into hers, +fiercely as she thought. He shook his head. Mavis uttered a little cry; +she rose to go. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't go," said a voice beside her. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Orgles was standing quite near. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you badly want a place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very badly." +</P> + +<P> +"H'm!" +</P> + +<P> +His big nostrils were dilating more than ever; he turned his head so +that one of his eyes again looked into hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Something might be got you," continued the man. +</P> + +<P> +"It all depends on influence." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked up quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"I was wondering if you'd like me to do my best for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, of course I would." +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," said Mr Orgles, as he took what seemed to be a tiny piece +of fluff from the skirt of her coat. "You must have got it coming +upstairs." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think you would speak for me?" Mavis found words to ask. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Orgles's eyes again rested on Mavis, as he said: +</P> + +<P> +"It depends on you." +</P> + +<P> +"On me?" +</P> + +<P> +"You say you have never been out in the world before?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not really in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry!" echoed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Because you haven't lived; you don't know what life can be—is," cried +Mr Orgles, who now waved his arms and moved jerkily about the girl. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me; a further bit of fluff," said Mr Orgles. +</P> + +<P> +This time he placed his hand upon the breast of her coat and seemed in +no hurry to remove it. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis flushed and moved away; at any other time she would have hotly +resented his conduct, but today she was desperately anxious to get +employment, Mr Orgles took courage from her half-heartedness. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me show you," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Show me what?" she asked, perplexed. +</P> + +<P> +"How to live: how to enjoy life: how to be happy. The rest is easy: you +will be employed here; you will rise to great things; and it will all +be owing to me." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at the excited, gesticulating old man in surprise; she +wondered if he were right in his senses. Suddenly, his gyrations +ceased; he glanced at the door and then moved his head in order to dart +a horrid glance at the girl. He then approached her with arms +outstretched. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis intuitively knew what he meant. Her body quivered with rage; the +fingers of her right hand clenched. Perhaps the man saw the anger in +her eyes, because he stopped; but he was near enough for Mavis to feel +his hot breath upon her cheek. +</P> + +<P> +Thus they stood for a moment, he undecided, she on the defensive, when +the door opened and a man came into the room. Mr Orgles, with an +unpleasant look on his face, turned to see who the intruder might be. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been looking for you, Orgles," said the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, sir! Very sorry, sir," remarked Mr Orgles, who wore such an +attitude of servility to the newcomer that Mavis could hardly believe +him to be the same man. +</P> + +<P> +"I see you're busy," continued the intruder. "Engaging someone in Miss +Jackson's place?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was thinking about doing so, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Why hesitate?" +</P> + +<P> +Here the man—he was tall, dark, and fresh-coloured—looked kindly at +Mavis; although not a gentleman, he had an unmistakable air of +authority. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no reason why I shouldn't, sir, only—" +</P> + +<P> +"Only what?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's had no experience, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The man turned to Mavis and said: +</P> + +<P> +"If your references are satisfactory, you can consider yourself as +engaged from next week." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you," said Mavis, trying to voice her gratitude. +</P> + +<P> +"Call to-morrow with your references at eleven and ask for Mr +Skeffington Dawes," said the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +A great gladness and a great reproach came to the girl's heart: a great +gladness at having secured work; a great reproach at having believed +that there was no one who cared if a human sparrow, such as she, should +fall. +</P> + +<P> +She bowed her thanks to Mr Skeffington Dawes and left the room, all +unconscious of the malignant glance that Mr Orgles shot at her, after +turning his head to bring the girl within his range of vision. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"DAWES" +</H3> + +<P> +After securing a place in "Dawes'," which Mavis did at her interview +with Mr Skeffington Dawes (one of the directors of the firm), her first +sensation was one of disappointment, perhaps consequent upon reaction +from the tension in her mind until she was sure of employment. +</P> + +<P> +Now, she was resentful at having to earn her bread as a shop-girl, not +only on account of its being a means of livelihood which she had always +looked down upon, but also, because it exposed her to the insults of +such creatures as Orgles. She sat in Mrs Ellis' back sitting-room three +days before she was to commence her duties at "Dawes'"; she was moody +and depressed; on the least provocation, or none at all, she would weep +bitter tears for ten minutes at a time. +</P> + +<P> +This physical lowness brought home to her the fear of possibly losing +her hitherto perfect health. The prospect of being overtaken by such a +calamity opened up a vista of terrifying possibilities which would not +bear thinking about. +</P> + +<P> +Now, she was to earn fifteen pounds a year and "live in," a term +meaning that "Dawes'" would provide her with board and lodging; she +might, also, add to her salary by commissions on sales. The effort of +packing her belongings took her mind from brooding over troubles, real +or imaginary, and served to heighten her spirits. Mrs Ellis' words, +also, put heart into her. +</P> + +<P> +"People will take to a nice-mannered, well-spoken, fine-looking young +lady like you, miss," she said to Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't, miss. I've kep my eyes open, and I see how young ladies, +such as you, either go 'up' or go 'down.' You're one of the 'go +uppers,' and now you've a chance, why, you might, one day, have a +business of your own." +</P> + +<P> +"Mind you come and deal with me if I do. You shall always have 'tick' +for as much as you like." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you very much, miss; but I couldn't enjoy wearing a thing if I +didn't know it was paid for. I should think everyone was looking at it." +</P> + +<P> +"Time to talk about that when I get my own business." +</P> + +<P> +"And if things go wrong, which God forbid, you've always a home here!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Ellis!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so young as I was, and that yard gets me in the throat crool +in the cold weather. You'd be useful there too, miss, if you wouldn't +mind learning a few swear words." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mrs Ellis!" laughed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's difficult at first, miss; but it's wonderful how soon you drop +into it if you give your mind to it," declared the landlady solemnly. +</P> + +<P> +Four evenings later, Mavis arrived at "Dawes'," having sent her boxes +earlier in the day. She was to commence work on the morrow, and had +been advised by the firm that it would be as well to take up her abode +in her future quarters the night before. +</P> + +<P> +Nine o'clock found her on the pavement before the firm's great windows, +now securely shuttered; she wondered how she should find her way +inside, there being no door in the spread of shutters by which she +could gain admittance. Noticing that one or two men were dogging her +footsteps, she asked a policeman how she could get into "Dawes'." +</P> + +<P> +"A new hand, miss?" asked the policeman. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so. First to the right and first to the right again, where +you'll see two or three open doors belonging to the firm," the +policeman informed her. He had directed many fresh, comely young women, +who had arrived from the country, to the "young ladies'" entrance; +later, he had seen the same girls, when it was often with an effort +that he could believe them to have been what they once were. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed his directions and nearly missed the first on the right, +this being a narrow turning. Many-storied buildings, looking like +warehouses, were on either side of this; their height was such that the +merest strip of sky could be seen when Mavis looked up. She then came +to an open door. Above this was a fanlight, which fitfully lighted a +passage terminating in a flight of uncarpeted stone steps. It was all +very uninviting. The girl looked about for someone of whom to make +further inquiries. No one came in or went out; all that Mavis could see +was one or two over-dressed men, who were prowling about on the further +side of the way. A little distance up the turning was another open door +lit in the same way as the first. This also admitted to a similar +passage, which, also, terminated in a flight of bare stone steps. Just +as she got there, two young women flaunted out; they were in evening +dress, but Mavis thought the petticoats that they aggressively +displayed were cheap, torn, and soiled. They pushed past Mavis, to be +joined by two of the prowlers in the street. Mavis walked inside, where +she waited for some time without seeing anyone; then, an odd-looking, +malformed creature came up, seemingly from a hole at the end of the +passage. She had scarcely any nose; she wore spectacles and the uniform +of a servant. Before she disappeared up the stairs, Mavis saw that she +carried blankets in one hand, a housemaid's pail in the other. She +breathed noisily through her nostrils. When she was well out of sight, +Mavis thought that she might have got the information she wanted from +this person. Presently, the clattering of a pail was heard, a sound +which gradually came nearer. In due course, the malformed creature +appeared at the foot of the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"I've come," said Mavis to this person. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ave yer?" +</P> + +<P> +The person vanished, seemingly through the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was taken aback by the woman's rudeness; even to this creature, +shop-girls were, apparently, of small account. By and by, Mavis heard +her clumping up from below. When she appeared, Mavis put authority into +her voice as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Can I see anyone here?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you've any eyes in your 'ead," snorted the servant, as she +disappeared from view. +</P> + +<P> +Still no one came. Mavis was making up her mind to explore the +downstair regions when the footfalls of the rude person were heard +coming down. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been waiting quite ten minutes," Mavis began angrily, as the +person came in view. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ave yer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, I'm not used to be answered like that," Mavis began; but +she was wasting her breath; the servant went on her way in complete +disregard of Mavis's wrath. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thought of trying another entrance, when a young woman came +downstairs. She had a pasty face, with a turned-up nose and large, +romantic eyes. She carried a book under her arm. When she saw Mavis, +she stopped to look curiously at her. +</P> + +<P> +"I've come here to start work tomorrow. Can you tell me where I'm to +go?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm in a great hurry. I've a Browning—" +</P> + +<P> +"If you'll only tell me where to go," interrupted Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's this way," cried the girl, as she led the way up the stairs. +"I've a Browning to return to—" +</P> + +<P> +"If you'll only tell me where I'm to go—" +</P> + +<P> +"You'd never find it. I'd have shown you round, but I've to return a +Browning to a gentleman." +</P> + +<P> +"It's very kind of you," remarked Mavis, who was wondering how much +further she had to climb. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you love Browning?" asked the girl with the big eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't say I do." +</P> + +<P> +"You—don't—love—Browning?" asked the other in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, but I don't." +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't live without Browning. Here's your room: you'll probably +find someone inside. My name's Miss Meakin." +</P> + +<P> +"Mine is Mavis Keeves. Thanks so much." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis opened the door of a not over-large room, which was lit by a +single gas burner. Mavis looked at the four small beds, the four chests +of drawers, the four washing stands, the four cane chairs, and the four +framed bits of looking glass, which made up the furniture of the room. +Upon three of the beds were tumbled articles of feminine attire; others +had slipped on the not over-clean floor. Then Mavis noticed the back of +a girl who was craning her neck out of the one window at the further +end of the room. The atmosphere of the apartment next compelled +attention; it was a combination of gas (the burner leaked), stale body +linen, cheap scents and soapsuds; it stuck in her throat and made her +cough. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that Pongo?" asked the girl, who was still staring out of the +window. +</P> + +<P> +"It's me," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +The girl brought her body into the room. Mavis saw a girl who would +have had a fine figure if she had been two or three inches taller. She +was swarthy, with red lips and fine eyes; she was dressed in showy but +cheap evening finery. +</P> + +<P> +"Common and vulgar-minded," was Mavis's mental comment as she looked at +this person. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you the new girl?" the stranger asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I took you for Bella, the slavey. Sorry! Pleased to meet you." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you just come in from outside?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't see anything of a gentleman in a big motor car?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm expecting my boy in one. He promised to call for me in his motor +car to-night and take me out to dinner and supper," continued the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm rather hungry too," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going out to dinner and supper?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't they give supper here?" +</P> + +<P> +"They do," answered the girl, emphasising the last word, as if to +disparage the meal supplied to their young ladies by "Dawes'." +</P> + +<P> +"It will have to be good enough for me," said Mavis, who resented the +patronising manner of the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," remarked the dark girl suddenly, as she again craned out +of the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said Mavis dryly, as she wondered what had happened to the +boxes she had had sent on earlier in the day. +</P> + +<P> +"No sign of him yet. I'm afraid he's had a breakdown," exclaimed the +girl, after looking down the street for some time, a remark to which +Mavis paid no attention. The girl went on: +</P> + +<P> +"You were speaking of the supper 'Dawes'' supply. I couldn't eat it +myself. I simply lode their food." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" asked Mavis, whose ears had caught the mispronunciation. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I simply lode the food they give for supper, the same as Miss +Potter and Miss Allen, the other young ladies who sleep in this room. +Indeed, we can only eat restaurant food in the evenings." +</P> + +<P> +"What's wrong with the supper here?" asked Mavis, nervously thinking of +her hearty appetite and the few shillings that remained after settling +up with Mrs Ellis. +</P> + +<P> +"Taste and try: you've only to go right to the bottom of the 'ouse. +Excuse me." +</P> + +<P> +Here the swarthy young woman leaned so far out of the window that Mavis +feared she would lose her balance and fall into the street. Then Mavis +heard footsteps and the clatter of a pail in the passage. The door +opened, and the misshapen person who had been rude to her when she was +waiting downstairs appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Here she is," called this person, at which two men entered with +Mavis's trunks; these they dumped on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Heavy work, miss," remarked one of the men. +</P> + +<P> +"Be off with you," cried the servant. +</P> + +<P> +"Now then, beauty," laughed the other of the men. +</P> + +<P> +"Be off with you; none of your cadging here." +</P> + +<P> +"But they're heavy, and if—" began Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's what they're paid for. Be off with you," snorted the servant. +</P> + +<P> +"There he is!" cried the girl who had been leaning out of the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Motor and all?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! Oh, he hasn't brought the motor; we'll 'ave to take a 'an'som. +Good-bye for the present. My name's Impett—Rose Impett." +</P> + +<P> +"Mine's Keeves," said Mavis, thinking she may as well be agreeable to +those she had to live with. She then went to her boxes and saw that the +odd-looking servant had uncorded them. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I dessay it's more than you deserve," remarked the servant. +</P> + +<P> +"I daresay," assented Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's have a look at you." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't be jealous of me; let's have a look." +</P> + +<P> +The servant urged Mavis to stand by the flaring gas, where she looked +her up and down, Mavis thought maliciously. +</P> + +<P> +"H'm! Wonder how long it'll be before I have to pray for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Same as I has to for the others." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Look on the bed; see 'ow they leave their clothes, and such clothes. +That's what their souls is like." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" said Mavis, scarcely knowing what to say. +</P> + +<P> +"All the same, I prays for them, though what God A'mighty thinks o' me +for all the sinners I pray for, I can't think. Supper's downstairs, if +you can eat it; and my name's Bella." +</P> + +<P> +Bella left the room. Mavis thought that she rather liked her than +otherwise, despite her rudeness earlier in the evening. Mavis unpacked +her more immediate requirements before seeking supper in the basement. +She descended to the floor on which was the passage communicating with +the street, but the staircase leading to the supper-room was unlit, +therefore she was compelled to grope her way down; as she did so, she +became aware of a disgusting smell which reminded Mavis of a time at +Brandenburg College when the drains went wrong and had to be put right. +She then found herself in a carpetless passage lit by gas flaming in a +wire cage; here, the smell of drains was even more offensive than +before. There was a half-open door on the right, from which came the +clatter of knives and plates. Mavis, believing that this was the +supper-room, went in. +</P> + +<P> +She found herself in a large, low room, the walls of which were built +with glazed brick. Upon the left, the further wall receded as it +approached the ceiling, to admit, in daytime, the light that straggled +from the thick glass let into the pavement, on which the footsteps of +the passers-by were ceaselessly heard. The room was filled by a long +table covered by a scanty cloth, at which several pasty-faced, +unwholesome-looking young women were eating bread and cheese, the while +they talked in whispers or read from journals, books, or novelettes. At +the head of the table sat a dark, elderly little woman, who seemed to +be all nose and fuzzy hair: this person was not eating. Several of the +girls looked with weary curiosity at Mavis, while they mentally totted +up the price she had paid for her clothes; when they reached their +respective totals, they resumed their meal. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Keeth?" said the dark little woman at the head of the table, who +spoke with a lisp. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"If you want thupper, you'll find a theat." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sank wearily in the first empty chair. "Dawes'" had already got +on her nerves. She was sick at heart with all she had gone through; +from the depths of her being she resented being considered on an +equality with the two young women she had met and those she saw about +her. She closed her eyes as she tried to take herself, for a brief +moment, from her surroundings. She was recalled to the present by a +plate, on which was a hunk of bread and a piece of cheese, being thrust +beneath her nose. She was hungry when she came downstairs; now, +appetite had left her. Her gorge rose at the pasty-faced girls, the +brick-walled cellar, the unwholesome air, and the beady-eyed little +woman seated at the head of the table. She thought it better, if only +for her health's sake, to try and swallow something. She put a piece of +cheese in her mouth. Mavis, by now, was an authority on cheap cheese; +she knew all the varieties of flavour to be found in the lesser-priced +cheeses. Ordinarily, she had been enabled to make them palatable with +the help of vinegar, mustard, or even with an onion; but tonight none +of these resources were at hand with which to make appetising the soapy +compound on her plate. Miss Striem, the dark little woman at the head +of the table, noted her disinclination to tackle the cheese. +</P> + +<P> +"You can have anything exthra if you care to pay for it," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"What have you?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Ham, bloater, or chicken pathte, and an exthellent brand of thardines." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try the ham paste," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +An opened tin of ham paste was put before her. Mavis noticed that the +other girls were looking at her out of the corners of their eyes. +</P> + +<P> +She put some of the paste on to her plate; it looked unusual, even for +potted meat; but ascribing its appearance to the effect of the light, +Mavis spread some on a bit of bread and put this in her mouth. Only for +a moment; the next, she had removed it with her handkerchief. One of +the girls tittered. Miss Striem looked sharply in this person's +direction. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't eat this: it's bad!" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you would prefer a thardine." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything, so long as it's fit to eat." +</P> + +<P> +Some of the girls raised their eyebrows at this remark. All of them +were more or less frightened of Miss Striem, the housekeeper. +</P> + +<P> +An opened tin of sardines was set before Mavis. She had only to glance +inside to see that its contents were mildewed. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," she said, pushing the tin away. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," remarked Miss Striem severely. +</P> + +<P> +"They're bad too. I'm not going to eat them." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to pay for them juth the thame." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"If you order, you pay. Ith a rule in the houth," said Miss Striem, as +if the matter were forthwith dismissed from her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"To sell girls bad food?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot discuth the matter; the thum due will be deducted from your +wageth." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's blood was up. Her wage was small enough without having anything +deducted for food she could not eat. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall go to the management," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go to the management. I'm not going to be cheated like that." +</P> + +<P> +"You call me a cheat?" screamed the little woman, as she rose to her +feet. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was, for the moment, taken aback by Miss Striem's vehemence. The +girl next to her whispered, "Go it," under her breath. +</P> + +<P> +"You call me a cheat?" repeated Miss Striem. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall say what I have to say to the management," replied Mavis +coolly. +</P> + +<P> +"And I'll thay what I have to thay; and you'll find out who is believed +in a way you won't like." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall prove my case," retorted Mavis, as she grabbed the ham paste +and the tin of sardines. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Striem sat down. A giggle ran round the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you tell me where the sitting-room is, please?" Mavis asked of the +girl next to her. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" replied the girl whom she had spoked to. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis repeated her question. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no such thing; there's only this place open at meal times and +your bedroom." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks; I'll go there. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, carrying her ham paste and sardines, walked the evil-smelling +passage and up the stairs to her room. Once outside the supper-room, +she repented of having had words with Miss Striem, who was, doubtless, +a person of authority; but it was done now, and Mavis reflected how she +had justice and evidence on her side. The bedroom was empty. Mavis +placed the ham paste and sardines on her washing-stand; she then took +advantage of the absence of the other girls to undress and get into +bed. She fell into a heavy slumber, which gave place to a state of +dreamy wakefulness, during which she became conscious of others being +in the room; of hearing herself discussed; of a sudden commotion in the +apartment. A sequence of curious noises thoroughly awoke her. The +unaccustomed sight of three other girls in the room in which she slept +caused her to sit bolt upright. The girl, Miss Impett, to whom she had +already spoken, was sitting on her bed, yawning as she pulled off her +stockings. Another, a fine, queenly-looking girl, in evening dress, was +sitting on a chair with her hands pressed to her stomach; her eyes were +rolling as if she were in pain. The third girl, also in evening dress, +but not so handsome as the sufferer, was whispering consoling words. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she ill?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the indigestion," replied the last girl Mavis had noticed. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I do anything?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"She always has it dreadful when she goes out to supper; now she's +paying for it and—" She got no further; her friend was seized with +another attack; all her attention was devoted to rubbing the patient's +stomach, the while the latter groaned loudly. It was a similar noise +which had awakened Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose we shan't get to sleep for an hour," yawned Miss Impett, as +she struggled into a not too clean nightdress. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you cat, you!" gasped the sufferer. +</P> + +<P> +"It's your own fault," retorted Miss Impett. "You always over-eat +yourself and drink such a lot of that filthy creme de menthe." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you wish you had the chance?" snapped the girl who was attending +her friend. +</P> + +<P> +"I always drink Kummel; it's much more ladylike," remarked Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd drink anything you can bally well get," the sufferer cried at a +moment when she was free of pain. +</P> + +<P> +"I am a lady. I know how to be'ave when a gentleman offers me a drink," +retorted Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"You a lady—you—!" began the sufferer's ministering angel. She got no +further, being checked by her friend casting a significant glance in +Mavis's direction. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later, Mavis fell asleep. It was a strange experience +when, the next morning, she had to wash and dress with three other +girls doing the same thing in the little space at their disposal. +</P> + +<P> +She had asked if there were any chance of getting a bath, to be +surprised at the astonished looks on the faces of the others. At a +quarter to eight, they scurried down to breakfast, at which meal Miss +Striem presided, as at supper. +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast consisted of thick bread, salt butter, and the cheapest of +cheap tea. It was as much as Mavis could do to get any of it down, +although she was hungry. She could not help noticing that she was the +object of much remark to the other girls present, her words with Miss +Striem on the previous evening having attracted much attention. After +breakfast, Mavis was taken upstairs to the department in which she was +to work. It was on the roomy ground floor, for which she was thankful; +she was also pleased that the girl selected to instruct her in her +duties was her Browning friend of last night. Her work was not arduous, +and Mavis enjoyed the handling of dainty things; but she soon became +tired of standing, at which she sat on one of the seats provided by Act +of Parliament to rest the limbs of weary shop assistants. +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't do that!" urged Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll get yourself disliked if you do." +</P> + +<P> +"What are they here for, if not to sit on?" +</P> + +<P> +"They have to be there; but you won't be here long if you're seen using +them, 'cept when the Government inspector is about." +</P> + +<P> +"It's cruel, unfair," began Mavis, but her friend merely shrugged her +shoulders as she moved away to wait on a customer. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was disposed to rebel against the unwritten rule that seats are +not to be made use of, but a moment's reflection convinced her of the +unwisdom of such a proceeding. +</P> + +<P> +Later on in the morning, Miss Meakin said to Mavis: +</P> + +<P> +"I hear you had a dust up with old Striem last night." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis told her the circumstances. +</P> + +<P> +"She's an awful beast and makes no end of money out of the catering. +But no one dare say anything, as she's a relation of one of the +directors. All the young ladies are talking of your standing up to her." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose she'll report me," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"She daren't; she's too keen on a good thing; but I'll bet she has her +knife into you if she gets a chance." +</P> + +<P> +Presently, Miss Meakin got confidential; she told Mavis how she was +engaged to be married; also, that she met her "boy" by chance at a +public library, where they both asked the librarian for Browning at the +same time, and that this had brought them together. +</P> + +<P> +The girls went down to dinner in two batches. When it was time for +Mavis to go (she was in the second lot), she was weary with exhaustion; +the continued standing, the absence of fresh air, her poor breakfast, +all conspired to cause her mental and physical distress. +</P> + +<P> +The contaminated air of the passage leading to the eating-room brought +on a feeling of nausea. Miss Meakin, noticing Mavis change colour, +remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"We're all like that at first: you'll soon get used to it." +</P> + +<P> +If the atmosphere of the downstair regions discouraged appetite, the +air in the glazed bricked dining-room was enough to take it away; it +was heavy with the reek arising from cooked joints and vegetables. +Mavis took her place, when a plate heaped up with meat and vegetables +was passed to her. One look was enough: the meat was cag mag, and +scarcely warm at that; the potatoes looked uninvitingly soapy; the +cabbage was coarse and stringy; all this mess was seemingly frozen in +the white fat of what had once been gravy. Mavis sickened and turned +away her head; she noticed that the food affected many of the girls in +a like manner. +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder," she thought, "that so many of them are pasty-faced and +unwholesome-looking." +</P> + +<P> +She realised the necessity of providing the human machine with fuel; +she made an effort to disguise the scant flavour of the best-looking +bits she could pick out by eating plenty of bread. She had swallowed +one or two mouthfuls and already felt better for the nourishment, when +her eye fell on a girl seated nearly opposite to her, whom she had not +noticed before. This creature was of an abnormal stoutness; her face +was covered with pimples and the rims of her eyes were red; but it was +not these physical defects which compelled Mavis's attention. The girl +kept her lips open as she ate, displaying bloodless gums in which were +stuck irregular decayed teeth; she exhibited the varying processes of +mastication, the while her boiled eyes stared vacantly before her. She +compelled Mavis's attention, with the result that the latter had no +further use for the food on her plate. She even refused rice pudding, +which, although burned, might otherwise have attracted her. +</P> + +<P> +The air of the shop upstairs was agreeably refreshing after the +vitiated atmosphere of the dining-room; it saved her from faintness. +Happily, she was sent down to tea at a quarter to four, to find that +this, by a lucky accident, was stronger and warmer than the tepid stuff +with which she had been served at breakfast. As the hours wore on, +Mavis noticed that most of the girls seemed to put some heart into +their work; she supposed that this elation was caused by the rapidly +approaching hour of liberty. When this at last arrived, there was a +rush to the bedrooms. Mavis, who was now suffering tortures from a +racking headache, went listlessly upstairs; she wondered if she would +be allowed to go straight to bed. When she got into the room, she found +everything in confusion. Miss Potter, Miss Allen, and Miss Impett were +frantically exchanging their working clothes for evening attire. Mavis +was surprised to see the three girls painting their cheeks and eyebrows +in complete indifference to her presence. They took small notice of +her; they were too busy discussing the expensive eating-houses at which +they were to dine and sup. Miss Potter, in struggling into her evening +bodice, tore it behind. Mavis, seeing that Miss Allen was all behind +with her dressing, offered to sew it. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," remarked Miss Potter, in the manner of one bestowing a +favour. Mavis mended the rent quickly and skilfully. Perhaps her ready +needle softened the haughty Miss Potter's heart towards her, for the +beauty said: +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you off to to-night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nowhere," answered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Nowhere!" echoed Miss Potter disdainfully, while the other occupants +of the room ejaculated "My!" +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you a 'boy'?" asked Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"A what?" +</P> + +<P> +"A young man then," said Miss Potter, as she made a deft line beneath +her left eye with an eye pencil. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know any young men," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't you better be quick and pick up one?" asked Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care to make chance acquaintances," answered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +To her surprise, her remark aroused the other girls' ire; they looked +at Mavis and then at one another in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"I defy anyone to prove that I'm not a lady," cried Miss Impett, as she +bounced out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm as good as you any day," declared Miss Potter, as she went to the +door. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that we are," cried Miss Allen defiantly, as she joined her +friend. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sat wearily on her bed. Her head ached; her body seemed incapable +of further effort; worst of all, her soul was steeped in despair. +</P> + +<P> +"What have I done, oh, what have I done to deserve this misery?" she +cried out. +</P> + +<P> +This outburst strengthened her: needs cried for satisfaction in her +body, the chief of these being movement and air. She walked to the +window and looked out on the cloudless September night; there was a +chill in the air, imparting to its sweetness a touch of austerity. +Mavis wondered from what peaceful scenes it came, to what untroubled +places it was going. The thought that she was remote from the stillness +for which her heart hungered exasperated her; she closed the window in +order to spare herself being tortured by the longing which the night +air awoke in her being. The atmosphere of the room was foul when +compared with the air she had just breathed; it seemed to get her by +the throat, to be on the point of stifling her. The next moment she had +pinned on her hat, caught up her gloves, and scurried into the street. +Two minutes later she was in Oxford Street, where she was at once +merged into a stream of girls, a stream almost as wide as the pavement, +which was sluggishly moving in the direction of the Park. This flow was +composed of every variety of girl: tall, stumpy, medium, dark, fair, +auburn, with dispositions as varied as their appearances. Many were +aglow with hope and youthful ardour; others were well over their first +fine frenzy of young blood. There were wise virgins, foolish virgins, +vain girls, clever girls, elderly girls, dull girls, laughing girls, +amorous girls, spiteful girls, girls with the toothache, girls +radiantly happy in the possession of some new, cheap finery: all +wending their way towards the Marble Arch. Most walked in twos and +threes, a few singly; some of these latter were hurrying and darting +amongst the listless walk of the others in their eagerness to keep +appointments with men. Whatever their age, disposition, or condition, +they were all moved by a common desire—to enjoy a crowded hour of +liberty after the toil and fret of the day. As Mavis moved with the +flow of this current, she noticed how it was constantly swollen by the +addition of tributaries, which trickled from nearly every door in +Oxford Street, till at last the stream overflowed the broad pavement +and became so swollen that it seemed to carry everything before it. +Here were gathered girls from nearly every district in the United +Kingdom. The broken home, stepmothers, too many in family, the +fascination which London exercises for the country-grown girl—all and +each of these reasons were responsible for all this womanhood of a +certain type pouring down Oxford Street at eight o'clock in the +evening. Each of them was the centre of her little universe, and, on +the whole, they were mostly happy, their gladness being largely +ignorance of more fortunate conditions of life. Ill-fed, under-paid, +they were insignificant parts of the great industrial machine which had +got them in its grip, so that their function was to make rich men +richer, or to pay 10 per cent, dividends to shareholders who were +careless how these were earned. Nightly, this river of girls flows down +Oxford Street, to return in an hour or two, when the human tide can be +seen flowing in the contrary direction. Meantime, men of all ages and +conditions were skilfully tacking upon this river, itching to quench +the thirst from which they suffered. It needed all the efforts of the +guardian angels, in whose existence Mavis had been taught to believe, +to guide the component parts of this stream from the oozy marshland, +murky ways, and bottomless quicksands which beset its course. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WIDER HORIZONS +</H3> + +<P> +Seven weeks passed quickly for Mavis, during which her horizon sensibly +widened. She learned many things, the existence of which she would +never have thought possible till the knowledge stared her in the face. +To begin with, she believed that the shabby treatment, in the way of +food and accommodation, that the girls suffered at "Dawes'" would bind +them in bonds of sympathy: the contrary was the case. The young women +in other departments looked down on and would have nothing to do with +girls, such as she, who worked in the shop. These other departments had +their rivalries and emulation for social precedence, leading to feuds, +of which the course of action consisted of the two opposing parties +sulking and refusing to speak to each other, unless compelled in the +course of business. The young women in the showroom were selected for +their figures and general appearance; these, by common consent, were +the aristocracy of the establishment. After a time, Mavis found that +there was another broad divergence between her fellow-workers, which +was quite irrespective of the department in which they were. There was +a type of girl, nearly always the best-looking, which seemed to have an +understanding and freemasonry of its own, together with secrets, +confidences, and conversations, which were never for the ears of those +who were outsiders—in the sense of their not being members of this +sisterhood. Miss Potter, Miss Allen, and Miss Impett all belonged to +this set, which nearly always went out after shop hours in evening +dress, which never seemed to want for ready money or pretty clothes, +and which often went away for the weekend ("Dawes'" closed at two on +Saturdays). When Mavis had first been introduced to the three girls +with whom she shared her bedroom, she had intuitively felt that there +was a broad, invisible gulf which lay between her and them; as time +went on, this division widened, so far as Miss Impett and Miss Potter +were concerned, to whom Mavis rarely spoke. Miss Allen, who, in all +other respects, toadied to and imitated Miss Potter, was disposed to be +friendly to Mavis. Miss Impett, who on occasion swore like any street +loafer, Mavis despised as a common, ignorant girl. Miss Potter she knew +to be fast; but Miss Allen, when alone with Mavis, went out of her way +to be civil to her; the fact of the matter being that she was a weak, +easily led girl, whose character was dominated by any stronger nature +with which she came in contact. +</P> + +<P> +Another thing which much surprised Mavis was the heartless cruelty the +girls displayed to any of their number who suffered from any physical +defect. Many times in the day would the afflicted one be reminded of +her infirmity; the consequent tears incited the tormentors to a further +display of malignity. +</P> + +<P> +Bella, the servant, was an object of their attentions; her gait and +manner of breathing would be imitated when she was by. She was always +known by the name of "Pongo," till one of the "young ladies" had +witnessed The Tempest from the upper boxes of His Majesty's Theatre; +from this time, it was thought to be a mark of culture on the part of +many of the girls at "Dawes'" to call her "Caliban." Mavis sympathised +with the afflicted woman's loneliness; she made one or two efforts to +be friendly with her, but each time was repulsed. +</P> + +<P> +One day, however, Mavis succeeded in penetrating the atmosphere of +ill-natured reserve with which "Pongo" surrounded herself. The servant +was staggering upstairs with two big canfuls of water; the task was +beyond her strength. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me help you," said Mavis, who was coming up behind her. +</P> + +<P> +"Shan't," snorted Bella. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall do as I please," remarked Mavis, as she caught hold of one of +the cans. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave 'old!" cried Bella; but Mavis only grasped the can tighter. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on now; don't you try and get round me and then turn an' laugh at +me." +</P> + +<P> +"I never laugh at you, and I only want to help you up with the water." +</P> + +<P> +"Straight?" +</P> + +<P> +"What else should I want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be kind to me," cried Bella, suddenly breaking down. +</P> + +<P> +"Bella!" gasped Mavis in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you start being kind to me. I ain't used to it," wept Bella. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be a fool, Bella!" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't a fool. I'm onny ugly and lopsided, and everyone laughs at me +'ceptin' you, and I've no one or—or nothin' to care for." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thought it advisable to take Bella into her room, which happened +to be empty; here, she thought, Bella would be free from eyes that +would only find food for mirth in her tears. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never had a young man," sobbed Bella. "An' that's why I turned to +Gawd and looked down on the young ladies here, as 'as as many young men +as they want; too many sometimes. An' speaking of Gawd, it's nice to +'ave Someone yer know as cares for you, though you can't never see 'Im +or walk out with 'Im." +</P> + +<P> +From this time, she tried to do Bella many little kindnesses, but, +saving this one instance, the servant was always on her guard and never +again opened her heart to Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Striem did not carry out her threat of charging Mavis for the +extras she refused to eat. In time, Mavis got used to the food supplied +by "Dawes'"; she did not swallow everything that was put upon her +plate, indeed, she did not eat with good appetite at three consecutive +meals; but she could sit at the table in the feeding-room without +overwhelming feelings of repulsion, and, by shutting her eyes to the +unconcealed mastication of the girl opposite, could often pick enough +to satisfy her immediate needs. The evening was the time when she was +most hungry; after the walk which she made a point of taking in all +weathers, she would get quite famished, when the morsel of Canadian +cheese and sour bread supplied for supper was wholly insufficient. At +first, she was tempted to enter the cheaper restaurants with which the +streets about Oxford Street abound; but these extravagances made +serious inroads on her scanty capital and had to be given up, +especially as she was saving up to buy new boots, of which she was in +need. +</P> + +<P> +She confided in Miss Meakin, who was now looking better and plumper, +since nearly every evening she had taken to supping with her "boy's" +mother, who owned a stationery business in the Holloway Road. +</P> + +<P> +"I know, it's dreadful. I used to be like that before I met Sylvester," +Miss Meakin answered to Mavis's complaint. +</P> + +<P> +"But what am I to do?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever tried brisket?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Beef!" +</P> + +<P> +"Beef?" +</P> + +<P> +"You get it at the ham and beef shop. You get quite a lot for five +pence, and when they get to know you they give you good weight." +</P> + +<P> +"But you must have something with it," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you go to a baker's and buy a penn'orth of bread." +</P> + +<P> +"But where am I to eat it?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"In some quiet street," replied Miss Meakin. "Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"With one's fingers?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no one to see you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked dubious. +</P> + +<P> +"It's either that or picking up 'boys,'" remarked Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"Picking up boys!" echoed Mavis, with a note of indignation in her +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"It's what the girls do here if they don't want to go hungry." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't quite understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you come here through old Orgles's influence?" asked Miss +Meakin guardedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing of the kind; one of the partners got me in." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry! I heard it was that beast Orgles. But most of the 'boys' who +try and speak to you in the street are only too glad to stand a girl a +feed." +</P> + +<P> +"But why should they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"It would put me under an obligation to the man," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course; that's what the gentlemen want." +</P> + +<P> +"But it might lead silly girls into all sorts of trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"I think most of us know how to behave like ladies and drop the +gentleman when he wants to go too far." +</P> + +<P> +"Good heavens!" cried Mavis, who was taken aback by the vulgarity of +Miss Meakin's point of view. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps the latter resented the moral superiority contained in her +friend's exclamation, for she said with aggrieved voice: +</P> + +<P> +"There's Miss Searle and Miss Bone, who're taken everywhere by a REEL +swell; they even went to Paris with him at Easter; and no matter what +he wants, I'm sure no one can say they're not ladies." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thought for a moment before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Is that quite fair to the man?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's his look-out," came the swift retort. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't fancy the brisket and I don't fancy picking up men. Can't one +get on and get in the showroom and earn more money?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"One can," replied Miss Meakin, much emphasising the "can." +</P> + +<P> +"How is it done?" +</P> + +<P> +"You ask your friend Miss Allen; she'll tell you all about it." +</P> + +<P> +"She's no friend of mine. Can't you tell me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I could, but don't want to; you look at things so funny. But, then, +you don't like Browning," replied Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was filled with blind rage at the indifference of "Dawes'" to the +necessities of those they engaged; as long as the firm's big dividend +was made, they were careless to what questionable shifts and expedients +their staff was reduced in order to have sufficient strength to bring +to the daily task of profit-earning. She pondered on the cruelty and +injustice of it all in odd moments; she could not give much thought to +the matter, as Christmas was approaching, which meant that "Dawes'" +would be hard at work to cope with the rush of custom every minute of +the working day, and for some time after the doors were closed to the +public. The class of customer had, also, changed. When Mavis first went +to "Dawes'," the people whom she served were mostly visitors to London +who were easily and quickly satisfied; then had followed the rough and +tumble of a remnant sale. But now, London was filling with those women +to whom shopping is at once an art, a fetish, and a burden. Mavis found +it a trying matter to satisfy the exigent demands of the experienced +shopper. She was now well accustomed to the rudeness of women to those +of their own sex who were less happily placed; but she was not a little +surprised at a type of customer whom she was now frequently called upon +to serve. This was of the male sex; sometimes young; usually, about +forty; often, quite old; it was a smart, well-dressed type, with +insinuating manners and a quiet, deferential air that did not seem to +know what it came to buy or cared what it purchased so long as it could +engage Mavis in a few moments' conversation. She soon got to know this +type at a glance, and gave it short shrift. Others at "Dawes'" were not +so coy. Many of the customers she got to know by sight, owing to their +repeated visits. One of these she disliked from the first; later +experience of her only intensified this impression. She was a tall, +fine woman, well, if a trifle over-dressed; her complexion was a little +more aggressive than most of the females who shopped at "Dawes'." Her +name was Mrs Stanley; she appeared well known to the girls for whom +Bella the servant declared she was in the habit of praying. From the +first, Mrs Stanley was attracted by Mavis, into whose past life she +made sympathetic and tactful inquiries. Directly she learned that Mavis +was an orphan, Mrs Stanley redoubled her efforts to win the girl's +confidence. But it was all of no use; Mavis turned a deaf ear to all +Mrs Stanley's insinuations that a girl of her striking appearance was +thrown away in a shop: it was as much as Mavis could do to be coldly +civil to her. Even when Mrs Stanley gave up the girl as a bad job, the +latter was always possessed by an uneasy sensation whenever she was +near, although Mavis might not have set eyes on her. +</P> + +<P> +Another customer who attracted much attention was the Marquis de +Raffini; he was old, distinguished-looking, and the last survivor of an +illustrious French family. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis saw him come into "Dawes'" soon after she had commenced work, +when he was accompanied by a showy, over-dressed girl, whom he referred +to as Madame the Marquise, and for whom he ordered a costly and +elaborate trousseau. He seemed well known to the girls, who told Mavis +that he appeared every few months with a different young woman; also, +that when, in the ordinary course of nature, the condition of the +temporary Madame the Marquise could no longer be concealed, the Marquis +was in the habit of providing a lump sum of some hundreds of pounds as +dowry in order to induce someone (usually a working man) to marry his +mistress. Mavis was shocked at what she heard; it seemed strange to her +that such things should exist and be discussed as if they were the most +everyday occurrences. +</P> + +<P> +Often, while busily engaged in serving customers or in hearing and +seeing things which, before she came to "Dawes'," she would never have +believed to be possible, she had a strong suspicion that old Orgles was +watching her from the top of a flight of stairs or the tiny window in +his room; it seemed that he was a wary old spider, she a fly, and that +he was biding his time. This impression saddened her; it also made her +attend carefully to her duties, it being his place to deal with those +of the staff who were remiss in their work. It was only of an evening, +when she was free of the shop, that she could be said to be anything +like her old, light-hearted self. She would wash, change her clothes, +and scurry off to a ham and beef warehouse she had discovered in a +turning off Oxford Street, where she would get her supper. The shop was +kept by a man named Siggers. He was an affected little man, who wore +his hair long; he minced about his shop and sliced his ham and beef +with elaborate wavings of his carving knife and fork. Mavis proving a +regular customer, he let her eat her supper in the shop, providing her +with knife, fork, tablecloth, and mustard. Although married and +henpecked, he affected to admire Mavis; while she ate her humble meal, +he would forlornly look in her direction, sigh, and wearily support his +shaggy head with his forefinger; but she could not help noticing that, +when afflicted with this mood, he would often glance at himself in a +large looking glass which faced him as he sat. His demonstrations of +regard never became more pronounced. It was as much as Mavis could do +to stop herself from laughing outright when she paid him, it being a +signal mark of his confidence that he did not exact payment from her +"on delivery of goods in order to prevent regrettable mistakes," as +printed cards, conspicuously placed in the shop, informed customers—or +clients, as Mr Siggers preferred to call them. +</P> + +<P> +One night, Mavis, by the merest chance, made a discovery that gladdened +her heart: she lighted upon Soho. She had read and loved her Fielding +and Smollett when at Brandenburg College; the sight of the stately old +houses at once awoke memories of Tom Jones, Parson Adams, Roderick +Random, and Lady Bellaston, She did not immediately remember that those +walls had sheltered the originals of these creations; when she realised +this fact she got from the nearest lending library her old favourites +and carefully re-read them. She, also, remembered her dear father +telling her that an ancestor of his, who had lived in Soho, had been +killed in the thirties of the eighteenth century when fighting a famous +duel; this, and the sorry dignity of the Soho houses, was enough to +stir her imagination. Night after night, she would elude the men who +mostly followed her and walk along the less frequented of the sombre +streets. These she would people with the reckless beaux, the headstrong +ladies of that bygone time; she would imagine the fierce loves, the +daring play, the burning jealousies of which the dark old rooms, of +which she sometimes caught a glimpse, could tell if they had a mind. +Sometimes she would close her eyes, when the street would be again +filled with a jostling crowd of sedan chairmen, footmen, and linkboys; +she could almost smell the torches and hear the cries of their bearers. +It gave her much of a shock to realise how beauties, lovers, linkboys, +and all had disappeared from the face of the earth, as if they had +never been. She wondered why Londoners were so indifferent to the +stones Soho had to tell. Then she fell to speculating upon which the +house might be where her blood-thirsty ancestor had lived; also, if it +had ever occurred to him that one of his descendants, a girl, would be +wandering about Soho with scarce enough for her daily needs. In time, +she grew to love the old houses, which seemed ever to mourn their +long-lost grandeur, which still seemed full of echoes of long-dead +voices, which were ill-reconciled to the base uses to which they were +now put. Perhaps she, also, loved them because she grew to compare +their fallen state with that of her own family; it seemed that she and +they had much in common; and shared misfortunes beget sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +Thus Mavis worked and dreamed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER EIGHT +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SPIDER AND FLY +</H3> + +<P> +One night, Mavis went back to "Dawes'" earlier than usual. She was +wearing the boots bought with her carefully saved pence; these pinched +her feet, making her weary and irritable. She wondered if she would +have the bedroom to herself while she undressed. Of late, the queenly +Miss Potter had given up going out for the evening and returning at all +hours in the morning. Her usual robust health had deserted her; she was +constantly swallowing drugs; she would go out for long walks after shop +hours, to return about eleven, completely exhausted, when she would +hold long, whispered conversations with her friend Miss Allen. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was delighted to find the room vacant. The odour of drugs mingled +with the other smells of the chamber, which she mitigated, in some +measure, by opening the window as far as she was able. She pulled off +her tight boots, enjoying for some moments a pleasurable sense of +relief; then she tumbled into bed, soon to fall asleep. She was +awakened by the noise of voices raised in altercation. Miss Potter and +Miss Impett were having words. The girls were in bed, although no one +had troubled to turn off the flaring jet. As they became more and more +possessed with the passion for effective retort, Mavis saw vile looks +appearing on their faces: these obliterated all traces of youth and +comeliness, substituting in their stead a livid commonness. +</P> + +<P> +"We know all about you!" cried loud-voiced Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"Happily, that's not a privilege desired in your case," retorted Miss +Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"And why not?" Miss Impett demanded to know. +</P> + +<P> +"We might learn too much." +</P> + +<P> +"What does anyone know of me that I'm ashamed of?" roared Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just it." +</P> + +<P> +"Just what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Some people have no shame." +</P> + +<P> +"Do try and remember you're ladies," put in Miss Allen, in an effort to +still the storm. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she shouldn't say I ought to wash my hands before getting into +bed," remarked Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say you should," said Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"What I said was that anyone with any pretension to the name of lady +would wash her hands before getting into bed," corrected Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you don't think me a lady," broke out Miss Impett. "But ma was +quite a lady till she started to let her lodgings in single rooms." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say any more and let's all go to sleep," urged pacific Miss +Allen, who was all the time keeping an anxious eye on her friend Miss +Potter. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Impett, perhaps fired by her family reminiscence, was not so +easily mollified. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, if certain people, who're nobodies, try to be'ave as +somebodies, one naturally wants to know where they've learned their +classy manners," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you referring to me?" asked Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't speaking to you," replied Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"But I was speaking to you. Was you referring to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind who I was referring to." +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever I've done," said Miss Potter pointedly, "whatever I've done, +I've never made myself cheap with a something in the City." +</P> + +<P> +"No. 'E wouldn't be rich enough for you." +</P> + +<P> +"You say that I take money from gentlemen," cried Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"If they're fools enough to give it to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Ladies! ladies!" pleaded Miss Allen, but all in vain. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never done the things you've done," screamed Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"I've done? I've done? I 'ave my faults same as others, but I can say, +I can that—that I've never let a gentleman make love to me unless I've +been properly introduced to him," remarked her opponent virtuously. +</P> + +<P> +"For shame! For shame!" cried Miss Potter and Miss Allen together, as +if the proprieties that they held most sacred had been ruthlessly and +unnecessarily violated. +</P> + +<P> +"No, that I h'ain't," continued irate Miss Impett. "I've watched you +when you didn't know I was by and seen the way you've made eyes at +gentlemen in evening dress." +</P> + +<P> +Much as Mavis was shocked at all she had heard, she was little prepared +for what followed. The next moment Miss Potter had sprung out of bed; +with clenched fists, and features distorted by rage, she sprang to Miss +Impett's bedside. +</P> + +<P> +"Say that again!" she screamed. +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't." +</P> + +<P> +"You daren't!" +</P> + +<P> +"I daren't?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, you daren't." +</P> + +<P> +"What would you do if I did?" +</P> + +<P> +"Say it and see." +</P> + +<P> +"You dare me to?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you damn beast, to say I'm no better than a street-walker!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you call me names." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall call you what I please, you dirty upstart, to put yourself on +a level with ladies like us! We always said you was common." +</P> + +<P> +"What—what's it you dared me to say?" asked Miss Impett breathlessly, +as her face went livid. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't—don't say it," pleaded Miss Allen; but her interference was +ineffectual. +</P> + +<P> +"That I picked up gentlemen in evening dress," bawled Miss Potter. "Say +it: say it: say it! I dare you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I do say it. I'll tell everyone. I've watched you pick up gentlemen +in—" +</P> + +<P> +She got no further. Miss Potter struck her in the mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"You beast!" cried Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Potter struck her again. +</P> + +<P> +"You beast: you coward!" yelled Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"It's you who's the coward, 'cause you don't hit me. Take that and +that," screamed Miss Potter, as she hit the other again and again. "And +if you say any more, I'll pull your hair out." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a coward; I'm not a coward!" wept Miss Impett. "And you know +it." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it!" +</P> + +<P> +"If anything, it's you who's the coward." +</P> + +<P> +"Say it again," threatened Miss Potter, as she raised her fist, while +hate gleamed in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I do say it again. You are a coward; you hit me, and you know I +can't hit you back because you're going to have a baby." +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Miss Potter's face went white; she raised her hand +as if to strike Miss Impett, but as the latter stared her in the eyes, +the other girl flinched. Then, tears came into Miss Potter's eyes as +she faltered: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! Oh, you story!" +</P> + +<P> +"Story! story!" began Miss Impett, but was at once interrupted by +pacific Miss Allen. +</P> + +<P> +"Ssh! ssh!" she cried fearfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't," answered Miss Impett. +</P> + +<P> +"You must," commanded Miss Allen under her breath. "Keeves might hear." +</P> + +<P> +"What if she does! As likely as not she herself's in the way," said +Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, who had been trying not to listen to the previous conversation, +felt both hot and cold at the same time. The blood rushed to her head. +The next moment she sprang out of bed. +</P> + +<P> +"How dare you, how dare you say that?" she cried, her eyes all ablaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Say what?" asked Miss Potter innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"That. I won't foul my lips by repeating it. How dare you say it? How +dare you say that you didn't say it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you shouldn't listen," remarked Miss Potter sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis advanced menacingly to the side of the girl's bed. +</P> + +<P> +"If you think you can insult me like that, you're mistaken," said +Mavis, with icy calmness, the while she trembled in every limb. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you been through Orgles's hands?" asked Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I have not. I say again, how dare you accuse me of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"She didn't mean it, dear," said Miss Allen appeasingly; "she's always +said you're the only pretty girl who's straight in 'Dawes'.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Will you answer my question?" asked Mavis, with quiet persistence. +Then, as the girl made no reply, "Please yourself. I shall raise the +whole question to-morrow, and I'll ask to be moved from this room. Then +perhaps you'll learn not to class me with common, low girls like +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +It might be thought that Mavis's aspersions might have provoked a +storm: it produced an altogether contrary effect. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be down on me. I don't know what's to become of me," whimpered +Miss Potter. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment, the three girls, other than Mavis, were clinging +together, the while they wept tears of contrition and sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, although her pride had been cruelly wounded by Miss Potter's +careless but base accusation, was touched at the girl's distress; the +abasement of the once proud young beauty, the nature of its cause, +together with the realisation of the poor girl's desperate case, moved +her deeply: she stood irresolute in the middle of the room. The three +weeping girls were wondering when Mavis was going to recommence her +attack; they little knew that her keen imagination was already dwelling +with infinite compassion on the dismal conditions in which the promised +new life would come into the world. Her heart went out to the extremity +of mother and unborn little one; had not her pride forbade her, she +would have comforted Miss Potter with brave words. Presently, when Miss +Potter whimpered something about "some people being so straitlaced," +Mavis found words to say: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a bit straitlaced. I'm really very sorry for you, and I can't +see you're much to blame, as the life we lead here is enough to drive +girls to anything. If I'm any different, it's because I'm not built +that way." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was the only girl in the room who got next to no sleep. Long +after the other girls had found repose, she lay awake, wide-eyed; her +sudden gust of rage had exhausted her; all the same, her body quivered +with passion whenever she remembered Miss Potter's insult. But it was +the shock of the discovery of the girl's condition which mostly kept +her awake; hitherto, she had been dimly conscious that such things +were; now that they had been forced upon her attention, she was dazed +at their presence in the person of one with whom she was daily +associated. Then she fell to wondering what mysterious ends of +Providence Miss Potter's visitation would serve. The problem made her +head ache. She took refuge in the thought that Miss Potter was a +sparrow, such as she—a sparrow with gaudier and, at the same time, +more bedraggled plumage, but one who, for all this detriment, could not +utterly fall without the knowledge of One who cared. This thought +comforted Mavis and brought her what little sleep she got. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, Mavis was sent to a City warehouse in order to match +some material that "Dawes'" had not in stock. When she took her seat on +the 'bus, a familiar voice cried: +</P> + +<P> +"There's 'B. C.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Allen." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what we all call you, 'cos you're so innocent. If you're off to +the warehouse, it's where I'm bound." +</P> + +<P> +"We can go together," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, you were a brick last night," said Miss Allen, after the two +girls had each paid for their tickets. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm only sorry for her." +</P> + +<P> +"She'll be all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Will he marry her, then?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Good old 'B. C.'! Don't be a juggins; her boy's married already." +</P> + +<P> +"Married!" gasped Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes!" laughed Miss Allen. "And with a family." +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis got over her astonishment at this last bit of information, +she remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"But you said she would be all right." +</P> + +<P> +"So she will be, with luck," declared Miss Allen. +</P> + +<P> +"What—what on earth do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"What I say. Why, if every girl who got into trouble didn't get out of +it, I don't know what would happen." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wondered what the other meant. Miss Allen continued: +</P> + +<P> +"It's all a question of money and knowing where to go." +</P> + +<P> +"Where to go?" echoed Mavis, who was more amazed than before. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, there's always a risk. That's how a young lady at 'Dawes'' +died last year. But the nursing home she was in managed to hush it up." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis showed her perplexity in her face. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Allen, unaccustomed to such a fallow ear, could not resist giving +further information of a like nature. +</P> + +<P> +"You are green, 'B. C.' I suppose you'll be saying next you don't know +what Mrs Stanley is." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on!" +</P> + +<P> +"What is she?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's awfully well known; she gets hold of pretty young girls new to +London for rich men: that's why she was so keen on you." +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis still did not understand, Miss Allen explained the nature of +the lucrative and time immemorial profession to which Mrs Stanley +belonged. +</P> + +<P> +For the rest of the way, Mavis was so astonished at all she had heard, +that she did not say any more; she scarcely listened to Miss Allen, who +jabbered away at her side. +</P> + +<P> +On the way back, she spoke to Miss Allen upon a more personal matter. +</P> + +<P> +"What did your friend mean last night by saying I'd been through +Orgles's hands?" +</P> + +<P> +"She thought he introduced you here?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"He sees all the young ladies who want rises and most of the young +ladies who want work at 'Dawes'.' If he doesn't fancy them, and they +want 'rises,' he tells them they have their latch-keys; if he fancies +them, he asks what they're prepared to pay for his influence." +</P> + +<P> +"Money?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Money, no," replied Miss Allen scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean—?" asked Mavis, flushing. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. He's sent dozens of girls 'on the game.'" +</P> + +<P> +"On the game?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the streets, then." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's body glowed with the hot blood of righteous anger. +</P> + +<P> +"It can't be," she urged. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't be?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't right." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It wouldn't be allowed." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's to stop it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But if it's wrong, it simply can't go on." +</P> + +<P> +"Whose to stop it, I say?" +</P> + +<P> +It was on the tip of Mavis's tongue to urge how He might interfere to +prevent His sparrows being devoured by hawks; but this was not a +subject which she cared to discuss with Miss Allen. This young person, +taking Mavis's silence for the acquiescence of defeat, went on: +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, on the stage or in books something always happens just in +the nick of time to put things right; but that ain't life, or nothing +like it." +</P> + +<P> +"What is life, then?" asked Mavis, curious to hear what the other would +say. +</P> + +<P> +"Money: earning enough to live on and for a bit of a fling now and +then." +</P> + +<P> +"What about love?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's a luxury. If the stage and books was what life really is, we +shop-girls wouldn't like 'em so much." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis relapsed into silence, at which Miss Allen said: +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, in my heart, dear, I think just as you do and would like to +have no 'truck' with Ada Potter or Rose Impett; but one has to know +which side one's bread is buttered. See?" +</P> + +<P> +Later, when talking over Mavis with the girls she had disparaged, Miss +Allen was equally emphatic in her condemnation of "that stuck-up 'B. +C.,'" as she called the one-time teacher of Brandenburg College. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's anger, once urged to boiling point by what she had learned of +old Orgles's practices, did not easily cool; it remained at a high +temperature, and called into being all the feeling of revolt, of which +she was capable, against the hideous injustice and the infamous wrongs +to which girls were exposed who sought employment at "Dawes'," or who, +having got this, wished for promotion. Luckily, or unluckily for her, +the course of this story will tell which, the Marquis de Raffini, +accompanied by a new "Madame the Marquise," came into the shop directly +she came up from dinner on the same day, and made for where she was +standing. Two or three of the "young ladies" pressed forward, but the +Marquis was attracted by Mavis; he showed in an unmistakable manner +that he preferred her services. +</P> + +<P> +He wanted a trousseau for "Madame the Marquise." He—ahem!—she was +very particular, very, very particular about her lingerie; would Mavis +show "Madame" "Dawes'" most dainty and elaborate specimens? +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was no prude; but this request, coming on top of all she had +learned from Miss Allen, fanned the embers of resentment against the +conditions under which girls, helpless as she, worked. The Marquis's +demand, the circumstances in which it was made, seemed part and parcel +of a system of oppression, of which old Orgles's sending dozens of +girls "on the game," who might otherwise have kept straight, was +another portion. The realisation of this fact awoke in Mavis a burning +sense of injustice; it only needed a spark to cause an explosion. This +was not long in coming. The Marquis examined the things that she set +before him with critical eye; his eagerness to handle them did not +prevent his often looking admiringly at Mavis, a proceeding that did +not please "Madame the Marquise," who felt resentful against Mavis for +marring her transient triumph. "Madame the Marquise" pouted and +fretted, but without effect; when her "husband" presently put his mouth +distressingly near Mavis's ear, "Madame's" feelings got the better of +her; she put her foot, with some violence, upon the Marquis's most +sensitive corn, at which it was as much as Mavis could do to stop +herself from laughing. All might then have been well, had not the +Marquis presently asked Mavis to put her bare arm into one of the open +worked garments in order that he might critically examine the effect. +In a moment, Mavis was ablaze with indignation; her lips tightened. The +man repeated his request, but he may as well have talked to the moon so +far as Mavis was concerned. The girl felt that, if only she resisted +this unreasonable demand, it would be an act of rebellion against the +conditions of the girls' lives at "Dawes'"; she was sure that only good +would come of her action, and that He, who would not see a sparrow fall +to the ground without caring, would aid her in her single-handed +struggle against infamous oppression. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry, sir; but I cannot." +</P> + +<P> +"Cannot?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything wrong with your plump, pretty arm?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why not do as I wish?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because—because it isn't right, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +The man stared at Mavis, who looked him steadfastly in the eyes. In his +heart of hearts, he respected her scruples; he also admired her spirit. +But for "Madame the Marquise," nothing more would have been said, but +this young person was destined to be an instrument of the fates that +ruled Mavis's life. This chit was already resentful against the +strangely beautiful, self-possessed shop-girl; Mavis's objection to the +Marquis's request was in the nature of a reflection on "Madame the +Marquise's" mode of life. She took her lover aside and urged him to +report to the management Mavis's obstinacy; he resisted, wavered, +surrendered. Mavis saw the Marquis speak to a shopman, of whom he +seemed to be asking her name; he was then conducted upstairs to Mr +Orgles's office, from which he issued, a few minutes later, to be bowed +obsequiously downstairs by the man he had been to see. The Marquis +joined "Madame the Marquise" (who, while waiting, had looked +consciously self-possessed), completed his purchases, and left the shop. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis waited in suspense, expecting every minute to be summoned to +Orgles's presence. She did not regret what she had done, but, as the +hours passed and she was not sent for, she more and more feared the +consequences of her behaviour. +</P> + +<P> +When she came upstairs from tea, she received a message saying that Mr +Orgles wished to see her. Nerving herself for the interview, she walked +up the circular stairs leading to his office, conscious that the eyes +of the "young ladies" in the downstair shop were fixed upon her. As she +went into the manager's room, she purposely left the door open. She +found Orgles writing at a table; at his side were teacups, a teapot, +some thinly cut bread and butter and a plate of iced cake. Mavis +watched him as he worked. As her eyes fell on his stooping shoulders, +camel-like face and protruding eyes, her heart was filled with loathing +of this bestial old man, who made the satisfaction of his lusts the +condition of needy girls' securing work, all the while careless that he +was conducting them along the first stage of a downward journey, which +might lead to unsuspected depths of degradation. She itched to pluck +him by the beard, to tell him what she thought of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Keeves!" said Mr Orgles presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say 'sir.'" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis started in surprise. Mr Orgles put down his pen. +</P> + +<P> +"We're going to have a friendly little chat," said the man. "Let me +offer you some tea." +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +Mr Orgles poured out the tea; as he did so, he turned his head so that +his glance could fall on Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Bread and butter, or cake?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Then drink this tea." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Orgles brought a cup of tea to where Mavis was standing. On his way, +he closed the door that she had left open. He placed the tea on a table +beside her and took up a piece of bread and butter. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you," said Mavis again. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +He had taken a large bite out of his piece of bread and butter. He +stared at the girl in open-mouthed surprise. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was fascinated by the bite of food in his mouth and the +tooth-marks in the piece of bread and butter from which it had been +torn. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we'll have a cosy little chat about this most unfortunate +business." +</P> + +<P> +Here Mr Orgles noisily sucked up a mouthful of tea. Mavis shivered with +disgust as she watched him churn the mixture of food and drink in his +mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you sit down?" he asked presently. +</P> + +<P> +"I prefer to stand." +</P> + +<P> +"Now then!" Here he joyously rubbed his hands. "Two months ago, when we +had a little talk, you were a foolish, ignorant little girl. Perhaps +we've learned sense since then, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not reply. The man went on: +</P> + +<P> +"Although a proud little girl, I don't mind telling you I've had my eye +on you, that I've watched you often and that I've great hopes of +advancing you in life. Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +Here he turned his head so that his eyes leered at her. Mavis repressed +an inclination to throw the teapot at his head. He went on: +</P> + +<P> +"To-day, we made a mistake; we offended a rich and important customer. +That would be a serious matter for you if I reported it, but, as I +gather, you're now a sensible little girl, you may make it worth my +while to save you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis bit her lip. +</P> + +<P> +"What if you're still a little fool? You will get the sack; and girls +from 'Dawes'' always find it hard to get another job. You will wear +yourself out trapesing about after a 'shop,' and by and by you will +starve and rot and die." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis trembled with anger. The man went on talking. His words were no +longer coherent, but the phrases "make you manageress"—"four pounds a +week"—"share the expenses of a little flat together," fell on her ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Say no more," Mavis was able to cry at last. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment, Mavis felt the man's arms about her, his hot, gasping +breath on her cheek, his beard brushing against her mouth, in his +efforts to kiss her. The attack took her by surprise. Directly she was +able to recover herself, she clawed the fingers of her left hand into +his face and forced his head away from her till she held it at arm's +length. Orgles's head was now upon one side, so that one of his eyes +was able to glare hungrily at her; his big nostrils were dilating with +the violence of his passion. Mavis trembled with a fierce, resentful +rage. +</P> + +<P> +"Your answer: your answer: your answer?" gasped the man huskily. +</P> + +<P> +"This: this: this!" cried Mavis, punctuating each word with a blow from +her right hand upon Orgles's face. "This: this: this! It's men like you +who drag poor girls down. It's men like you who bring them to horrible +things, which they'd never have dreamed of, if it hadn't been for you. +It's men like you who make wickedness. You're the worst man I ever met, +and I'd rather die in the gutter than be fouled by the touch of a +horrible old beast like you." +</P> + +<P> +Her anger blazed up into a final flame. This gave her strength to throw +the old man from her; he crashed into the grate; she heard his head +strike against the coal-box. Mavis cast one look upon the shapeless and +bleeding heap of humanity and left the room. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER NINE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AWING +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis was again workless, this time with a capital of fifteen shillings +and sixpence halfpenny. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately after her interview with Orgles, she had gone to her room +to change into her out-of-door clothes. +</P> + +<P> +She disregarded the many questions that several of the girls came +upstairs to ask her. She packed up her things as a preliminary to +leaving "Dawes'" for good. For many hours she paced the streets, +heedless of where her steps led her, her heart seemingly breaking with +rage and shame at the insults to which she had been subjected. +</P> + +<P> +About eight, she felt utterly exhausted, and turned into the first shop +where she could get refreshment. +</P> + +<P> +This was a confectioner's. The tea and dry biscuits she ordered enabled +her to marshal her distracted thoughts into something approaching +coherence; she realised that, as she was not going back to "Dawes'," +she must find a roof for the night. +</P> + +<P> +She had several times called on her old friend Mrs Ellis; she decided +to make for her house. She asked her way to the nearest station, which +was Notting Hill; here she took a ticket to Hammersmith and then walked +to Kiva Street, where she knocked at the familiar door. A +powerful-looking man in corduroy trousers and shirt sleeves opened it. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Ellis?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"'Orspital." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very sorry. What's the matter with her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Werry bad." +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted rooms. I used to lodge here." +</P> + +<P> +At this piece of information the man made as if he would close the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you tell me where I can get a room for the night?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The man by way of reply muttered something about the lady at the end of +the row wanting a lodger. +</P> + +<P> +"Which hospital is Mrs Ellis at?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +By way of reply, the door was slammed in her face. Mavis dragged her +weary limbs to the end house in the row, where, in reply to her knock, +a tall, pasty-faced, crossed-eyed woman, who carried an empty jug, +answered the door. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you was Mrs Bonus," remarked the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"I want a room for the night. I used to lodge with Mrs Ellis at number +20." +</P> + +<P> +"Did yer? There! I do know yer face. Come inside." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed the landlady into a faded and formal little +sitting-room, where the latter sat wearily in a chair, still clasping +her jug. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I have a room?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I think so. My name's Bilkins." +</P> + +<P> +"Mine is Keeves." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a funny name. I 'ope you ain't married." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"It's only fools who get married. You jest hear what Mrs Bonus says." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very tired," said Mavis. "Can you give me anything to eat?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've nothing in the 'ouse, but I'll get you something when I go out. +And, if Mrs Bonus comes, ask her to wait, an' say I've jes gone out to +get a little Jacky." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis waited in the dark room of the deserted house. Had she not been +tired and heartsick, she would have been amused at this strange +experience. A quarter of an hour passed without anyone calling, when +she heard the sound of a key in the latch, and Mrs Bilkins returned. +</P> + +<P> +"No Mrs Bonus?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one's been." +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't her washing day neither, though it would be late for a lady +like 'er to be out all alone. Drink this." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's stout," said Mavis, as Mrs Bilkins lit the gas. +</P> + +<P> +"I call it jacky. A glass will do you good." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis drank some of the liquor and certainly felt the better for it. +</P> + +<P> +"I bought you a quarter of German," declared Mrs Bilkins, as she +enrolled a paper parcel. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean German sausage," said Mavis, as she caught sight of the +mottled meat, a commodity which her old friend Mr Siggers sold. +</P> + +<P> +"I always call it German," remarked Mrs Bilkins, a trifle huffily. +</P> + +<P> +"But what am I to eat it on?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is funny. I'm always forgetting," said Mrs Bilkins, as she faded +from the room. +</P> + +<P> +After some time, she came back with a coarse cloth, a thick plate, a +wooden-handled knife, together with a fork made of some pliant +material; these she put before Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The coarse food and more of the stout put fresh heart into the girl. +She got a room from Mrs Bilkins for six shillings a week, on the +understanding that she did not give much trouble. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one thing. I suppose you have a bath of some sort?" said +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That is funny," said Mrs Bilkins. "I've never been asked such a thing +in my life." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you wash?" +</P> + +<P> +"In penny pieces; a bit at a time." +</P> + +<P> +"But never all over, properly?" +</P> + +<P> +"You are funny. Why, three years ago, I had the rheumatics; then I was +covered all over with flannel. Now I don't know which is flannel and +which is skin." +</P> + +<P> +It was arranged, however, that, if Mrs Bilkins could not borrow a bath +from a neighbour in the morning, she would bring Mavis her washing-tin, +which would answer the same purpose. Mavis slept soundly in a fairly +clean room, her wanderings after leaving "Dawes'" having tired her out. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning she came down to a breakfast of which the tea was +smoked and her solitary egg was scarcely warm; when she opened this +latter, the yolk successfully eluded the efforts of her spoon to get it +out. It may be said at once that this meal was a piece with the entire +conduct of Mrs Bilkins's house, she being a unit in the vast army of +incapable, stupid women who, sooner or later, drift into the letting of +lodgings as a means of livelihood. After breakfast, Mavis wrote to +"Dawes'," requesting that her boxes might be sent to her present +address. Now that the sun of cold reason, which reaches its zenith in +the early morning, illumined the crowded events of yesterday, Mavis was +concerned for the consequences of the violence she had offered Orgles. +Her faith in human justice had been much disturbed; she feared that +Orgles, moved with a desire for vengeance, would represent her as the +aggressor, himself as the victim of an unprovoked assault: any moment +she feared to find herself in the clutches of the law. She was too +dispirited to look for work; to ease the tension in her mind, she tried +to discover what had become of Mrs Ellis, but without success. +</P> + +<P> +About five, two letters came for her, one of these being, as the +envelope told her, from "Dawes'." She fearfully opened it. To her great +surprise, the letter regretted the firm's inability to continue her +temporary engagement; it enclosed a month's salary in place of the +usual notice, together with the money due to her for her present +month's services; it concluded by stating that her conduct had given +great satisfaction to the firm, and that it would gladly give her +further testimonials should she be in want of these to secure another +place. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis could hardly believe her good fortune; she read and re-read the +letter; she gratefully scanned the writing on the cheque. The other +letter attracted her attention, which proved to be from Miss Meakin. +This told her that, if Mavis could play the piano and wanted temporary +work, she could get this by at once applying at "Poulter's" Dancing +Academy in Devonport Road, Shepherd's Bush, which Miss Meakin attended; +it also said that the writer would be at the academy soon after nine, +when she would tell Mavis how she had found her address. Mavis put on +her hat and cloak with a light heart. The fact of escaping from the +debasing drudgery of "Dawes'," of being the possessor of a cheque for +L2. 12S., the prospect of securing work, if only of a temporary nature, +made her forget her loneliness and her previous struggles to wrest a +pittance from a world indifferent to her needs. After all, there was +One who cared: the contents of the two letters which she had just +received proved that; the cheque and promise of employment were in the +nature of compensation for the hurt to her pride which she had suffered +yesterday at Orgles's hands. She thought her sudden good fortune +justified a trifling extravagance; she had no fancy for Mrs Bilkins's +smoked tea, so she turned into the first teashop she came to, where she +revelled in scrambled eggs, strong tea, bread, butter, and jam. She ate +these unaccustomed delicacies slowly, deliberately, hugely enjoying the +savour of each mouthful. She then walked in the direction of Shepherd's +Bush. +</P> + +<P> +The garish vulgarity of the Goldhawk Road, along which a procession of +electric trams rushed and whizzed, took away her breath. Devonport +Road, in which she was to find the academy, was such a quiet, retiring +little turning that Mavis could hardly believe it joined a noisy +thoroughfare like the Goldhawk Road. "Poulter's" Dancing Academy took +some finding; she had no number to guide her, so she asked the two or +three people she met if they could direct her to this institution, but +not one of them appeared to know anything about it. She walked along +the road, keeping a sharp look-out on either side for door plate or +lamp, which she believed was commonly the out-ward and visible sign of +the establishment she sought. A semicircle of brightly illuminated +coloured glass, placed above an entrance gate, attracted her, but +nearer inspection proved this to be an advertisement of "painless +dentistry." +</P> + +<P> +Further down the road, a gaily coloured lamp caught her eye, the +lettering on which read "Gellybrand's Select Dancing Academy. Terms to +suit all pockets. Inquire within." Mavis was certain that the name of +which she was in search was none other than Poulter: she looked about +her and wondered if it were possible for such a down-at-heel +neighbourhood to support more than one dancing academy. The glow of a +light in an open doorway on the other side of the way next attracted +her. She crossed, to find this light came from a lamp which was held +aloft by a draped female statue standing just inside the door: beyond +the statue was another door, the upper part of which was of glass, the +lower of wood. Written upon the glass in staring gilt letters was the +name "Poulter's." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked up the steps to the front door. Her heart sank as she +noticed that the plaster had worn away and was broken from various +parts of the house, which had a shabby and dilapidated appearance. +Mavis set going a bell, which could be heard faint-heartedly tinkling +in the distance; she employed the time that she was kept waiting in +examining the statue. This was as depressing as the house: its smile +was cracked in the middle; a rude boy had reddened the lady's nose; its +dress cried aloud for some kindly disposed person to give it a fresh +coat of paint. Presently, a drab of a little servant opened the inner +door. +</P> + +<P> +"'Pectus?" said the girl, directly she caught sight of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see Mr Poulter." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a 'pectus?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis repeated her request. +</P> + +<P> +"Come insoide. 'E's 'avin' 'is tea." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed the drab along a passage: at the end of this was a door, +above which was inscribed "Ladies' Cloak Room." +</P> + +<P> +Opening this, the drab said mechanically: +</P> + +<P> +"Walk insoide. What nime?" +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Keeves. I've come from Miss Meakin." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked inside, to find herself in a smallish room, the walls of +which were decorated with rows of hooks, beneath each of which was a +number printed in large type. There were a cracked toilette glass, a +few rickety chairs, a heavy smell of stale toilet powder, and little +else. A few moments later, a little, shrivelled-up, elderly woman +walked into the room with a slight hobble. Mavis noticed her narrow, +stooping shoulders, which, although the weather was warm, were covered +by a shawl; her long upper lip; her snub nose; also that she wore her +right arm in a sling. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you waiting to see Mr Poulter particular?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I was rather." +</P> + +<P> +"'E's 'avin' 'is tea, and—and you know what these artists are at +meal-time," said the little woman confidentially. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm in no hurry. I can easily wait," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you come about 'privates'?" asked the little woman wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Privates?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean private lessons. 'Poulter's' always calls 'em 'privates.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I heard you were in want of an accompanist. I came to offer my +services." +</P> + +<P> +"It won't be for long; my fingers is nearly healed of the chilblains." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything is better than nothing," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you mind if I heard you play?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all." +</P> + +<P> +"My word might go some way with Mr Poulter. See?" said the little woman +confidentially. +</P> + +<P> +"It's very good of you," remarked Mavis, who was beginning to like the +little, shrivelled-up old thing. +</P> + +<P> +The woman with the chilblains led the way to a door in a corner of the +cloak-room, which Mavis had not noticed before. Mavis followed her down +an inclined, boarded-in gangway, decorated with coloured presentation +plates from long forgotten Christmas numbers of popular weeklies, to +the ballroom, which was a portable iron building erected in the back +garden of the academy. At the further end was a platform, which +supported a forlorn-looking piano. +</P> + +<P> +"Be careful not to slip," said Mavis's conductor. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, I won't," replied Mavis, who was not in the least danger of +losing her foothold. +</P> + +<P> +"'E invented it." +</P> + +<P> +"Invented what?" +</P> + +<P> +"This floor wax. It's Poulter's patent," the little woman reverently +informed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"He must be rather clever!" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather clever! It's plain you've never met 'im." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sat down to the piano, but did not do herself justice over the +first waltz she played, owing to the faultiness of the instrument. As +with many other old pianos, the keys were small; also, the treble was +weak and three notes were broken in the bass. +</P> + +<P> +"Try again!" said the little woman dubiously. +</P> + +<P> +By this time, Mavis had mastered the piano's peculiarities; she played +her second waltz resonantly, rhythmically. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you're up to 'Poulter's,'" said the little woman critically, +when Mavis had finished. "And what about terms?" +</P> + +<P> +"What about them?" asked Mavis pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a great honour being connected with 'Poulter's,'" the little +woman hazarded. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt." +</P> + +<P> +"And what with the undercutting and all, on the part of those who ought +to know better, it makes it 'ard to make both ends meet." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure it does." +</P> + +<P> +"But there! We'll leave it to Mr Poulter." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the best thing to do." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see if Mr Poulter's finished 'is tea." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed the woman across the ballroom, and back to the +cloak-room, where she was left alone for quite five minutes. Then the +little woman put her head into the room to say: +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Poulter won't be many minutes now. 'E's come to the cake," at which +Mavis smiled as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I can wait any time." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis already quite liked the odd little woman. She waited some minutes +longer, till at last her friend excitedly re-entered to say, in the +manner of one conveying information of much moment: +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Poulter is reelly coming on purpose to see you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nerved herself for the ordeal of meeting the dancing-master. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"POULTER'S" +</H3> + +<P> +When, a few moments later, Mr Poulter came into the room, his +appearance surprised Mavis. She expected and braced herself to +interview a person with greasy, flowing locks and theatrical manners; +instead, she saw a well-preserved old man with one of the finest faces +she had ever seen. He had a ruddy complexion, soft, kindly blue eyes, +and a noble head covered with snow-white hair. His presence seemed to +infect the coarsely scented air of the room with an atmosphere of +refinement and unaffected kindliness. He was shabbily dressed. Directly +Mavis saw him, she longed to throw her arms about his neck, to kiss him +on the forehead. +</P> + +<P> +He bowed to Mavis before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Have you 'ad your tea?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, thank you," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Nippett has told me of your errand." +</P> + +<P> +"She has also heard me play." +</P> + +<P> +"It is now only a question of terms," said Mr Poulter gently. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so." +</P> + +<P> +"The last wish of 'Poulter's' is to appear ungenerous, but, with +remorseless competition in the Bush," here Mr Poulter's kindly face +hardened, "everyone suffers." +</P> + +<P> +"The Bush?" queried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Shepherd's Bush," explained Poulter. "Many of 'Poulter's' clients, who +are behindhand with their cheques for family tuition, have made payment +with the commodities which they happen to retail," remarked Poulter. +"Assuming that you were willing, you might care to take whole or part +payment in some of these." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was sorry, but money was a necessity to her. +</P> + +<P> +"I quite understand," said Poulter sympathetically. "On 'Ordinary +Days,' 'Poulter's' would require you from eleven in the morning till—" +Here he turned inquiringly to Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Carriages at ten thirty," put in Miss Nippett promptly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, carriages at ten thirty," repeated Mr Poulter, who took a simple +enjoyment in the reference to the association of vehicles, however +imaginary, with the academy. +</P> + +<P> +"And on 'Third Saturdays'?" said Poulter, as he again turned to Miss +Nippett, as if seeking information. +</P> + +<P> +"Special and Select Assembly at the Athenaeum, including the Godolphin +String Band and light refreshments," declared Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! carriages at twelve," said Mr Poulter with relish. "That means +your getting home very late." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind. I don't live far from here. I can walk." +</P> + +<P> +It was ultimately arranged that Mavis should be supplied with dinner, +tea, and supper, and receive a shilling a day for five days of the +week; on Saturdays, in consideration of her staying late, she was to +get an extra shilling. +</P> + +<P> +Mention was made with some pride of infrequent "Long Nights," which +were also held at the Athenaeum, when dancing was kept up till three in +the morning; but, as Miss Nippett's chilblains would probably be cured +long before the date fixed for the next Terpsichorean Festival, as +these special dances were called, no arrangement was made in respect of +these. +</P> + +<P> +"It is usual for 'Poulter's' to ask for references," declared Mr +Poulter. "But needless to say that one who has pioneered 'Poulter's' +into the forefront of such institutions can read character at a glance." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked him for his confidence, but said that she could supply +him with testimonials from her last two employers. Mr Poulter would not +dream of troubling her, and asked Mavis if she could commence her +duties on that evening. Upon Mavis saying that she could, Mr Poulter +looked at his watch and said: +</P> + +<P> +"It still wants an hour till 'Poulter's' evening classes commence. As +you've joined 'Poulter's' staff, it might be as well if you shared one +of the privileges of your position." +</P> + +<P> +This particular privilege consisted of Mavis's being taken downstairs +to Mr Poulter's private sitting-room. This was a homely apartment +furnished with much-worn horsehair furniture, together with many framed +and unframed flashlight photographs of various "Terpsichorean +Festivals," in all of which, conspicuous in the foreground, was Mr +Poulter, wearing a big white rosette on the lapel of his evening coat. +</P> + +<P> +"Smoke if you want to, won't you?" said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," replied Mr Poulter, "but I only smoke after 'Poulter's' is +closed. It might give 'Poulter's' a bad reputation if the young lady +pupils went 'ome smelling of smoke." +</P> + +<P> +"'E thinks of everything," declared Miss Nippett admiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Poulter's' is not deficient in worldly wisdom," remarked the +dancing-master with subdued pride. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure of that," said Mavis hypocritically, as she looked at the +simple face of the kindly old man. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose we have a game of cards," suggested Mr Poulter presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Promise you won't cheat," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter laughed uneasily before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"'Poulter's' would not occupy its present position if it were not for +its straightforward dealing. What shall we play?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, feeling light-hearted, was on the point of saying "Snap," but +feared that the fact of her suggesting such a frivolous game might set +her down as an improper person in the eyes of "Poulter's." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know 'Casino'?" asked Mr Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I don't," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"A grand old game; we must teach you another time. What do you say to +'Old Maid'?" +</P> + +<P> +They played "Old Maid" deliberately, solemnly. After a time, Mavis had +a strong suspicion that Miss Nippett was cheating in order that Mr +Poulter might win; also, that Mr Poulter was manoeuvring the cards so +that Mavis might not be declared "old maid." +</P> + +<P> +This belief was strengthened when Mavis heard Miss Nippett say to Mr +Poulter, at the close of the game: +</P> + +<P> +"She ought to 'ave been 'old maid.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I know, I know," replied Mr Poulter. "But I want her first evening at +'Poulter's' to be quite 'appy and 'omelike." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you easily find 'Poulter's'?" asked Mr Poulter presently of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I had no number, so I had to ask," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, of course, you were directed at once," suggested Mr Poulter +eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's consideration for the old man's feelings was such that she +thought a fib was justified. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter's eyes lit with happiness. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the advantage of being connected with 'Poulter's,'" he said. +"You'll find it a great help to you as you make your way in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure of it," remarked Mavis, with all the conviction she could +muster. After a few moments' silence, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"There's another dancing academy on the other side of the road." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was surprised to see Mr Poulter's gentle expression at once +change to a look of intense anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Gellybrand's! Gellybrand's! The scoundrel!" cried Mr Poulter, as he +thumped his fist upon the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry. I didn't know," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"What? You haven't heard of the rivalry between mushroom Gellybrand's +and old-established 'Poulter's'?" exclaimed Mr Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not know what to say. +</P> + +<P> +"Some people is ignorant!" commented Miss Nippett at her silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Gellybrand is the greatest scoundrel and blackleg in the history of +dancing," continued Poulter. Then, as if to clinch the matter, he +added, "Poulter's 'Special and Select' is two shillings, with carriages +at eleven. Gellybrand's is one and six, with carriages at eleven +thirty." +</P> + +<P> +"Disgraceful!" commented Mavis, who was anxious to soothe Poulter's +ruffled sensibilities. +</P> + +<P> +"That is not all. Poulter's oranges, when light refreshments are +supplied, are cut in eights; Gellybrand's"—here the old man's voice +quivered with indignation—"oranges are cut in sixes." +</P> + +<P> +"An unfair advantage," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That's not all. Gellybrand once declared that I had actually stooped +so low as to kiss a married pupil." +</P> + +<P> +"Disgraceful!" said Mavis gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, the statement carried its own refutation, as no gentleman +could ever demean himself so much as to kiss another gentleman's wife." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I say," cried Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"But Gellybrand foully libelled me," cried Mr Poulter, with another +outburst of anger, "when he stated that I only paid one and fourpence a +pound for my tea." +</P> + +<P> +This last recollection so troubled Mr Poulter that Miss Nippett +suggested that it was time for him to go and dress. As he left the +room, he said to Mavis: +</P> + +<P> +"Pray never mention Gellybrand's name in my presence. If I weren't an +artiste, I wouldn't mind; as it is, I'm all of a tremble." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis promised that she would not, at which the old man's face wore its +usual kindly expression. When he was gone, Miss Nippett exclaimed: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, why ever did you?" +</P> + +<P> +"How was I to know?" Mavis asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought everyone knew. Don't, whatever you do, don't again. It makes +him angrier than he was when once the band eat up all the light +refreshments." +</P> + +<P> +"He's a very charming man," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"But his brains! It's his brains that fetches me." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" +</P> + +<P> +"In addition to 'Poulter's Patent Floor Wax,' he's invented the +'Clacton Schottische,' the 'Ramsgate Galop,' and the 'Coronation +Quadrilles.'" +</P> + +<P> +"He must be clever." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course; he's on the grand council of the 'B.A.T.D.'" +</P> + +<P> +"What is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"What? You don't know what 'B.A.T.D.' is?" cried Miss Nippett in +astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I don't," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be saying you don't know the Old Bailey next." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't. But I know a lot of people who should." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't send 'em to 'Poulter's,'" said Miss Nippett. "There's enough +already who're be'ind with their accounts." +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later, Mr Poulter entered the room, wearing evening +dress, dancing pumps, and a tawdry-looking insignia in his coat. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the 'B.A.T.D.,' Grand Council Badge," Miss Nippett informed +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonderful!" exclaimed Mavis, who felt that her hypocrisy was justified +by the pleasure it gave kindly Mr Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +"Say we enjoy a whiff of fresh air before commencing our labours," +suggested Mr Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +Upon Mavis and Miss Nippett rising as if to fall in with his +suggestion, Mr Poulter went before them, up the stairs, past the +"Ladies' Cloak Room," along the passage to the front door. +</P> + +<P> +As Miss Nippett and Mavis followed the dancing-master, the former said, +referring to Mr Poulter: +</P> + +<P> +"'E once took the 'Olborn Town 'all for an 'All Night,' didn't you, Mr +Poulter?" +</P> + +<P> +"The night the 'Clacton Schottische' was danced for the first time," +replied Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +"And what do you think the refreshments was contracted at a 'ead?" +asked Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Give it up," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no less than three shillin's, wasn't it, Mr Poulter?" +</P> + +<P> +"True enough," replied Mr Poulter. "But I must admit the attendants did +look 'old-fashioned' at you, if you 'ad two glasses of claret-cup +running." +</P> + +<P> +By this time, they were outside of the front door, where Mr Poulter +paused, as if designing not to go any further into the night air, +which, for the time of year, was close and warm. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to give the 'Bush' the chance of saying Poulter never +shows himself outside the walls of the academy," remarked the +dancing-master complacently. +</P> + +<P> +"There's so much jealousy of fame in the 'Bush,'" added Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +As they stood on the steps, Mavis could not help noticing that whereas +Miss Nippett had only eyes for Mr Poulter, the latter's attention was +fixed on the plaster figure of "Turpsichor" to the exclusion of +everything else. +</P> + +<P> +"A classic figure"—(he pronounced it "clarsic")—"gives a distinction +to an academy, which is denied to mongrel and mushroom imitations," he +presently remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," assented Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"She has been with 'Poulter's' fifteen years." +</P> + +<P> +"Almost as long as I have," put in Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"The figure?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"The statue 'Turpsichor,'" corrected Mr Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +"Turpsichor," in common with other down-at-heel people, had something +of a history. She was originally the plaster cast model of a marble +statue ordered by a sorrowing widow to grace the last resting-place of +the dear departed, a widow, whose first transports of grief were as +extravagant as the order she gave to the monumental mason. But when the +time came for the statue to be carved, and a further deposit to be +paid, the widow had been fascinated by a man whom she had met in a +'bus, when on her way to visit the cemetery where her husband was +interred. She was now loth to bear the cost of the statue and, as she +had changed her address, she took no notice of the mason's repeated +applications. "Turpsichor" had then been sold cheap to a man who had +started a tea-garden, in the vain hope of reviving the glories of those +forgotten institutions; when he had drifted into bankruptcy, she had +been knocked down for a song to a second-hand shop, where she had been +bought for next to nothing by Mr Poulter as "the very thing." Now she +stood in the entrance hall of the academy, where, it can truthfully be +said, that no heathen goddess received so much adoration and admiration +as was bestowed on "Turpsichor" by Mr Poulter and Miss Nippett. To +these simple souls, it was the finest work of art to be found anywhere +in the world, while the younger amongst the pupils regarded the forlorn +statue with considerable awe. +</P> + +<P> +When a move was made to the ballroom, Miss Nippett whispered to Mavis: +</P> + +<P> +"If Mr Poulter wins the great cotillion prize competition 'e's goin' in +for, I 'ope to stand 'Turpsichor' a clean, and a new coat of paint." +</P> + +<P> +When all three had waited in the ballroom some minutes, the pupils for +the night classes straggled in, the "gentlemen" bringing their dancing +shoes in their overcoat pockets, the "ladies" theirs, either in +net-bags or wrapped in odd pieces of brown paper. These "ladies" were +much of a type, being either shop-girls or lady clerks, with a +sprinkling of maid-servants and board school teachers. They were +pale-faced, hard-working, over-dressed young women who read Marie +Corelli, and considered her "deep"; who had one adjective with which to +express appreciation of things, this "artistic"; anything they +condemned was spoken of as "awful"; one and all liked to be considered +what they called "up-to-date." Marriage they desired more than anything +else in the world, not so much that they wished to live in an +atmosphere of affection, but because they believed that state promised +something of a respite from their never-ending, poorly recompensed +toil. The "gentlemen" were mostly shopmen or weekly paid clerks with +social aspirations; they carried silver cigarette cases, which they +exhibited on the least provocation. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis played, whilst Mr Poulter put the pupils through their steps. She +had no eyes for the dancers, these not interesting her; her attention, +of which she had plenty to spare, was fixed upon the kindly, beaming +face and the agile limbs of Mr Poulter. It was a pleasure to watch him, +he so thoroughly enjoyed his work; he could not take enough pains to +instruct his pupils in the steps that they should take. Miss Nippett +sat beside Mavis. Presently, in a few minutes' interval between the +dances, the former said: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you ever be a fool an' teach dancing." +</P> + +<P> +"Why 'a fool'?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at me an' the way I 'obble; it's all the fault of teaching the +'gentlemen.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"The 'gentlemen' is such clumsy fellers; they always tread on my right +foot. I tried wearing flannel, but they come down on it jess the same, +'arder if anything." +</P> + +<P> +Soon after nine, Miss Meakin came in, having travelled from "Dawes'" +with all dispatch by the "Tube." She warmly greeted Mavis, +congratulated her on getting employment at "Poulter's," and told her +that, after she (Mavis) had left "Dawes'," the partners had made every +inquiry into her habit of life. Miss Meakin had been summoned to one of +the partner's rooms to say what she knew of the subject, and had sat +near a table on which was lying Mavis's letter; she had made a note of +the address, to write to her directly she was able to do so. +</P> + +<P> +"We must have a long talk, dear; but not to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not to-night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Napper, my 'boy,' will be waiting for me outside." +</P> + +<P> +"Bring him in and introduce me." +</P> + +<P> +"He'd never forgive me if I did. He's all brains, dear, and would never +overlook it, if I insisted on his entering a dancing academy." +</P> + +<P> +"What is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's a lawyer. But his cleverness is altogether outside of that." +</P> + +<P> +"A barrister?" +</P> + +<P> +"Scarcely." +</P> + +<P> +"A solicitor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet. He works for one." +</P> + +<P> +After the pupils had gone, Mavis, pressed by Mr Poulter, stayed to a +supper that consisted of bread, cheese, and cocoa. +</P> + +<P> +When this was over, Mr Poulter said: +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know of what religious persuasion you may be, but would you be +offended if I asked you to stay for family prayers?" +</P> + +<P> +"I like you for asking me," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I am overjoyed at a real young lady like you caring to stay," replied +Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter read a chapter from the Bible. He then offered up a brief +extempore prayer. He prayed for Miss Nippett, for Mavis, for past and +present pupils, the world at large. The Lord's Prayer, in which the two +women joined, ended the devotions. +</P> + +<P> +When Miss Nippett had put on her goloshes, bonnet, and cloak, and Mavis +her things, Mr Poulter accompanied them to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"I live in the 'Bush': where do you?" asked Miss Nippett of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Kiva Road, Hammersmith." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we go different ways. Good night, Mr Poulter; good night, Miss +Keeves." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wished her and Mr Poulter good night. The two women walked +together to the gate, when Miss Nippett hobbled off to the left. +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis turned to the right, she glanced at Mr Poulter, who was still +standing on the steps; he was gazing raptly at "Turpsichor." A few +minutes later, when she encountered the insolent glances of the painted +foreign women who flock in the Goldhawk Road, Mavis found it hard to +believe that they and Mr Poulter inhabited the same world. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ELEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAVIS'S PRAYER +</H3> + +<P> +The next morning, Mavis was awakened by Mrs Bilkins bringing her a cup +of tea. +</P> + +<P> +"Bless my soul!" cried Mrs Bilkins, almost spilling the tea in her +agitation. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've got your window open. It's a wonder you're alive." +</P> + +<P> +"I always sleep with it open." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you are funny. What will you do next?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Bilkins sat on the bed, seemingly inclined to gossip. Mavis did not +discourage her; for some reason, the landlady was looking different +from when she had seen her the day before. Curious to discover the +cause, she let the woman ramble on unchecked about the way in which +"her son, a Bilkins," had "demeaned himself" by marrying a servant. +</P> + +<P> +Then it occurred to Mavis that the way in which Mrs Bilkins had done +her hair was the reason for her changed appearance: she had arranged it +in imitation of the manner in which Mavis wore hers. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, Mavis told the woman how she had got temporary employment, +and added: +</P> + +<P> +"But it's work I'm quite unaccustomed to." +</P> + +<P> +To her surprise, Mrs Bilkins bridled up. +</P> + +<P> +"Just like me. I ain't used to letting lodgin's; far from it." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, if you don't believe me, ask Mrs Bonus." +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis came downstairs, she found Mrs Bilkins busy trimming a hat. +The next day, the landlady wore it about the house, when Mavis was +surprised and amused to see that it was a shabby imitation of her own. +At first, she could scarcely believe such emulation to be possible, but +when, after buying a necessary pair of gloves, she found that her +landlady had got a new pair for herself, she saw that Mrs Bilkins was +possessed by jealousy of her lodger. This belief was strengthened by +the fact of Mrs Bilkins making copious reference to past prosperity +directly Mavis made innocent mention of former events in her life which +pointed to her having been better off than she was at present. It was +fourteen days before Miss Nippett's chilblains were sufficiently healed +to allow her to take her place at "Poulter's" piano. During this time, +Mavis became on friendly terms with the dancing-master; the more she +saw of him, the more he became endeared to the lonely girl. Apart from +his vanity where the academy was concerned (a harmless enough foible, +which saddened quite as much as it amused Mavis), he was the simplest, +the kindliest of men. He was very poor; although his poverty largely +arose from the advantage which pupils and parents took of his boundless +good nature, Mavis did not hear him utter a complaining word of a +living soul, always excepting Gellybrand. +</P> + +<P> +She learned how Mr Poulter had been happily married, although +childless; also, that his wife had died of a chill caught by walking +home, insufficiently clad, from an "All Night" in bleak weather. For +all the pain that her absence caused in his life, he looked bravely, +confidently forward (sometimes with tears in his eyes) to when they +should meet again, this time never to part. When the evenings were +fine, Mr Poulter would take Miss Nippett and Mavis for a ride on a tram +car, returning in time for the night classes. Upon one of these +excursions, someone in the tram car pointed out Mr Poulter to a friend +in the hearing of the dancing-master; this was enough to make Mr +Poulter radiantly happy for the best part of two days, much to Mavis's +delight. +</P> + +<P> +Another human trait in the proprietor of "Poulter's" was that he was +insensible to Miss Nippett's loyalty to the academy, he taking her +devotion as a matter of course. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Nippett and Mavis, also, became friends; the latter was moved by +the touching faith which the shrivelled-up little accompanist had in +the academy, its future, and, above all, its proprietor. If the rivalry +between "Poulter's" and "Gellybrand's" could have been decided by an +appeal to force, Miss Nippett would have been found in the van of +"Poulter's" adherents, firmly imbued with the righteousness of her +cause. She lived in Blomfield Road, Shepherd's Bush, a depressing, +blind little street, at the end of which was a hoarding; this latter +shut off a view of a seemingly boundless brickfield. Miss Nippett +rented a top back room at number 19, where, on one Sunday afternoon, +Mavis, being previously invited, went to tea. The little room was neat +and clean; tea, a substantial meal, was served on the big black box +which stood at the foot of Miss Nippett's bed. After tea, Miss Nippett +showed, with much pride, her little treasures, which were chiefly +pitiful odds and ends picked up upon infrequent excursions to Isle of +Thanet watering-places. Her devotion to these brought a lump to Mavis's +throat. After the girl had inspected and admired these household gods, +she was taken to the window, in order to see the view, now lit by a +brilliant full moon. Mavis looked over a desert of waste land and +brickfield to a hideous, forbidding-looking structure in the distance. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't it beautiful?" asked Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Y—yes," assented Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost as good as reel country." +</P> + +<P> +"Almost." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I declare, you can see the 'Scrubbs': you are in luck to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the 'Scrubbs'?" +</P> + +<P> +"The 'Scrubbs' prison. Oh, I say, you are ignorant!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I am," sighed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't often you can see the 'Scrubbs' at this time of year 'cause +of the fog," remarked Miss Nippett, whose eyes were still glued to the +window. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, when she drew the curtains, she looked contentedly round the +little room before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"I often think that, after all, there's no place like a good 'ome." +</P> + +<P> +"If you're lucky enough to have one," assented Mavis heartfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes I like it even better than 'Poulter's'; you know, when +you've got a waltz in your 'ead, and 'ate it, and 'ave to play it over +and over again. But every bit of this here furniture is mine and paid +for." +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" asked Mavis, feigning surprise to please her friend. +</P> + +<P> +"I can show you the receipts if you don't b'lieve me." +</P> + +<P> +"But I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Being at the academy makes me business-like. But there! if I haven't +forgotten something; reelly I 'ave." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"One moment: let me bring the light." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Nippett led the way to the landing immediately outside her door, +where she unlocked a roomy cupboard, crammed to its utmost capacity +with odds and ends of cheap feminine adornment. Mangy evening boas, +flimsy wraps, down-at-heel dancing shoes, handkerchiefs, gloves, powder +puffs, and odd bits of ribbon were jumbled together in heaped disorder. +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye know what they is?" asked Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Give it up," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"They're the 'overs.'" +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say, you are ignorant; reelly you are. 'Overs' is what's left +and unclaimed at 'Poulter's.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're my 'perk,'" which last word Mavis took to be an abbreviation +of perquisite. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked curiously at the heap of forgotten finery: had she lately +lived among more prosperous surroundings, she might have glanced +contemptuously at this collection of tawdry flummery; but, if her +sordid struggles to make both ends meet had taught her nothing else, +they had given her a keen sympathy for all forms of endeavour, however +humble, to escape, if only for a crowded hour, from the debasing round +of uncongenial toil. Consequently, she looked with soft eyes at the +pile of unclaimed "overs." None knew better than she of the sacrifices +that the purchase of the cheapest of these entailed; her observation +had told her with what pride they were worn, the infinite pleasure +which their possession bestowed on their owner. The cupboard's contents +seemed to Mavis to be eloquent of pinched meals, walks in bad weather +to save 'bus fares, mean economies bravely borne; to cry aloud of +pitiful efforts made by young hearts to secure a brief taste of their +rightful heritage of joy, of which they had been dispossessed. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis turned away with a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, in the cosiness of the bed-sitting room, Miss Nippett became +confidential. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you ambitious?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean REELLY ambitious." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, like I am. I'm reelly ambitious." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to be a partner in 'Poulter's.' Not for the money, you +understand, but for the honour. If I was made a partner, I'd die 'appy. +See?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see why you shouldn't be some day. Mr Poulter might reward you +that way for your years of faithful service." +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis walked back to Kiva Street, she asked herself the question +that Miss Nippett had asked her, "Was she ambitious?" +</P> + +<P> +Now, her chief concern was to earn her daily bread. It was not so very +long ago that her ambition was in some way bound up with the romantic +fancies which she was then so fond of weaving. Now, the prospect of +again having to fight for the privilege of bread-winning drove all +thought from her mind beyond this one desire—to keep afloat without +exhibiting signals of distress to the Devitts. +</P> + +<P> +Three days before Mavis left "Poulter's," she assisted at a Third +Saturday Night which was held, as usual, on that Saturday of the month +at the Athenaeum, Shepherd's Bush. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, dressed in her one evening frock and wearing her few trinkets, +went to the Athenaeum an hour before the public was expected, in order +to rehearse with the "Godolphin Band," which was always engaged for +these occasions. She was in some trepidation at having to accompany +professional musicians on the piano; she hoped that they would not find +fault with her playing. When she got to the hall, she found Mr Poulter +already there in evening dress, vainly striving to conceal his +excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you nervous?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I am rather," she replied, as she took off her coat. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear, may an old man say how beautiful you look?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" asked Mavis, whose eyes were shining at the unexpectedness +of the compliment. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter looked at her intently for a few moments before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you a father or mother?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Neither kith nor kin?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm all alone in the world," she replied sadly. +</P> + +<P> +A sorrowful expression came over the old man's face as he said with +much fervour: +</P> + +<P> +"God bless you, my dear. May He keep you from pain and all harm." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was seized with a sudden impulse. She took the white head in her +warm arms and kissed him fondly on the forehead. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter turned away and pretended to have trouble with one of his +dancing pumps. +</P> + +<P> +A minute or two later, three grimy, uncouth-looking men came into the +hall, whom Mavis took to be gasmen. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the 'Godolphin Band,'" said Mr Poulter, as he caught sight of +them. +</P> + +<P> +"All except Baffy: 'e's always late," remarked one of the men. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was introduced to the three members of the band, all of whom +seemed to be somewhat abashed by her striking appearance. +</P> + +<P> +"What about evening dress?" asked Mr Poulter of the trio. +</P> + +<P> +Two of the men coughed and hesitated before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Very sorry, Mr Poulter, but Christmas coming and all that, sir—" +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," sighed the dancing-master sympathetically; he then +turned to the tallest of the three to ask: +</P> + +<P> +"And you, Mr Cheadle?" +</P> + +<P> +"What a question to ask a cornet-player!" replied Mr Cheadle, as he +undid his overcoat to reveal a much worn evening suit, together with a +frayed, soiled shirt. +</P> + +<P> +"Excellent! excellent!" cried Mr Poulter on seeing the cornet-player's +garb. +</P> + +<P> +"One 'ud think I played outside pubs," grumbled Mr Cheadle. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, if only Mr Baffy would come, you artistes could get to work," +remarked Mr Poulter pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's start without him," suggested Cheadle, who seemed pleased at +being referred to as an artiste. +</P> + +<P> +A move was made to the platform at the further end of the hall; when +this was reached, a little old man staggered into the hall, bearing on +his shoulders a bass viol. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's Baffy!" cried the three musicians together. +</P> + +<P> +When the man disentangled himself from his burden, Mavis saw that the +bass viol player was short, unkempt, greyhaired and bearded; he stared +straight before him with vacant, watery eyes; his mouth was always +agape; he neither greeted nor spoke to anyone present. +</P> + +<P> +In obedience to Mr Poulter's instructions, two of the band brought a +big screen from a side-room; this was set up by the piano, at which +instrument Mavis took her seat. The screen was arranged so that she and +Cheadle, the cornet-player, would be in full sight of the dancers; the +three musicians not in evening dress were hidden behind the screen. +They commenced a waltz. Mr Baffy did not start with the others; he was +set going by a kick from Mr Cheadle. He played without music, seemingly +at random, vilely, unconcernedly. Mr Baffy seemed to be ignorant of +when a figure was ended, as he went on scraping after the others had +ceased, and only stopped after receiving a further kick from Cheadle; +he then stared feebly before him, till again set going by a forcible +hint from the cornet-player. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis acquitted herself to the grudging satisfaction of Cheadle. A few +minutes before the doors were open, Miss Nippett approached her, +wearing, besides her usual shawl, a coquettish cap and apron. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you come to the dance?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm 'ladies cloak-room' to-night? What do you think of Baffy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what to think." +</P> + +<P> +"No class, is 'e?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know anything about him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't 'old with the feller. 'Is presence is a disgrace to the +academy," replied the "ladies' cloak-room." +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later, the first of Mr Poulter's patrons self-consciously +entered the room; soon after, dancing commenced. +</P> + +<P> +As if to give Mavis heart for her unaccustomed task, Mr Poulter kept an +eye upon her; he encouraged her with smiles whenever she looked in his +direction. Mavis's playing was much jeopardised by the conduct of the +other musicians; they did not give the least attention to what they +were at, but performed as if their efforts were second nature. Soon +after the dancing started, Mr Cheadle brought from a pocket a greasy +pack of cards, at which he and the two musicians who had arrived with +him began to play at farthing "Nap," a game which the most difficult +passages of their performance did not interrupt, each card-player +somehow contriving to play almost directly it came to his turn. Mr +Cheadle, playing the cornet, had one hand always free; he shuffled the +cards, dealt them, and put down the winnings. When Mavis became more +used to the vagaries of their instrumental playing, she was amused at +the way in which they combined business with diversion. Mr Baffy, also, +interested her; he still continued to stare before him, as he played +with watery, purposeless eyes, and with mouth agape. +</P> + +<P> +Halfway through the programme, there was an interval for refreshments. +Mavis was conducted by Mr Poulter to a table set apart for the artistes +in the room in which the lightest of light refreshments were served to +his patrons. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sat down to a plateful of what looked uncommonly like her old +friend, brisket of beef; she was now so hungry that she was glad to get +anything so substantial. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow are you gettin' on?" asked a familiar voice over her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked up, to see Miss Nippett, who had discarded her cap and +apron; she was now in her usual rusty frock, with her shawl upon her +narrow, stooping shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, thank you. Why don't you have some?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you. I can't spare the time. I'm 'light refreshments.'" +</P> + +<P> +"But they're all eaten!" remarked Mavis, as her eye ranged along a +length of table-cloth innocent of food or decoration. +</P> + +<P> +"'Poulter's' ain't such a fool as to stick nothink out; it would all be +'wolfed' in a second. Let 'em ask." +</P> + +<P> +"Some people mightn't like to." +</P> + +<P> +"That's their look-out," snapped Miss Nippett, who had a heart of stone +where the interests of anything antagonistic to "Poulter's" were +concerned. +</P> + +<P> +At the conclusion of the evening, the band was paid. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Baffy got a shilling for his services, which he held in his hand and +looked stupidly before him, till he got a cut with a bow from the +second violinist, at which he put the money in his pocket. He then +shouldered his bass viol and plunged out into the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's heart went out to Mr Baffy. She wondered where and how he +lived; how he passed his time; what had reduced him to his present +condition. +</P> + +<P> +She spoke of him to Mr Poulter, who looked perplexed before replying: +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, my dear young lady, it's as well for such as you not to inquire +too closely into the lives of we who are artistes." +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis had put on her hat and cloak, and was leaving the Athenaeum, +Miss Nippett called out: +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right; you can sleep sound; 'e's pleased with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Poulter. Who else d'ye think I meant?" +</P> + +<P> +Three days later, Mavis severed her connection with "Poulter's." Upon +her going, Mr Poulter presented her with a signed photograph of himself +in full war-paint, an eulogistically worded testimonial, also, an +honorarium (this was his word) of five shillings. Mavis was loth to +take it; but seeing the dancing-master's distress at her hesitation, +she reluctantly pocketed the money. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Nippett also gave her a specially taken photograph of herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's your shawl?" asked Mavis, who missed this familiar adjunct +from the photograph. +</P> + +<P> +"I took it off to show off me figure. See?" replied Miss Nippett +confidentially. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter asked Mavis if she had further employment in view. She knew +how poor he was; also, that if she told him she was workless, he would +probably insist on retaining her services, although he could not afford +to do so. Mavis fibbed to Mr Poulter; she hoped that her consideration +for his poverty would atone for the lie. +</P> + +<P> +For five weeks Mavis vainly tried to get work. She soon discovered how, +when possible employers considered her application, the mere mention of +her being at "Dawes'" was enough to spoil her chances of securing an +engagement. +</P> + +<P> +She had spent all her money; she was now living on the sum she had +received from a pawnbroker in exchange for two of her least prized +trinkets. Going out in all weathers to look for employment had not +improved her clothes; her best pair of boots let in water; she was +jaded, heartsick, dispirited. As with others in a like plight, she +dared not look into the immediate future, this holding only terrifying +probabilities of disaster; the present moment was all sufficient; +little else mattered, and, although to-morrow promised actual want, +there was yet hope that a sudden turn of fortune's wheel would remove +the dread menace of impending ruin. One evening, Mavis, dazed with +disappointment at failing to secure an all but promised berth, wandered +aimlessly from the city in a westerly direction. She scarcely knew +where she was going or what quarter of London she had reached. She was +only aware that she was surrounded by every evidence of well-being and +riches. The pallid, worried faces of the frequenters of the city were +now succeeded by the well-fed, contented looks of those who appeared as +if they did not know the meaning of the word care. Splendid carriages, +costly motor cars passed in never-ending procession. As Mavis glanced +at the expensive dresses of the women, the wind-tanned faces of the +men, she thought how, but for a wholly unlooked-for reverse of fortune, +these would be the people with whom she would be associating on equal +terms. The thought embittered her; she quickened her steps in order to +leave behind her the opulent surroundings so different from her own, A +little crowd, consisting of those entering and waiting about the door +of a tea-shop, obstructed her. An idea suddenly possessed her. +Confronted with want, she wondered if she had enough money to snatch a +brief half-hour's respite from her troubles. She looked in her purse, +to find it contained three shillings. The next moment, she was moving +in the direction of the tea-room, her habitual husbandry making a poor +fight against the over-mastering desire possessing her. +</P> + +<P> +She walked up a steep, narrow flight of carpeted stairs; this +terminated in a long, low room, the walls of which were of black oak, +and which was nearly filled with a gaily dressed crowd of men and +women. The sensuous music of a string band fell on her ear; the smell +of tea and the indefinable odour of women were borne to her nostrils. A +card was put in her hand, telling her that a palmist could be consulted +on the next floor. In and out among the tables, attendants, clad in the +garb of sixteenth century Flemish peasant women, moved noiselessly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis got a table to herself in a corner by a window which overlooked +the street. She ordered tea and toast. When it was brought, she did her +best to put her extremity out of sight; she tried hard to believe that +she, too, led a happy, butterfly existence, without anxious thought for +the morrow, without a care in the world. The effort was scarcely a +success, but was, perhaps, worth the making. As she sat, she noticed a +kindly-looking old gentlewoman who was pointing her out to a companion; +for all the old woman's somewhat dowdy garb, she had rich woman stamped +all over her. The old lady kept on looking at Mavis; once or twice, +when the latter caught her eye, the elder woman smiled. When she rose +to go, she came over to Mavis and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, my dear, but your hair looks wonderful against that +imitation oak." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it? But it isn't imitation too," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course." +</P> + +<P> +"May I ask your name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Keeves. Mavis Keeves." +</P> + +<P> +"A good name," muttered the old lady. "Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis saw her move towards the door; when she reached it, she turned to +smile again to Mavis before going out. +</P> + +<P> +"What a fool I am!" thought Mavis. "If I'd only told her I wanted work, +she'd have helped me to something. What a fool I am!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis rose as if to follow the kindly old soul; but she was too late. +As she got up, she saw her step into a fine carriage, which, after the +footman had closed the door and mounted the box, had driven away. Mavis +sat helplessly. It seemed as if she were as a drowning person who had +been offered the chance of clutching a straw, but had refused to take +it. There was little likelihood of her getting a second chance. She +must resign herself to the worst. She had forgotten; one hope was still +left, one she had, hitherto, lost sight of: this to pray to her +Heavenly Father, to remind Him that she, as a human sparrow, was in +danger of falling; to implore succour. Although she had knelt morning +and evening at her bedside, it had lately been more from force of habit +than anything else; her heart had not inspired her lips. There had been +some reason for this: every morning she had been devoured by eagerness +to get work; at night, she had been too weary and dispirited to pray +earnestly. Mavis covered her eyes with her hands; she prayed heartfully +and long for help. Words welled from her being; their burden was: +</P> + +<P> +"I am young; I love life; help me to live, if only for a little while, +in this glorious, wonderful world of Thy making. I only ask for bread, +for which I am eager to work. Help me! Help me! Help me!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis uncovered her eyes. The tea-shop, the music, the indefinable +odour of women all seemed bizarre after her communion with the Most +High. She made ready to go. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in trouble?" said a voice at her elbow. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"I must help you," said the voice. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis saw a richly dressed, bejewelled, comfortable-looking woman at +her side. +</P> + +<P> +She was not in the least surprised; a friend had been sent in answer to +her prayer. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it over money?" asked the instrument. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought as much. I saw you outside the tea-shop and followed you in. +Is your time your own?" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely." +</P> + +<P> +"No parents or anyone?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't a friend or relation in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! I must really help you. Come with me. Let me pay for your tea." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, before she went, found time to offer up brief, heartfelt thanks +for having speedily received an answer to her prayer. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWELVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MRS HAMILTON'S +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis followed her new friend past the pay box, down the carpeted +stairs, into the street. She could not help seeing how bedraggled a +sparrow she appeared when contrasted with the brilliant plumage of the +woman at her side. A superb motor drew up to the pavement, from which a +man got down to open the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Get inside, dear," said the woman. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did as she was bid, hardly realising the good fortune which had +so unexpectedly overtaken her. +</P> + +<P> +"Telegraph office, then home," said the woman, who had, also, got into +the car. +</P> + +<P> +The man touched his hat and they were off. The woman did not speak at +first, being seemingly absorbed in anxious thought. Mavis became +conscious of a vague feeling of discomfort like to when—when—she +tried to remember when this uneasy feeling had before possessed her. +She glanced at her companion; she noticed that the woman's eyes were +hard and cold; it was difficult to reconcile their expression with the +sentiments she had professed. Then the woman turned to her. +</P> + +<P> +"What is your name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mavis Weston Keeves." +</P> + +<P> +"My name's Hamilton; it's really West-Hamilton, but I'm known as Mrs +Hamilton. How old are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eighteen. I'm nineteen in three months." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me more of yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis briefly told her story; as she finished, the car drew up at a +post-office. Mrs Hamilton scanned Mavis's face closely before getting +out. +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't be a moment; it's only to someone who's coming to dinner." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, left alone in the motor, wondered at the strangeness of the +adventure. She knew that Mrs Hamilton was scarcely a gentlewoman—even +in the broad interpretation nowadays given to the word. But it was not +this so much as the fact of her having such hard eyes which perplexed +the girl. She had little time to dwell on this matter, as, in a very +few moments, Mrs Hamilton was again beside Mavis, and they were +speeding up Oxford Street. +</P> + +<P> +"The fact is I live alone," said Mrs Hamilton. "I am in need of a +companion, young and nice-looking, like yourself. I wonder if you'd +care for the job." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if you'd care to have me." +</P> + +<P> +"I entertain a good deal, mostly gentlemen; two gentlemen are coming to +dinner to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't expect me—?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"But my clothes." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that all? I've some things that will suit you down to the ground." +</P> + +<P> +"You're very kind," said Mavis, as the motor, having turned into Regent +Street, whizzed past the Langham Hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"You play and sing?" asked Mrs Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +"A little." +</P> + +<P> +"That always helps. And as to terms, if we get along well together, +you'll be grateful to me till the day of your death." +</P> + +<P> +Although the words were spoken without a suspicion of feeling, Mavis +replied: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure I shall." +</P> + +<P> +"Here we are!" said Mrs Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was much surprised that no word had been said about references. +</P> + +<P> +A man-servant opened the door. Mavis passed in with Mrs Hamilton, for +whom a telegram was waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"Dinner at eight to-night, Jarvis; an hour earlier than usual. Lay for +four," said Jarvis's mistress, after opening the telegram. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am," replied Jarvis, as Mrs Hamilton walked upstairs to the +drawing-room, followed by Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Accustomed as Mavis had been of late to bed-sitting rooms or shabby +lodging-house parlours, her first glimpse of Mrs Hamilton's +richly-furnished drawing-room almost took away her breath. It was not +so much the richness of the furniture which astonished her, as the +daring scheme of decoration and the profusion of expensive nicknacks +scattered about the room; these last were eloquent of Mrs Hamilton's +ability to satisfy any whim, however costly it might be. The walls were +panelled in white; white curtains were drawn across the windows; black +bearskins covered the floor; the furniture was dark, formal, much of it +carved; here and there on the white panelling of the walls were black +Wedgwood plaques; black Wedgwood china stood audaciously upon and +inside cabinets. A large grand piano and the cheerful blaze of a wood +fire mitigated the severity of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"How beautiful!" exclaimed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You like it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the loveliest room I've ever been in." +</P> + +<P> +"It's your home if we hit it off." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think we shall?" +</P> + +<P> +"Up to now I don't see any reason why we shouldn't." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis again breathed thanks to Heaven for having so generously answered +her prayer. She felt how she would like to tell of her experience to +any who denied the efficacy of personal supplication to God. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I play to you?" asked Mavis, after they had talked for some +minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like music," replied Mrs Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +"Not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand it. Let's go upstairs to my room." +</P> + +<P> +If she did not care for music, Mavis wondered why she had made a point +of asking if she (Mavis) could play. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton's bedroom was a further revelation to the girl; she looked +wide-eyed at the Louis Seize gilt furniture, the tapestry, the +gilt-edged screens, the plated bath in a corner of the room, the superb +dressing-table bestrewed with gold toilet nicknacks. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like my bed?" asked Mrs Hamilton, who was watching the girl's +undisguised wonder. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't had time to take in the other things." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at the bed; it stood in an alcove on the side of the room +furthest from where she was. It was long, low, and gilded; +plum-coloured curtains rose in voluptuous folds till they were joined +near the ceiling by a pair of big silver doves. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like it?" asked Mrs Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +"Like is scarcely the word. I've never imagined anything like it in my +life." +</P> + +<P> +"It belonged to Madame du Barri, the mistress of a French king." +</P> + +<P> +"I've read something about her." +</P> + +<P> +"He always wished to give her a toilette set of pure gold, but could +never quite afford it. I hope to get one next year if things go well." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stared at Mrs Hamilton in wide-eyed amazement. The rich woman +appeared to take no notice of the girl's surprise, and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Sit by the fire with me a moment. It will soon be time for you to +dress." +</P> + +<P> +"Dress! I've only what I've got on with me. My one poor evening dress +would look absurd in this house." +</P> + +<P> +"I told you I'd see to that," replied Mrs Hamilton. "I've had a young +friend staying with me who was just about your build. She left one or +two of her evening dresses behind her. If they don't quite fit, my maid +will take them in." +</P> + +<P> +"You are good to me," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"If you like it, I'll give you one." +</P> + +<P> +"How can I ever thank you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"To-night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen. I've two old friends coming to dinner. One is a Mr—Mr Ellis, +but he won't interest you a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's old and is already infatuated." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't the other, then?" asked Mavis lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr—Mr Williams! No. I wonder if you'd interest him." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't suppose so for one moment," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You're too modest. Mr Williams is young, good-looking, rich." +</P> + +<P> +"Money doesn't interest me." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"Really, it doesn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Not after your wanting work for so long?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Not when you see it can buy things like mine?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course money is wonderful, but it isn't everything." +</P> + +<P> +"You say that because you don't know. Money is power, happiness, +contentment, life. And you know it in your heart of hearts. Every +woman, who is anything at all, knows it. Surely, after all you've gone +through, it appeals to you?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton anxiously watched Mavis's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit like it seems to—to some people," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton's face fell. She was lost in anxious thought for some +moments. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mind?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not. But we'll talk it over after you've seen Mr Williams." +</P> + +<P> +"But is it so necessary for his happiness that he should be infatuated +with anyone?" +</P> + +<P> +"It might keep him from worse things. He's very impulsive and romantic. +I've quite a motherly interest in the boy. You might assist me to +reclaim him." +</P> + +<P> +[Footnote: ]Although Mrs Hamilton spoke such maternal sentiments, Mavis +looked in vain for the motherly expression upon her face, which she +felt should inevitably accompany such words. Mrs Hamilton's face was +hard, expressionless, cold. Presently she said: +</P> + +<P> +"If you would care to go to your room, it's on the next floor, and the +second door you come to on the right. If it isn't good enough, let me +know." +</P> + +<P> +"It's sure to be," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Parkins, my maid, will come to you in ten minutes. Rest till then, as +to-night I want you to look your best." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked and left Mrs Hamilton. She then found her way to her +chamber. She was as surprised and delighted with this as she had been +with the other two rooms, perhaps more so, because she reflected, with +an immense satisfaction, that it might be her very own. The room was +furnished throughout with satinwood; blue china bowls decorated the +tops of cabinets; a painted satinwood spinet stood in a corner; the +hearth was open and tiled throughout with blue Dutch tiles; the fire +burned in a brass brazier which was suspended from the chimney. +</P> + +<P> +Thought Mavis, as she looked rapturously about her: +</P> + +<P> +"Just the room I should love to have had for always, if—if things had +been different." +</P> + +<P> +A door on the right of the fireplace attracted her. She turned the +handle of this, to find it opened on to a luxuriously fitted bathroom, +in a corner of which a fire was burning. Mavis returned to the bedroom, +still wondering at the sudden change in her fortunes; even now, with +all these tangible evidences of the alteration in her condition, she +could scarcely believe it to be true: it all seemed like something out +of a book or on the stage, two forms of distraction which, according to +Miss Allen, did anything but represent life as it really was. She was +still mentally agape at her novel surroundings when Parkins, Mrs +Hamilton's maid, entered the room to dress Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Parkins's appearance surprised her; she was wholly unlike her +conception of what a lady's-maid should be. Instead of being +unassumingly dressed, quiet, self-effacing, Parkins was a bold, buxom +wench, with large blue eyes and a profusion of fair hair. She wore +white lace underskirts, openwork silk stockings, and showy shoes. Her +manner was that of scarcely veiled familiarity. She carried upon her +arm a gorgeous evening gown. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made an elaborate toilette. She bathed, presently to clothe +herself in the many delicate garments which Mrs Hamilton had provided. +Her hair was dressed by Parkins; later, when she put on the evening +frock, she hardly knew herself. The gown was of grey chiffon, +embroidered upon the bodice and skirt with silver roses; grey silk +stockings, grey silver embroidered shoes completed the toilette. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam sent you these," said Parkins, returning to the room after a +short absence. +</P> + +<P> +"Those!" cried Mavis, as her eyes were attracted by the pearl necklaces +and other costly jewels which the maid had brought. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam entertains very rich gentlemen; she likes everyone about her to +look their best." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, with faint reluctance, let Parkins do as she would with her. The +pearl necklaces were roped about her neck; gold bracelets were put upon +her arms; a thin platinum circlet, which supported a large emerald, was +clasped about her head. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stood to look at herself in the glass. She could scarcely believe +that the tall, queenly, ardent-looking girl was the same tired, +dispirited creature who had listlessly pinned on her hat of a morning +before tramping out, in all weathers, to search for work. She gazed at +herself for quite two minutes; whatever happened, the memory of how she +looked in all this rich finery was something to remember. +</P> + +<P> +"Will I do?" she asked of Mrs Hamilton, when that person, very richly +garbed, came into the room. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton looked her all over before replying: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you'll do." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad." +</P> + +<P> +"I never make a mistake. You can go, Parkins." +</P> + +<P> +When the maid had left the room, Mrs Hamilton said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to introduce you to my friends as Miss Devereux." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish it." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not at all like this resolve. +</P> + +<P> +"It was the name of my last companion, and I've got used to it. +Besides, I wish it." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis resented Mrs Hamilton's sudden assumption of authority; it +quickened the vague feelings of dislike which she had felt in her +presence, the vague feelings of dislike which reminded her of—of—ah! +She remembered now. It was the same uncomfortable sensation which she +had always experienced when Mrs Stanley stood by her in "Dawes'." +</P> + +<P> +This discovery of the identity of the two emotions set Mavis wondering +if either had anything to do with the character of the two women who +had inspired them, and, if so, whether Mrs Hamilton followed the same +loathsome calling as Mrs Stanley. Mavis comforted her mind's disquiet +by reflecting how Miss Allen had, most likely, not told the truth about +Mrs Stanley's occupation; also, by remembering how her present +situation was the result of a direct, personal appeal to the Almighty, +which precluded the remotest possibility of her being exposed to risk +of insult or harm. She had little time for thinking on the matter, for +Mrs Hamilton said: +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Ellis has already come. Mr Williams will be here any moment. We'd +better go down." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed Mrs Hamilton to the drawing-room, where a man rose at +their entrance, to whom Mavis was introduced as Miss Devereux. +</P> + +<P> +He scarcely glanced at Mavis, gave her the most formal of bows, and, as +the few remarks he made were directed to Mrs Hamilton, the girl had +plenty of time in which to observe him. He was elderly, tall, +distinguished-looking. He had the indefinable air of being, not only a +man of wealth, but a "somebody." She was chiefly attracted by his grey +eyes, which seemed dead and lifeless. The underlids of these were +pencilled with countless small lines, which, with the weary, dull eyes, +seemed quite out of keeping with the otherwise keenly intellectual face. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis secretly resented the man's indifference to her comeliness. A few +minutes later, the servant opened the door to announce Mr Williams, +whereupon a tall, sun-bronzed, smart-looking man sauntered into the +room. Something in his carriage and face suggested soldier to Mavis's +mind. He was by no means handsome, but what might have been a somewhat +plain face was made pleasant-looking by the deep sunburn and the +kindliness of his expression. +</P> + +<P> +Williams shook hands with Mrs Hamilton, nodded to Ellis, and then +turned to Mavis. Directly he saw her, a look of surprise came into his +face; the girl could not help seeing how greatly he was struck by her +appearance. Mrs Hamilton introduced them, when he at once came to her +side. +</P> + +<P> +"Just think of it," he said, "I was in no hurry to get here. If I had +only known!" +</P> + +<P> +"Known what?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That's asking something. In return I'm going to ask you a question." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it like to be so charming?" +</P> + +<P> +The same question asked by another man might have offended her. There +was such a note of sincere, boyish admiration in the man's voice, that +she had said, almost before she was aware of it: +</P> + +<P> +"Rather nice." +</P> + +<P> +He said more in the same strain. Mavis found herself greatly enjoying +the thinly veiled compliments which he paid her. It was the first time +since she had grown up that she had spoken to a smart man, who was +obviously a gentleman. If this were not enough to thaw her habitual +reserve, there was something strangely familiar in the young man's face +and manner; it almost seemed to Mavis as if she were talking with a +very old friend or acquaintance, which was enough to justify the +unusual levity of her behaviour. +</P> + +<P> +Once or twice, she caught Mrs Hamilton's eye, when she could not help +seeing how her friend was much pleased at the way in which she +attracted Mr Williams. +</P> + +<P> +When he was taking the girl down to dinner, he murmured: +</P> + +<P> +"May I call here often?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no charge for admission," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It wouldn't make any difference to me if there were." +</P> + +<P> +"How nice to be so reckless!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a lot in town for the next three months. I want to get as much out +of life as I can." +</P> + +<P> +"From school?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aldershot." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in the service?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"If you are, haven't you any rank at your age?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know I'm not a Tommy?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I thought you were," she retorted. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis and Mrs Hamilton faced each other at table; Williams sat on her +right, Ellis on her left. The conversation at the dinner-table was, +almost exclusively, between the soldier and Mavis. Ellis scarcely spoke +to his hostess, and then only when compelled. +</P> + +<P> +"What will you drink?" asked Mrs Hamilton of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Water, please." +</P> + +<P> +"Water?" echoed Mrs Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Ellis looked keenly at Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Have some champagne," continued Mrs Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd fall under the table if I did. I'll have water. I never drink +anything else," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I never drink anything else except champagne," retorted Mrs Hamilton. +"Look here, if Miss Devereux drinks water I shall," declared Williams. +</P> + +<P> +"Do. The change will do you good," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"See what I've let myself in for," said Williams, as he kept his word. +</P> + +<P> +As the servant was about to pour out champagne for Mr Ellis, Mrs +Hamilton said: +</P> + +<P> +"Stop! I've something special for you." +</P> + +<P> +She then whispered to the servant, who left the room to bring back a +curious, old bottle. When this was opened, a golden wine poured into Mr +Ellis's glass, where it bubbled joyously, as if rejoicing at being set +free from its long imprisonment. +</P> + +<P> +As the wine was poured out, Mavis noticed how Mr Ellis's eye caught Mrs +Hamilton's. +</P> + +<P> +The meal was long, elaborate, sumptuous. Mavis wondered when the +procession of toothsome delicacies would stop. She enjoyed herself +immensely; her unaccustomed personal adornment, the cosy room, the +shaded lights, the lace table-cloth, the manner in which the food was +served, above all, the manly, admiring personality of Mr Williams, all +irresistibly appealed to her, largely because the many joyous instincts +of her being had been starved for so long. +</P> + +<P> +She surrendered herself body and soul to the exhilaration of the +moment, as if conscious that it was all too good to be true; that her +surroundings might any moment fade; that her gay clothes would +disappear, and that she would again find herself, heartsick and weary, +in her comfortless little combined room at Mrs Bilkins's. At the same +time, her natural alertness took in everything going on about her. +</P> + +<P> +As the dinner progressed, she could not help seeing how Mr Ellis's eyes +seemed to awaken from their torpor; but the life that came into them +was such that Mavis much preferred them as they originally were. They +sparkled hungrily; it seemed to the girl as if they had a fearful, +hunted, and, at the same time, eager, unholy look, as if they sought +refuge in some deadly sin in order to escape a far worse fate. Mavis's +and Williams's gaiety was infectious. Ellis frequently joined in the +raillery proceeding between the pair; it was as if Mavis's youth, +comeliness, and charm compelled homage from the pleasure-worn man of +the world. Mrs Hamilton, all this while, said little; she left the +entertaining to Mavis, who was more than equal to the effort; it seemed +to the joy-intoxicated girl as if she were the bountiful hostess, Mrs +Hamilton a chance guest at her table. The appearance of strawberries at +dessert (it was January) made a lull in Mavis's enjoyment: the +out-of-season fruit reminded her of the misery which could be +alleviated with the expenditure of its cost. She was silent for a few +moments, which caused Ellis to ask: +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Windebank, what have you said to our friend?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked up quickly, to see a look of annoyance on Mrs Hamilton's +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Williams, I should have said," corrected Ellis. "I muddled the two +names. What have you said to our friend that she should be so quiet all +at once?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give it up," replied Williams. "Perhaps she's offended at our +childishness." +</P> + +<P> +The men talked. Mrs Hamilton, with something of an effort, joined in +the conversation. Mavis was silent; she wondered how Mr Ellis came to +address Mr Williams as "Windebank," which was also the name of the +friend of the far-away days when her father was alive. She reflected +how Archie Windebank would be now twenty-eight, an age that might well +apply to Mr Williams. Associated with these thoughts was an uneasy +feeling, which had been once or twice in her mind, that the two men at +table were far too distinguished-looking to bear such commonplace names +as Ellis and Williams. The others rallied her on her depression. +Striving to believe that she must be mistaken in her suspicions, she +made an effort to end the perplexities that were beginning to confront +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you at Aldershot for long?" asked Mavis of Mr Williams. +</P> + +<P> +"I scarcely know: one never does know these things." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you come up often?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall now." +</P> + +<P> +"To see your people?" +</P> + +<P> +"They live in the west of England." +</P> + +<P> +"Wiltshire?" +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't; I guessed." +</P> + +<P> +"Wherever they are, I don't see so much of them as I should." +</P> + +<P> +"How considerate of you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it? But they're a bit too formidable even for one of my sober +tastes." +</P> + +<P> +"I see. They're interesting and clever." +</P> + +<P> +"If Low Church and frumpy clothes are cleverness, they're geniuses," he +remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, you prefer High Church and low bodices," retorted Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after, Mrs Hamilton and Mavis left the men and went upstairs to +the drawing-room. The girl was uneasy in her mind as to how Mrs +Hamilton would take the fact of her having considerably eclipsed her +employer at table; now that they were alone together, she feared some +token of Mrs Hamilton's displeasure. +</P> + +<P> +To her surprise and delight, this person said: +</P> + +<P> +"You're an absolute treasure." +</P> + +<P> +"You think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think; I know. But then, I never make a mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you're pleased." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not pleased; delighted is more the word. You're worth your weight +in gold." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I were." +</P> + +<P> +"But you will be, if you follow my advice. At first, I thought you a +bit of a mug. I don't mind telling you, now I see how smart you are." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked puzzled; the extravagant eulogy of her conduct seemed +scarcely to be justified. +</P> + +<P> +"You can see Williams is head over ears in love with you. So far, he's +been beastly stand-offish to anyone I put him on to," continued Mrs +Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" said Mavis coldly. She disliked Mrs Hamilton's coarse manner +of expressing herself. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton did not notice the frown on the girl's forehead, but went +on: +</P> + +<P> +"As for that idea of drinking water, it was a stroke of genius." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"My heart went out to you when you insisted on having it, although I +pretended to mind." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was about to protest her absolute sincerity in the matter, when +Parkins, the maid who had dressed her, came into the room. She +whispered to her mistress, at which Mrs Hamilton rose hurriedly and +said: +</P> + +<P> +"I must leave you for a little time on important business." +</P> + +<P> +"What would you like me to do?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Particularly one thing: don't leave this room." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so. But I want someone here when Mr Williams comes upstairs." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll stick at my post," laughed Mavis, at which Mrs Hamilton and the +comely-looking maid left the room. +</P> + +<P> +Left alone, Mavis surrendered herself to the feeling of uneasiness +which had been called into being, not only by her employer's strange +words, but, also, by the fact of Mr Williams having been addressed by +the other man as Windebank. The more she thought of it, the more +convinced was she that Mr Ellis had not made a mistake in calling the +other man by a different name to the one by which she had been +introduced to him. The fact of his having admitted that his home was in +Wiltshire, together with the sense of familiarity in his company, +seemingly begotten of old acquaintance, tended to strengthen this +conviction. On the other hand, if he were indeed the old friend of her +childhood, there seemed a purposed coincidence in the fact of their +having met again. She did not forget how her presence in Mrs Hamilton's +house was the result of an appeal to her Heavenly Father, who, she +firmly believed, would not let a human sparrow such as she fall to the +ground. She was curious to discover the result of this seemingly +preordained meeting. The sentimental speculation engendered a dreamy +languor which was suddenly interrupted by a sense of acute disquiet. +She was always a girl of abnormal susceptibility to what was going on +about her; to such an extent was this sensibility developed, that she +had learned to put implicit faith in the intuitions that possessed her. +Now, she was certain that something was going on in the house, +something that was hideous, unnatural, unholy, the conviction of which +seemed to freeze her soul. She had not the slightest doubt on the +matter: she felt it in the marrow of her bones. +</P> + +<P> +She placed her hand on her eyes, as if to shut out the horrid +certainty; the temporary deprivation of sight but increased the +acuteness of her impression, consequently, her uneasiness. She felt the +need of space, of good, clean air. The fine drawing-room seemed to +confine her being; she hurried to the door in order to escape. Directly +she opened it, she found Parkins, the over-dressed maid, outside, who, +directly she saw Mavis, barred her further progress. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, miss?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Hamilton! I must see her." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't, miss." +</P> + +<P> +"I must. I must. There's something going on. I must see her." +</P> + +<P> +A fearsome expression came over the maid's face as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I was coming to remind you from madam of your promise to her not to +leave the drawing-room." +</P> + +<P> +"I must. I must." +</P> + +<P> +"If I may say so, miss, it will be as much as your place is worth to +disobey madam." +</P> + +<P> +These words brought a cold shock of reason to Mavis's fevered +excitement. +</P> + +<P> +She looked blankly at the servant for a moment or two, before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Parkins; I will wait inside." +</P> + +<P> +If her many weeks of looking for employment had taught her nothing +else, they now told her how worse than foolish it would be to shatter +at one blow Mrs Hamilton's good opinion of her. In compliance with her +employer's request, she returned to the drawing-room, her nerves all on +edge. +</P> + +<P> +Although more convinced than before of the presence of some +abomination, she made a supreme effort to divert her thoughts into +channels promising relief from her present tension of mind. +</P> + +<P> +She caught up and eagerly examined the first thing that came to hand. +It was a large, morocco-bound, gold-edged photograph album; almost +before she was aware of it, she was engrossed in its contents. It was +full from cover to cover of coloured photographs of women. There were +dark girls, fair girls, auburn girls, every type of womanhood to be met +with under Northern skies; they ranged from slim girls in their teens +to over-ripe beauties, whose principal attraction was the redundance of +their figures. For all the immense profusion of varied beauty which the +women displayed, they had certainly two qualities in common—they all +wore elaborate evening dress; they were all photographed to display to +the utmost advantage their physical attractions. Otherwise, thought +Mavis, there was surely nothing to differentiate them from the usual +run of comely womanhood. Always a lover of beauty, Mavis eagerly +scanned the photographs in the book. To her tense imagination, it was +like wandering in a highly cultivated garden, where there were flowers +of every hue, from the timid shrinking violet and the rosebud, to the +over-blown peony, to greet the senses. It was as if she wandered from +one to the next, admiring and drinking in the distinctive beauty of +each. There were supple, fair-petalled daffodils, white-robed daisies, +scarlet-lipped poppies, and black pansies, instinct with passion, all +waiting to be culled. It seemed as if a paradise of glad loveliness had +been gathered for her delight. They were all dew-bespangled, +sun-worshipping, wind-free, as if their only purpose was to languish +for some thirsty bee to come and sip greedily of their sweetness. As +Mavis looked, another quality, which had previously eluded her, seemed +to attach itself to each and all of the flowers, a quality that their +calculated shyness now made only the more apparent. It was as if at +some time in their lives their petals had been one and all ravaged by +some relentless wind; as if, in consequence, they had all dedicated +themselves to decorate the altars raised to the honour and glory of +love. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, also, noticed that beneath each photograph was written a number +in big figures. Then the book repelled her. She put it down, not before +she noticed that, scattered about the room, were other albums filled +presumably in the same way as was the other. She had no mind to look at +these, being already surfeited with beauty; also, she was more than +ever aware of the sense of disquiet which had troubled her before. To +escape once more from this, she walked to the piano, opened it, and let +her fingers stray over the keys. She had not touched a piano for many +weeks, consequently her fingers were stiff and awkward; but in a few +minutes they got back something of their old proficiency: almost +unconsciously, she strayed into an Andante of Chopin's. +</P> + +<P> +The strange, appealing, almost unearthly beauty of the movement soothed +her jangled nerves; before she was aware of it, she was enrapt with the +morbid majesty of the music. Although she was dimly conscious that +someone had come into the room, she went on playing. +</P> + +<P> +The next definite thing that she knew was that two strong arms were +placed about her body, that she was being kissed hotly and passionately +upon eyes and lips. +</P> + +<P> +"You darling; you darling; you perfect darling!" cried a voice. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was too overcome by the suddenness of the assault to know what to +be at; her first instinct was to deliver herself from the defiling +touch of her assailant. She freed herself with an effort, to see that +it was Mr Williams who had so grossly insulted her. Blind rage, shame, +outraged pride all struggled for expression; blind rage predominated. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you beast!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"You beast! You beast! To do a thing like that!" Then, as she became on +better terms with the nature of the vulgar insult to which she had been +subjected, her anger blazed out. +</P> + +<P> +"How dare you insult a defenceless girl?" +</P> + +<P> +"But—" the man stammered. +</P> + +<P> +"What have I ever done but try and work to keep away from such things, +and now you come and—Oh, you beast—you cruel beast! You'll never know +what you have done." +</P> + +<P> +A sense of shame possessed her. She turned away to drop scalding tears. +Anger quickly succeeded this brief fit of dejection. It caused her +inexpressible pain to think that she, a daughter of a proud family, the +girl with the aloof soul, should have been treated in the same way as +any fast London shop-girl. She was consumed with passion; she feared +what form her rage might take. At least she was determined to have the +man turned out of the house. She moved towards the bell. +</P> + +<P> +"If I've made a mistake," began the man, who all this time had been +fearfully watching her. +</P> + +<P> +"If you've made a mistake!" she echoed scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"The best of us do sometimes, you know," he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"Why to me—to me? What have I said or done to encourage you? Why to +me?" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"If I've made a mistake, I'm more sorry than I can say, more sorry than +you can guess." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use of that to me? You touched my lips. Oh, I could tear +them!" she cried desperately. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you hear my excuse?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no excuse. Nothing—nothing will ever make me forget it. Oh, +the shame of it!" +</P> + +<P> +Here bitter tears again welled to her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The man was moved by her extremity. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so very sorry. I wouldn't have had it happen for anything. I +didn't know you were in the least like this." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? If you had met me as I was before I came here there might +have been the shadow of an excuse. Do you usually behave to girls you +meet at friends' houses like you did to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"In friends' houses?" he asked, emphasising the word "friends." +</P> + +<P> +"You heard what I said?" +</P> + +<P> +"This is scarcely a friend's house." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? Why not? Can't you tell me?" +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? Why not? Answer!" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it possible?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is what possible?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know the house you're in?" +</P> + +<P> +"What house?" she asked wildly. +</P> + +<P> +The look of terror, of fear, which accompanied this question was enough +to dissipate any doubts of the girl's honesty which may have lingered +in the man's mind. +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you been here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Three hours." +</P> + +<P> +"And you don't know what Mrs Hamilton is?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" he cried excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me! Tell me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Just tell me how you met her." +</P> + +<P> +She told him in short words; she was reluctant to make a confidant of +the man who had ravished her lips; she was dimly conscious that he may +have had a remote excuse for his behaviour. When she had done, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Hamilton is one of the worst women in London. She'd have been 'run +in' long ago if she weren't so rich and if her clients weren't so +influential." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at him wide-eyed. +</P> + +<P> +"That chap at dinner, didn't, you know he was Lord Kegworth? If you +don't, you must have heard of the rotten life he's led." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" stammered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you seen any photographs since you've been here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just now—these." +</P> + +<P> +"She's their agent, go between. Here! What am I telling you? You can +thank your stars you've met me." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's frightened eyes looked into his. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to get you out of it." +</P> + +<P> +"You?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's not a moment to lose. Get on your things and clear out." +</P> + +<P> +"But Mrs Hamilton—" +</P> + +<P> +"She's busy for a moment. Slip on something over your dress and join me +outside the drawing-room. If anyone interferes with you, shout." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Do as I tell you. Hang it! I must do something to try and make up for +my blackguard behaviour." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis went from the room, her heart beating with fear of discovery. For +the time being, she had forgotten the insult offered her by the man she +had left: her one thought was to put as great a space as possible +between this accursed house and herself in the least imaginable time. +She scarcely knew what she did. She tore off the pearls, the head +circlet with its shining emerald, bracelets and other costly gee-gaws, +and threw them on the table; she was glad to be rid of them; their +touch meant defilement. She kicked off the grey slippers, tore off the +silk stockings, and substituted for these her worn, down-at-heel shoes +and stockings. There was no time to change her frock, so she pulled the +cloak over her evening clothes; she meant to return these latter to +their owner the first thing in the morning. She turned her back on the +room, that such a short while back she had looked upon as her own, ran +down the stairs and joined the man, who was impatiently waiting for her +on the landing. Without exchanging a word, they descended to the ground +floor. The front door was in sight and Mavis's heart was beating high +with hope, when Mrs Hamilton, who looked tired and heated, stood in the +passage. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Out for the evening," replied Williams. +</P> + +<P> +"What time shall I expect you back?" she asked of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not coming back," replied Mavis. "I wish I'd never come." +</P> + +<P> +"Then—?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," interrupted Williams, anticipating Mrs Hamilton's question. +</P> + +<P> +"You believe and trust a notorious seducer like this man?" asked Mrs +Hamilton of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever I am, I ain't that," cried Williams. +</P> + +<P> +"To a man who has ruined more girls than anyone else in London?" +continued Mrs Hamilton. "I solemnly warn you that if you go with that +man it means your ruin—ruin body and soul." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton spoke in such a low, earnest voice, that Mavis, who now +recollected Mr Williams's previous behaviour to her, was inclined to +waver. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton saw her advantage and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Since you disbelieve in me, the least you can do is to go upstairs and +take off my clothes." +</P> + +<P> +"She'll do nothing of the kind," cried out the man. +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't want to lose his prey," Mrs Hamilton remarked to Mavis, who +was inclined to falter a little more. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps Williams saw the weakening of the girl's resolution, for he +made a last desperate effort on her behalf. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," he said, "I'm not a sneak, but, if you don't own up and +let Miss Devereux go, I'll fetch in the police." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll what?" cried Mrs Hamilton. +</P> + +<P> +"Fetch in the police. Not to Mrs Hamilton, but to Mrs Bridgeman, Mrs +Knight, or Mrs Davis." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Hamilton's face went white; she looked intently at the man to see +if he were in earnest. His resolute eyes convinced her that he was. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment, a torrent of foul words fell from her lips. She abused +Mavis; she reviled the man; she accused the two of sin, the while she +made use of obscene, filthy phrases, which caused Mavis to put her +hands to her ears. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis no longer wavered. She put her hand on the man's arm; the next +minute they were out in the street. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAVIS GOES OUT TO SUPPER +</H3> + +<P> +"Where now?" asked the man, as the two stood outside in the street. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, then." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm grateful to you for getting me out of that place, but I can never +see you or speak to you again." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"We needn't go into it. I want to try to forget it, although I never +shall. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't let you go like this. Let me drive you home." +</P> + +<P> +"Home!" laughed Mavis scornfully. "I've no home." +</P> + +<P> +"Really no home?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't a soul in the world who cares what becomes of me: not a +friend in the world. And all I valued you've soiled. It made me hate +you, and nothing will ever alter it. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +She turned away. The man followed. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, I'll tell you all about myself, which shows my intentions +are straight." +</P> + +<P> +"It wouldn't interest me." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? You liked me before—before that happened, and, when you've +forgiven me, there's no reason why you shouldn't like me again." +</P> + +<P> +"There's every reason." +</P> + +<P> +"My name's Windebank—Archibald Windebank. I'm in the service, and my +home is Haycock Abbey, near Melkbridge—" +</P> + +<P> +"You gave me your wrong name!" cried Mavis, who, now that she knew that +the man was the friend of her early days, seized on any excuse to get +away from him. +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't follow me. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +She crossed the road. He came after her and seized her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be a fool!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"You've hurt me. You're capable of anything," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Rot!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you brute, to hurt a girl!" +</P> + +<P> +"I've done nothing of the kind. It would almost have served you right +if I had, for being such a little fool. Listen to me—you shall +listen," he added, as Mavis strove to leave him. +</P> + +<P> +His voice compelled submission. She looked at him, to see that his face +was tense with anger. She found that she did not hate him so much, +although she said, as if to satisfy her conscience for listening to him: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to insult me again?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to tell you what a fool you are, in chucking away a chance of +lifelong happiness, because you're upset at what I did, when, finding +you in that house, I'd every excuse for doing." +</P> + +<P> +"Lifelong happiness?" cried Mavis scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a woman I could devote my life to. I want to know all about +you. Oh, don't be a damn little fool!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're somebody: I'm a nobody. Much better let me go." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course if you want to—" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Then let me see you into a cab." +</P> + +<P> +"A cab! I always go by 'bus, when I can afford it." +</P> + +<P> +"Good heavens! Here, let me drive you home." +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't have said that. I'm overwrought to-night. When I'm in +work, I'm ever so rich. I know you mean kindly. Let me go." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do nothing of the kind. It's all very important to me. I'm going +to drive you home." +</P> + +<P> +He caught hold of her arm, the while he hailed a passing hansom. When +this drew up to the pavement, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Get in, please." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Get in," he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +The girl obeyed him: something in the man's voice compelled obedience. +</P> + +<P> +He sat beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, tell me your address." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me your address." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing on earth will make me." +</P> + +<P> +"The man's waiting." +</P> + +<P> +"Let him." +</P> + +<P> +"Drive anywhere. I'll tell you where to go later," Windebank called to +the cabman. +</P> + +<P> +The cab started. The man and the girl sat silent. Mavis was not +reproaching herself for having got into the cab with Windebank; her +mind was full of the strange trick which fate had played her in +throwing herself and her old-time playmate together. There seemed +design in the action. Perhaps, after all, their meeting was the reply +to her prayer in the tea-shop. +</P> + +<P> +The cab drove along the almost deserted thoroughfare. It was now +between ten and eleven, a time when the flame of the day seems to die +down before bursting out into a last brilliance, when the houses of +entertainment are emptied into the streets. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stole a glance at the man beside her. Her eye fell on his opera +hat, the rich fur lining of his overcoat; lastly, on his face. His +whole atmosphere suggested ample means, self-confidence, easy content +with life. Then she looked at her cloak, the condition of which was now +little removed from shabbiness. The pressure of her feet on the floor +of the cab reminded her how sadly her shoes were down at heel. The +contrast between their two states irked Mavis: she was resentful at the +fact of his possessing all the advantages in life of which she had been +deprived. If he had been visited with the misfortune that had assailed +her, and if she had been left scathless, it would not have been so bad: +he was a man, who could have fought for his own hand, without being +hindered by the obstacles which weigh so heavily on those of her own +sex, who seek to win for themselves a foothold on the slippery inclines +of life. She found herself hating him more for his prosperity than for +the way in which he had insulted her. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you changed your mind?" asked Windebank presently. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Likely to?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"We can't talk here, and a fog's coming up. Wouldn't you like something +to eat?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not hungry—now." +</P> + +<P> +"Where do you usually feed?" +</P> + +<P> +"At an Express Dairy." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"You get a large cup of tea for tuppence there." +</P> + +<P> +"A tea-shop! But it wouldn't be open so late." +</P> + +<P> +"Lockhart's is." +</P> + +<P> +"Lockhart's?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Cocoa Rooms. In the 'First Class' you find quite a collection of +shabby gentility. And you'd never believe what a lot you can get there +for tuppence." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you, you might find it useful some day; one never knows. You +can get a huge cup of tea or coffee—a bit stewed—but, at least, it's +warm; also, four huge pieces of bread and butter, and a good, long, +lovely rest." +</P> + +<P> +"Good God!" +</P> + +<P> +"For tuppence more you can get sausages; sixpence provides a meal; a +shilling a banquet. Can't we find a 'Lockhart'?" +</P> + +<P> +The man said nothing. The cab drove onward. Mavis, now that her +resentment against Windebank's prosperity had found relief in words, +was sorry that she had spoken as she had. After all, the man's +well-being was entirely his own affair; it was not remotely associated +with the decline in the fortunes of her family. She would like to say +or do something to atone for her bitter words. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor little girl! Poor little girl!" +</P> + +<P> +This was said by Windebank feelingly, pityingly; he seemed unconscious +that they had been overheard by Mavis. She was firmly, yes, quite +firmly, resolved to hate him, whatever he might do to efface her +animosity. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, the cab had fetched something of a compass, and had now +turned into Regent Street. +</P> + +<P> +"Here we are: this'll do," suddenly cried Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Grub. Hi, stop!" +</P> + +<P> +Obedient to his summons, the cabman stopped. Mavis got out on the +pavement, where she stood irresolute. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll come in?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +"We must have a talk. Please, please don't refuse me this." +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't eat anything." +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't, I shan't." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't—I swear I won't accept the least favour from you." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him resentfully: she would go any lengths to conceal her +lessening dislike for him. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better wait," he called to the cabman, as he led the way to a +restaurant. +</P> + +<P> +Two attendants, in gold-laced coats, opened double folding doors at the +approach of the man and the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis found herself in a large hall, elaborately decorated with red and +gold, upon the floor of which were many tables, that just now were +sparsely occupied. +</P> + +<P> +Windebank looked from table to table, as if in search of something. His +eye, presently, rested on one, at which an elderly matron was supping +with a parson, presumably her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Good luck!" Windebank murmured, adding to the girl, "This way." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed him up the hall to the table next the one where the +elderly couple were sitting. +</P> + +<P> +"This is about our mark," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Why specially here?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Those elderly geesers are a sort of chaperone for unprotected +innocence; a parson and all that," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +She could hardly forbear smiling at his conception of protection. +</P> + +<P> +A waiter assisted her with her cloak. When she took a seat opposite to +Windebank, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I like this place; there's no confounded music to interfere with what +one's got to say." +</P> + +<P> +"I like music," Mavis remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Then let's go where they have it," he suggested, half rising. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to go straight home, if you'll let me." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll stay here. What are you going to eat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot! Here's the waiter chaps. Tell 'em what you want." +</P> + +<P> +Two waiters approached the table, one with a list of food, the other +with like information concerning wines, which, at a nod from Windebank, +they put before Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +She glanced over these; beyond noticing the high prices charged, she +gave no attention to the lists' contents. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" said Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not hungry and I'm not thirsty," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You heard what I said, and I'm awfully hungry!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's your affair." +</P> + +<P> +"If you won't decide, I'll decide for you." +</P> + +<P> +The waiters handed him the menus, from which, after much thought, he +ordered an elaborate meal. When the waiters hastened to execute his +orders, he found Mavis staring at him wide-eyed. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you entertaining your regiment?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"You," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't much, but it's the best they've got. Whatever it is, it's in +honour of our first meeting." +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't eat a thing," urged Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't sit there and see me starve?" +</P> + +<P> +"There won't be time. I have to get back." +</P> + +<P> +"But, however much you hate me, you surely haven't the heart to send me +supperless to bed?" +</P> + +<P> +"You shouldn't make silly resolutions." +</P> + +<P> +As Windebank did not speak for some moments, Mavis looked at her +surroundings. Men and women in evening dress were beginning to trickle +in from theatres, concerts, and music hall. She noticed how they all +wore a bored expression, as if it were with much of an effort that they +had gone out to supper. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't move! Keep looking like that," cried Windebank suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" she asked, quickly turning to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you've spoiled it," he complained. +</P> + +<P> +"Spoiled what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your expression. Good heavens!" +</P> + +<P> +The exclamation was a signal for retrospection on Windebank's part. +When he next spoke, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Is your name, by any wonderful chance, Mavis Keeves?" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"Answer my question. Is your name Mavis Keeves: Mavis Weston Keeves in +full?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know it isn't. That woman told you what it was." +</P> + +<P> +"She didn't tell you my name, and I thought she might have done the +same by you. And when I saw that expression in your face—" +</P> + +<P> +"Who is Mavis Keeves?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little girl I knew when I was a kid. She'd hair and eyes like yours, +and when I saw you then—but you haven't answered my question. Is your +name Mavis Weston Keeves?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had decided what to reply if further directly questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"No, it isn't," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound! I might have known. It's much too good to be true." +</P> + +<P> +While Mavis was tortured with self-reproach at having told a lie, soup, +in gilt cups, was set before Windebank and Mavis, the latter of whom +was more than ever resolved to accept no hospitality from the man who +appeared sincerely anxious to befriend her. The fact of her having told +him a lie seemed, in the eyes of her morbidly active conscience, to put +her under an obligation to him, an indebtedness that she was in no mind +to increase. She folded her hands on the napkin, and again looked about +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you want that stuff?" Windebank asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Neither do I. Take it away!" +</P> + +<P> +The waiters removed the soup, to substitute, almost immediately, an +appetising preparation of fish. At the same time an elderly, +important-mannered man poured out wine with every conceivable +elaboration of his office. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't refuse this. The place is famous for it," urged Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"You know what I said. I mean it more than ever." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know that obstinacy is one of the seven deadly sins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"If it isn't, it ought to be. Do change your mind." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing will make me," she replied icily. +</P> + +<P> +He signalled to the waiters to remove the food. +</P> + +<P> +"What a jolly night we're having!" he genially remarked, when the men +were well out of hearing. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I've spoiled your evening." +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. I like a good feed. It does one good." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis would have been hard put to it to repress a smile at this remark, +had she not suddenly remembered how she had left her purse in the +pocket of the frock that she had left behind her at Mrs Hamilton's; she +realised that she would have to walk to Mrs Bilkins's. The fact of +having no money to pay a 'bus fare reminded her how the cab was waiting +outside. +</P> + +<P> +"You've forgotten your cab," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"What cab?" +</P> + +<P> +"The one you told to wait outside." +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Won't he charge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. What of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"What an extravagance!" she commented. +</P> + +<P> +She could say no more; a procession of dishes commenced: meats, ices, +sweetmeats, fruit, wines, coffee, liqueurs; all of which were refused, +first by Mavis, then by Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, who had been accustomed to consider carefully the spending of a +penny, was appalled at the waste. She had hoped that Windebank, after +seeing how she was resolved to keep her word, would have countermanded +the expensive supper he had ordered; failing this, that the management +of the restaurant would not charge for the unconsumed meats and wine. +Windebank would have been flattered could he have known of Mavis's +consideration for his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +He and the girl talked when the attendants were out of the way, to stop +conversing when they were immediately about them; the two would resume +where they had left off, directly they were sure of not being overheard. +</P> + +<P> +"Just imagine, if you were little Mavis Keeves grown up," began +Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind about her," replied Mavis uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"But I do. I loved her, the cheeky little wretch." +</P> + +<P> +"Was she?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little flirt, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no." +</P> + +<P> +"Fact. I think it made me love her all the more." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you trying to make me jealous?" she asked, making a sad little +effort to be light-hearted. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I could. There was a chap named Perigal, whom the little flirt +preferred to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Perigal?" +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie Perigal. We were laughing about it only the week before last." +</P> + +<P> +"He loved her too?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather. I remember we both subscribed to buy her a birthday present. +Anyway, the week before last, we both asked each other what had become +of her, and promised to let each other know if we heard anything of +her." +</P> + +<P> +"If I were Mavis Keeves, would you let him know?" +</P> + +<P> +"No fear." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis smiled at the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we come to to-day," continued Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"The least said of to-day the better." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so sure; it may have the happiest results." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk nonsense." +</P> + +<P> +"Do let me go on. Assuming you were little Mavis, where do I find +her—eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Here Windebank's face hardened. +</P> + +<P> +"That woman ought to be shot," he cried. "As it is, I've a jolly good +mind to show her up. And to think she got you there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ssh!" +</P> + +<P> +"You've no idea what a house it is. It's quite the worst thing of its +kind in London." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what were you doing there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"What were you doing there?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a plaster saint," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Who said you were?" +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm interested in life: curious to see all sides of it. She's +often asked me, but to-night, when she wired to say she'd a paragon +coming to dinner, I went." +</P> + +<P> +"She wired?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-night. It all but missed me. I'm no end of glad it didn't." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I ought to be glad too," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you think me a bad egg, but I'm not; I'm not really," he went +on, to add, after a moment's pause, "I believe at heart I'm a +sentimentalist." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"A bit of a bally fool where the heart is concerned. What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think all nice people are that," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks." +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't including you," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Eat that ice." +</P> + +<P> +"Wild horses wouldn't make me." +</P> + +<P> +"You'd eat it if you knew what pleasure it would give me." +</P> + +<P> +"You want me to break my word?" she said, with a note of defiance in +her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Have your own way." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean to," +</P> + +<P> +The ices were taken away. Windebank went on talking. +</P> + +<P> +"You've no idea how careful a chap with domestic instincts, who isn't +altogether a pauper, has to be. Women make a dead set at him." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor dear!" commented Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Fact. You mayn't believe it, but every woman—nearly every woman he +meets—goes out of her way to have a go at him." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +Windebank did not heed the interruption; he went on: +</P> + +<P> +"Old Perigal, Charlie Perigal's father, is a rum old chap; lives alone +and never sees anyone and all that. One day he asked me to call, and +what d'ye think he said?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give it up." +</P> + +<P> +"Boy! you're commencing life, and you should know this: always bear in +mind the value of money and the worthlessness of most women. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +"What a horrid old man!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that's what he said." +</P> + +<P> +"And do you bear it in mind?" +</P> + +<P> +"Money I don't worry about. I've more than I know what to do with. As +to women, I'm jolly well on my guard." +</P> + +<P> +"You're as bad as old Perigal, every bit." +</P> + +<P> +"But one has to be. Have some of these strawberries?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"You ate 'em fast enough at Mrs What's-her-name's." +</P> + +<P> +"It was different then." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, wasn't it? Take 'em away." +</P> + +<P> +These last words were spoken to the waiters, who were now accustomed to +removing the untasted dishes almost as soon as they were put upon the +table. +</P> + +<P> +"Have the coffee when it comes. It'll warm you for the fog outside." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, I'm not used to coddling." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you ought to be. But about what we were saying: then, I quite +thought old Perigal a pig for saying that about women; now, I know he's +absolutely right." +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely wrong. It's the other way about. It's men who're worthless, +not poor women; and they don't care what they drag us down to so long +as they get their own ends," cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" he commented. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been out in the world and have seen what goes on," retorted Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't my experience." +</P> + +<P> +"Men are always in the right. No coffee, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite." +</P> + +<P> +"No; it is not my experience," he went on. "Take the case of all the +chaps I know who've married women who played up to them. Without +exception they curse in their hearts the day they met them." +</P> + +<P> +"If anything's wrong, it's owing to the husband's selfishness." +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis—I'm going to call you that—you don't know what rot +you're talking." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot is often the inconvenient common sense of other people," commented +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't as if marriage were for a day," he went on, "or for a week, +or two years. Then, it wouldn't matter very much whom one married. But +it's for a lifetime, whether it turns out all right or whether it +don't. What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see; you'd have men choose wives as you would a house or an +umbrella," she suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"People would be a jolly sight happier if they did," he replied, to +add, after looking intently at Mavis: "Though, after all, I believe I'm +talking rot. When one's love time comes, nothing else in the world +matters; every other consideration goes phut, as it should." +</P> + +<P> +"Goes what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Goes to blazes, then, as it should." +</P> + +<P> +"As it should," echoed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear little Mavis!" smiled Windebank, "But it's big Mavis now." +</P> + +<P> +He called the waiter, to give him a note with which to pay the bill. +</P> + +<P> +"What wicked waste!" remarked Mavis in an undertone. +</P> + +<P> +"When it's been time spent with you?" +</P> + +<P> +When the bill and the change were brought, Windebank would not look at +either. +</P> + +<P> +"How can you be so extravagant?" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"When one's with you, it's a crime to think of anything else." +</P> + +<P> +"What a good thing I'm leaving you!" she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +He insisted on getting and helping her into her coat. As she put her +arms into the sleeves, he murmured: +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you get your hair?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do try and talk sense," she pleaded, not insensible to the man's +ardent admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Then, with something like a sigh, she left the warmth and comfort of +the restaurant for the bleakness of the street, on which a thick fog +had descended. +</P> + +<P> +This enveloped the man and the woman. As they stood on the pavement, it +seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOURTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SEQUEL +</H3> + +<P> +"Will you let me drive you home?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you must let me walk with you." +</P> + +<P> +"There's no necessity." +</P> + +<P> +"I insist. London, at this time of night, isn't the place for a plain +little girl like Mavis." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you're talking sense." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I thought it," he remarked bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +He paid the cabman and piloted Mavis through the fog to the other side +of Regent Street; they then made for Piccadilly. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I going right?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"At present," she replied, to ask, after a moment or two, "Why are you +so extravagant?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not." +</P> + +<P> +"That supper and keeping that cab waiting! It must have run into +pounds." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! What if it did?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's wicked. Just think of the good you could have done with it." +</P> + +<P> +"Good? Who to?" he asked blankly. +</P> + +<P> +"You've only to look about you. Don't you know of all the misery there +is in the world?" +</P> + +<P> +"To tell you the truth, I've never thought very much about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you ought to." +</P> + +<P> +"You think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll have to." +</P> + +<P> +They were now in Piccadilly. The pavement on which they walked was +crowded with women of all ages; some walked in pairs, others, singly. +Whatever their age and appearance, all these women had two qualities in +common—artificial complexions and bold, inviting eyes. It was the +nightly market of the women of the town. This mart has much in common +with any other market existing for the buying or selling of staple +commodities. Amongst this assembly of women of all ages and conditions +(many of whom were married), there were regular frequenters, who had +been there almost from time immemorial; occasional dabblers; chance +hucksterers: most were there compelled by the supreme necessity of +earning a living; others displayed their wares in order to provide +luxuries; whilst a few were present merely for the fun of an infrequent +bargain. As at other marts, there were those who represented the +interests of sellers, and extracted a commission for their pains on all +sales effected by their principals. Also, most of the chaffering was +negotiated over drink, to obtain which adjournment was made to the +handiest bar. +</P> + +<P> +This exchange was as subject to economic laws as ruthlessly as are all +other markets. There were fat times, when money was plentiful; lean +nights, when buyers were scarce or sellers suffered from over-supply. +To complete the resemblance, this mart was sensibly affected by world +events, political happenings, the robustness or weakness of other +markets of industry. +</P> + +<P> +Men of all ages swarmed on the pavement; some were buyers, others were +attracted by the fun of the fair. The family parties which were +occasionally to be met with, as they scurried home to remote suburbs, +seemed sadly out of place in this seething collection of vicious men +and women. +</P> + +<P> +An over-dressed black woman was there, as if to prove, if proof were +needed, the universality of sin. +</P> + +<P> +As the procession of painted faces loomed out of the fog, it seemed to +Mavis as if they were lost souls in the spume of the pit. +</P> + +<P> +She drew closer to the man at her side. London, life itself, seemed to +the girl's jangled nerves to be a concentrated horror, from which, so +it now appeared, the man beside her was her only safeguard. He had +certainly insulted her, she reflected; but his conduct was, perhaps, +excusable under the circumstances in which he had found her. Directly +he had learned his mistake, he had rescued her from further contact +with infamy, and had been gentle with her. In return, she had been +scarcely civil to him, and had told him a lie when he had asked her if +she were his old playmate. +</P> + +<P> +As she walked with him, she bitterly reproached herself for her +falsehood; she also tried to hide from herself that her rudeness had +been largely assumed in order to conceal her growing regard for him. It +would seem another world when he was not at her side to protect her +from possible harm. +</P> + +<P> +As they passed Burlington House, a beggar whined his tale of woe in +their ears. Mavis saw Windebank give the man something, the +handsomeness of which made the recipient open his eyes. A +flower-seller, who had witnessed the generous act, immediately pestered +Windebank to buy of her wares, an example at once followed by others of +her calling. He gave them all money, at which some of them forced their +wired flowers upon him, whilst others overwhelmed him with thanks. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't thank me," he protested, as he glanced towards Mavis, who was +the recipient of countless blessings, mechanically uttered. +</P> + +<P> +Beggars and loafers, with their keen scent for prey, were about him in +less time than it takes to tell. He gave largely, generously; he was +soon the centre of a struggling, unsavoury crowd, which was growing +larger every minute. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever are you doing?" protested Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't it your wish?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not this. Please, please get me out and away." +</P> + +<P> +The next moment, Windebank, dragging Mavis after him, was vigorously +making a passage through those who surrounded them. Once he saw his way +clear, he ran forward, still keeping hold of her, and dragged her up +Bond Street. They were still followed by the more persistent of the +loafers, but a friendly policeman came to their aid, enabling them to +pursue their unmolested way down Piccadilly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is good of you to let me stay with you all this time," he said +presently. +</P> + +<P> +"What time is it?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see. Why, I've lost my watch!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not really?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose it was stolen just now." +</P> + +<P> +"Stolen?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you can see where the chain is snapped." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't we do something?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use?" +</P> + +<P> +"But it must be got back. If it isn't, I shall feel it's all my doing." +</P> + +<P> +"How can that be? Don't talk rot." +</P> + +<P> +"I talked you into giving money away, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"If you say any more, I'll be very angry," he interrupted. "What's a +watch!" +</P> + +<P> +Although she made no further reference to the matter, she thought the +more of the loss he had sustained, which was owing to the +representations she had made upon his duty to the needy. His +indifference to the theft of his property the more inclined her in his +favour. +</P> + +<P> +As they walked, he was full of kindly anxiety for her present and +future welfare. His ardent sincerity filled her with self-reproaches, +the while he continued to express concern for her well-being. +Presently, when they were passing St George's Hospital, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you wouldn't talk so much about myself." +</P> + +<P> +"It's so interesting," he pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not talk more about yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind me." +</P> + +<P> +"But I do. What on earth time will you get to bed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Any time. It doesn't matter." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you be tired in the morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't notice. I should be thinking of you." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense; you'll be thinking about breakfast. Where do you sleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"When I'm up like this, at a hotel in Jermyn Street." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you comfortable there?" +</P> + +<P> +"I only sleep there. I breakfast at the club." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"We passed it on the way down." +</P> + +<P> +"How you must have wanted to get away! Your coat's undone." +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do it up." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll take cold. Do it up or I'll leave you at once." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be so considerate," he said, as he obeyed her behest. "It isn't +kind." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"It makes me fonder—I mean like you ever so much." +</P> + +<P> +When they reached Sloane Street, he remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"Do let me drive you. It's a shame to make you walk. You must be quite +tired out." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll leave you and get a 'bus," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"And you won't give me your address?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +Although heavily laden 'buses were constantly passing, she made no +pretence of stopping one; not because she had no money: she had +forgotten for the time being that she was penniless. Her mind was a +welter of emotion. She regretted her sudden tenderness in the matter of +his unbuttoned overcoat; she reproached herself for not leaving him +directly she had got away from Mrs Hamilton's; she knew she would never +forgive him for having insulted her; the fact of his having kissed her +lips seemed in some mysterious way to bind them together; she hated +herself for having denied that she was Mavis Keeves. The many leanings +of her mind struggled for precedence; very soon, concern for the lie +that she had told the man, who it was now evident wished her well, +possessed her to the exclusion of all else. She suffered tortures of +self-reproach, which became all but unendurable. +</P> + +<P> +Windebank, who had been walking between her and the curb, suddenly +moved so that she was on the outside. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you do that?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The wind. Little Mavis might take cold." +</P> + +<P> +She could bear it no longer. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"I've something to tell you. I can't go on like this." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he asked, all concern. +</P> + +<P> +"When you know, you'll never forgive me. I lied to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Lied?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, lied, lied, lied. But I can't let it go on. I hate myself for +doing it. Why was I so wicked?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give it up." +</P> + +<P> +"My name. I told you a lie about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't that enough? I am Mavis Keeves. I am—" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" he interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't like to confess it before. Don't, please don't think very +badly of me." +</P> + +<P> +"YOU—little Mavis after all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she answered softly. +</P> + +<P> +"What wonderful, wonderful luck! I can't believe it even now. You +little Mavis! How did it all come about?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's simple enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Simple!" He laughed excitedly. "You call it simple?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let me tell you. I was very miserable to-day and I prayed and—and—" +</P> + +<P> +She could say no more; her overcharged feelings were such that they got +the better of her self-control. Careless of what he might think, she +leaned against him, as if for protection—leaned against him to weep +bitter-sweet, unrestrained tears upon his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor little girl! Poor little Mavis!" he murmured. +</P> + +<P> +The remark reinforced her tears. +</P> + +<P> +The fog again enveloped them and seemed to cut them off from the +observation of passers-by. It was as if their tenderness for each other +had found an oasis in the wilderness of London's heartlessness. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wept unrestrainedly, contentedly, as if secure or sympathetic +understanding. Although he spoke, she gave small heed to his words. She +revelled in the unaccustomed luxury of friendship expressed by a man +for whom she, already, had something in the nature of an affectionate +regard. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, when she became calmer, she gave more attention to what he +was saying. +</P> + +<P> +"You must give me your address and I'll write to my people at once," he +said. "The mater will be no end of glad to see you again, and you must +come down. I'll be down often and—and—Oh, little Mavis, won't it be +wonderful, if all our lives we were to bless the day we met again?" +</P> + +<P> +Although her sobs had ceased, she did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +Two obsessions occupied her thoughts: one was an instinct of abasement +before the man who had such a tender concern for her future; the other, +a fierce pride, which revolted at the thought of her being under a +possibly lifelong obligation to the man with whom, in the far-off days +of her childhood, she had been on terms of economic equality. He +produced his handkerchief and gently wiped her eyes. She did not know +whether to be grateful for, or enraged at, this attention. The two +conflicting emotions surged within her; their impulsion was a cause +which threatened to exert a common effect, inasmuch as they urged her +to leave Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +This sentiment was strengthened by the reflection that she was unworthy +of his regard. She had, of set purpose, lied to him, denied that she +was the friend of his early youth. True, he had previously insulted +her, but, considering the circumstances, he had every excuse for his +behaviour. He certainly led a fast life, but, if anything, Mavis the +more admired him for this symptom of virility; she also dimly believed +that such conduct qualified him to win a wife who, in every respect, +was above reproach. She was poor and friendless, she again reflected. +Above all, she had lied to him. She was hopelessly unworthy of one who, +in obedience to the sentimental whim she had inspired, seemed +contemptuous of his future. She would be worse than she already was, if +she countenanced a course of action full of such baleful possibilities +for himself. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she kissed him +lightly on the cheek, and snatched the violets he was wearing in his +coat, before slipping away, to lose herself in the fog. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FIFTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A GOOD SAMARITAN +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis heard him calling her name, first one way, then another; once, he +approached and came quite near her, but he changed his direction, to +pass immediately out of her ken. +</P> + +<P> +She then hurried in the direction of what she believed to be +Hammersmith; she could not know for certain, as the fog increased in +intensity every minute. Her mind was too confused to ask anyone if she +were going the right way, even if she had cared to know, which, at +present, she did not. She was seized with a passion for movement, +anything to distract her mind from the emotions possessing it. One +moment, she blamed herself for having left Windebank as she had done; +the next, she told herself and tried hard to believe that she had done +the best conceivable thing under the circumstances. +</P> + +<P> +She walked quickly, careless to where her footsteps led her, as if +hurrying from, or to Windebank's side; she was not certain which she +desired. She had walked for quite twenty minutes when she was brought +up short by a blow on the forehead. Light flashed in her eyes; she put +out her arms to save herself from a fall. She had walked into a tree, +contact with which had bruised her face and torn skin from her +forehead. Pain and dizziness brought her to the realisation of the fact +that it was late, and that she was penniless; also, that she was +unaware of her whereabouts. She resolved to get back to her lodging +with as little delay as possible. She groped about, hoping to find +someone who would tell her where she was and direct her to Kiva Street. +After some minutes, she all but walked into a policeman, who told her +how she was near the King's Road, Chelsea, also how to get to her +destination. She hastened on, doing her utmost to follow his +directions. This was not easy, the fog and the pain in her head both +confusing her steps. Once or twice, she was almost overcome by +faintness; then, she was compelled to cling to railings for support +until she had strength to continue her way. +</P> + +<P> +There came a time when her legs refused to carry her further; her head +throbbed violently; a dark veil seemed to gradually blot out things as +she knew them. She remembered no more. +</P> + +<P> +When next she became dimly conscious, she seemed to be in a recumbent +position in a strange room, where she was watching the doings of a +woman who was unknown to her. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis first set eyes on this person, she appeared to be a decent, +comely, fair-haired, youngish woman, who was dressed in the becoming +black of one who had recently emerged from the mourning of widowhood. +But as Mavis watched the woman, a startling transformation took place +before her eyes. The woman began by removing her gloves and bonnet +before a dressing glass, which was kept in position by a mangy hair +brush thrust between the frame and its supports. Then, to the girl's +wondering astonishment, the woman unpinned and took off her fair curls, +revealing a mop of tangled, frowsy, colourless hair, which the wig had +concealed. Next, she removed her sober, well-cut costume, also, her +silk underskirt, to put on a much worn, greasy dressing-gown. Then, she +pulled off her pretty shoes and silk stockings, to thrust her feet into +worn slippers, through which her naked toes showed in more than one +place. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis rubbed her eyes; she expected every moment to find herself again +in the street, clinging to the railings for support, at which moment of +returning sense she would know that what she was now witnessing would +prove to be an effect of her disordered imagination. +</P> + +<P> +If what she saw were the result of a sick brain, it was a convincing, +consistent picture which fascinated her attention. +</P> + +<P> +The woman had taken up a not over-clean towel, to dip a corner of it in +a jug upon the washstand before applying it to one side of her face. +Mavis suffered her eyes to leave the woman in order to wander round the +room. She was lying on a sofa at the foot of an iron bed. That part of +the wall nearest to her was filled by the fireplace, in which a +cheerful fire was burning; it looked as if it had recently been made +up. Upon the mantelshelf were faded photographs of common, +self-conscious people, the tops of which all but touched a framed print +of the late Mr Gladstone. In the complementary recess to the one in +which the washstand stood, was a table littered with odds and ends of +food, some of which were still wrapped in the paper in which they had +come from the shop. A smoking oil lamp, of which the glass shade had +disappeared, and which was now shaded with the lid of a cardboard shoe +box, cast elongated shadows of the occupier of the room on walls and +ceiling as she moved. The atmosphere of the room was heavy with the +mingled smell of paraffin oil and fugginess. +</P> + +<P> +"Where—where am I?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You've come round, then?" said the woman, who had just cleansed one +side of her face of artificial complexion. +</P> + +<P> +"How did I get here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I found you outside as I came 'ome. I couldn't very well leave you +like that." +</P> + +<P> +"You're very kind." +</P> + +<P> +"'Elp that you may be 'elped is my motto. An' then you didn't smell of +drink. I wouldn't 'ave took you in if you had. Girls who're 'on the +game' who drink ought to know better, and don't deserve sympathy." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stared at her wide-eyed, striving to recalled where she had heard +that expression before, also what it meant. +</P> + +<P> +"You sit quiet, dear; you'll be better directly," said the woman. "I've +got to wash this stuff off. Beastly nuisance, but, if you don't, it +stains the sheets and pillers, as I daresay you know." +</P> + +<P> +Had Mavis possessed sufficient strength she would have combated this +suggestion; it was as much as she could do to concentrate her wandering +attention on the doings of the woman who had played good Samaritan in +her extremity. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis saw her cleanse the other side of her face and remove two false +teeth from her mouth, actions which completed the transformation from +that of a comely, interesting-looking, youngish woman to that of an +elderly, extremely commonplace person with foxy, shifty eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I'm 'done.' I never feel reely at home till I get into my shirt +sleeves, as you might say," remarked the woman. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sat up. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ave a drink?" asked her benefactor. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind a drop out of business hours, when I feel I've earned it, +as you might say. I've got a quartern in a bottle. If I'd expected +visitors, I'd have got more, but I'll go 'alves." +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you," repeated Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! Don't mind if I do?" said the woman, in the manner of one relieved +of the possibility of parting with something that she would prefer to +keep. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all." +</P> + +<P> +The woman heated some water in a tin kettle, before mixing herself hot +gin and water in a tooth glass, the edge of which was smudged with +tooth powder. +</P> + +<P> +"Smoke?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do, sometimes," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Have a fag? A gentleman brought me these to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis somewhat reluctantly took and lit a cigarette. The woman did +likewise, sipped her grog, and then brought a chair in order that she +might sit by Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"What might your name be?" +</P> + +<P> +"Keeves," answered Mavis shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mine's Ewer—'Tilda Ewer. Miss, thank Gawd." +</P> + +<P> +"You wear a wedding ring." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! That's business. And 'ow did you come to be overtook outside this +'ouse?" +</P> + +<P> +"I walked far and was very tired." +</P> + +<P> +"Rats!" +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't tell me. 'Ad a row with your boy, an' 'e biffed you on the 'ead. +That's nearer the truth. And that's the worst of gentlemen in drink; +but then, at other times, they're generous enough when they're in +liquor, and don't mind if you help yourself to any spare cash they may +'appen to 'ave about them. It's as long as it's broad." +</P> + +<P> +"You're quite wrong in thinking—" began Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't come the toff with me," interrupted the woman. "If you was a +reel young lady, you wouldn't be out on such a night, and alone. So +don't tell me. I ain't lived forty—twenty-six years for nothink." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not think it worth while to argue the point. +</P> + +<P> +"What time is it?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"'Alf-past two. I suppose I shall 'ave to keep you till the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go directly. I can knock my landlady up." +</P> + +<P> +"She's one of the right sort, eh? Ask no questions, but stick it on the +rent!" +</P> + +<P> +"If my head wasn't so bad, I'd go at once," remarked Mavis, who liked +Miss Ewer less and less. +</P> + +<P> +The woman took no notice of Mavis' ungracious speech: she was staring +hard at Mavis' shoes. +</P> + +<P> +"Fancy wearin' that lovely dress with them tuppenny shoes!" cried Miss +Ewer suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"They are rather worn." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you young fool! Beginner, I s'pose." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon." +</P> + +<P> +"Must be. No one else could be such a fool. Don't you know the +gentlemen is most particular about underclothes, stockings and shoes?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a matter of utter indifference to me what the 'gentlemen' think," +said Mavis with conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on!" +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, if you don't believe me, you needn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Here, I say, what are you?" asked Miss Ewer. "Tell me, and then we'll +know where we stand." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell you what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a naughty girl or a straight girl?" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Straight girls is them as only takes presents like silk stockings an' +gloves from the gentlemen, like them girls in 'Dawes'." +</P> + +<P> +"Girls in 'Dawes'!" echoed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"They do a lot of 'arm; but yet you can't blame 'em: gentlemen will pay +for anything rather than plank money down to them naughty girls as live +by it." +</P> + +<P> +"While I'm here, do you mind talking about something else?" asked Mavis +angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"I 'ave it. I 'ave it," cried Miss Ewer triumphantly. "You're one of +the lucky ones. You're kep'." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon." +</P> + +<P> +"And good luck to you. Don't drink, keep him loving and generous, and +put by for a rainy day, my dear: an' good luck to you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm well enough to go now," said Mavis, as she rose with something of +an effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you very much. Would you kindly show me the way out?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've forgotten something, ain't yer?" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little present for me." +</P> + +<P> +"I've no money on me: really I haven't." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on!" +</P> + +<P> +"See!" cried Mavis, as she turned out the pockets of her cloak. +</P> + +<P> +To her great surprise, many gold coins rolled on to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Gawd in 'Eaven!" cried Miss Ewer, as she stooped to pick them up. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wondered how they had got there, till it occurred to her how +Windebank, pitying her poverty, must have taken the opportunity of +putting the money in her pocket when he insisted upon getting and +helping her into her coat at the restaurant. +</P> + +<P> +She at once told herself that she could not touch a penny piece of it, +indeed the touch of it would seem as if it burnt her fingers. Her +present concern was to get away as far from the money as possible. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow much can I 'ave?" cried Miss Ewer, who was on her knees greedily +picking up the coins. +</P> + +<P> +"All." +</P> + +<P> +"All? Gawd's trewth!" +</P> + +<P> +"Every bit. Only let me go; at once." +</P> + +<P> +"'Ere, if you're so generous, ain't you got no more?" said Miss Ewer, +the while her eyes shone greedily. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see," said Mavis, as she thoroughly turned out her pockets. +</P> + +<P> +Another gold piece fell out; also, a bunch of violets. +</P> + +<P> +"Vilets!" laughed Miss Ewer. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't touch those. No one else shall have them," cried Mavis, as she +wildly snatched them. +</P> + +<P> +"You're welcome to that rubbage, and as you've given me all this, in +return I'll give you a tip as is worth a king's money box." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't bother." +</P> + +<P> +"You shall 'ave it. I've never told a soul. It's 'ow you can earn a +living on the streets like me, and keep, like me, as good a maid as any +lady married at St George's, 'Anover Square." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, but—". +</P> + +<P> +"Listen; listen; listen! It's dress quiet, pick up soft-looking gents, +refuse drink, and pitch 'em a Sunday school yarn," said Miss Ewer +impressively. +</P> + +<P> +"But—". +</P> + +<P> +"It's four pound a week I'm giving away. Tell 'em it's the first time +you're going wrong; talk about your dead 'usband in 'is grave, an' the +innocent little lovely baby girl in 'er cot (the gentlemen like baby +girls better'n boys), as prayed for 'er mummy before she went to sleep. +Then, squeeze a tear an' see if that don't touch their 'earts an' their +pockets." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me go! Let me go!" cried Mavis, horrified at the woman's +communication. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I'd astonish you," said Miss Ewer complacently. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me go. This way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Too grateful to thenk me! Never mind; leave it till nex' time we meet. +You can thenk me then. I thought I'd take your breath away." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me out! Let me out!" cried Mavis, as she fumbled at the chain of +the front door. +</P> + +<P> +"Lemme. Good night, and Gawd bless yer," said Miss Ewer, furtively +counting the gold pieces in her pocket. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Thought I'd astonish yer. Fer Gawd's sake, don't whisper what I told +you to a livin' soul. An' work 'ard and keep virtuous like me. Before +Gawd, I'm as good a maid—" +</P> + +<P> +These were the last words Mavis heard as she hurried away from Miss +Ewer. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SIXTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SURRENDER +</H3> + +<P> +Four weeks later, Mavis got out of the train at Melkbridge. She +breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched the platform; her one +regret was that she was not leaving London further away than the +hundred miles which separated Melkbridge from the metropolis. It seemed +to her as if the great city were exclusively peopled with Mr. Orgles', +Mrs Hamiltons, Miss Ewers, and their like. Ignorant of London's +kindness, she had only thought for its wickedness. With the exception +of one incident, she had resolved to forget as much as possible of her +existence since she had left Brandenburg College; also, to see what +happiness she could wrest from life in the capacity of clerk in the +Melkbridge boot manufactory, a position she owed to her long delayed +appeal to Mr Devitt for employment. The one incident that she cared to +dwell upon was her meeting with Windebank and the kindly concern he had +exhibited in her welfare. The morning following upon her encounter with +him, she had long debated, without arriving at any conclusion, whether +she had done well, or otherwise, in leaving him as she had done. As the +days passed, if things seemed inclined to go happily with her, she was +glad that she had put an end to their budding friendship, to regret her +behaviour when vexed by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P> +Her few hours' acquaintance with Windebank had ruffled the surface of +the deep, unexplored waters of the girl's passion, which, rightly or +wrongly, caused her to surrender her personal preferences and to regard +the matter entirely from the man's point of view. This self-abasement +was, largely, the result of the girl's natural instincts where her +affections were concerned; these had been reinforced by the sentimental +pabulum which enters so much into the fiction that is devoured by girls +of Mavis' age and habit of thought. She argued how it would be +criminally selfish of her to presume on his boyish attachment of the +old days, which might lead him to believe that it was a duty for him to +extend to his old-time playmate the lifelong protection of marriage. +</P> + +<P> +Her lack of personal vanity was such that it never once occurred to her +that she was eminently desirable in his eyes; that he wished for +nothing better than for her to bestow herself, together with her +affections, upon him for lifelong appreciation. She resolved to stifle +her inclinations in order that the man's career should not suffer from +legal companionship with a portionless, friendless girl. +</P> + +<P> +Her unselfish resolutions faltered somewhat when, in resuming the weary +search for chances of employment in the advertising columns of the +newspapers, she came across the following, which was every day repeated +for the remainder of the week:— +</P> + +<P> +"To M...s, who foolishly lost herself in the fog on the night of last +Thursday. She is earnestly urged to write to me, care of Taylor & +Wintle, 43 Lincoln's Inn Fields. Do not let foolish scruples delay you +from letting me hear from you." +</P> + +<P> +She had got as far as writing a reply, but could never quite bring +herself to post it. +</P> + +<P> +A miserable Sunday had urged her to send it to its destination; the +chance purchase of a Sunday paper decided the letter's, and, +incidentally, her own fate. In it she read how, owing to threatened +disturbance on the Indian frontier, Sir Archibald Windebank, D.S.O., +would shortly leave Aldershot by S.S. Arabia with a reinforcing draft +of the Rifle Brigade. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis tore up her letter, to write another, which she addressed to the +steamer which was to carry him the greater part of his long journey. +She did not give her address; she told him how she believed it would be +for his advantage not to encumber his noble career with concern for +her. She had added that, if it were destined for them to meet, nothing +would give her greater pleasure than to see him again. She ended by +wishing him God-speed, a safe return, a successful and happy life. As +the days passed, with all the indignities and anxieties attending the +quest for employment, the girl's thoughts more and more inclined to +Melkbridge. She longed to breathe its air, tread its familiar ways, +steep herself in the scarcely awakened spirit of the place. She +constantly debated in her mind whether or not she should write to Mr. +Devitt to ask for employment. She told herself how, in doing what she +had resolved upon doing only in the last extremity, she was giving no +more hurt to her pride than it received, several times daily, in her +hopeless search for work. A startling occurrence had put the fear of +London into her heart and decided her to write to Melkbridge. She had +been walking down Victoria Street, raging with anger at the insult that +a rich photographer had offered her, to whom, in reply to an +advertisement, she had applied for work, when her attention was +attracted by a knot of people gathered about a hospital nurse, a girl, +and a policeman. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse, a harsh, forbidding-looking woman, was endeavouring to coax +the girl into a waiting cab. The girl was excitedly appealing for +release to the policeman, to the knot of spectators, to passers-by. +When anyone displayed a sign of active interest in the matter, the +nurse had put her finger to her forehead to signify that her charge was +insane. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was about to avoid the gathering by crossing the road, when she +caught a glimpse of the girl's face, to recognise it as belonging to +Miss Meakin. Wondering what it could mean, she hastened to her old +acquaintance, who, despite her protests, was being urged towards the +cab. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all a mistake. Let me go! Oh! won't anyone help?" Miss Meakin had +cried as Mavis reached her side. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it? What has happened?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's you: it's you! Thank Heaven!" cried Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"What has happened? I insist on knowing," Mavis had asked, as she +glanced defiantly at the forbidding-looking nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a nurse. It's a man. I know he is. He's followed me, and now +he's trying to get me away," sobbed the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis turned to the nurse, who put her finger to her forehead, as if to +insist that Miss Meakin's mind was unhinged. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had appealed to the policeman, to declare there must be some +mistake, as she knew Miss Meakin to be of sound mind; but this man had +replied that it was not his place to interfere. Mavis, feeling anxious +for her friend, was debating in her mind whether she should get into +the cab with the girl and the nurse, when a keen-faced-looking man, who +had listened to all that had been said, came forward to tell the +policeman that if he did not interfere, his remissness, together with +his number, would be reported to Scotland Yard. +</P> + +<P> +The policeman, stirred to action, stepped forward, at which the nurse +had sprung into the cab, to be driven away, when Miss Meakin had gone +into hysterics upon Mavis' shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Later, after she had come to herself in a chemist's shop, she had told +Mavis that she had left "Dawes'," and was now keeping house for an aunt +who was reduced to taking in paying guests somewhere in North +Kensington. She had been to Vincent Square to look up a late paying +guest of her aunt's, who had taken with her some of the household linen +by mistake. Upon her setting out for home, she had met with the uncanny +adventure from which Mavis' timely arrival had released her. +</P> + +<P> +Directly Mavis reached home, she had written to Mr Devitt. Four days +passed, during which she heard nothing in reply. The suspense filled +her soul with a sickening dread. Work at Melkbridge now promised +alluring possibilities, qualities that had never presented themselves +to her mind in the days when she believed that a letter from her would +secure from Mr Devitt what she desired. To her surprised delight, the +fifth morning's post had brought her a letter from Mr Devitt, which +told her that, if she would start at once for Melkbridge, she could +earn a pound a week in the office of a boot manufactory, of which he +was managing director; the letter had also contained postal orders for +three pounds to pay the expenses of her moving from London to +Wiltshire. Mavis could hardly believe her eyes. She had already pawned +most of her trinkets, till now there alone remained her father's gifts, +from which she was exceedingly loath to part. The three pounds, in +relieving her of this necessity, was in the nature of a godsend. +</P> + +<P> +Now she stood on the platform at Melkbridge. Her luggage had been put +out of the train, which had steamed away. Mavis thought that she would +ask the station-master if he knew of a suitable lodging. The man whom +she judged to be this person was, at present, engaged with the porters. +While she waited till he should be at liberty, her mind went back to +the time when she had last stood on the same platform. It had been on +the day when she had come down to Melkbridge fully confident of +securing work with the Devitt family. This had only been a few months +ago, but to Mavis it seemed long years: she had experienced so much in +the time. Then it occurred to her how often Archie Windebank had walked +on the same platform—Archie Windebank, who was now on the sea so many +hundreds of miles from where she stood. She wondered if he ever found +time to think of her. She sighed. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing that the station-master was disengaged, she approached the +spectacled, dapper little man and told him of her wants. +</P> + +<P> +"Would it be for long?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Possibly for years. I'm coming to work here." +</P> + +<P> +"Work!" +</P> + +<P> +"In the office of one of Mr Devitt's companies." +</P> + +<P> +The man assumed an air of some deference. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Devitt! Our leading inhabitant—sings baritone," remarked the +station-master. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"A fair voice, but a little undisciplined in the lower register. This +is quite between ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. Do you think you can help me to find rooms?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I could. Let me think." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Medlicott, as he was called, put the tips of his fingers together, +while he reflected. Mavis watched his face for something in the nature +of encouragement. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear! dear! dear! dear!" he complained. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bother. It's good of you to think of it at all," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay! I have it. Why didn't I think of it before? Mrs Farthing: the +very thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Where does she live?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Pennington side of Melkbridge—over a mile from here; but I know +you'd find there everything that you desire." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. I'll leave my boxes here and walk there." +</P> + +<P> +"I can save you the trouble. Her husband is guard on the 4.52. If you +can fill up the time till then, it will save you walking all that way, +perhaps, for no purpose." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked the station-master, left her luggage in his care and +walked to the town, where the unmistakable London cut of her well-worn +clothes attracted the attention of the female portion of the +population. She had a cup of tea in a confectioner's, and felt better +for it. She then set out to walk to her old favourite nook on the banks +of the river, a spot rich with associations of her childhood. Her +nearest way was to walk across the churchyard to the meadows, the third +of which bordered the Avon. It only needed a quarter of an hour's walk +along its banks to find the place she wanted. Unconsciously, her steps +led her in a contrary direction from that in which she had purposed +going. Almost before she knew what she had done, she had taken the road +to Haycock Abbey, which was Windebank's Wiltshire home. It required +something of an effort to enable her to retrace her steps. She reached +and crossed the churchyard, where long forgotten memories crowded upon +her; it was with heavy heart that she struck across the meadows. +</P> + +<P> +When she reached the Avon, she found the river to be swollen with the +winter's rain. The water, seamed with dark streaks, flowed turbulently, +menacingly, past her feet. She walked along the river's deserted bank +to the place that she had learned to look upon as her own. Its +discovery gave her much of a shock. She had always pictured it in her +mind as when she had last seen it. Then, it had been in early July. The +river had lazily flowed past banks gaily decorated with timid +forget-me-nots and purple veitch; the ragged robin had looked roguishly +from the hedge. Such was the heat, that the trees of her nook had +looked longingly towards the cool of the water, while the scent of +lately mown hay seemed to pervade the world. That was then. +</P> + +<P> +Now, a desolation had invaded the spot. In place of summer gaiety there +was only dreariness. The flowers had gone; a raw wind soughed along the +river's banks; instead of the scent of the hay there was only the smell +of damp earth, as if to proclaim to the girl that such desolation was +the certain heritage of all living things. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis could not get rid of the impression that the contrast between the +place as she remembered it and as it was now resembled her own life. +She made her way, with all dispatch, to the station. Here she learned +that Mrs Farthing could not take her in until the following day, as her +present "visitors" were not leaving till then. Mavis pricked up her +ears at the mention of visitors; she did not think such polite +euphemisms had penetrated so far afield. +</P> + +<P> +She had little thought to give the matter, as she was concerned to know +where she was going to spend the night. Mr Medlicott solved her +perplexity; he insisted upon Mavis seeing Mrs Medlicott, who proved to +be a simple, kindly countrywoman, who dropped an old-fashioned curtsey +directly she set eyes on the girl. The station-master's wife showed +Mavis a little room and told her that she was welcome to the use of it +for the night, if she were not afraid of being kept awake by the +passing and shunting of trains. Mavis jumped at the offer, whereat Mrs +Medlicott insisted on her sitting down to a solid, homely tea, a meal +which was often interrupted by Mr Medlicott getting up to attend to his +duties upon the platform. When tea was over, there was yet another +hour's daylight. Mrs Medlicott suggested to Mavis that it might be as +well for her to call on Mrs Farthing, to see if she liked her; she +mentioned that Mr Farthing was a very nice man, but that his wife was +not a person everyone could get on with. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis set out for the Pennington end of Melkbridge, where, after some +inquiry, she found that Mrs Farthing lived in an old-world cottage, +which was situated next door to a farm. +</P> + +<P> +The girl's knock brought Mrs. Farthing, first to the window, then to +the door, whereupon Mavis explained her errand, not forgetting to +mention who had recommended her to come. +</P> + +<P> +"Please to come inside," said Mrs. Farthing. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed the woman, who was little and sharp-eyed, into a clean, +orderly living room, where she was asked to take a seat. She was +surprised to see her prospective landlady also sit, for all the world +as if she were entertaining a guest. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you say you were taking up church work?" asked Mrs Farthing. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I did not." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you did," said Mrs Farthing, as her face fell. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, my father was a sea captain, so I have to be so careful to +whom I let my rooms." +</P> + +<P> +"If I thought they weren't respectable, I shouldn't have come here," +retorted Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Farthing winced, but recovered herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Since I have been resident at Pennington Cottage, one colonel, three +doctors, two lawyers, seven reverends, and one banker have visited +here." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad to see others appreciate you," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Professional gentlemen and their ladies take to me at once. Did you +tell me your uncle was a reverend?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I did not," replied Mavis, who was beginning to lose patience. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, my father being a sea captain—" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't see how that's anything to do with letting lodgings," said +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, it raises the question of references." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, I must have yours. I have only your word for the sort of +people you've had here." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Farthing looked at Mavis in astonishment; she was unaccustomed to +being tackled in this fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps, perhaps you'd like to see the sitting-room?" she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +"I should," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Farthing led the way to a quaint little room, the window of which +overlooked the neighbouring farmyard. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, although she took a fancy to it at once, was sufficiently +diplomatic to say: +</P> + +<P> +"It might, perhaps, suit me." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Farthing pointed out the beauty of the view, a recommendation to +which Mavis subscribed. +</P> + +<P> +The girl's acquiescence emboldened Mrs Farthing to say: +</P> + +<P> +"Did you say that your mother would sometimes visit you?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis trembled with indignation. +</P> + +<P> +"I did nothing of the kind, and you know it," she cried. "If you wish +to know, I'm employed by Mr Devitt, and should probably have stayed +here for years. If you can't see at a glance what I am, all I can say +is that you've been used to a tenth-rate lot of lodgers." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Farthing capitulated. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't you like to see the bedroom?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't ask any more silly questions." +</P> + +<P> +"It's hard to forget my father was a sea captain," explained Mrs +Farthing. +</P> + +<P> +A door in the passage opened on to winding stairs, up which vanquished +and victor walked. +</P> + +<P> +From the first floor, a sort of gangway led to the door of a room that +was raised some three feet from the level of where the two women stood. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we ascend the Kyber Pass," cried Mrs Farthing gaily, as she set +foot on the gangway. +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis followed, it occurred to her how this remark might be +invariably retailed to prospective lodgers by Mrs Farthing. +</P> + +<P> +The bedroom's neat appointments made it even more attractive in Mavis' +eyes than the sitting-room. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Farthing wanted eight shillings a week for a permanency, but Mavis +stuck out for seven. The issue was presently compromised by the +landlady's agreeing to accept seven and sixpence. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one thing," said Mrs Farthing, as she sat on the bed; +"and that's my husband." +</P> + +<P> +"What about him?" asked Mavis, who had believed that everything was +settled. +</P> + +<P> +"He simply can't abide my letting rooms; he's on to me about it +morning, noon, and night." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"To think," as he says, "the daughter of a sea captain—" Here Mrs +Farthing caught Mavis' eye, to substitute for what she was about to +say: "But there," he says, "work your fingers to the bone; go and +commit suicide by overdoing it; kill yourself outright with making +other people comfortable, so long as you get your own way." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what he says every minute of the time that he's at home." +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis left Mrs Farthing to walk to the station, she could not help +noticing how the rough and tumble of her experiences had had a +hardening effect upon her once soft heart. It was not so long ago that, +although presumption on a landlady's part would have goaded Mavis into +making an apposite retort, she would have bitterly regretted the pain +that her words may have inflicted. Now, she was indifferent to any +annoyance that she may have caused Mrs Farthing. If anything, she was +rather pleased with herself for having shown the woman her place. +</P> + +<P> +It was something of an experience for Mavis to spend the evening in the +sitting-room of a country railway station. Stillness violently +alternated with the roar and rush of the trains. Mr Medlicott spent his +spare time in the sitting-room, where his eyes never deserted the +faded, uncanny-looking cabinet piano, which spread its expanse of faded +green silk at one end of the room. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis noticed his preoccupation. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if you would do me a favour?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"And what might that be?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you would sing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Delighted!" he cried, as he excitedly sprang to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"How nice of you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Stay! What about the accompaniment?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can manage that." +</P> + +<P> +"At sight?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think so." +</P> + +<P> +"You're an acquisition to Melkbridge. There's one other thing." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew you'd disappoint me. What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The 7.53," replied the station-master, looking at his watch. "It's +almost due." +</P> + +<P> +"We can make a start," suggested Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Medlicott quickly produced a collection of old-fashioned ballads, +the covers of many of which were decorated with strange, pictorial +devices. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay! What say to 'Primrose Farm'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anything, so long as you sing," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Medlicott delightedly cleared his throat. It did not take Mavis long +to discover that the station-master had little ear for music; he sang +flat, although Mavis did her best to assist him by including in her +accompaniment the notes of the vocal score. The song was no sooner +concluded than the station-master caught up his braided cap and ran +downstairs to meet the 7.53. Upon his return, he sang many songs. No +sooner was one ended than he commenced another; they were only +interrupted by the arrival of trains. +</P> + +<P> +The room became insupportably hot. During one of Mr Medlicott's +absences, Mavis asked his wife if she might open the window that +overlooked the platform. Where Mavis sat by it, she could see Mr +Medlicott performing his duties below. Once or twice, she fancied her +ear caught strange sounds, which could be heard above the shouts of the +porters and the noises of escaping steam; they proceeded from where Mr +Medlicott stood. The noises became more insistent, when it occurred to +Mavis that the station-master was taking advantage of the din to +practise the more uncertain of his notes. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, when Mavis wanted to pay Mrs Medlicott, the +station-master's wife would not hear of it. She declared that she was +amply repaid by Mavis' accompanying her husband's songs, which was +enough to make him happy for many weeks to come. Mrs Medlicott also +observed that her husband would like to take singing lessons from +Mavis, if the latter cared to teach him. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked the good mile necessary to take her to the Melkbridge boot +manufactory with a light heart. She reached it at nine, to find a +square, unlovely building, enclosed by a high stone wall of the usual +Wiltshire type, broken slabs of oolitic formation loosely thrown +together. She explained her errand to the first person she met inside +the gate, and was told to await the arrival of Mr Gaby, the manager, +who was due in half an hour, the time, she afterwards learned, at which +the lady clerks were expected. When Mr Gaby came, she found him to be a +nervous, sandy-haired man, who blushed like any school-girl when he +addressed Mavis. A few minutes later, two colleagues arrived, to whom +she was formally introduced. The elder of these was Miss Toombs, a +snub-nosed, short, flat-chested, unhealthy-looking woman, who was well +into the thirties. She took Mavis' proffered hand limply, to drop it +quickly and set about commencing her work. Her conduct was in some +contrast to the other girl's, who was introduced to Mavis as Miss +Hunter. She was tallish, dark, good-looking, with a self-possessed +manner. The first two things Mavis noticed about her were that she was +neatly and becomingly dressed, also that her eyebrows met above her +nose. She looked at Mavis critically for a few moments, and gave the +latter the impression that she had taken a dislike to her. Then Miss +Hunter advanced to Mavis with outstretched hand to say: +</P> + +<P> +"I hope we shall all be great friends and work together comfortably." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," replied Mavis, at which Miss Hunter proceeded to instruct +her in her duties. These were of the kind usually allotted to clerical +beginners, and consisted of the registering, indexing, and sorting of +all letters received in the course of the day. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis worked with a will; her bold, unaffected handwriting emphasised +the niggling scrawliness of Miss Hunter's previous entries in the book. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't work so fast," said Miss Hunter presently, at which Mavis looked +up in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"If you do, you won't have anything to go on with," continued Miss +Hunter. +</P> + +<P> +About eleven, Mavis learned from Mr Gaby that Mr. Devitt would like to +see her. The manager conducted Mavis to the board room, where she found +Mr Devitt standing before the fire. Directly he saw her, he came +forward with outstretched hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Miss Keeves. Why—" He paused, to look at her with some +concern. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"You're different. If I may say so, you look so much more grown up." +</P> + +<P> +"I've had rather a rough time since I last saw you." +</P> + +<P> +"I can well believe it to look at you. Why didn't you write?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't like to. It's good of you to do what you've done." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Devitt appeared to think for a few moments before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry I can't do more; but one isn't always in a position to do +exactly what one would like." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," assented the girl. +</P> + +<P> +More was said to the same effect, although Mavis could not rid herself +of the impression that he was patronising her. A further thing that +prejudiced her against Devitt was his absence of self-possession. While +speaking, he gesticulated, moved his limbs, and seemed incapable of +keeping still. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll pay you back the three pounds you so kindly sent me, gradually," +said Mavis presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't hear of it; nothin' to me; only too happy to oblige you," +declared Devitt, showing by his manner that he considered the interview +at an end. +</P> + +<P> +As she walked towards the door, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, where are you stayin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"At Mrs Farthing's; it's quite near here." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite two miles from us," remarked Devitt, as if more pleased than +otherwise at the information. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite," answered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, good-bye! Let me know if I can ever do any-thin' for you," he +cried from the fireplace. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis went back to her work. She had an hour's liberty at one, which +she spent at Mrs Farthing's, who provided an appetising meal of stewed +steak and jam roly-poly pudding. +</P> + +<P> +About three, Miss Toombs made tea on the office fire; she asked Mavis +if she would like to join the tea club. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You pay fourpence a week for tea and biscuits. We take it in turn to +make the tea and wash up: profits equally divided at Christmas." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be delighted," said Mavis, as she produced her purse. +</P> + +<P> +"Not till tomorrow. Today you're a guest," remarked Miss Toombs +listlessly. +</P> + +<P> +About four, there was so little to do that Miss Toombs produced a book, +whilst Miss Hunter rather ostentatiously opened the Church Times. Mavis +scribbled on her blotting paper till Miss Toombs brought out a +brown-paper-covered book from her desk, which she handed to Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's 'Richard Feverel'; if you haven't read it, you can take it home." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. I'll take great care of it. I haven't read it." +</P> + +<P> +"Not read Richard Feverel?" asked Miss Toombs, as she raised her +eyebrows, but did not look at Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it always easy like this?" Mavis asked of Miss Hunter, as they were +putting on their things at half-past four. +</P> + +<P> +"You call it easy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very. Is it always like this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Always, except just before Christmas, when there's a bit of a rush, +worse luck," replied Miss Hunter, to add after a moment: "It interferes +with one's social engagements." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked to her rooms with a light heart. It was good to tread the +hard, firm roads, with their foundation of rock, to meet and be greeted +by the ruddy-faced, solidly built Wiltshire men and women, many of whom +stopped to stare after the comely, graceful girl with the lithe stride. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis had had tea and had settled herself comfortably by the fire +with her book, she felt wholly contented and happy. Now and again, she +put down Richard Feverel to look about her, and, with an immense +satisfaction, to contrast the homely cleanliness of her surroundings +with the dingy squalor of Mrs Bilkins's second floor back. It was one +of the happiest evenings she ever spent. She often looked back to it +with longing in her later stressful days. +</P> + +<P> +About seven, she heard a knock at her door. She called out "Come in," +at which, after much fumbling at the door handle, a big fair man, with +wide-open blue eyes, stood in the doorway. He looked like a huge, +even-tempered child; he carried two paper-covered books in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Farthing, miss," the man informed her. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening," said Mavis, who would scarcely have been surprised if +Farthing had brought out a handful of marbles and started playing with +them. +</P> + +<P> +"The driver's out, miss, so—" +</P> + +<P> +"The driver?" interrupted Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Farthing, miss. I be only fireman when her be about," he humbly +informed her. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you sit down?" +</P> + +<P> +"I? No, thankee, miss. I thought you might want summat to read, so I +brought you these." +</P> + +<P> +Here Mr Farthing handed Mavis a Great Western Railway time table, +together with "Places of Interest on the Great Western Railway." +</P> + +<P> +"How kind of you! I shall be delighted to read them," declared Mavis +untruthfully. +</P> + +<P> +Then, as Mr Farthing was about to leave the room, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I'm in your bad books." +</P> + +<P> +"Bad what, Miss?" he asked, perplexed. +</P> + +<P> +"Books—that you're offended with me." +</P> + +<P> +"I, miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"For coming here as your lodger?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr Farthing stared at her in round-eyed amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"I understood from Mrs Farthing that you object to her taking lodgers," +explained Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Farthing's jaw dropped; he seemed dumbfounded. +</P> + +<P> +"That you're complaining about Mrs Farthing overworking herself every +minute you're at home," continued Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Farthing backed to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"And you tell her she's only killing herself by doing it." +</P> + +<P> +Hopelessly bewildered, Mr Farthing clumped downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis laughed long and softly at this refutation of Mrs Farthing's +pretensions. Before she again settled down to the enjoyment of her +book, she looked once more about the cleanly, comfortable room, which +had an indefinable atmosphere of home. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," thought Mavis, "it is—it is good to be alive." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SPRINGTIME +</H3> + +<P> +Days passed swiftly for Mavis; weeks glided into months, months into +seasons. When the anniversary of the day on which she had commenced +work at the boot factory came round, she could not believe that she had +been at Melkbridge a year. When she had padded the streets of London in +quest of work, she had many times told herself that she had only to +secure a weekly wage in order to be happy. Now this desire was +attained, she found (as who has not?) that satisfaction in one +direction breeds hunger in another. Although her twenty shillings a +week had been increased to twenty-five, and she considerably augmented +this sum by teaching music to pupils to whom Mr Medlicott recommended +her, Mavis was by no means content. Her regular hours, the nature of +her employment, the absence of friendship in the warm-hearted girl's +life, all irked her; she fearfully wondered if she were doomed to spend +her remaining days in commencing work at nine-thirty and leaving off at +half-past four upon five days of the week, and one on Saturdays. If the +fifty-two weeks spent in Melkbridge had not brought contentment to her +mind, the good air of the place, together with Mrs Farthing's wholesome +food, had wrought a wondrous change in her appearance. The tired girl +with the hunted look in her eyes had developed into an amazingly +attractive young woman. Her fair skin had taken on a dazzling +whiteness; her hair was richer and more luxuriant than of yore; but it +was her eyes in which the chief alteration had occurred. These now held +an unfathomable depth of tenderness, together with a roguish fear that +the former alluring quality might be discovered. If her figure were not +as unduly stout as the skinny virgins of Melkbridge declared it to be, +there was no denying the rude health apparent in the girl's face and +carriage. +</P> + +<P> +So far as her colleagues at the boot factory were concerned, Miss +Toombs hardly took any notice of her, whilst Miss Hunter gave her the +impression of being extremely insincere, all her words and actions +being the result of pose rather than of conviction. +</P> + +<P> +The only people Mavis was at all friendly with were Mr and Mrs +Medlicott, whom she often visited on Sunday evenings, when they would +all sing Moody and Sankey's hymns to the accompaniment of the cabinet +piano. +</P> + +<P> +When she had been some months at Melkbridge, a new interest had come +into her life. One day, Mr Devitt, who, with his family, had showed no +disposition to cultivate Mavis's acquaintance, sent for her and asked +her if she would like to have a dog. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing I should like better," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one objection." +</P> + +<P> +"One can't look gift dogs in the mouth." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a she, a lady dog: there's risk of an occasional family." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll gladly take that." +</P> + +<P> +"She's rather a dear, but she's lately had pups, and some people might +object to her appearance." +</P> + +<P> +"I know I should love her." +</P> + +<P> +"She's a cocker spaniel—her name's Jill. She belongs to my boy, +Harold. But as he's away—" +</P> + +<P> +"Then we've already met. I saw her the day I came down to see you from +London. You're right—she is a dear." +</P> + +<P> +"My boy, who is still away for his health—" +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry," Mavis interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. He wrote to say that, as we—some of us—appeared to find her +a nuisance, we'd better try and find her a happy home." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure she'd be happy with me." +</P> + +<P> +"What about your landlady?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd forgotten her. I must ask." +</P> + +<P> +"If she doesn't mind, Jill's licence is paid till the end of the year." +</P> + +<P> +"I do hope Mrs Farthing won't mind," declared Mavis hopefully. +</P> + +<P> +Rather to her surprise, Mrs Farthing made little objection to Jill's +coming to live with Mavis, her surrender being partly due to the fact +of the girl's winsome presence having softened the elder woman's heart, +but largely because it had got about Melkbridge that Mavis came of a +local county family. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Devitt, being told of this decision, sent Jill up in charge of a +maid, who asked that its collar and chain might be returned to +Melkbridge House. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis took Jill in her arms, when it would seem by the dog's +demonstrations of delight as if it had long been a stranger to +affectionate regard. +</P> + +<P> +"Be you agoing to keep un?" asked the maid. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't. Hev a good look at un." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked, to see that Jill's comparatively recent litter had been +responsible for the temporary abnormal development of the parts of her +body by which she had nourished her young. +</P> + +<P> +"It's why Mrs Devitt wouldn't have un in the house. I don't blame her. +I call it disgusting," continued this chip of Puritanical stock. +</P> + +<P> +"I see nothing to object to. It's nature," retorted Mavis, who inwardly +smiled to see how the Puritanical-minded young woman, who had looked +askance at Jill's appearance, did not hesitate to grab the girl's +proffered shilling. +</P> + +<P> +Jill and Mavis were at once fast friends. The dog accompanied her +mistress in all her rambles, where its presence routed the forces of +loneliness which were beginning to lay siege to the girl's peace of +mind. Jill slept on Mavis's bed, pined when she left her in the +morning, madly rejoiced at her mistress' return from work, when the +vigorous wagging of Jill's tail, together with the barks of delight +which greeted Mavis, gave her a suggestion of home which she had never +experienced since the days of Brandenburg College. +</P> + +<P> +This year, spring came early, like a beautiful mistress who joins an +enraptured lover before he dares to hope for her coming. With the +lengthening days Mavis knew an increasing distress of mind. She became +unsettled: outbreaks of violent energy alternated with spells of +laziness, which, more often than not, were accompanied by headaches. +Books of historical memoirs, hitherto an unfailing solace, failed to +interest her. Love stories she would avoid for weeks on end, as if they +were the plague, suddenly to fall to and devour them with avidity, when +the inclination seized her. +</P> + +<P> +It was not yet warm enough for her to sit in her nook; it was doubtful +if she would have done so if the weather had been sufficiently +propitious. The reason for her present indifference to the spot, which +she had always loved, was that it bordered the Avon, and just now the +river was swollen and turbulent with spring rains. Her soul ached for +companionship with something stable, soothing, still. Perhaps this was +why she preferred to walk by the canal that touched Melkbridge in its +quiet and lonely course. The canal had a beauty of its own in Mavis' +eyes: its red-brick, ivy-grown bridges, its wooden drawbridges, deep +locks, and deserted grass-grown tow-paths were all eloquent of the +waterways having arrived at a certain philosophic repose, which was in +striking contrast to the girl's unquiet thoughts. Soon, as if in +celebration of spring, both banks were gay with borders of great yellow +butter-cups. It seemed to Mavis as if they decorated the tables of a +feast to which she had not been asked. The great awakening in the heart +of life proceeded exquisitely, inevitably. Mavis believed that, as the +sun's rays had no real meaning for her, it was only by some cruel +mischance that she was enabled to bear witness to their daily +increasing warmth. She would tell the troubles of her disturbed mind to +Jill, who tried to show her sympathy by licking her face. At night, she +would often waken out of a deep sleep with a start, when her eagerly +outstretched arms would grasp a vast emptiness. The sight of lovers +walking together would bring hot blood to her head; the proximity of a +young man would make her heart beat strangely. +</P> + +<P> +She frequently found herself wondering why intercourse between man and +woman was hedged about by innumerable restrictions. It seemed to her +that what people called the conventionalities were a device of the +far-seeing eye of the Most High to regulate the relations of His +children. If any of these appeared to escape the ends for which they +were made, she put down the failure to the imperfect construction of +the human organism, the constant aberrations of which necessitated the +restraints imposed by religion and morality. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis soon descended from the general to the particular. Her mind +continually dwelt on every incident of her brief acquaintance with +Windebank: she found that it was as much as she could do to justify the +exigent scruples which had made her repel the man's approaches. One +day, the scales fell from her eyes. She had deserted the canal and was +sitting in a field, some two miles from the town, where the few trees +it contained were disposed as if they were continually setting to +partners, in some arboreous quadrille. The surrounding fields were +tipped at all angles, as if in petulant discontent of one-time +flatness. With an effort she could discern, Jill's tail wagging +delightedly from a hole in a ditch, where she was hunting a rabbit. The +voice, the sights, the sounds of nature, all served to obliterate the +effect of life, as she had, hitherto, regarded it, upon her processes +of thought. Archie Windebank's wealth, social position and career were +as nought to her; he appealed to her only as a man, and her conceivable +relationship to him was but as female to male. +</P> + +<P> +All other considerations, which she had before believed of importance, +now seemed trivial and inept. She wondered how she could have been +blinded for so long. She bitterly reproached herself for her high-flown +scruples, which now savoured of unwholesome affectation; but for these, +she might not only have been a happy wife, but she might, also, have +proved the means of conferring happiness upon another, and he a dearly +loved one. +</P> + +<P> +She called to Jill and sorrowfully went home. Three weeks later was +Whit Monday, a day which, being a holiday, she was able to devote to +her own uses. She had planned to walk to the village of Preen, an +ancient hamlet set upon a hill that overlooked Salisbury Plain, which +was distant some five miles from Melkbridge; but, at the last moment, +her distress of mind was such that she abandoned the excursion. +Lethargy had succeeded to her disturbed thoughts—lethargy that made +her look on life through grey spectacles. Instead of setting out for +Preen, she walked aimlessly about the town, accompanied by Jill. +Presently she went up Church Walk, at the top of which she saw that the +church door was open. She had a fancy for walking by the grave-stones, +so Mavis tied Jill up to the gate of the churchyard with the lead which +she usually carried. +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis wandered among the moss-grown stones, which bore almost +undecipherable inscriptions, she wondered if those they covered had led +happy, contented lives, or if they were afflicted with unquiet +thoughts, unsatisfied longings, and dull despair, as she was. The +church was empty and cool; she walked inside, to sit in the first pew +she chanced upon. It was the first time that she had sat all alone in +the church; its venerable appearance now cried aloud for recognition +and appreciation. As if to accentuate its antiquity, some of the aisles +and walls bore the disfiguring evidences of an unfinished electric +light and electric organ-blowing installation, which was in the process +of being made, despite the protests of the more conservative among the +worshippers. She did not know whether to stay or to go; she seemed +incapable of making up her mind. Then, almost before she was aware of +it, the organ commenced to play softly, appealingly; very soon, the +fane was filled with majestic notes. Mavis was always acutely sensitive +to music. In a moment, her troubles were forgotten; she listened enrapt +to the soaring melody. The player was not the humdrum organist of the +church, neither did his music savour of the ecclesiastical inspiration +which makes its conventional appeal on Sundays and holy days. Instead, +it spoke to Mavis of the travail, the joy of being, the night, +sunlight, sea, air, the gay and grey pageant of life: the player +appeared to be moved by all these influences. Not only was he eloquent +of life, but he seemed to read and understand Mavis' soul and the +perplexities with which it was confronted. Her heart went out to this +sympathetic and intimate understanding of her needs; body and soul, she +surrendered herself to the musician's mood. Very soon, he was playing +upon her being as if she were but another instrument, of which he had +acquired the mastery. Her imagination, stirred to its depths, took +instant wing. It seemed as if the hand of time were put back for many +hundreds of years to a day in a remote century. The building, bare of +memorial inscriptions, was crowded with ecclesiastics, monks, nobles +and simple; she could see the gorgeous ceremonial incidental to the +occasion; the chanting of monks filled her ears; the rich scent of +incense lay heavy on the air; lights flickered on the altar. Night +came, when silence seemed to have forever enshrouded the world; many +nights, till one on which the moonlight shone upon the figure of a +young man keeping his vigil beside his armour and arms. Then, in a +moment, the church was filled with sunlight, and gay with garlands and +bright frocks. The knight and his bride stood before the altar, while +the world seemed to laugh for very joy. As the newly-made man and wife +left the church, old-world wedding music sounded strangely in Mavis' +ears. The best part of a year passed. A little group stood about the +font, where the life, that love had called into being, was purged of +taint of sin by holy church. +</P> + +<P> +Next, martial music rent the air; a venerable ecclesiastic blessed the +arms and aims of a goodly company of stout-hearted men. When the echoes +of the martial music had died away, the fane was deserted, save for one +lone woman, who offered up continual supplication for her absent lord. +</P> + +<P> +Cries and lamentations fell on Mavis' ears: to the music of a military +march, the brave young knight was borne to burial. Soon, the moonlight +fell upon the church's first monument, beside which the tearless and +kneeling figure of a woman often prayed. It was not so very long before +the widow was carried to rest beside her husband; it seemed but little +longer when the offspring of her love stood before the altar with the +bride of his choice. +</P> + +<P> +The foregoing scenes were many times repeated, as, thus, life moved +down the centuries, differing not at all but for changes in personality +and dress. The church looked on, unmoved, unaltered, save for signs of +age and an increasing number of memorials raised to the dead. The +procession of life began by fascinating and ended by paining Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +It was as if she were the spectator of a crowd in which her heart ached +to mix, despite the distressing penalties of pain to which those she +envied were, at all times, subject. It was as if she were forever cut +off from the pleasures of her kind, to gain which the risk of mental +and physical torments was well worth the running. It seemed as if her +youth, sweetness, and immense capacity for loving, were doomed to +wither unsought, unappreciated in the desert of her destiny. As if to +save herself from such an unkind fate, she involuntarily fell on her +knees; but she did not pray, indeed, she made no attempt to formulate +prayer in her heart. Perhaps she thought that her dumb, bruised +loneliness was more eloquent than words. She remained on her knees for +quite a long time. When she got up, the music stopped. The contrast +between the sound and the succeeding silence was such that the latter +seemed to be more emphatic than the melody. +</P> + +<P> +When she, presently, rose to go, she saw a man standing just behind her +in the aisle; he was elderly and homely-looking, with soft, far-away +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, miss," said the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," replied Mavis, wondering who he could be. +</P> + +<P> +"I hoped—you zeemed to like my playing." +</P> + +<P> +"Was it you who played so beautifully?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was up there practising just now." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you often practise like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't often I get the chance; I'm mostly busy varming." +</P> + +<P> +"Farming?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's it. And what with bad times, one doesn't get much time for the +organ. And when one does, one's vingers run away with one." +</P> + +<P> +"You a farmer?" +</P> + +<P> +"At Pennington Varm. My name's Trivett, miss. If ever you would come in +to tea, Mrs Trivett would be proud to welcome 'ee." +</P> + +<P> +"I should be delighted. Perhaps, if you would like to teach me, I'd +have organ lessons." +</P> + +<P> +"I get so little time, miss. What day will 'ee come to the varm?" +</P> + +<P> +"Next Saturday, if I may," +</P> + +<P> +"That's zettled. I'm glad you be coming zoon; the colour of the young +grass be wonderful." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, as she looked at him, surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the advantage of varming," continued Trivett: "you zee natur in +zo many colours and zo many moods." +</P> + +<P> +Thus talking, they reached the churchyard gates, where Mavis released +Jill, who was delighted at being set at liberty. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis said goodbye to Trivett and recrossed the churchyard on her way +to the river. As she walked, she wondered at Trivett's strange +conjunction of pursuits; also, if he were as good a farmer as he was a +musician. +</P> + +<P> +She found the part of the river nearest to the church crowded with +holiday bathers, so turned aside in the direction of her nook, where +she was tolerably certain of getting quiet. Arrived there, she found +her expectation was not belied. She felt dazed and tired with the +emotions she had experienced; she reclined on the ground to look lazily +at the beauty spread so bountifully about her. +</P> + +<P> +Nature was now at her best. She was like a fair young mother radiant +with the joys attaching to the birth of her firstborn. The striking of +the quarter on the church clock was borne to her on the light wind; she +heard a rumble and caught a glimpse through the young foliage of the +white panelled carriages of a train speeding to Weymouth. +</P> + +<P> +She settled herself for a repose of suspended thought, thankful that +there was no prospect of her peace being interfered with. She had not +lain long when she was disturbed by a plashing of water, at which Jill +was vigorously barking. +</P> + +<P> +She raised her head to see a man swimming; her eyes were fascinated by +the whiteness of the man's flesh. After a while, he returned, to pass +and repass her two or three times. Then, to her consternation, he +approached the bank near to where she lay. She sat up; a few moments +later, the man's head and shoulders appeared among the grasses upon the +river bank. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," said the man. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis took no notice, but called to Jill. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," repeated the man, who was young and pleasant-looking. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Would little Mavis mind moving a little further up the bank?" +continued the man. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at him in astonished anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I can't get to my clothes until you do." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis got up, called to Jill, and turned her back on the nook, +wondering how on earth the man could have known her name; also, why he +had the impertinence to address her so familiarly. +</P> + +<P> +She did not get very far, because, call as she might to Jill, the +spoiled dog took no notice of her summons, but remained about the place +that her mistress had left. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis called vainly for some minutes, till, at last, Jill appeared, +carrying the man's collar in her mouth. Mavis tried to induce the dog +to come to her, but, instead, Jill raced madly round and round, +delighted with her find. +</P> + +<P> +Very soon the man appeared, now dressed in a flannel suit, but +collarless; a bath towel was thrown over his shoulder. He advanced to +Mavis in leisurely fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"Bother the man!" she thought. +</P> + +<P> +"May I introduce myself?" he asked, as he lifted his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you," she replied coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no occasion. We've already met," he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure we haven't, and I haven't the least wish to know you." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot! I'm Charlie Perigal." +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie Perigal!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. And how is little Mavis after all these years? But there's little +need to ask." +</P> + +<P> +Here he stared at her with an immense admiration in his eyes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHARLIE PERIGAL +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis looked at the friend of her youth. As she saw him now, he was, in +appearance, but a grown-up replica of the boy she remembered. There +were the same steely blue eyes, curly hair, and thin, almost bloodless +lips. With years and inches, the man had acquired a certain defiant +self-possession which was not without a touch of recklessness; this +last rather appealed to Mavis; she soon forgot the resentment which his +earlier familiarity had excited. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't altered a bit!" she declared. +</P> + +<P> +"But you have." +</P> + +<P> +"I know. I'm quite an old woman." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I was going to say." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew you'd be pleased. May I have my collar?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's that naughty Jill. I am so sorry." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis rescued the collar from the dog's unwilling mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know it was me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I guessed." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why nonsense?" +</P> + +<P> +"You aren't clever enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite right. The pater told me you were to be found in Melkbridge." +</P> + +<P> +"Your father! How did he know?" +</P> + +<P> +"He knows everything that goes on here, although he never goes +anywhere. And then, when I asked one or two people about you, they said +you were always about with a black cocker." +</P> + +<P> +"Is this the first time you've seen me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't it be?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've been here fifteen months." +</P> + +<P> +"Working for old Devitt. I've only been back a week." +</P> + +<P> +"From where?" +</P> + +<P> +"Riga." +</P> + +<P> +"In Russia! How interesting!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe it. Beastly hole." +</P> + +<P> +"It's abroad." +</P> + +<P> +"Any place is beastly when one has to be there. And you've been here a +whole fifteen months. Think what I've missed!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had, by now, got over her first excitement at meeting her old +friend: her habitual prudence essayed to work—essayed, because its +customary vigour was just now somewhat impaired. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad to have met you again. Good-bye," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's time I got back." +</P> + +<P> +The man stared at her in some astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you're right," he remarked presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Right!" she echoed, faintly surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm only a waster. Nobody wants anything to do with me." +</P> + +<P> +Something in the tone of the man's voice stirred her heart to pity. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a bit like that," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Rot! All women are alike. When a chap's down, they jump on him. After +all, you can't blame 'em." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stood irresolute. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye," said Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"One moment!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't wait. I must be off too." +</P> + +<P> +"I want to ask you something." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it? Remember, I didn't ask you to wait." +</P> + +<P> +"Who has given you a bad name, and why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most people who know me." +</P> + +<P> +"I read the other day that majorities are always wrong," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Majorities are always right, just the same as minorities and everybody +else." +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody right!" +</P> + +<P> +"According to their lights. We are as we are made, and, whatever some +people say, we can never be anything else. And that's the devil of it. +It's all so unfair." +</P> + +<P> +"Why unfair?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's just one's confounded luck what temperament one's inflicted with. +I should think you were to be congratulated. You look as if you could +be infernally happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who is?" +</P> + +<P> +"Loads of people," she declared emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +"The very vain and the very stupid. Who else?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was beginning to be interested. It amused and, at the same time, +touched her to notice the difference between the dreary nature of the +sentiments and the youthful, comely face of the speaker. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going now," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Frightened of being seen with me?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"When I've Jill for a chaperone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you come as far as Broughton with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Across the river?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've a punt moored not far from here." +</P> + +<P> +"But I've got to get back to a meal." +</P> + +<P> +"We can get something to eat there." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I will." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it too far?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can walk any distance." +</P> + +<P> +"Someone was asking about you the other day." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" +</P> + +<P> +"Archie Windebank. He wrote from India." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he say?" asked Mavis, striving to conceal the interest she +felt. +</P> + +<P> +"I forget, for the moment, what it was. If I remember, I'll tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't forget." +</P> + +<P> +"He's rather keen on you, isn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"How should I know?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's a fool if he isn't." +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you think he is?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd only an idea. Are you coming to Broughton?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll compromise. I'll come as far as your punt." +</P> + +<P> +"Spoken like a good little Mavis." +</P> + +<P> +They followed the course of the river. The stream's windings were so +vigorous that, when they had walked for some way, they had made small +progress in the direction in which Perigal was going. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was strangely happy. With the exception of her brief acquaintance +with Windebank, she had never before enjoyed the society of a man, who +was a gentleman, on equal terms. And Windebank was coming home unharmed +from the operations in which he had won distinction; she had read of +his brave doings from time to time in the papers: she rejoiced to learn +that he had not forgotten her. +</P> + +<P> +"Thinking of Windebank?" asked Perigal, noticing her silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Lucky chap! But he's an awfully good sort, straight-forward and all +that." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis again assented. +</P> + +<P> +"A bit obvious, though." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! Oh, well, you always know what his opinions are going to be on any +given subject." +</P> + +<P> +"I think he's delightful." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I," assented Perigal, to add, as a qualifying afterthought, "A +bit tiring to live with." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, but I can't speak from experience," retorted Mavis, who +disliked Perigal to criticise her friend. +</P> + +<P> +They had now reached the spot where the punt was moored. It was a frail +craft; the bows seemed disposed to let in water. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it goodbye?" asked Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," replied Mavis irresolutely. +</P> + +<P> +"Then it isn't good-bye," smiled Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because you're going to do what I wish." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was sure that she was going to do nothing of the kind, but as +Perigal looked at her and smiled she became conscious of a weakening in +her resolution: it was as if he had fascinated her; as if, for his +present purpose, she were helpless in his hands. Consequently, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"To disappoint you, I'll come as far as the other side of the river." +</P> + +<P> +"What did I tell you? But it's only fair to let you know the river runs +a bit just here, and it's too deep to pole, so you have to hit the +opposite bank when you can." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there any danger?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing to speak of." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd love to cross." +</P> + +<P> +"Jump in, then." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't mind if I leave you on the other side?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I do. You hang on to Jill." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis enticed Jill into the punt, where the dog sat in the stern in her +usual self-possessed manner. Perigal struggled with the rope by which +the punt was moored to the stump of a tree. Very soon, they were all +adrift on the stream. They made little progress at first, merely +scraping along the overhanging branches of pollard willows; now and +again, the punt would disturb long-forgotten night lines, which, more +often than not, had hooked eels that had been dead for many days. Mavis +began to wonder if they would ever get across. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand by!" cried Perigal suddenly, at which Mavis gripped both sides +of the punt. +</P> + +<P> +It was well she did so, for the next moment the punt swerved violently, +to blunder quickly down stream as it felt the strength of the current. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you frightened?" asked Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Hold tight to the bank if your end strikes first." +</P> + +<P> +"Right you are." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal did his best to steer the punt, but without much success. +Presently, the bows hit the side, at which Perigal clutched at the +growth on the bank. +</P> + +<P> +"Step ashore quickly," he cried. "It's beginning to let in water." +</P> + +<P> +"How exciting!" remarked Mavis, as she stepped on to the bank. +</P> + +<P> +"Just wait till I tie her up." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Jill?" asked Mavis suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't she with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"See if she's in the river." +</P> + +<P> +"If she is, the punt striking the bank must have knocked her overboard." +</P> + +<P> +They looked, but no sign could be seen of the dog. Mavis called her +name loudly, frantically, but no Jill appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" she cried helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" cried Perigal suddenly. "Look, those weeds!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked in the direction indicated. About six feet from the bank +was a growth of menacing-looking weeds under the water, which just now +were violently agitated. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet anything it's Jill. She's caught in the weeds," said Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me come. Let me come," cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's ten feet deep. You're surely not going in?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't let her drown." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me—" +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going in. I can swim." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal had thrown off his coat, kicked off his boots. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment, he had dived in the direction in which he believed +Jill to be. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was all concern for her pet. Although she knew that, more likely +than not, she would never see her alive again, she scarcely suffered +pain at all. Although incapable of feeling, her mind noted trivial +things with photographic accuracy—a bit of straw on a bush, a white +cloud near the sun, the lonely appearance of an isolated pollard +willow. Meantime, Perigal had unsuccessfully dived once; the second +time, he was under the water for such a long time that Mavis was +tempted to cover her eyes with her hands. Then, to her unspeakable +relief, he reappeared, much exhausted, but holding out of the water a +bedraggled and all but drowned Jill. +</P> + +<P> +"Bravo! bravo!" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Give me a hand, or have Jill!" gasped Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis put one foot in the punt in order to take Jill. She held her +beloved friend for a moment against her heart, to put her on the floor +of the punt and extend a helping hand to Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"How can I ever thank you?" she asked, as he stood upon the bank with +the water dripping from his clothes. +</P> + +<P> +"Easily." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"By coming with me to Broughton." +</P> + +<P> +"But Jill!" +</P> + +<P> +"She'll be all right. See, she's better already." +</P> + +<P> +He spoke truly. Jill was alternately licking her paws and feebly +shaking herself. +</P> + +<P> +"But what about you? You ought to go home at once and run all the way." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be all right. Are you going to Broughton?" +</P> + +<P> +"On one condition." +</P> + +<P> +"And what might that be—that I don't go with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That you run all the way and, when you get there, you borrow a change +of clothes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll really come?" +</P> + +<P> +"Since you wish it. I couldn't do less." +</P> + +<P> +"What did I tell you? But there's an inn on the left, the first one you +come to. Wait for me there; if they can't lend me a change I'll have to +get one somewhere else and come back there." +</P> + +<P> +"Only if you go at once. You've waited too long already." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal started, carrying his dry boots and coat. +</P> + +<P> +"Faster! faster!" cried Mavis, seeing that he was inclined to linger. +</P> + +<P> +She followed behind; she did not move with her customary swinging +stride, Jill's extremity having sapped her strength. Directly Perigal +was out of sight, she caught Jill in her arms, to smother her wet head +and body with kisses. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my darling! my darling!" she murmured. "To think how nearly we +were parted forever!" +</P> + +<P> +It was with something of an effort that she pursued her way to +Broughton. Her steps dragged; her mind was filled with a picture of her +dearly loved Jill, cold, lifeless, unresponsive to her caress. +</P> + +<P> +When she reached the inn, she learned that Perigal was upstairs +changing into the landlord's clothes. When he came down, clad in +corduroys, with a silk handkerchief about his throat, she was surprised +to see how handsome he looked. +</P> + +<P> +"So you've got here!" he remarked, as he saw Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I say I was coming?" she asked, as she sank on a seat in the +tiny sitting-room. +</P> + +<P> +"You look bad. You must have something." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like a little milk, please." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot! You must have brandy." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd prefer milk." +</P> + +<P> +"You do as you're told," replied Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately, the inn had a spirit licence, so Mavis sipped the stuff +that Perigal brought her, to feel better at once. She then soaked a +piece of biscuit in the remainder of the brandy, to force it down +Jill's throat. Next, she turned to Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you had any?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how to thank you for saving Jill's life." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot!" +</P> + +<P> +"If you won't let me thank you, perhaps you'll let Jill." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis held Jill in Perigal's face, when, to the girl's surprise, Jill +growled angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"What wicked ingratitude!" cried Mavis. "Oh, you naughty Jill!" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps she's sorry I didn't let her drown," remarked Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"She may have wanted to commit suicide." +</P> + +<P> +"Jill want to leave me?" +</P> + +<P> +"She felt unworthy of you. I suppose she growls because she sees right +through me." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be so fond of disparaging yourself. It was very brave of you to +dive in as you did." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to ask you to do something really brave." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tackle eggs and bacon for lunch. It's all they've got." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be very brave. I'm hungry." +</P> + +<P> +A red-cheeked, bright-eyed young woman laid a coarse cloth, and, upon +this, black-handled knives and forks. +</P> + +<P> +"What will you have to drink?" asked Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Milk." +</P> + +<P> +"Have some wine." +</P> + +<P> +"I always drink milk." +</P> + +<P> +"Not in honour of our meeting?" +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to forget I've got to walk home." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you're right. Goodness knows what they'd give you here. Not +like the Carlton or the Savoy." +</P> + +<P> +"I've never been to such places." +</P> + +<P> +"Not?" he asked, in some surprise, to remain silent till the fried eggs +and bacon were brought in. +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to drink something warm," said Mavis, as he piled food on +her plate. +</P> + +<P> +"I've ordered ginger brandy. It's the safest thing they've got." +</P> + +<P> +The food enabled Mavis to recover her spirits. It appeared to have a +contrary effect on Perigal; the little he ate seemed to incline him to +gloomy thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you're going to be ill," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm all right. Don't worry about me." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't. I'll worry the eggs and bacon instead." +</P> + +<P> +Presently, he raised the glass of ginger brandy in his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's to the unattainable!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"And that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Happiness." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! Everyone can be happy if they like." +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis, let me tell you something." +</P> + +<P> +"Something dismal?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one ever was, is, or can be really happy: it's a law of nature." +</P> + +<P> +"I've come across people who're absolutely happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Listen. Nature, for her own ends, the survival of the fittest, has +arranged matters so that we're always, always striving. We think that a +certain end will bring happiness, and struggle like blazes to get it, +to find that satisfaction is a myth; to discover that, no sooner do we +possess a thing than we weary of what was once so ardently desired, and +immediately crave for something else which, if obtained, gives no more +satisfaction than the last thing hungered for." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe it for a moment. Besides, why should it be?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because it's necessary to keep the species going. By constantly +fighting with others for some goal, it sharpens our faculties and makes +us more fitted to hold our own; if it weren't for this struggle, we +should stagnate and very soon go under." +</P> + +<P> +"Even if some of what you say is true, there's the pleasure of getting." +</P> + +<P> +"At first. But if one 'spots' this clever trick of nature and one is +convinced that nothing, nothing on earth is worth struggling for—what +then?" +</P> + +<P> +"That it's a very foolish state of mind to get into, and the sooner you +get out of it the better." +</P> + +<P> +"You said just now there was the pleasure of getting. I know something +better." +</P> + +<P> +"And that?" +</P> + +<P> +"The pleasure of forgetting." +</P> + +<P> +He glanced meaningly at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you forgetting now?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you ask?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis blushed; she bent down to pat Jill in order to conceal the +pleasure his words gave her. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me what Archie Windebank said about me," she presently said. +</P> + +<P> +"Blow Windebank!" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to know." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I suppose I must tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course: out with it and get it over." +</P> + +<P> +"You met him once in town, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only once." +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite casually. Tell me what he said." +</P> + +<P> +"He wanted to know if I'd ever run across you, and, if I did, I was at +once to wire to him and let him know." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to?" +</P> + +<P> +"No fear," replied Perigal emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't men very selfish?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"They are where those women they admire are concerned." +</P> + +<P> +At the conclusion of the meal, they sat in the inn garden. They spoke +of old times, old associations. Mavis gave Perigal an abridged account +of her doings since she had last seen him, omitting to mention her +experience with Mr Orgles, Mrs Hamilton, and Miss Ewer. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you've run across a lot of chaps in London?" he presently +remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I haven't run against any 'chaps', as you call them." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a fact." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean to say you've never yet had a love affair?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's a business that requires two, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Usually." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I've always made a point of standing out." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose it's vanity—call it that if you like—but I think too much +of myself to be a party to a mere love affair, as you would call it." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal glanced at her as if to see if she were speaking seriously. +Then he was lost in thought for some minutes, during which he often +looked in her direction. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you thinking of?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That, to a decent chap, little Mavis would be something of a find, as +women go." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't think much of women, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's it my pater's always saying?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can tell you: Always learn the value of money and the worthlessness +of most women." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't look so astonished. It's the advice he gave to Archie Windebank." +</P> + +<P> +"I see: and he told you. But the pater's right over that." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's telling." +</P> + +<P> +Later in the afternoon, at tea, Mavis learned from Perigal much of his +life since they had last met. It appeared that he had been to Oxford, +to be sent down during his first term; that he had tried (and failed) +for Sandhurst; also a variety of occupations, all apparently without +success, until his father, angered at some scrape he had got into, had +packed him off to Riga, where he had secured some sort of a billet for +his son. Finally, in defiance of parental orders, he had left that +"beastly hole" and was living at home until his father should turn him +out. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it all rather a pity?" Mavis asked. +</P> + +<P> +"All what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your wasted life? And you've had so many good chances." +</P> + +<P> +"I've had some fun out of it all. And, after all, what's the use of +trying?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just think of the thousands who would give their eyes for your +chances," she urged. +</P> + +<P> +"If their fathers had plenty of money like mine, they'd probably do as +I." +</P> + +<P> +"Your father wants to see you worthy of it." +</P> + +<P> +"I am. I've all sorts of expensive tastes." +</P> + +<P> +Later, when they walked in the direction of Melkbridge, it seemed to +Mavis as if she were talking to a friend of many years; he seemed to +comprehend her so intimately that she felt wholly at home with him. He +had changed into his flannel suit, which had been dried before the inn +kitchen fire. He walked with his careless stride, his cap thrust into +his pocket. Now and again, Mavis found herself glancing at his fair +young face, his steely blue eyes, the wind-disturbed curls upon his +head. Their way led them past a field carpeted with cowslips. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, look!" she cried, delightedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Cowslips! Are you keen on wildflowers?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're the only ones I care for." +</P> + +<P> +"I only care for artificial ones. Shall I get you some cowslips?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you wouldn't mind. We'll both go." +</P> + +<P> +They gathered between them a big bunch. Now and again they would race +like children for a promising clump. +</P> + +<P> +"This bores you awfully," she remarked presently. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe I've ever been so happy in my life," he replied +seriously. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"A fact. Am I not with you?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +"And, again, it's all so natural, you and I being here alone with +nature; it's all so wonderful; one can forget the beastly worries of +life." +</P> + +<P> +He spoke truly. Although it was getting late, the light persisted, as +if reluctant to leave the gladness of newborn things. All about her, +Mavis could see the trees were decked in fresh green foliage, virginal, +unsoiled; everywhere she saw a modest pride in unaffected beauty. Human +interests and emulations seemed to have no lot in this serenity: no +habitation was in sight; it was hard for Mavis to believe how near she +was to a thriving country town. Strange unmorality, with which +immersion in nature affects ardent spirits, influenced Mavis; nothing +seemed to matter beyond present happiness. She made Perigal carry the +cowslips, the while she frolicked with Jill. He watched her coolly, +critically, appraisingly; she had no conception how desirable she +appeared in his eyes. Lengthening shadows told them that it was time to +go home. They left the cowslip field regretfully to walk the remaining +two miles to Melkbridge. +</P> + +<P> +"I want you to promise me something," she said, after some moments of +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"To promise me to do something with your life." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you wish that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You saved Jill's life. If you hadn't, I should now be miserable and +heart-broken, whereas—Will you promise me what I ask?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not speak immediately; she put her hand on his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"I was wondering if it were any use promising," he said, "I've had so +many tries." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you promise you'll try once more?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"I promise I'll try, for your sake." +</P> + +<P> +They talked till they were within half a mile of the town. Then he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to leave you here." +</P> + +<P> +"Ashamed of being seen with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I be ashamed?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm only a clerk in a boot factory." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't rub it in. No, I was thinking how people in Melkbridge +would talk if they saw you with me or any other chap." +</P> + +<P> +"People aren't quite so bad as that," she urged. +</P> + +<P> +"No woman would ever forgive you for your looks." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, goodbye; thank you for saving Jill's life, and thank you for a +very happy day." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot! It's I who should be thankful. You've taken me out of myself." +</P> + +<P> +Neither of them made any move. Mavis caught hold of Jill and held her +towards Perigal as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Thank him for saving your life, you ungrateful girl." +</P> + +<P> +Jill growled at Perigal even more angrily than before. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you naughty Jill!" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit of it; she's cleverer than you; she's a reader of +character," said Perigal. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER NINETEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MOON GODDESS +</H3> + +<P> +"Do you know anything of Mr. Charlie Perigal?" asked Mavis of Miss +Toombs and Miss Hunter the following day, as they were sipping their +afternoon tea. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" asked Miss Hunter. +</P> + +<P> +"I met him yesterday," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that you were introduced to him?" asked Miss Hunter calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"There was no occasion. I knew him when I was a girl." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't say I knew him when I was a girl," retorted Miss Hunter. "But +I know this much: he never goes to church." +</P> + +<P> +"What of that?" snapped Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Hunter looked at the eldest present, astonished. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that you talking?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what did I say?" +</P> + +<P> +"You spoke as if it were a matter of no consequence, a man not going to +church." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't have been thinking what I said," remarked Miss Toombs, as she +put aside her teacup to go on with her work. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought not," retorted Miss Hunter. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't told me very much about him," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never heard much good of him," declared Miss Hunter. +</P> + +<P> +"Men are scarcely expected to be paragons," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"When he was last at home, he was often about with Sir Archibald +Windebank." +</P> + +<P> +"I know him too," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't I? His father was my father's oldest friend." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Hunter winced; she stared fixedly at Mavis, with eyes in which +admiration and envy were expressed. Later, when Mavis was leaving for +the day, Miss Hunter fussed about her with many assurances of regard. +</P> + +<P> +To Mavis's surprise, Miss Toombs joined her outside the +factory—surprise, because the elder woman rarely spoke to her, seeming +to avoid rather than cultivate her acquaintance. +</P> + +<P> +"I can say here what I can't say before that little cat," remarked Miss +Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stared at the plainly clad, stumpy little figure in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it," continued Miss Toombs. "She's a designing little +hypocrite. I know you're too good a sort to give me away." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know you liked me well enough to confide in me," remarked +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" asked Mavis, surprised at the other woman's candour. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at you!" cried Miss Toombs savagely, as she turned away from +Mavis. "But what I was also going to say was this: don't have too much +to do with young Perigal." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not likely to." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't, all the same. You're much too good for him." +</P> + +<P> +"Why? Is he fast?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It wouldn't matter if he were. But he is what some people call a +'waster.'" +</P> + +<P> +"He admits that himself." +</P> + +<P> +"He's a pretty boy. But I don't think he's the man to make a woman +happy, unless—" +</P> + +<P> +"Unless what?" +</P> + +<P> +"She despised him or knocked him about." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't forget," laughed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Good day." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you come home to tea?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks," said Miss Toombs, as she made off, to leave Mavis gazing +at the ill-dressed, squat figure hurrying along the road. +</P> + +<P> +As might be expected, Miss Hunter's and Miss Toombs' disparagement of +Charlie Perigal but served to incline Mavis in his favour. She thought +of him all the way home, and wondered how soon she would see him again. +When she opened the door of her room, an overpowering scent of violets +assailed her nostrils; she found it came from a square cardboard box +which lay upon the table, having come by post addressed to her. The box +was full of violets, upon the top of which was a card. +</P> + +<P> +She snatched this up, to see if it would tell her who had sent the +flowers. It merely read, "With love to Jill." +</P> + +<P> +Her heart glowed with happiness to think that a man had gone to the +trouble and expense of sending her violets. Before sitting down to her +meal, she picked out a few of the finest to pin them in her frock; the +others she placed in water in different parts of the room. If Mavis +were inclined to forget Perigal, which she was not, the scent of the +violets was enough to keep him in her mind until they withered. +</P> + +<P> +She did not write to acknowledge the gift; she reserved her thanks till +their next meeting, which she believed would not long be delayed. The +following Saturday (she had seen nothing of Perigal in the meantime) +she called on Mrs. Trivett at Pennington Farm. The farmyard, with its +poultry, the old-world garden in which the house was situated, the +discordant shrieks which the geese raised at her coming, took the +girl's fancy. While waiting for the door to be opened, she was much +amused at the inquisitive way in which the geese craned their heads +through the palings in order to satisfy their curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +The door was opened by a homely, elderly woman, who dropped a curtsey +directly when she saw Mavis, who explained who she was. +</P> + +<P> +"You're kindly welcome, miss, if you'll kindly walk inside. Trivett +will be in soon." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed the woman to the parlour, where her hostess dusted the +chair before she was allowed to sit. +</P> + +<P> +"Do please sit down," urged Mavis, as Mrs Trivett continued to stand. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, miss. It isn't often we have such a winsome young lady like +you to visit us," said Mrs Trivett, as she sat forward on her chair +with her hands clasped on the side nearest to Mavis, a manner peculiar +to country women. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't get over your husband being a farmer as well as a musician," +remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Trivett shook her head sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a sad pity, miss; because his love of music makes him forget his +farm." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"And since you praised his playing in church, he's spent the best part +of the week at the piano." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"At least, he's been happy, although the cows did get into the hay and +tread it down." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis expressed regret. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll stay to tea and supper, miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what you're asking?" laughed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the anniversary of the day on which I first met Trivett, and I've +made a moorhen and rabbit-pie to celebrate it," declared Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was a little surprised at this piece of information, but she very +soon learned that Mrs Trivett's life was chiefly occupied with the +recollection and celebration of anniversaries of any and every event +which had occurred in her life. Custom had cultivated her memory, till +now, when nearly every day was the anniversary of something or other, +she lived almost wholly in the past, each year being the epitome of her +long life. When Trivett shortly came in from his work, he greeted Mavis +with respectful warmth; then, he conducted his guest over the farm. +Under his guidance, she inspected the horses, sheep, pigs and cows, to +perceive that her conductor was much more interested in their physical +attributes than in their contributive value to the upkeep of the farm. +</P> + +<P> +"Do 'ee look at the roof of that cow barton," said Trivett presently. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a fine red," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"A little Red Riding Hood red, isn't it? But it's nothing to the roof +of the granary. May I ask you to direct your attention to that?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked towards the granary, to see that thatch had been +superimposed upon the tiles; this was worn away in places, revealing a +roof of every variety of colour. She looked at it for quite a long time. +</P> + +<P> +"Zomething of an artist, miss?" said Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite uncreative," laughed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you're very lucky. You're spared the pain artists feel when their +work doesn't meet with zuccess." +</P> + +<P> +They returned to the kitchen, where Mavis feasted on newly-baked bread +smoking hot from the oven, soaked in butter, home-made jam, and cake. +</P> + +<P> +"I've eaten so much, you'll never ask me again," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you've a good appetite; it shows you make yourself at home," +replied Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +After tea, they went into the parlour, where it needed no second +request on Mavis' part to persuade Mr Trivett to play. He extemporised +on the piano for the best part of two hours, during which Mavis +listened and dreamed, while Mrs Trivett undisguisedly went to sleep, a +proceeding that excited no surprise on the musician's part. Supper was +served in the kitchen, where Mavis partook of a rabbit and moorhen pie +with new potatoes and young mangels mashed. She had never eaten the +latter before; she was surprised to find how palatable the dish was. Mr +and Mrs Trivett drank small beer, but their guest was regaled with +cowslip wine, which she drank out of deference to the wishes of her +kind host and hostess. +</P> + +<P> +After supper, Mr Trivett solemnly produced a well-thumbed "Book of +Jokes," from which he read pages of venerable stories. Although Mrs +Trivett had heard them a hundred times before, she laughed consumedly +at each, as if they were all new to her. Her appreciation delighted her +husband. When Mavis rose to take her leave, Trivett, despite her +protest, insisted upon accompanying her part of the way to Melkbridge. +She bade a warm goodbye to kindly Mrs Trivett, who pressed her to come +again and as often as she could spare the time. +</P> + +<P> +"It do Trivett so much good to see a new face. It help him with his +music," she explained. +</P> + +<P> +"We might walk back by the canal," suggested Trivett. "It look zo +zolemn by moonlight." +</P> + +<P> +Upon Mavis' assenting, they joined the canal where the tow-path is at +one with the road by the railway bridge. +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you been in Pennington?" asked Mavis presently. +</P> + +<P> +"A matter o' ten years. We come from North Petherton, near Tarnton." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you didn't know my father?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, miss, though I've heard tark of him in Melkbridge." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know anything of Mr Perigal?" she asked presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Which one: the old or the young un?" +</P> + +<P> +"Th—the old one." +</P> + +<P> +"A queer old stick, they zay, though I've never set eyes on un. He +don't hit it off with his zon, neither." +</P> + +<P> +"Whose fault is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Both. Do 'ee know young Mr Charles?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've met him." +</P> + +<P> +"H'm!" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with him?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr Trivett solemnly shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"What does that mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's hard to zay. But from what I zee an' from what I hear tell, he be +a deal too clever." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't that an advantage nowadays?" +</P> + +<P> +"Often. But he's quarrelled with his feyther and zoon gets tired of +everything he takes up." +</P> + +<P> +Trivett's remarks increased Mavis' sympathy for Perigal. The more he +had against him, the more necessary it was for those who liked him to +make allowance for flaws in his disposition. Kindly encouragement might +do much where censure had failed. +</P> + +<P> +Days passed without Mavis seeing more of Perigal. His indifference to +her existence hurt the little vanity that she possessed. At the same +time, she wondered if the fact of her not having written to thank him +for the violets had anything to do with his making no effort to seek +her out. Her perplexities on the matter made her think of him far more +than she might have done had she met him again. If Perigal had wished +to figure conspicuously in the girl's thoughts, he could not have +chosen a better way to achieve that result. +</P> + +<P> +Some three weeks after her meeting with him, she was sitting in her +nook reading, when she was conscious of a feeling of helplessness +stealing over her. Then a shadow darkened the page. She looked up, to +see Perigal standing behind her. +</P> + +<P> +"Interesting?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Very." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry." +</P> + +<P> +He moved away. Mavis tried to go on with her book, but could not fix +her attention upon what she read. Her heart was beating rapidly. She +followed the man's retreating figure with her eyes; it expressed a +dejection that moved her pity. Although she felt that she was behaving +in a manner foreign to her usual reserve, she closed her book, got up +and walked after Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +He heard her approaching and turned round. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no occasion to follow me," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't if you don't wish it." +</P> + +<P> +"I said that for your sake. You surely know that I didn't for mine." +</P> + +<P> +"Why for my sake?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've a beastly 'pip.' It's catching." +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you catch it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've always got it more or less." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry. I've to thank you for those violets." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot!" +</P> + +<P> +"I was glad to get them." +</P> + +<P> +"Really, really glad?" he asked, his face lightening. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. I love flowers." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," he said coldly. +</P> + +<P> +She made as if she would leave him, but, as before, felt a certain +inertness in his presence which she was in no mood to combat; instead +of going, she turned to him to ask: +</P> + +<P> +"Anything happened to you since I last saw you?" +</P> + +<P> +"The usual." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"Depression and rows with my father." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you'd forget your promise." +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, that's what all the row was about." +</P> + +<P> +"How was that?" +</P> + +<P> +"First of all, I told him that I had met you and all you told me about +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"That made him angry?" +</P> + +<P> +"And when I told him I wanted to have another shot at something, a +jolly good shot this time, he said, 'I suppose that means you want +money?'" +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"One can't make money without. That's what all the row's been about. +He's a fearful old screw." +</P> + +<P> +"As well as I remember, my father always liked him." +</P> + +<P> +"That was before I grew up to sour his life." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you tell him how you saved Jill's life?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd forgotten that, and I'm also forgetting my fishing." +</P> + +<P> +"May I come too?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've a spare rod if you care about having a go." +</P> + +<P> +"I should love to. I've often thought I'd go in for it. It would be +something to do in the evenings." +</P> + +<P> +She walked with him a hundred yards further, where he had left two rods +on the bank with the lines in the water; these had been carried by the +current as far as the lengths of gut would permit. +</P> + +<P> +"Haul up that one. I'll try this," said Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did as she was told, to find there was something sufficiently +heavy at the end of her line to bend the top joint of her rod. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a fish!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Pull up carefully." +</P> + +<P> +She pulled the line from the water, to find that she had hooked an old +boot. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal laughed at her discomfiture. +</P> + +<P> +"It is funny, but you needn't laugh at me," she said, slightly +emphasising the "you." +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind. I'll bait your hook, and you must have another shot." +</P> + +<P> +Her newly baited line had scarcely been thrown in the water when she +caught a fine roach. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better have it stuffed," he remarked, as he took it off the hook. +</P> + +<P> +"It's going to stuff me. I'll have it tomorrow for breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +In the next hour, she caught six perch of various sizes, four roach, +and a gudgeon. Perigal caught nothing, a fact that caused Mavis to +sympathise with his bad luck. +</P> + +<P> +"Next time you'll do all the catching," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you'll fish with me again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Really, with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I like fish for breakfast," she said, as she turned from the ardour of +his glance. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, when they had "jacked up," as he called it, and walked +together across the meadows in the direction of the town, she said +little; she replied to his questions in monosyllables. She was +wondering at and a little afraid of the accentuated feeling of +helplessness in his presence which had taken possession of her. It was +as if she had no mind of her own, but must submit her will to the +wishes of the man at her side. They paused at the entrance to the +churchyard, where he asked: +</P> + +<P> +"And what have you been doing all this time?" +</P> + +<P> +She told him of her visit to the Trivetts. +</P> + +<P> +His face clouded as he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Fancy you hobnobbing with those common people!" +</P> + +<P> +"But I like them—the Trivetts, I mean. Whoever I knew, I should go and +see them if I liked them," she declared, her old spirit asserting +itself. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her in surprise, to say: +</P> + +<P> +"I like to see you angry; you look awfully fine when that light comes +into your eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"And I don't like you at all when you say I shouldn't know homely, +kindly people like the Trivetts." +</P> + +<P> +"May I conclude, apart from that, you like me?" he asked. "Answer me; +answer me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't dislike you," she replied helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's something to go on with. But if I'd known you were going to +throw yourself away on farmers, I'd have hung after you myself. Even I +am better than that." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. I can do without your assistance," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"You think I didn't come near you all this time because I didn't care?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I thought at all about it." +</P> + +<P> +"If you didn't, I did. I was longing, I dare not say how much, to see +you again." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"For once in my life, I've tried to go straight." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're the sort of girl to get into a man's blood; to make him mad, +reckless, head over ears—" +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't we better go on?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—why?" +</P> + +<P> +She had not thought him capable of such earnestness. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I wish it, and because this churchyard is enough to give one +the blues." +</P> + +<P> +"I love it, now I'm talking to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Love it?" she echoed. +</P> + +<P> +"First of all, you in your youth, and—and your attractiveness—are +such a contrast to everything about us. It emphasises you and—and—it +tells me to snatch all the happiness one can, before the very little +while when we are as they." +</P> + +<P> +Here he pointed to the crowded graves. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going home," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"May I come as far as your door?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you ashamed of being seen with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very, very proud, little Mavis, and, if only my circumstances were +different, I should say much more to you." +</P> + +<P> +His vehemence surprised Mavis into silence; it also awoke a strange joy +in her heart; she seemed to walk on air as they went towards her +lodging. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you thinking of?" he asked presently. +</P> + +<P> +"You." +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was wondering why you went out of your way to give people a bad +opinion of you." +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't aware I was especially anxious to do that." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't go to church." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not particularly; but other people are, and that's what they say." +</P> + +<P> +"Church is too amusing nowadays." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid my sense of humour isn't sufficiently developed." +</P> + +<P> +"It's the parsons I'm thinking of. Once upon a time, when people went +in for deadly sins, it gave 'em something to preach about. Now we all +lead proper, discreet lives, they have to justify their existence by +inventing tiny sins for their present congregations." +</P> + +<P> +"What sins?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Sins of omission: any trifles they can think of that a more robust +race of soul-savers would have laughed at. No. It's the parsons who +empty the churches." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like you to talk like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Why? Are you that way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes more than others." +</P> + +<P> +"I congratulate you." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him, surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it," he went on. "People are much the happier for believing. +The great art of life is to be happy, and, if one is, nothing else +matters." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why don't you believe?" +</P> + +<P> +"Supposing one can't." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't given to everyone, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you think we're just like poor animals—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say 'poor' animals," he interrupted. "They're ever so much +happier than we." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! They don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"To be ignorant is to be happy. When will you understand that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never." +</P> + +<P> +"I know what you're thinking of—all the so-called mental development +of mankind—love, memory, imagination, sympathy—all the finer +susceptibilities of our nature. Is it that what you were thinking of?" +</P> + +<P> +"Vaguely. But I couldn't find the words so nicely as you do." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I read 'em and got 'em by heart. But don't you see that all +the fine things I mentioned have to be paid for by increased liability +to mental distress, to forms of pain to which coarse natures are, +happily, strangers?" +</P> + +<P> +"You talk like an unpleasant book," she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"And you look like a radiant picture," he retorted. +</P> + +<P> +"Ssh! Here we are." +</P> + +<P> +"The moon's rising: it's full tonight. Think of me if you happen to be +watching it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be fast asleep." +</P> + +<P> +"And looking more charming than ever, if that be possible. I shall be +having a row with my father." +</P> + +<P> +"I daresay you can hold your own." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what makes him so angry." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Farthing, upon opening the door, was surprised to see Mavis +standing beside young Mr Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you can get home safely now," he remarked, as he raised his +straw hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks for seeing me home." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't forget your fish. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thought it well not to enter into any explanation of Perigal's +presence to her landlady. She asked if supper were ready, to sit down +to it directly she learned that it was. But she did not eat; whether or +not her two hours spent in Perigal's company were responsible for the +result, it did not alter the fact that her mind was distracted by +tumult. The divers perplexities and questionings that had troubled her +with the oncoming of the year now assailed her with increased force. +She tried to repress them, but, finding the effort unavailing, +attempted to fathom their significance, with the result of increasing +her distress. The only tangible fact she could seize from the welter in +her mind was a sense of enforced isolation from the joys and sorrow of +everyday humanity. More than this she could not understand. +</P> + +<P> +She picked her food, well knowing that, if she left it untouched, Mrs +Farthing would associate her loss of appetite with the fact of her +being seen in the company of a man, and would lead the landlady to make +ridiculously sentimental deductions, which would be embarrassing to +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +When she went upstairs, she did not undress. She felt that it would be +useless to seek sleep at present. Instead, she stood by the open window +of her room, and, after lighting a cigarette and blowing out the +candle, looked out into the night. +</P> + +<P> +It was just another such an evening that she had looked into the sky +from the window of Mrs Ellis' on the first day of her stay on Kiva +Street. Then, beyond sighing for the peace of the country, she had +believed that she had only to secure a means of winning her daily bread +in order to be happy. Now, although she had obtained the two desires of +her heart, she was not even content. Perigal's words awoke in her +memory: +</P> + +<P> +"No sooner was a desire satisfied, than one was at once eager for +something else." +</P> + +<P> +It would almost seem as if he had spoken the truth—"almost," because +she was hard put to it to define what it was for which her being +starved. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked out of the window. The moon had not yet emerged from a +bank of clouds in the east; as if in honour of her coming, the edge of +these sycophants was touched with silver light. The stars were growing +wan, as if sulkily retiring before the approach of an overwhelming +resplendence. Mavis's cigarette went out, but she did not bother to +relight it; she was wondering how she was to obtain the happiness for +which her heart ached: the problem was still complicated by the fact of +her being ignorant in which direction lay the promised land. +</P> + +<P> +Her windows looked over the garden, beyond which fields of long grasses +stretched away as far as she could see. A profound peace possessed +these, which sharply contrasted with the disquiet in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +Soon, hitherto invisible hedges and trees took dim, mysterious shape; +the edge of the moon peeped with glorious inquisitiveness over the +clouds. Calmly, royally the moon rose. So deliberately was she +unveiled, that it seemed as if she were revealing her beauty to the +world for the first time, like a proud, adored mistress unrobing before +an impatient lover, whose eyes ached for what he now beheld. +</P> + +<P> +Mystery awoke in the night. Things before unseen or barely visible were +now distinct, as if eager for a smile from the aloof loveliness soaring +majestically overhead. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stood in the flood of silver light. For the moment her distress +of soul was forgotten. She gazed with wondering awe at the goddess of +the night. The moon's coldness presently repelled her: to the girl's +ardent imaginings, it seemed to speak of calm contemplation, +death—things which youth, allied to warm flesh and blood, abhorred. +</P> + +<P> +Then she fell to thinking of all the strange scenes in the life history +of the world on which the moon had looked—stricken fields, barbaric +rites, unrecorded crimes, sacked and burning cities, the blackened +remains of martyrs at the stake, enslaved nations sleeping fitfully +after the day's travail, wrecks on uncharted seas, forgotten +superstitions, pagan saturnalias—all the thousand and one phases of +life as it has been and is lived. +</P> + +<P> +Although Mavis' tolerable knowledge of history told her how countless +must be the sights of horror on which the moon had gazed, as +indifferently as it had looked on her, she recalled, as if to leaven +the memory of those atrocities (which were often of such a nature that +they seemed to give the lie to the existence of a beneficent Deity), +that there was ever interwoven with the web of life an eternal tale of +love—love to inspire great deeds and noble aims; love to enchain the +beast in woman and man; love, whose constant expression was the +sacrifice of self upon the altar of the loved one. +</P> + +<P> +Then her mind recalled individual lovers, famous in history and +romance, who were set as beacon lights in the wastes of oppression and +wrong-doing. These lovers were of all kinds. There were those who +deemed the world well lost for a kiss of the loved one's lips; lovers +who loved vainly; those who wearied of the loved one. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wondered, if love were laid at her feet, how it would find her. +</P> + +<P> +She had always known that she was well able to care deeply if her heart +were once bestowed. She had, also, kept this capacity for loving +unsullied from what she believed to be the defilement of flirtation. +Now were revealed the depths of love and tenderness of which she was +possessed. They seemed fathomless, boundless, immeasurable. +</P> + +<P> +The knowledge made her sick and giddy. She clung to the window sill for +support. It pained her to think that such a treasure above price was +destined to remain unsought, unbestowed. She suffered, the while the +moon soared, indifferent to her pain. +</P> + +<P> +Suffering awoke wisdom: in the twinkling of an eye, she learned that +for which her being starved. The awakening caused tremors of joy to +pass over her body, which were succeeded by despondency at realising +that it is one thing to want, another to be stayed. Then she was +consumed by the hunger of which she was now conscious. +</P> + +<P> +She seemed to be so undesirable, unlovable in her own eyes, that she +was moved in her passionate extremity to call on any power that might +offer succour. +</P> + +<P> +For the moment, she had forgotten the Source to which in times of +stress she looked for help. Instead, she lifted her voice to the moon, +the cold wisdom of which seemed to betoken strength, which seemed +enthroned in the infinite in order to listen to and to satisfy +yearnings, such as hers. +</P> + +<P> +"It's love I want—love, love. I did not know before; now I know. Give +me—give me love." +</P> + +<P> +Then she cried aloud in her extremity. She was so moved by her emotions +that she was not in the least surprised at the sound of her voice. +After she had spoken, she waited long for a sign; but none came. Mavis +looked again on the night. Everything was white, cold, silent. +</P> + +<P> +It was as if the world were at one with the deathlike stillness of the +moon. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WAY OF ALL FLESH +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis invested a fraction of her savings in the purchase of rod, +fishing tackle, landing net, and bait can; she also bought a yearly +ticket from the Avon Conservancy Board, entitling her to fish with one +rod in the river at such times as were not close seasons. Most +evenings, her graceful form might be seen standing on the river bank, +when she was so intent on her sport that it would seem as if she had +grown from the sedge at the waterside. Womanlike, she was enthusiastic +over fishing when the fish were on the feed and biting freely, to tire +quickly of the sport should her float remain for long untroubled by +possible captures nibbling at the bait. She avoided those parts of the +river where anglers mostly congregated; she preferred and sought the +solitude of deserted reaches. Perigal, at the same time, developed a +passion for angling. Most evenings, he would be found on the river's +bank, if not in Mavis' company, at least near enough to be within call, +should any assistance or advice be required. It was remarkable how +often each would want help or counsel on matters piscatorial from the +other. Sometimes Mavis would want a certain kind of hook, or she would +be out of bait, or she would lose one of the beaded rings on her float, +all being things which she had no compunction in borrowing from +Perigal, inasmuch as he always came to her when he wanted anything +himself. It must also be admitted that, as the days flew by, their +excuses for meeting became gradually more slender, till at last they +would neglect their rods to talk together for quite a long time upon +any and every subject under the sun, save fishing. +</P> + +<P> +Once or twice, when owing to Perigal's not making an appearance, Mavis +spent the evening alone, she would feel keenly disappointed, and would +go home with a strong sense of the emptiness of life. +</P> + +<P> +During her day at the office, or when in her lodgings, she was either +absent-minded or self-conscious; she was always longing to get away +with only her thoughts for company. She would sometimes sigh for +apparently no reason at all. Then Miss Toombs lent her a volume of +Shelley, the love passages in which Mavis eagerly devoured. Her +favourite time for reading was in bed. She marked, to read and reread, +favourite passages. Often in the midst of these she would leave off, +when her mind would pursue a train of thought inspired by a phrase or +thought of the poet. Very soon she had learned 'Love's Philosophy' by +heart. The next symptom of the ailment from which she was suffering was +a dreamy languor (frequently punctuated by sighs), which disposed her +to offer passionate resentment to all forms of physical and mental +effort. This mood was not a little encouraged by the fact of the hay +now lying on the ground, to the scent of which she was always +emotionally susceptible. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal renounced fishing at the same time as did Mavis. He had a fine +instinct for discovering her whereabouts in the meadows bordering the +river. +</P> + +<P> +For some while, she had no hesitation in suffering herself to cultivate +his friendship. If she had any doubts of the wisdom of the proceeding, +there were always two ample justifications at hand. +</P> + +<P> +The first of these was that her association with him had effected a +considerable improvement in his demeanour. He was no longer the +mentally down-at-heel, soured man that he had been when Mavis first met +him. He had taken on a lightness of heart, which, with his slim, boyish +beauty, was very attractive to Mavis, starved as she had been of all +association with men of her own age and social position. She believed +that the beneficent influence she exercised justified the hours she +permitted him of her society. +</P> + +<P> +The other reason was that she deluded herself into believing that her +sighs and Shelley-inspired imaginings were all because of Windebank's +imminent return. She thought of him every day, more especially since +she had met Perigal. She often contrasted the two men in her thoughts, +when it would seem as if Windebank's presence, so far as she remembered +it, had affected her life as a bracing, health-giving wind; whereas +Perigal influenced her in the same way as did appealing music, reducing +her to a languorous helplessness. She had for so long associated +Windebank with any sentimental leanings in which she had indulged, that +she was convinced that her fidelity to his memory was sufficient +safeguard against her becoming infatuated with Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +Thus she travelled along a road, blinding herself the while to the +direction in which she was going. But one day, happening to obtain a +glimpse of its possible destination, she resolved to make something of +an effort, if not to retrace her way (she scarcely thought this +necessary), to stay her steps. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal had told her that if he could get the sum he wanted from his +father, he would shortly be going somewhere near Cardiff, where he +would be engaged in the manufacture of glazed bricks with a partner. +The news had frightened her. She felt as if she had been dragged to the +edge of a seemingly bottomless abyss, into which it was uncertain +whether or not she would be thrown. To escape the fate that threatened, +she threw off her lethargy, to resume her fishing and avoid rather than +seek Perigal. Perhaps he took the hint, or was moved by the same motive +as Mavis, for he too gave up frequenting the meadows bordering the +river. His absence hurt Mavis more than she could have believed +possible. She became moody, irritable; she lost her appetite and could +not sleep at night. To ease her distress of mind, she tried calling on +her old friends, the Medlicotts, and her new ones, the Trivetts. The +former expressed concern for her altered appearance, which only served +to increase her despondency, while the music she heard at Pennington +Farm told of love dreams, satisfied longings, worlds in which romantic +fancy was unweighted with the bitterness and disappointment of life, as +she now found it, all of which was more than enough to stimulate her +present discontent. +</P> + +<P> +She had not seen or heard anything of Perigal for two weeks, when one +July evening she happened to catch the hook of her line in her hand. +She was in great pain, her efforts to remove the hook only increasing +her torment. She was wondering what was the best way of getting help, +when she saw Perigal approaching. Her first impulse was to avoid him. +With beating heart, she hid behind a clump of bushes. But the pain in +her hand became so acute that she suddenly emerged from her concealment +to call sharply for assistance. He ran towards her, asking as he came: +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"My hand," she faltered. "I've caught the hook in it." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor dear! Let me look." +</P> + +<P> +"Please do something. It hurts," she urged, as she put out her hand, +which was torn by the cruel hook. +</P> + +<P> +"What an excellent catch! But, all the same, I must get it out at +once," he remarked, as he produced a pocket knife. +</P> + +<P> +"With that?" she asked tremulously. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't hurt you more than I can help, you may be sure. But it must +come out at once, or you'll get a bad go of blood poisoning." +</P> + +<P> +"Do it as quickly as possible," she urged. +</P> + +<P> +She set her lips, while he cut into the soft white flesh. +</P> + +<P> +However much he hurt her, she resolved not to utter a sound. For all +her fortitude, the trifling operation pained her much. +</P> + +<P> +"Brave little Mavis!" he said, as he freed her flesh from the hook, to +ask, as she did not speak, "Didn't it hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it did. See how it's bleeding!" +</P> + +<P> +"All the better. It will clear the poison out." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was hurt at the indifference he exhibited to her pain. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you please tie my handkerchief round it?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Let it bleed. What are you thinking of?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to get back." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the hurry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only that I want to get back." +</P> + +<P> +"But I haven't seen you for ages." +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you?" she asked innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"Cruel Mavis! But before you go back you must wash your hand in the +river." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do nothing of the kind." +</P> + +<P> +"Not if it's for your good?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not if I don't wish it." +</P> + +<P> +"As it's for your good, I insist on your doing what I wish," he +declared, as he caught her firmly by the wrist and led her, all +unresisting, to the river's brink. She was surprised at her +helplessness and was inclined to criticise it impersonally, the while +Perigal plunged her wounded hand into the water. Her reflections were +interrupted by a sharp pain caused by the contact of water with the +torn flesh. +</P> + +<P> +"It's better than blood poisoning," he hastened to assure her. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you do it on purpose to hurt me," she remarked, upon his +freeing her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm justified in hurting you if it's for your good," he declared +calmly. "Now let me bind it up." +</P> + +<P> +While he tied up her hand, she looked at him resentfully, the colour +heightening on her cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you'd often look like that," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall if you treat me so unkindly." +</P> + +<P> +He took no notice of the accusation, but said: +</P> + +<P> +"When you look like that it's wonderful. Then certain verses in the +'Song of Solomon' might have been written to you." +</P> + +<P> +"The 'Song of Solomon'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you read your Bible?" +</P> + +<P> +"But you said some of them might have been written to me. What do you +mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're the finest love verses in the English language. They might +have been written to you. They're quite the best thing in the Bible." +</P> + +<P> +She was perplexed, and showed it in her face; then, she looked +appealingly to him for enlightenment. He disregarded the entreaty in +her eyes. He looked at her from head to foot before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis, little Mavis, why are you so alluring?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk nonsense. I'm not a bit," she replied, as something seemed +to tighten at her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"You are, you are. You've soul and body, an irresistible combination," +he declared ardently. +</P> + +<P> +His words troubled her; she looked about her, large-eyed, afraid; she +did not once glance in his direction. +</P> + +<P> +Then she felt his grasp upon her wrist and the pressure of his lips +upon her wounded hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me: forgive me!" he cried. "But I know you never will." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't, don't," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you very angry?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I—" she hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me know the worst." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," she faltered ruefully. +</P> + +<P> +His face brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to ask you something," he said earnestly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was filled with a great apprehension. +</P> + +<P> +"If I weren't a bad egg, and could offer you a home worthy of you, I +wonder if you'd care to marry me?" +</P> + +<P> +An exclamation of astonishment escaped her. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it," he continued, "and why not? You're true-hearted and +straight and wonderful to look at. Little Mavis is a pearl above price, +and she doesn't know it." +</P> + +<P> +"Ssh! ssh!" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a rare find," he said, to add after a moment or two, "and I +know what I'm talking about." +</P> + +<P> +She did not speak, but her bosom was violently disturbed, whilst a +delicious feeling crept about her heart. She repressed an inclination +to shed tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I s'pose your upset, eh?" he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I be?" she asked with flashing eyes. +</P> + +<P> +It was now his turn to be surprised. She went on: +</P> + +<P> +"It's a thing any woman should be proud of, a man asking her to share +her life with him." +</P> + +<P> +His lips parted, but he did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +She drew herself up to her full, queenly height to say: +</P> + +<P> +"I am very proud." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! Then—then—" +</P> + +<P> +His hands caught hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me go," she pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to think. Let me go: let me go!" +</P> + +<P> +His hands still held hers, but with an effort she freed herself, to run +from him in the direction of her lodging. She did not once look back, +but hurried as if pursued by danger, safety from which lay in the +companionship of her thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +Arrived at Mrs Farthing's, she made no pretence of sitting down to her +waiting supper, but went straight upstairs to her room. She felt that a +crisis had arisen in her life. To overcome it, it was necessary for her +to decide whether or not she loved Charlie Perigal. She passed the best +part of a sleepless night endeavouring, without success, to solve the +problem confronting her. Jill, who always slept on Mavis' bed, was +alive to her mistress' disquiet. The morning sun was already high in +the heavens when Jill crept sympathetically to the girl's side. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis clasped her friend in her arms to say: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Jill, Jill! If you could only tell me if I truly loved him!" +</P> + +<P> +Jill energetically licked Mavis' cheek before nestling in her arms to +sleep. +</P> + +<P> +The early morning post brought a letter from Perigal to Mavis, which +she opened with trembling hands and beating heart. It ran:— +</P> + +<P> +"For your sake, not for mine, I'm off to Wales by the early morning +train. If you care for me ever so little (and I am proud to believe you +do), in clearing out of your life, I am doing what I conceive to be the +best thing possible for your future happiness. If it gives you any +pleasure to know it, I should like to tell you I love you. My going +away is some proof of this statement, C. P. +</P> + +<P> +"P.S.—I have written by the same post to Windebank to give him your +address." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at her watch, to discover it was exactly half-past seven. +She ran downstairs, half dressed as she was, to look at the time-table +which Mr Medlicott presented to her on the first of every month. After +many false scents, she discovered, that for Perigal to catch the train +at Bristol for South Wales, he must leave Melkbridge for Dippenham by +the 8.15. Always a creature of impulse, she scrambled into her clothes, +swallowed a mouthful of tea, pinned on her hat, caught up her gloves, +and, almost before she knew what she was doing, was walking quickly +towards the station. She had a little under twenty minutes in which to +walk a good mile. Her one concern was to meet, say something (she knew +not what) to Perigal before he left Melkbridge for good. She arrived +breathless at the station five minutes before his train started. He was +not in the booking office, and she could see nothing of him on the +platform. She was beginning to regret her precipitancy, when she saw +him walking down the road to the station, carrying a much worn leather +brief bag. Her heart beat as she went out to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing here at this time?" +</P> + +<P> +"I came out for a walk." +</P> + +<P> +"To see me off?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I will say this, you will bear looking at in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, who won't?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! But we can't talk here. It will be all over the town that we +were—were—" +</P> + +<P> +"Going to elope!" she interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish we were. But, seriously, you got my letter?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's really why I came." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" he asked, astonished. +</P> + +<P> +"It's really why I came." +</P> + +<P> +"What have you to say to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you want me to go to Wales?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"I must decide soon. Here's the train." +</P> + +<P> +They mechanically turned towards the platform. +</P> + +<P> +"Must you go?" she impulsively asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I could either chuck it or I could put it off till tomorrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not do that?" +</P> + +<P> +"But would you see me again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And will you decide then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll see you tonight," he said, as he raised his hat, as if +wishing her to leave him. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis bit her lip as she turned to leave Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodbye till tonight, little Mavis!" +</P> + +<P> +"Goodbye," she called back curtly. +</P> + +<P> +"One moment," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +She paused. +</P> + +<P> +He went on: +</P> + +<P> +"It was charming of you to come. It's like everything to do with +you—beautiful." +</P> + +<P> +"There's still time for you to get your train," she said, feeling +somewhat mollified by his last words. +</P> + +<P> +"And miss seeing you tonight!" he replied. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked to the factory wondering how many people had seen her +talking to Perigal. During her morning's work, her mind was in a +turmoil of doubt as to the advisability of meeting Perigal in the +evening. She could not help believing that, should she see him, as was +more or less arranged, it would prove an event of much moment in her +life, holding infinite possibilities of happiness or disaster. She knew +herself well enough to know that if she were wholly possessed by love +for him she would be to him as clay in the hands of the potter. She +could come to no conclusion; even if she had, she could not be certain +if she could keep to any resolve she might arrive at. During her midday +meal she remembered how Perigal had said that the "Song of Solomon" +might have been written to her. She opened her Bible, found the "Song" +and greedily devoured it. In her present mood its sensuous beauty +entranced her, but she was not a little perplexed by the headings of +the chapters. As with so many others, she found it hard to reconcile +the ecclesiastical claims here set forth at the beginning of each +chapter with the passionate outpourings of the flesh which followed. +She took the Bible with her to the office, to read the "Song" twice +during the interval usually allotted to afternoon tea. +</P> + +<P> +When she got back to Mrs Farthing's, she was long undecided whether she +should go out to meet Perigal. The leanings of her heart inclined her +to keep the appointment, whilst, on the other hand, her strong common +sense urged her to decide nothing until Windebank came back. Windebank +she was sure of, whereas she was not so confident of Perigal; but she +was forced to admit that the elusive and more subtle personality of the +latter appealed more to her imagination than the other's stability. +Presently, she left her lodgings and walked slowly towards the canal, +which was in a contrary direction to that in which lay the Avon. The +calm of the still water inclined her to sadness. She idled along the +towpath, plucking carelessly at the purple vetch which bordered the +canal in luxuriant profusion. More than once, she was possessed by the +idea that someone was following her. Then she became aware that Perigal +was also idling along the towpath some way behind her. The sight of him +made her heart beat; she all but decided to turn back to meet him. +Common sense again fought for the possession of her mind. It told her +that by dawdling till she reached the next bend, she could be out of +sight of Perigal, without exciting his suspicions, when it would be the +easiest thing in the world to hurry till she came to a track which led +from the canal to the town. She was putting this design into practice, +and had already reached the bend, when odd verses of the "Song of +Solomon" occurred to her: +</P> + +<P> +"Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast +doves' eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished +my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under +thy tongue. +</P> + +<P> +"A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a +fountain sealed. +</P> + +<P> +"How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights! +</P> + +<P> +"And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that +goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"I am my beloved's, and his desire is towards me. +</P> + +<P> +"I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine." +</P> + +<P> +The influence of air, sky, evening sun, and the peace that lay over the +land reinforced the unmoral suggestions of the verses that had leapt in +her memory. Her blood quickened; she sighed, and then sat by the rushes +that, just here, invaded the towpath. +</P> + +<P> +As Perigal strolled towards her, his personality caused that old, odd +feeling of helplessness to steal over her. She, almost, felt as if she +were a fly gradually being bound by a greedy spider's web. +</P> + +<P> +He stood by her for a few moments without speaking. +</P> + +<P> +"You've broken your promise," he presently remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you, too?" she asked, without looking up. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was so impatient to see you, I hung about in sight of your house, so +that I could catch sight of you directly when you came out." +</P> + +<P> +"What about Melkbridge people?" +</P> + +<P> +"What do I care!" +</P> + +<P> +"What about me?" +</P> + +<P> +He turned away with an angry gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"What about me?" she repeated more insistently. +</P> + +<P> +"You know what I said to you, asked you last night." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hung her head. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you tell Windebank in your letter?" she asked presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk about him." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall if I want to. What did you say about me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I tell you?" he asked suddenly, as he sat beside her. "I told +him how wholesome and how sweet you were. That's what I said." +</P> + +<P> +"Ssh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what I should have said?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made a last effort to preserve her being from the thraldom of +love. It was in her heart to leave Perigal there and then, but although +the spirit was all but willing, the flesh was weak. As before in his +presence, Mavis was rendered helpless by the odd fascination Perigal +exercised. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what I should have said?" he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis essayed to speak; her tongue would not give speech. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you. I should have said that I love you, and that nothing in +heaven or earth is going to stop my getting you." +</P> + +<P> +"I must go," she said, without moving. +</P> + +<P> +"When I love you so? Little Mavis, I love you, I love you, I love you!" +</P> + +<P> +She trembled all over. He seized her hand, covered it with kisses, and +then tried to draw her lips to his. +</P> + +<P> +"My hand was enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Your lips! Your lips!" +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"I love you! Your lips!" +</P> + +<P> +He forced his lips to hers. When he released them, she looked at him as +if spellbound, with eyes veiled with wonder and dismay—with eyes which +revealed the great awakening which had taken place in her being. +</P> + +<P> +"I love little Mavis. I love her," he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +The look in her eyes deepened, her lips trembled, her bosom was +violently disturbed. Perigal touched her arm. Then she gave a little +cry, the while her head fell helplessly upon his shoulder. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE AWAKENING +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis was in love, consequently the world was transformed. All her +previous hesitations in surrendering to her incipient love for Perigal +were forgotten; the full, flowing current of her passion disregarded +the trifling obstacles which had once sought to obstruct its progress. +Life, nature, the aspect of things took on the abnormally adorable hues +of those who love and are beloved. Such was the rapture in her heart, +that days, hours, moments were all too fleeting for the enjoyment of +her newborn felicity. The radiant happiness which welled within her, in +seemingly inexhaustible volume, appeared to fill the universe. Often, +with small success, she would attempt to realise the joy that had come +into her life. At other times, when alone, she would softly shed +tears—tears with which shy, happy laughter mingled. She would go about +all day singing snatches of gay little songs. There was not a happier +girl in the world. As if, perhaps, to give an edge to her joy, the +summer sky of her gladness was troubled by occasional clouds. She would +wake in the night with a great presage of fear, which nothing she could +do would remove. At such times, she would clasp with both hands a ring +that her lover had given her, which at night she wore suspended from +her neck, so that it lay upon her heart. At other times, she would be +consumed by a passion for annihilating all thoughts and considerations +for self in her relations with Perigal; she was urged by every fibre in +her body to merge her being with his. When thus possessed, she would +sometimes, if she were at home when thus moved, go upon her knees to +pray long and fervently for the loved one's welfare; as likely as not +her thoughts would wander, when thus engaged, to be wholly concerned +with the man she adored. +</P> + +<P> +Thus, she abandoned herself whole-heartedly, unreservedly to the +ecstasy of loving. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis and Perigal were to be quietly married by special licence in +London, in five weeks' time, which would be in the early days of +September. Perigal urged Mavis not to speak to anyone of the wedding, +saying, as a reason for this silence, that his father had not yet quite +decided upon giving him the money he wanted, and the news of the +engagement and early marriage might cause him to harden his heart. The +honeymoon was to be spent in the retirement of Polperro, a Cornish +village, the beauty and seclusion of which Perigal never tired of +describing. As far as they could both see at present, Mavis was to keep +on with her work at the office (the honeymoon was to consist of her +fortnight's annual holiday), till such time as he could prepare a home +for her in Wales. Although not welcoming, she did not offer the least +objection to this arrangement, as she saw that it was all that could be +done under their present circumstances. She wrote out and placed over +her bed a list of dates, which culminated in the day on which she was +to throw in her lot with the loved one; every day, as soon as she +awoke, she crossed off one more of the slowly dwindling days. Nearly +every Saturday she took the train to Bathminster, where she spent a +considerable fraction of the forty pounds she had saved in buying a +humble equivalent for a trousseau. +</P> + +<P> +As boxes and parcels of clothes began to arrive at her lodgings, she +would try on the most attractive of these, the while her eyes shone +with happiness. Those with whom she was commonly brought in contact +noticed the change in her demeanour. Mrs Farthing smiled mysteriously, +as if guessing the cause. Miss Hunter made many unsuccessful efforts to +worm confidences from Mavis; while plain Miss Toombs showed her +displeasure of the alteration that had occurred in her by scarcely ever +addressing her, and then only when compelled. +</P> + +<P> +"You look like a bride," she remarked one day, when Mavis was glowing +with happiness. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis saw something of Perigal pretty well every day. Sometimes, they +would meet quite early of a morning by the canal; if they did not see +each other then, they made a point of getting a few minutes together of +an evening, usually by the river. So that no hint of their intentions +should reach Major Perigal, the lovers met furtively, a proceeding +which enhanced the charm of their intercourse. +</P> + +<P> +At all times, Mavis was moved by an abiding concern for his health. +There was much of the maternal in her love, leading her frequently to +ask if his linen were properly aired and if he were careful to avoid +getting damp feet; she also made him solemnly promise to tell her +immediately if he were not feeling in the best of health. Mavis, with a +great delight, could not help noticing the change that had taken place +in her lover ever since their betrothal. He, too, was conscious of the +difference, and was fond of talking about it. +</P> + +<P> +"I never thought I'd grow young again!" he would remark. +</P> + +<P> +"What about second childhood?" laughed the irrepressible Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Seriously, I didn't. I always felt so old. And it's little Mavis who +has done it all." +</P> + +<P> +"Really, sweetheart?" +</P> + +<P> +"All, dear." +</P> + +<P> +She rewarded him with a glance of love and tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +He went on: +</P> + +<P> +"The past is all over and done with. I made a fresh start from the day +you promised to throw in your exquisite self with me." +</P> + +<P> +Thus he would talk, expressing, at the same time, boundless confidence +in the future, forgetful or ignorant of what has been well said, "That +the future is only entering the past by another gate." +</P> + +<P> +One evening, when he had made bitter reference to the life that he had +led, before he had again met with her, she asked: +</P> + +<P> +"What is this dreadful past you're always regretting so keenly?" +</P> + +<P> +"You surely don't want to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't I a right to?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Not that it's so very terrible. Far from it, it isn't. There's an +awful sameness about it. The pleasure of to day is the boredom of +tomorrow. It all spells inherent incapacity to succeed in either good +or evil." +</P> + +<P> +"Good or evil?" she queried. +</P> + +<P> +"It's going to be good now, since I've little Mavis and her glorious +hair to live for." +</P> + +<P> +One evening, he brought a brick to show her, which was a sample of +those he intended manufacturing, should he get the assistance he now +daily expected from his father. She looked at it curiously, fondly, as +if it might prove the foundation stone of the beloved one's prosperity; +a little later, she begged it of him. She took it home, to wrap it +carefully in one of her silk handkerchiefs and put it away in her +trunk. From time to time, she would take the brick out, to have it +about her when she was at her lodgings. She also took an acute interest +in bricks that were either built into houses, or heaped upon the +roadside. She was proudly convinced there were no bricks that could +compare with the one she prized for finish or durability. Perigal was +much diverted and, perhaps, touched by her interest in his possible +source of success. +</P> + +<P> +The clamourings of Mavis' ardent nature had been so long repressed, +that the disturbing influences of her passion for Perigal were more +than sufficient to loose her pent up instincts. Her lover's kisses +proved such a disturbing factor, that, one evening when he had been +unusually appreciative of her lips, she had not slept, having lain +awake, trembling, till it was time for her to get up. For the future, +she deemed it prudent to allow one kiss at meeting, and a further one +at parting. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal protested against this arrangement, when he would say: +</P> + +<P> +"I love to kiss you, little Mavis, because then such a wistful, faraway +look comes into your eyes, which is one of the most wonderful things +I've seen." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, with an effort, resisted Perigal's entreaties. +</P> + +<P> +One August evening, when it was late enough for her to be conscious +that the nights were drawing in, she was returning from a happy hour +spent with her lover. It now wanted but a week to their marriage; their +hearts were delirious with happiness. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you miss all the bridesmaids and all the usual thing-uma-jigs of +a wedding?" he had asked her. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, darling?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite. I only want one thing. So long as I get that, nothing else can +possibly matter." +</P> + +<P> +"And that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You," she had replied, at which Perigal had said after a moment or two +of silence: +</P> + +<P> +"I will, I really will do all I know to make my treasure of a little +Mavis happy." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was walking home with a light step and a lighter heart: more than +one red-cheeked, stolid, Wiltshire man and woman turned to look after +the trimly-built, winsome girl, who radiated distinction and happiness +as she walked. +</P> + +<P> +A familiar voice sounded in Mavis's ear. "At last," it said heartfully. +</P> + +<P> +She turned, to see Windebank standing before her, a Windebank stalwart +as ever, with his face burned to the colour of brick red, but looking +older and thinner than when she had last seen him. Mavis' heart sank. +</P> + +<P> +"At last," he repeated. He looked as if he would say more, but he did +not speak. She wondered if he were moved at seeing her again. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, not knowing what to say, put out her hand, which he clasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course." +</P> + +<P> +"And you're not going to run away again?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean as you did before, into the fog!" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no fog to run into," she remarked feebly. +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis! Little Mavis! I'd no idea you could look so well and +wonderful as you do." +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't we better walk? People are staring at us already." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't see you so well walking," he complained. +</P> + +<P> +They strolled along; as they walked, Windebank half turned, so that his +eyes never left her face. +</P> + +<P> +"What a beautiful girl you are!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't say that." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's true. And to think of you working for that outsider Devitt!" +</P> + +<P> +"He means well. And I've been very happy there." +</P> + +<P> +"You won't be there much longer! Do you know why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me about yourself," she said evasively, as she wondered if +talking to Windebank were unfair to Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember this?" he asked, as he brought out a crumpled letter +for her inspection. +</P> + +<P> +"It's my writing!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the foolish, dear letter you wrote to me." +</P> + +<P> +She took it, to recall the dreary day at Mrs Bilkins's on which she had +penned the lines to Windebank, in which she had refused to hamper his +career by acceding to his request. +</P> + +<P> +"Give it back," he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't want it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't I! A girl who can write a letter like that to a chap isn't +easily forgotten, I can tell you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not reply. Windebank, seeing how she was embarrassed, told +her of his more recent doings; how, after getting Perigal's letter, he +had set out for England as soon as he could start; how he had saved +three days by taking the overland route from Brindisi (such was his +anxiety to see his little Mavis, who had never been wholly out of his +thoughts), to arrive home before he was expected. +</P> + +<P> +"I had an early feed and came out hoping to see you," he concluded. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not speak. She was deliberating if she should tell Windebank +of her approaching marriage; if he cared seriously for her, it was only +fair that he should know her affections were bestowed. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, but—" +</P> + +<P> +"There are no 'buts.' You're coming home with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Home!" +</P> + +<P> +"To meet my people again. They're just back from Switzerland. It isn't +your home—yet." +</P> + +<P> +This decided her. She told him, first enjoining him to silence. To her +relief, also to her surprise, he took it very calmly. His face went a +shade whiter beneath his sun-tanned skin; he stood a trifle more erect +than before; and that was all. +</P> + +<P> +"I congratulate you," he said. "But I congratulate him a jolly sight +more. Who is he?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"You can tell me. It won't go any further." +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie Perigal." +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie Perigal?" he asked in some surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" she asked, with a note of defiance in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"But he's upside down with his father, and has been for a long time." +</P> + +<P> +"What of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to live on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie is going to work." +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie work!" The words slipped out before he could stop them. "Of +course, I'd forgotten that," he added. +</P> + +<P> +"You're like a lot of other people, who can't say a good word for him, +because they're jealous of him," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +He did not reply for a moment; when he did, it was to say very gravely: +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally I am very, very jealous; it would be strange if it were +otherwise. I wish you every happiness from the bottom of my heart." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," replied Mavis, mollified. +</P> + +<P> +"And God bless you." +</P> + +<P> +He took off his cap and left her. Mavis watched his tall form turn the +corner with a sad little feeling at her heart. But love is a selfish +passion, and when Mavis awoke three mornings later, when it wanted four +days to her marriage, she would have forgotten Windebank's existence, +but for the fact of his having sent her a costly, gold-mounted +dressing-case. This had arrived the previous evening, at the same time +as the frock that she proposed wearing at her wedding had come from +Bathminster. She looked once more at the dressing-case with its +sumptuous fittings, to turn to the wrappings enclosing her simple +wedding gown. She took it out reverently, tenderly, to kiss it before +locking the door and trying it on again. With quick, loving hands she +fastened it about her; she then looked at the reflection of her +adorable figure in the glass. +</P> + +<P> +"Will he like me in it? Do you think he will love me in it?" she asked +Jill, who, blinking her brown eyes, was scarcely awake. She then took +Jill in her arms to murmur: +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever happens, darling, I shall always love you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was sick with happiness; she wondered what she had done to get so +much allotted to her. All her struggles to earn a living in London, the +insults to which she had been subjected, the disquiet that had troubled +her mind throughout the spring, were all as forgotten as if they had +never been. There was not a cloud upon the horizon of her joy. +</P> + +<P> +As if to grasp her present ecstasy with both hands, she, with no +inconsiderable effort, recalled all the more unhappy incidents in her +life, to make believe that she was still enduring these, and that there +was no prospect of escape from their defiling recurrence. She then fell +to imagining how envious she would be were she acquainted with a happy +Mavis Keeves who, in three days' time, was to belong, for all time, to +the man of her choice. +</P> + +<P> +It was with inexpressible joy that she presently permitted herself to +realise that it was none other than she upon whom this great gift of +happiness unspeakable had been bestowed. The rapture born of this +blissful realisation impelled her to seek expression in words. +</P> + +<P> +"Life is great and noble," she cried; "but love is greater." +</P> + +<P> +Every nerve in her body vibrated with ecstasy. And in four days— +</P> + +<P> +Two letters, thrust beneath her door by Mrs Farthing, recalled her to +the trivialities of everyday life. She picked them up, to see that one +was in the well-known writing of the man she loved; the other, a +strange, unfamiliar scrawl, which bore the Melkbridge postmark. Eager +to open her lover's letter, yet resolved to delay its perusal, so that +she could look forward to the delight of reading it (Mavis was already +something of an epicure in emotion), she tore open the other, to +decipher its contents with difficulty. She read as follows:— +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"SHAW HOUSE, MELKBRIDGE. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"MADAM,—My son has told me of his intentions with regard to yourself. +This is to tell you that, if you persist in them, I shall withdraw the +assistance I was on the point of furnishing in order to give him a new +start in life. It rests with you whether I do my utmost to make or mar +his future. For reasons I do not care to give, and which you may one +day appreciate, I do what may seem to your unripe intelligence a +meaningless act of cruelty.—I remain, dear Madam, Your obedient +servant, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"JOHN VEZEY PERIGAL." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The sun went out of Mavis' heaven; the gorgeous hues faded from her +life. She felt as if the ground were cut from under her feet, and she +was falling, falling, falling she knew not where. To save herself, she +seized and opened Perigal's letter. +</P> + +<P> +This told her that he knew the contents of his father's note; that he +was still eager to wed her as arranged; that they must meet by the +river in the evening, when they could further discuss the situation +which had arisen. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sank helplessly on her bed: she felt as if her heart had been +struck a merciless blow. She was a little consoled by Perigal's letter, +but, in her heart of hearts, something told her that, despite his brave +words, the marriage was indefinitely postponed; indeed, it was more +than doubtful if it would ever take place at all. She suffered, dumbly, +despairingly; her torments were the more poignant because she realised +that the man she loved beyond anything in the world must be acutely +distressed at this unexpected confounding of his hopes. Her head +throbbed with dull pains which gradually increased in intensity; these, +at last, became so violent that she wondered if it were going to burst. +She felt the need of action, of doing anything that might momentarily +ease her mind of the torments afflicting it. Her wedding frock +attracted her attention. Mavis, with a lump in her throat, took off and +folded this, and put it out of sight in a trunk; then, with red eyes +and face the colour of lead, she flung on her work-a-day clothes, to +walk mechanically to the office. The whole day she tried to come to +terms with the calamity that had so suddenly befallen her; a heavy, +persistent pressure on the top of her head mercifully dulled her +perceptions; but at the back of her mind a resolution was momentarily +gaining strength—a resolution that was to the effect that it was her +duty to the man she loved to insist upon his falling in with his +father's wishes. It gave her a certain dim pleasure to think that her +suffering meant that, some day, Perigal would be grateful to her for +her abnegation of self. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal, looking middle-aged and careworn, was impatiently awaiting her +arrival by the river. Her heart ached to see his altered appearance. +</P> + +<P> +"My Mavis!" he cried, as he took her hand. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to speak, but a little sob caught in her throat. They walked +for some moments in silence. +</P> + +<P> +"I told him all about it; I thought it better," said Perigal presently. +"But I never thought he'd cut up rough." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there any chance of his changing his mind?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not the remotest. If he once gets a thing into his head, as he has +this, nothing on earth will move him." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't let it make any difference to you," she declared. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"That nothing, nothing will persuade me to marry you on Thursday." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it. I have made up my mind." +</P> + +<P> +"But I've set my mind on it, darling." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm doing it for your good." +</P> + +<P> +He argued, threatened, cajoled, pleaded for the best part of two hours, +but nothing would shake her resolution. To all of his arguments, she +would reply in a tone admitting no doubt of the unalterable nature of +her determination: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm doing it for your good, beloved." +</P> + +<P> +Shadows grew apace; light clouds laced the west; a hush was in the air, +as if trees, bushes, and flowers were listening intently for a message +which had evaded them all the day. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal's distress wrung Mavis' heart. +</P> + +<P> +"I can bear it no longer," she presently cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Bear what, sweetheart?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your pain. My heart isn't made of stone. I almost wish it were. +Listen. You want me?" +</P> + +<P> +"What a question!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you shall have me." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her quickly. She went on: +</P> + +<P> +"We will not get married. But I give you myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Mavis!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I give you myself." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal was silent for some minutes; he was, evidently, in deep +thought. When he spoke, it was to say with deliberation: +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, little Mavis. I may be bad; but I'm not up to that form—not +yet." +</P> + +<P> +"I love you all the more for saying that," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Since I can't move you, I'll go to Wales tomorrow," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Then that means—" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait, wait, little Mavis; wait and hope." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall never love anyone else." +</P> + +<P> +"Not even Windebank?" +</P> + +<P> +She cried out in agony of spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, darling," he said. "I will keep faithful too." +</P> + +<P> +They walked for some moments in silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Do one thing for me," pleaded Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"And that?" +</P> + +<P> +"We are near my nook—at least I call it that. Let us sit there for +just three minutes and think Thursday was—was going to be our—" She +could not trust her voice to complete the sentence. +</P> + +<P> +"If you wish it." +</P> + +<P> +"Only—" +</P> + +<P> +"Only what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Promise—promise you won't kiss me." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not myself. Promise." +</P> + +<P> +He promised. They repaired to Mavis' nook, where they sat in silence, +while night enwrapped them in gloom. Instinctively, their hands +clasped. Mavis had realised that she was with her lover perhaps for the +last time. She wished to snatch a moment of counterfeit joy by +believing that the immense happiness which had been hers was to +continue indefinitely. But her imaginative effort was a dismal failure. +Her mind was a blank with the promise of unending pain in the +background. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal felt the pressure of Mavis's hand instinctively tighten on his; +it gripped as if she could never let him go: tears fell from her eyes +on to his fingers. With an effort he freed himself and, without saying +a word, walked quickly away. With all her soul, she listened to his +retreating steps. It seemed as if her life were departing, leaving +behind the cold shell of the Mavis she knew, who was now dead to +everything but pain. His consideration for her helplessness illumined +her suffering. The next moment, she was on her knees, her heart welling +with love, gratitude, concern for the man who had left her. +</P> + +<P> +"Bless him! Bless him, oh God! He's good; he's good; he's good! He's +proved it to a poor, weak girl like me!" +</P> + +<P> +Thus she prayed, all unconscious that Perigal's consideration in +leaving her was the high-water mark of his regard for her welfare. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +O LOVE, FOR DELIGHTS! +</H3> + +<P> +"Beloved!" +</P> + +<P> +"My own!" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you ready to start?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see if they've packed the luncheon." +</P> + +<P> +"One moment. Where are we going today?" +</P> + +<P> +"Llansallas; three miles from here." +</P> + +<P> +"What's it like?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The loveliest place they knew of." +</P> + +<P> +"How wonderful! And we'll have the whole day there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only you and I," he said softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Be quick. Don't lose a moment, sweetheart. I dislike being alone—now." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis dropped her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Adorable, modest little Mavis," he laughed. "I'll see about the grub." +</P> + +<P> +"You've forgotten something," she pouted, as he moved towards the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Your kiss!" +</P> + +<P> +"Our kiss." +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't really. I wanted to see if you'd remember." +</P> + +<P> +"As if I'd forget," she protested. +</P> + +<P> +Their lips met; not once, but many times; they seemed reluctant to part. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Mavis was alone. She had spoken truly when she had hinted how she was +averse to the company of her own thoughts. It was then that clouds +seemed disposed to threaten the sun of her joy. +</P> + +<P> +She went to the window of the hotel sitting-room, which overlooked the +narrow road leading to Polperro village; beyond the cottages opposite +was bare rock, which had been blasted to find room for stone +habitations; above the naked stone was blue sky. Mavis tried to think +about the sky in order to exclude a certain weighty matter from her +mind. She had been five days in Cornwall, four of which had been spent +with Perigal in Polperro. Mavis did her best to concentrate her +thoughts upon the cerulean hue of the heavens; she wondered why it +could not faithfully be matched in dress material owing to the peculiar +quality of light in the colour of the sky. It was just another such a +blue, so she thought, as she had seen on the morning of what was to +have been her wedding day, when, heavy-eyed and life-weary, she had +crept to the window of her room; then the gladness of the day appeared +so indifferent to her sorrow that she had raged hopelessly, helplessly, +at the ill fortune which had over-ridden her. This paroxysm of +rebellion had left her physically inert, but mentally active. She had +surveyed her life calmly, dispassionately, when it seemed that she had +been deprived by cruel circumstance of parents, social position, +friends, money, love: everything which had been her due. She had been +convinced that she was treated with brutal injustice. The joyous +singing of birds outside her window, the majestic climbing of the sun +in the heavens maddened her. Her spirit had been aroused: she had +wondered what she could do to defy fate to do its worst. The morning's +post had brought a letter from Perigal, the envelope of which bore the +Polperro postmark. This had told her that the despairing writer had +gone to the place of their prospective honeymoon, where the contrast +between his present agony of soul and the promised happiness, on which +he had set so much store, was such, that if he did not immediately hear +from Mavis, he was in danger of taking his life. There had been more to +the same effect. Immediately, all thought of self had been forgotten; +she had hurried out to send a telegram to Perigal, telling him to +expect a surprise to-day. +</P> + +<P> +She had confided her dear Jill to Mrs Farthing's care. After telling +her wondering landlady that she would not be away for more than one +night, she had hurried (with a few belongings) to the station, +ultimately to get out at Liskeard, where she had to take the local +railway to Looe, from which an omnibus would carry her to Polperro. +Perigal had met her train at Liskeard, her telegram having led him to +expect her. +</P> + +<P> +He was greatly excited and made such ardent love to her that, upon her +arrival at Looe, she already regretted her journey and had purposed +returning by the next train. But there was nothing to take her back +before morning; against her wishes, she had been constrained to spend +the night at Looe. +</P> + +<P> +Here Perigal insisted on staying also. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, as she looked back on the last four days, and all that had +happened therein, could not blame herself. She now loved Perigal more +than she had ever believed it possible for woman to love man; she +belonged to him body and soul; she was all love, consequently she had +no room in her being for vain regrets. +</P> + +<P> +When she was alone, as now, her pride was irked at the fact of her not +being a bride; she believed that the tenacious way in which she had +husbanded her affections gave her every right to expect the privilege +of wifehood. It was, also, then she realised that her very life +depended upon the continuance of Perigal's love: she had no doubt that +he would marry her with as little delay as possible. Otherwise, the +past was forgotten, the future ignored: she wholly surrendered herself +to her new-born ecstasy begotten of her surrender. He was the world, +and nothing else mattered. So far as she was concerned, their love for +each other was the beginning, be-all, and end of earthly things. +</P> + +<P> +It was a matter of complete indifference to her that she was living at +Polperro with her lover as Mrs and Mr Ward. +</P> + +<P> +It may, perhaps, be wondered why a girl of Mavis's moral +susceptibilities could be so indifferent to her habit of thought as to +find such unalloyed rapture in a union unsanctified by church and +unprotected by law. The truth is that women, as a sex, quickly +accommodate themselves to such a situation as that in which Mavis found +herself, and very rarely suffer the pangs of remorse which are placed +to their credit by imaginative purists. The explanation may be that +women live closer to nature than men; that they set more store on +sentiment and passion than those of the opposite sex; also, perhaps, +because they instinctively rebel against a male-manufactured morality +to which women have to subscribe, largely for the benefit of men whose +observance of moral law is more "honoured in the breach than in the +observance." Indeed, it may be regarded as axiomatic that with nine +hundred and ninety-nine women out of a thousand the act of bestowing +themselves on the man they love is looked upon by them as the merest +incident in their lives. The thousandth, the exception, to whom, like +Mavis, such a surrender is a matter of supreme moment, only suffers +tortures of remorse when threatened by the loss of the man's love or by +other inconvenient but natural consequences of sexual temerity. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was recalled to the immediate present by an arm stealing about +her neck; she thrilled at the touch of the man who had entered the room +unobserved; her lips sought his. +</P> + +<P> +"Ready, darling?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"If you are." +</P> + +<P> +She caught up her sunbonnet, which had been thrown on one side, to hand +it to him. +</P> + +<P> +"You put it on me," she said. +</P> + +<P> +When he had expended several unnecessary moments in adjusting the +bonnet, they made as if they would start. +</P> + +<P> +"Got everything you want?" he asked, looking round the room. +</P> + +<P> +"I think so. Take my sunshade." +</P> + +<P> +"Right o'." +</P> + +<P> +"My gloves." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"My handkerchief." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got it." +</P> + +<P> +"Now kiss me." +</P> + +<P> +His all too eager lips met on hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we can start," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +She stood on the steps of the little hotel, while Perigal grasped a +luncheon basket. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick march!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait one moment. I so love the sunlight," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Little pagan!" +</P> + +<P> +She stood silent, while the rays of the September sun warmly caressed +her face and neck. +</P> + +<P> +She looked about her, to see that the sky was on all sides a faultless +blue, with every prospect of its continuance. +</P> + +<P> +"One of the rare days I love," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +She shut her eyes to appreciate further the sun's warmth. +</P> + +<P> +"If it were only like this all the year round," she thought. +</P> + +<P> +"This is going to be all my day," she said to Perigal, who was +impatiently awaiting her. "I want to enjoy every moment of it for all I +am worth." +</P> + +<P> +They turned to the left, walking up the road to the hamlet of +Crumplehorn; when they reached the mill, worked by the stream which +crosses the road, they turned sharp to the left and continued to +ascend. Their progress was accompanied by the music of moving water, +the singing of larks. When they emerged on the Fowey road, they caught +frequent glimpses of the sea, which they lost as they approached +Llansallas. Arrived at this tiny, forgotten village, there was not a +sign of the sea, although Perigal had been told at the inn that he +would find it here. He asked the way, to be directed to a corner of the +churchyard from which a track led to the shore. To their surprise, this +path proved to be a partially dry watercourse which, as it wound in a +downward direction, was presently quite shut in by an overgrowth of +bushes. Mavis, sorry to lose the sunlight, if only for a few minutes, +was yet pleased at exploring this mysterious waterway. Now and again, +where the water had collected in wide pools, she had, with Perigal's +assistance, to make use of stepping stones, to espy which was often +difficult. They picked their way down and down for quite a long time, +till Mavis began to wonder if they would ever discover an outlet. When, +at last, the passage was seen to emerge into a blaze of sunlight, they +ran like children to see who would be out first. In a few moments they +were blinking their eyes to accustom these to the sudden sunlight. It +was hard to believe that the sun had been shining while their way had +been steeped in gloom. When they were shortly able to look about them, +they glanced at one another, to see if the spot they reached had made +anything of an impression. There was occasion for surprise. The lovers +were now in an all but land-locked stretch of water, shut in by tall +rocks or high ground. Before the water of the inlet could reach the +sea, it would have to pass sheer, sentinel rocks which seemed to guard +jealously the bay's seclusion. +</P> + +<P> +From several places very high up in the ground on either side of them, +water gushed out in continuous currents, making music the while, +presently to merge by divers channels into a stream which straggled +down to the sea. The surface of this stream was covered with +watercress: this was green where the water was fresh, a bright yellow +as far as the salt tide had prevailed. Between where they stood and the +distressed waters of the bay was a stretch of yellow sand. A little to +their right was a dismantled, tumble-down cottage, which served to +emphasise the romantic remoteness of the place. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it—isn't it exquisite?" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It might have been made for us," Perigal remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"It was. Say it was." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it was. Let me make my darling comfortable. She must be +tired after her walk." +</P> + +<P> +"She isn't a bit—but—" +</P> + +<P> +"But what, sweetheart?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a long time since she had a kiss." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal insisted upon making Mavis comfortable, with her back to a +conveniently situated hummock of earth. He lit a cigarette, to pass it +on to her before lighting one for himself. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis lay back with the cigarette between her red lips, the while her +eyes lazily took in the strange loveliness about her. The joy that +burned so fiercely in her heart seemed to have been communicated to the +world. Sea, cliff, waterfalls were all resplendent in the bountiful +sunlight. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not real: it's not real," she presently murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"What isn't real?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"This: you: love." +</P> + +<P> +He reassured her with kisses. +</P> + +<P> +"If it would only go on for ever!" she continued. "I'm so hungry for +happiness." +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't it?" he laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Will it be just the same when we're married?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! Of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"So long as you don't change," he declared. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed scornfully, while he sauntered down to the sea, cigarette +in mouth. Mavis settled herself luxuriously to watch the adored one +through lazy, half-closed eyelids. He had previously thrown away his +straw hat; she saw how the wind wantoned in his light curls. All her +love seemed to well up into her throat. She would have called to him, +but her tongue refused speech; she was sick with love; she wondered if +she would ever recover. As he idled back, her eyes were riveted on his +face. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up with little Mavis?" he asked carelessly, as he reached her +side. +</P> + +<P> +"I love you—I love you—I love you!" she whispered faintly. +</P> + +<P> +He threw himself beside her to exclaim: +</P> + +<P> +"You look done. Is it the heat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Love—love for you," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +He kissed her neck, first lifting the soft hair behind her ear. Her +head rested helplessly on his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see about luncheon when little Mavis will let me," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't fidget: I want to talk." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll listen, provided you only talk about love." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I wanted to talk about." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" +</P> + +<P> +"No one's ever loved as we do?" she asked anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"No one." +</P> + +<P> +"Or ever will?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure too. And nothing's ever—ever going to change it." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. What could?" +</P> + +<P> +"I love you. Oh, how I love you!" she whispered, as she nestled closer +to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe I love you?" he asked hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +"Prove it." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"By kissing my eyes." +</P> + +<P> +As they sat, her arms stole about him; she wished that they were +stronger, so that she could press him closer to her heart. Presently, +he unpacked the luncheon basket, spread the cloth, and insisted on +making all the preparations for their midday meal. She watched him cut +up the cold chicken, uncork the claret, mix the salad—this last an +elaborate process. +</P> + +<P> +"It's delicious," she remarked, when she tasted his concoction. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all I'm good for, Tommy rotten things of no real use to anyone." +</P> + +<P> +"But it is of use. It's added to the enjoyment of my lunch." +</P> + +<P> +"But there's no money in it: that's what I should have said." +</P> + +<P> +He filled her glass and his with claret. Before either of them drank, +they touched each other's glasses. +</P> + +<P> +"Suggest a toast!" said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Love," replied Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Our love," corrected Mavis, as she gave him a glance rich with meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"Our love, then: the most beautiful thing in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"Which, unlike everything else, never dies," she declared. +</P> + +<P> +They drank. Mavis presently put down her knife and fork, to take +Perigal's and feed him with tid-bits from her or his plate. She would +not allow him to eat of anything without her sanction; she stuffed him +as the dictates of her fancy suggested. Then she mixed great black +berries with the Cornish cream. When they had eaten their fill, she lit +a cigarette, while her lover ate cheese. When he had finished, he sat +quite close to her as he smoked. Mavis abandoned herself to the +enjoyment of her cigarette; supported by her lover's arm, she looked +lazily at the wild beauty spread so bountifully about her. The sun, the +sea, the sky, the cliff, the day all seemed an appropriate setting to +the love which warmed her body. The man at her side possessed her +thoughts to the exclusion of all else; she threw away her half-smoked +cigarette to look at him with soft, tremulous eyes. Suddenly, she put +an arm about his neck and bent his face back, which accomplished, she +leant over him to kiss his hair, eyes, neck, and mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"I love you! I love you! I love you!" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"You're wonderful, little Mavis—wonderful." +</P> + +<P> +Her kisses intoxicated him. He closed his eyes and slept softly. She +pulled him towards her, so that his head was pillowed on her heart; +then, feeling blissfully, ecstatically happy, she closed her eyes and +turned her head so that the sunlight beat full on her face. She lost +all sense of surroundings and must have slept for quite two hours. When +she awoke, the sun was low in the heavens. She shivered slightly with +cold, and was delighted to see the kettle boiling for tea on a +spirit-lamp, which Perigal had lit in the shelter of the luncheon +basket. +</P> + +<P> +"How thoughtful of my darling!" she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"It's just boiling. I won't keep you a moment longer than I can help." +</P> + +<P> +She sipped her tea, to feel greatly refreshed with her sleep. They ate +heartily at this meal. They were both so radiantly happy that they +laughed whenever there was either the scantiest opportunity or none at +all. The most trivial circumstance delighted them; sea and sky seemed +to reflect their boundless happiness. The sea had, by now, crept quite +close to them: they amused themselves by watching the myriads of +sand-flies which were disturbed by every advancing wave. +</P> + +<P> +"We must soon be thinking of jacking up," said Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely not yet, dearest." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's past six." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't let us go a moment sooner than is necessary," she pleaded. "It's +all been too wonderful." +</P> + +<P> +As the September sun had sunk behind the cliffs, they no longer felt +his warmth. When Perigal had packed the luncheon basket, they walked +about hand in hand, exploring the inmost recesses of their romantic +retreat. It was only when it was quite dusk that they regretfully made +a start for home. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on a moment. I must take a last look of where I have been so +happy," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't mind. I want to see what it's like without you. I want to +carry it in my mind all my life." +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before Mavis rejoined her lover. When she had looked at +the spot where she had enjoyed a day of unalloyed rapture, it appeared +strangely desolate in the gathering gloom of night. +</P> + +<P> +"Serve you right for wishing to be without me," he laughed, when she +told him how the place had presented itself to her. +</P> + +<P> +"You're quite right. It does," she assented. +</P> + +<P> +They had some difficulty in finding foothold on the covered way, but +Perigal, by lighting matches, did much to dissipate the gloom. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it too bad of me?" asked Mavis suddenly, "I've forgotten all +about dear Jill." +</P> + +<P> +"But you were talking about her a lot yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean to-day. She'd never forgive me if she knew." +</P> + +<P> +"You must explain how happy you've been when you see her." +</P> + +<P> +When they got out by the churchyard, they found that the night was +spread with innumerable stars. She nestled close to his side as they +walked in the direction of Polperro. Now and again, a thick growth of +hedge flowers would fill their pathway with scent, when Mavis would +stop to drink her fill of the fragrance. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it delicious?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It knew you were coming and has done its best to greet you." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all too wonderful," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Like your good-night kisses," he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +A love tremor possessed her body. +</P> + +<P> +"Say I love you," she said at another of their frequent halts. +</P> + +<P> +"I love you! I love you! I love you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I love music. But there's no music like that." +</P> + +<P> +He placed his arm caressingly about her soft, warm body. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" she pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" he queried in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"It makes me love you so." +</P> + +<P> +She spoke truly: from her lips to her pretty toes her body was burning +with love. Her ecstasy was such that one moment she felt as if she +could wing a flight into the heavens; at another, she was faint with +love-sickness, when she clung tremulously to her lover for support. +</P> + +<P> +Above, the stars shone out with a yet greater brilliance and in immense +profusion. Now and again, a shooting star would dart swiftly down to go +out suddenly. The multitude of many coloured stars dazzled her brain. +It seemed to her love-intoxicated imagination as if night embraced the +earth, even as Perigal held her body to his, and that the stars were an +illumination and were twinkling so happily in honour of the double +union. For all the splendid egotism born of human passion, the immense +intercourse of night and earth seemed to reduce her to insignificance. +She crept closer to Perigal's side, as if he could give her the +protection she needed. He too, perhaps, was touched with the same +lowliness, and the same hunger for the support of loving sympathy. His +hand sought hers; and with a great wonder, a great love and a great +humility in their hearts, they walked home. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CURSE OF EVE +</H3> + +<P> +A little one was journeying to Mavis. A great fear, not unmixed with a +radiant wonder, filled her being. It was now three months since her +joyous stay with Perigal at Polperro. At the expiration of an +all-too-brief fortnight, she had gone back, dazed, intoxicated with +passion, to her humdrum work at the Melkbridge boot factory; while +Perigal, provided by his father with the sinews of war, had departed +for Wales, there to lay siege to elusive fortune. During this time, +Mavis had seen him once or twice, when he had paid hurried visits to +Melkbridge, and had heard from him often. Although his letters made +copious reference to the never-to-be-forgotten joys they had +experienced at Polperro, she scanned them anxiously, and in vain, for +any reference to his marrying her now, or later. The omission caused +her many painful hours; she realised more and more that, after the +all-important part she had suffered him to play in her life, it would +not be meet for her to permit any other man to be on terms other than +friendship with her. It was brought home to her, and with no uncertain +voice, how, in surrendering herself to her lover, she was no longer his +adored Mavis, but nothing more nor less than his "thing," who was +wholly, completely in his power, to make or mar as he pleased. +</P> + +<P> +During these three months, she had seen or heard nothing of Windebank, +so concluded that he was away. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +She was much perturbed with wondering what she should do with the +sumptuous dressing-case he had given her for a wedding present. +</P> + +<P> +Directly there was no longer room for doubt that her union with Perigal +would, in the fulness of time, bear fruit, she wrote telling him her +news, and begging him to see her with as little delay as possible. In +reply, she received a telegram, curtly telling her to be outside +Dippenham station on Saturday afternoon at four. +</P> + +<P> +This was on a Wednesday. Mavis's anxiety to hear from Perigal was such +that her troubled blood set up a raging abscess in the root of a tooth +that was scarcely sound. The least movement increased her torments; but +what troubled her even more than the pain, was that, when the latter +began to subside, one of her cheeks commenced to swell. She was anxious +to look her very best before her lover: her lopsided face gave her a +serio-comic expression. The swelling had diminished a little before she +set out on the bleak December afternoon to meet her lover. Before she +went, she looked long and anxiously in the glass. Apart from the +disfigurement caused by the swelling, she saw (yet strove to conceal +from herself) that her condition was already interfering with her +fresh, young comeliness: her eyes were drawn; her features wore a +tense, tired expression. As she looked out of the carriage window on +her train journey to Dippenham, the gloom inspired by the darkening +shadows of the day, the dreariness of the bleak landscape, chilled her +to the heart. She comforted herself by reflecting with what eager +cheerfulness Perigal would greet her; how delighted he would be at +receiving from her lips further confirmation of her news; how loyally +he would fulfil his many promises by making the earliest arrangements +for their marriage. Arrived at her destination, she learned she would +have to wait twelve minutes till the train arrived that would bring her +lover from Wales. She did not stay in the comparative comfort of the +waiting-room, but, despite the pain that movement still gave her, +preferred to wander in the streets of the dull, quaint town till his +train was due. A thousand doubts assailed her mind: perhaps he would +not come, or would be angry with her, or would meet with an accident +upon the way. Her mind travelled quickly, and her body felt the need of +keeping pace with the rapidity of her thoughts. She walked with sharp, +nervous steps down the road leading from the station, to be pulled up +by the insistent pain in her head. She returned so carefully that +Perigal's train was steaming into the station as she reached the +booking office. She walked over the bridge to get to his platform, to +be stopped for a few moments by the rush, roar, and violence of a West +of England express, passing immediately under where she stood. The +disturbance of the passing train stunned and then jarred her +overwrought nerves, causing the pain in her face to get suddenly worse. +As she met those who had got out of the train Perigal would come by, +she wondered if he would so much as notice the disfigurement of her +face. For her part, if he came to her one-armed and blind, it would +make no difference to her; indeed, she would love him the more. Perigal +stepped from the door of a first class compartment, seemingly having +been aroused from sleep by a porter; he carried a bag. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis noticed, with a great concern, how careworn he was looking—a +great concern, because, directly she set eyes on him, she realised the +immensity of her love for him. At that moment she loved him more than +she had ever done before; he was not only her lover, to whom she had +surrendered herself body and soul, but also the father of her unborn +little one. Faintness threatened her; she clung to the handle of a +weighing machine for support. +</P> + +<P> +"More trouble!" he remarked, as he reached her. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him with frightened eyes, finding it hard to believe the +evidence of her ears. +</P> + +<P> +"W-what?" she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +"Heavens!" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter, dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"What have you done to your face?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I hoped you wouldn't notice. I've had an abscess." +</P> + +<P> +"Notice it! Haven't you looked in the glass?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis bit her lip. +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't have thought you could look so—look like that," he +continued. +</P> + +<P> +"What trouble did you mean?" she found words to ask. +</P> + +<P> +"This. Why you sent for me." +</P> + +<P> +She felt as if he had stabbed her. She stopped, overwhelmed by the blow +that the man she loved so whole-heartedly had struck her. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing—only—" +</P> + +<P> +"Only what?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't seem at all glad to see me." +</P> + +<P> +She spoke as if pained at and resentful of his coldness. He looked at +her, to watch the suffering in her eyes crystallise into a defiant +hardness. +</P> + +<P> +"I am, no end. But I'm tired and cold. Wait till we've had something to +eat," he said kindly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis melted. Her love for him was such that she found it no easy +matter being angry with him. +</P> + +<P> +"How selfish of me! I ought to have known," she remarked. "Let someone +take your bag." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know where I'm going to stop. I'll leave it at the station for +the present." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you going home?" she asked in some surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll talk over everything when I've got warm." +</P> + +<P> +She waited while he left his bag in the cloak-room. When he joined her, +they walked along the street leading from the station. +</P> + +<P> +"I could have seen what's up with you without being told," he remarked +ungenially. +</P> + +<P> +"It won't be for so very long. I shall look all right again some day," +she declared, with a sad little laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the worst of women," he went on. "Just when you think +everything's all right, this goes and happens." +</P> + +<P> +His words fired her blood. +</P> + +<P> +"I should have thought you would have been very proud," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"However foolish I've been, I'm not the ordinary sort of woman. Where +I've been wrong is in being too kind to you." +</P> + +<P> +She paused for breath. She was also a little surprised at her bold +words; she was so completely at the man's mercy. +</P> + +<P> +"I do appreciate it. I'd be a fool if I didn't. But it's this +development that's so inconvenient." +</P> + +<P> +"Inconvenient! Inconvenient you call it—!" +</P> + +<P> +"This will do us," he interrupted, pausing at the doorway of the +"King's Arms Hotel." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sure I'll come in." +</P> + +<P> +"Please yourself. But it's as well to have a talk, so that we can see +exactly where we stand." +</P> + +<P> +His words voiced the present desire of her heart. She was burning to +put an end to her suspense, to find out exactly where she stood. The +comparative comfort of the interior of the hotel thawed his coldness. +</P> + +<P> +"Rather a difficult little Mavis," he smiled as they ascended the +stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm all right till I'm roused. Then I feel capable of anything." +</P> + +<P> +"The sort of girl I admire," he admitted. +</P> + +<P> +He engaged a sitting-room and bedroom for the night. Mavis did not +trouble to consider what relation to Perigal the hotel people believed +her to be. Her one concern was to discover his intentions with regard +to the complication which had arisen in her life. She ordered tea. +While it was being got ready, she sat by the newly-lit fire, a prey to +gloomy thoughts. The pain in her face had, in a measure, abated. She +was alone, Perigal having gone to the bedroom to wash after his +journey. She contrasted her present misery with the joyousness that had +possessed her when last she had been under the same roof as her lover. +Tears welled into her eyes, but she held them back, fearing they would +further contribute to the undoing of her looks. +</P> + +<P> +When the tea was brought, she made the waiter wheel the table to the +fire; she also took off her cloak and hat and smoothed her hair in the +glass. She put the toast by the fire in order to keep it warm. She +wanted everything to be comfortable and home-like for her lover. She +then poked the fire into a blaze and moved a cumbrous arm chair to a +corner of the tea table. When Perigal came in, he was smoking a +cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Trying to work up a domestic atmosphere," he laughed, with a faint +suggestion of a sneer in his hilarity. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis bit her lip. +</P> + +<P> +"It was the obvious thing to do. Don't be obvious, little Mavis. It +jars." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you have some tea?" she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks. I've ordered something a jolly sight better than tea," he +said, warming his hands at the fire. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was too stunned to make any comment. She found it hard to believe +that the ardent lover of Polperro and the man who was so indifferent to +her extremity, were one and the same. She felt as if her heart had been +hammered with remorseless blows. They waited in silence till a waiter +brought in a bottle of whisky, six bottles of soda water, glasses, and +a box of cigarettes. +</P> + +<P> +"Have some whisky?" asked Perigal of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I prefer tea!" +</P> + +<P> +"Have some in that?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +While Mavis sipped her tea, she watched him from the corner of her eyes +mix himself a stiff glass of whisky and soda. She would have given many +years of her life to have loved him a little less than she did; she +dimly realised that his indifference only fanned the raging fires of +her passion. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel better now," he said presently. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad. I must be going." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis got up and went to get her hat. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you to stay for dinner." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry. But I must get back," she said, as she pinned on her hat. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you to stay," he declared, as he caught her insistently by the +arm. +</P> + +<P> +The touch of his flesh moved her to the marrow. She sat helplessly. He +appeared to enjoy her abject surrender. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I'll have some tea, little Mavis," he said. +</P> + +<P> +She poured him out a cup, while he got the toast from the fender to +press some on her. He began to recover his spirits; he talked, laughed, +and rallied her on her depression. She was not insensible to his change +of mood. +</P> + +<P> +When the tea was taken away, he pressed a cigarette on her against her +will. +</P> + +<P> +"You always get your own way," she murmured, as he lit it for her. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we'll have a cosy little chat," he said, as he wheeled her chair +to the fire. He brought his chair quite near to hers. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not suffer quite so much. +</P> + +<P> +"Now about this trouble," he continued. "Tell me all about it." +</P> + +<P> +She restated the subject of her last letter in as few words as +possible. When she had finished, he asked her a number of questions +which betrayed a familiar knowledge of the physiology of her extremity. +She wondered where he could have gained his information, not without +many jealous pangs at this suggestion of his having been equally +intimate with others of her sex. +</P> + +<P> +"Hang it all! It's not nearly so bad as it might be," he said presently. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why that, if every woman who got into the same scrape did nothing to +help herself, the world would be over-populated in five minutes." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sat bolt upright. Her hands grasped the arms of her chair; her +eyes stared straight before her. There arose to her quick fancy the +recollection of certain confidences of Miss Allen, which had hinted at +hideous malpractices of the underworld of vice, affecting women in a +similar condition to hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" said Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +The sound of his voice recalled her to the present. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis rose, placed a hand on each arm of Perigal's chair, and leant +over so as to look him full in the eyes, as she said icily: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what you are saying?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! Dear little Mavis. You take everything so seriously," he remarked, +as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. +</P> + +<P> +She sat back in her chair, uneasy, troubled: vague, unwholesome, sordid +shadows seemed to gather about her. +</P> + +<P> +"Ever gone in for sea-fishing?" Perigal asked, after some minutes of +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm awfully keen. I'm on it all day when the wind isn't east." +</P> + +<P> +This enthusiasm for sea-fishing struck a further chill to Mavis's +forlorn heart. She could not help thinking that, if he had been moved +by a loving concern for her welfare, he would have devoted his days to +the making of a competence on which they could live. +</P> + +<P> +"Now about this trouble," said Perigal, at which Mavis listened with +all her ears. He went on: "I know, of course, the proper thing, the +right thing to do is to marry you at once." Here he paused. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis waited in suspense for him to go on; it seemed an epoch of time +till he added: +</P> + +<P> +"But what are we going to live upon?" +</P> + +<P> +She kept on repeating his words to herself. She felt as if she were +drowning in utter darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"I can tell you at once that there's precious little money in bricks. +I'm fighting against big odds, and if I were worrying about you—if you +had enough to live upon and all that—I couldn't give proper attention +to business." +</P> + +<P> +"It would be heaven for me," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"So you say now. All I ask you to do is to trust implicitly in me and +wait." +</P> + +<P> +"How long?" she gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't say for certain. It all depends." +</P> + +<P> +"On what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Circumstances." +</P> + +<P> +She did not speak for some moments, the while she repressed an impulse +to throw herself at his feet, and implore him to reconsider his +indefinite promise. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you pour me out a little whisky?" she said presently. +</P> + +<P> +"What about your face? It might make it throb." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll chance that." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you well, little Mavis?" he asked kindly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not very. It must be the heat of the room." +</P> + +<P> +She gulped down the spirit, to feel the better for it. It seemed to +give her heart to face her misfortunes. She could say no more just +then, as a man came into the room to lay the table. +</P> + +<P> +Whilst this operation was in progress, she thought of the unlooked-for +situation in which she found herself. It was not so very long since +Perigal was the suppliant, she the giver; now, the parts were reversed, +except that, whereas she had given without stint, he withheld that +which every wholesome instinct of his being should urge him to bestow +without delay. +</P> + +<P> +She wondered at the reason of the change, till the words he had spoken +on the day of their jaunt to Broughton occurred to her: +</P> + +<P> +"No sooner was one want satisfied than another arose to take its place. +It's a law of nature that ensures the survival of the fittest, by +making men always struggle to win the desire of the moment." +</P> + +<P> +She had been Perigal's desire, but, once won, another had taken its +place, which, so far as she could see, was sea-fishing. She smiled +grimly at the alteration in his taste. Then, an idea illuminated, +possessed her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not make myself desirable so that he will be eager to win me +again," she thought. +</P> + +<P> +So Mavis, despite the pain in her face, which owing to the spirit she +had drunk was beginning to trouble her again, set out on the most +dismal of all feminine quests—that of endeavouring to make a worldly, +selfish man pay the price of his liberty, and endure poverty for that +which he had already enjoyed to the full. With a supreme effort of +will, she subdued her inclination to unrestrained despair; with +complete disregard of the acute pain in her head, she became gay, +light-hearted, irresponsible, joyous. There was an undercurrent of +suffering in her simulated mirth, but Perigal did not notice it; he was +taken by surprise at the sudden change in her mood. He responded to her +supposititious merriment; he laughed and joked as irrepressibly as did +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite like the old Polperro days," he replied to one of Mavis' sallies. +</P> + +<P> +His remark reduced her to momentary thoughtfulness. The staple dish of +the extemporised meal was a pheasant. Perigal, despite her protests, +was heaping up her plate a second time, when he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what I was dreading the whole way up?" +</P> + +<P> +"That you'd got into the right train!" +</P> + +<P> +"Scarcely that. I was funky you'd do the obvious sentimental thing, and +wear the old Polperro dress." +</P> + +<P> +"As if I would!" +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway, you haven't. Besides, it's much too cold." +</P> + +<P> +He ordered champagne. Further to play the part of Circe to his Ulysses, +she drank a little of this, careless of the pain it might inflict. +Although she was worn down by her anxieties and the pain of her +abscess, it gave her an immense thrill of pleasure to notice how soon +she recovered her old ascendancy over him. Now, his admiring eyes never +left her face. Once, when he got up to hand her something, he went out +of his way to come behind her to kiss her neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis is a fascinating little devil," he remarked, as he +resumed his seat. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what you thought when I met you at the station." +</P> + +<P> +"I was tired and worried, and worry destroys love quicker than +anything. Now—" +</P> + +<P> +"Now!" +</P> + +<P> +"You've gone the shortest way to 'buck' me up." +</P> + +<P> +Thus encouraged, Mavis made further efforts to captivate Perigal, and +persuade him to fulfill the desire of her heart. Now, he was constantly +about her on any and every excuse, when he would either kiss her or +caress her hair. After dinner, they sat by the fire, where they drank +coffee and smoked cigarettes. Presently, Perigal slipped on the ground +beside her, where he leaned his head against her knee, while he fondled +one of her feet. Her fingers wandered in his hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Like old times, sweetheart!" he said, +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"It is to me, little Mavis. I love you! I love you! I love you!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's heart leapt. Life held promise of happiness after all. +</P> + +<P> +"What have you arranged about tonight?" he asked, after a few moments' +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing unusual. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Must you go back?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" she asked, wondering what he was driving at. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you might stay here." +</P> + +<P> +"Stay here!" she gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"With me—as you did in Polperro." Then, as she did not speak: "There's +no reason why you shouldn't!" +</P> + +<P> +A great horror possessed Mavis. This, then, was all she had laboured +for; all he thought of her. She had believed that he would have offered +immediate marriage. His suggestion helped her to realise the +hopelessness of her situation; how, in the eternal contest between the +sexes, she had not only laid all her cards upon the table, but had +permitted him to win every trick. She fell from the summit of her +blissful anticipations into a slough of despair. She had little or no +hope of his ever making her the only possible reparation. Ruin, +disgrace, stared her in the face. And after all the fine hopes with +which she had embarked on life! Her pride revolted at this promise of +hapless degradation. Anything rather than that. There was but one way +to avoid such a fate, not only for her, but for the new life within +her. The roar and rush of the express, when she had crossed the +footbridge at the station, sounded hopefully in her ears. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no reason why you shouldn't!" he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed?" she said mechanically. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there? After all that's happened, what difference can it make?" he +persisted, as he reached for a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"What difference can it make?" she repeated dully. +</P> + +<P> +"Good! Dear little Mavis! Have another cigarette." +</P> + +<P> +Unseen by him, she had caught up coat, gloves, and hat, and moved +towards the door. Here she had paused, finding it hard to leave him +whom she loved unreservedly for other women to caress and care for. +</P> + +<P> +The words, "What difference can it make?" decided her. They spurred her +along the short, quick road which was to end in peaceful oblivion. She +opened the door noiselessly, and slipped down the stairs and out of the +front door with out being seen by any of the hotel people. Once in the +street, where a drizzle was falling, she turned to the right in the +direction of the station. It seemed a long way. She would have liked to +have stepped from the room, in which she had been with Perigal, on to +the rails before the passing express. She hurried on. Although it was +Saturday night, there were few people about, the bad weather keeping +many indoors who would otherwise be out. She was within a few paces of +the booking office when she felt a hand on her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't stop me! Let me go!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Where to?" asked Perigal's voice. +</P> + +<P> +She pressed forward. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be a little fool. Are you mad? Stop!" +</P> + +<P> +He forced her to a standstill. +</P> + +<P> +"Now come back," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"No. Let me go." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you so mad as to do anything foolish?" +</P> + +<P> +By way of reply, she made a vain effort to free herself. He tried to +reason with her, but nothing he urged could change her resolution. Her +face was expressionless; her eyes dull; her mind appeared to be +obsessed by a determination to take her life. He changed his tactics. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, then," he said, "come along." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him, surprised, as she started off. +</P> + +<P> +"Where you go, I go; whatever you do, I do." +</P> + +<P> +She paused to say: +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd let me have my own way, I should be now out of my misery." +</P> + +<P> +"You only think of yourself," he cried. "You don't mind what would +happen to me if you—if you—!" +</P> + +<P> +"A lot you'd care!" she interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk rot. It's coming down worse than ever. Come back to the +hotel." +</P> + +<P> +"Never that," she said, compressing her lip. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll catch your death here." +</P> + +<P> +"A good thing too. I can't go on living. If I do, I shall go mad," she +cried, pressing her hands to her head. +</P> + +<P> +Passers-by were beginning to notice them. +</P> + +<P> +Without success, Perigal urged her to walk. +</P> + +<P> +She became hysterically excited and upbraided him in no uncertain +voice. She seemed to be working herself into a paroxysm of frenzy. To +calm her, perhaps because he was moved by her extremity, he overwhelmed +her with endearments, the while he kissed her hands, her arms, her +face, when no one was by. +</P> + +<P> +She was influenced by his caresses, for she, presently, permitted +herself to walk with him down the street, where they turned into the +railed-in walk which crossed the churchyard. +</P> + +<P> +He redoubled his efforts to induce in her a more normal state of mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you love me, little Mavis?" he asked. "If you did, you wouldn't +distress me so." +</P> + +<P> +"Love you!" she laughed scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why can't you listen and believe what I say?" +</P> + +<P> +He said more to the same effect, urging, begging, praying her to trust +him to marry her, when he could see his way clearly. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps because the mind, when confronted with danger, fights for +existence as lustily as does the body, Mavis, against her convictions, +strove with some success to believe the honeyed assurances which +dropped so glibly from her lover's tongue. His eloquence bore down her +already enfeebled resolution. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on; go on; go on!" she cried. "It's all lies, no doubt; but it's +sweet to listen to all the same." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Your love-words, I mean. They're all I've got to live for now. What +you can't find heart to say, invent. You've no idea what good it does +me." +</P> + +<P> +"Mavis!" he cried reproachfully. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems to give me life," she declared, to add after a few moments of +silence: "Situated as I am, they're like drops of water to a man dying +of thirst." +</P> + +<P> +"But you're not going to die: you're going to live and be happy with +me!" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him questioningly, putting her soul into her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"But you must trust me," he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't I already?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He took no notice of her remark, but gave utterance to a platitude. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no love without trust," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Say that again." +</P> + +<P> +"There's no love without trust," he repeated. "What are you thinking +of?" he asked, as she did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +A light kindled in her eyes; her face was aglow with emotion; her bosom +heaved convulsively. +</P> + +<P> +"You ask me to trust you?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +He nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, then: I love you; I will." +</P> + +<P> +"Mavis!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"More, I'll prove it. You asked me to stay here with you. I refused. I +love you—I trust you. Do with me as you will." +</P> + +<P> +"Mavis!" +</P> + +<P> +"I distrusted you. I did wrong, I atone." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SNARES +</H3> + +<P> +The Sunday week after Mavis' meeting with Perigal at Dippenham, she +left the train at Paddington a few minutes after six in the evening. +She got a porter to wheel her luggage to the cloak-room, reserving a +small handbag for her use, which contained her savings. +</P> + +<P> +She then made for the refreshment room, where she ordered and sipped a +cup of tea. She would have liked more, but as she had so much to do +with her money, she did not think she dare afford the threepence which +she would have to pay for another cup. As she rested for some moments +in the comparative seclusion of the refreshment room, she derived +satisfaction from the fact that she had got away from Melkbridge before +any suspicions had arisen of her condition. Upon her return to her +lodging after seeing Perigal, she had, at his instigation, written to +Mr Devitt, telling him that she would be leaving his employment in a +week's time. She gave no reason for throwing up her work, beyond saying +that the state of her health necessitated a change of occupation. She +had also given notice to Mrs Farthing, and had spent her spare time in +packing up and saying goodbye to her few friends. Her chief difficulty +was with her dear Jill, as she knew how many London landladies objected +to having dogs in lodgings. At last, she arranged for Mrs Trivett to +look after her pet till such time as she could be sent for. Mavis had +offered the farmer's wife a shilling or two a week for Jill's keep, but +her kind friend would not hear of any such arrangement being made. Then +had followed Mavis' goodbye to her dog, a parting which had greatly +distressed her. Jill had seemed to divine that something was afoot, for +her eyes showed a deep, pleading look when Mavis had clasped her in her +arms and covered her black face with kisses. She thought of her now as +she sat in the waiting room; tears welled to her eyes. With a sigh she +realised that she must set about looking for a lodging. She left the +waiting room in order to renew the old familiar quest. Mavis walked +into the depressing ugliness of Eastbourne Terrace, at the most dismal +hour of that most dismal of all days, the London Sunday in winter. The +street lamps seemed to call attention to the rawness of the evening +air. The roads, save for a few hurrying, recently released servants, +were deserted; every house was lit up—all factors that oppressed Mavis +with a sense of unspeakable loneliness. She became overwhelmed with +self-consciousness; she believed that every passer-by, who glanced at +her, could read her condition in her face; she feared that her secret +was known to a curious, resentful world. Mavis felt heartsick, till, +with something of an effort, she remembered that this, and all she had +to endure in the comparatively near future, should be and were +sacrifices upon the shrine of the loved one. She had walked some +distance along Praed Street, and was now in the wilderness of +pretentious, stucco-faced mansions, which lie between Paddington and +the north side of Hyde Park. She knew it was useless to seek for +lodgings here, so pressed on, hoping to arrive at a humbler +neighbourhood, where she would be more likely to get what she wanted. +As she walked, the front doors of the big houses would now and again +open, when she was much surprised at the vulgar appearance of many of +those who came out. It seemed to her as if the district in which she +found herself was largely tenanted by well-to-do, but self-made people. +After walking for many minutes, she reached the Bayswater Road, which +just now was all but deserted. The bare trees on the further side of +the road accentuated the desolation of the thoroughfare. She turned to +the left and pressed on, fighting valiantly against the persistent +spirit of loneliness which seemed to dog her footsteps. Men and girls +hurried by to keep appointments with friends or lovers. Buses jogged +past her, loaded with people who all had somewhere to go, and probably +someone who looked for their coming. She was friendless and alone. Ever +since her interview with Perigal she had realised how everything she +valued in life, if not life itself, depended on her implicit faith in +him. He had told her that there could be no love without trust; she had +believed in this assertion as if it had been another revelation, and it +had enabled her to go through the past week with hardly a pang of +regret (always excepting her parting from Jill) at breaking with all +the associations that had grown about her life during her happy stay at +Melkbridge. +</P> + +<P> +Now doubts assailed her mind. She knew that if she surrendered to them +it meant giving way to despair; she thought of any and all of Perigal's +words which she could honestly construe into a resolve on his part to +marry her before her child was born. As she thus struggled against her +unquiet thoughts, two men (at intervals of a few minutes) followed and +attempted to speak to her. Their unwelcome attentions increased her +uneasiness of mind; they seemed to tell her of the dubious ways by +which men sought to entangle in their toils those of her own sex who +were pleasing to the eye: just now, she lumped all men together, and +would not admit that there was any difference between them. Arrived in +the neighbourhood of the Marble Arch, she was sure of her ground. She +was reminded of her wanderings of evenings from "Dawes'," when, if not +exploring Soho, she had often walked in this direction. Memories of +those long-forgotten days, which now seemed so remote, assailed her at +every step. Then she had believed herself to be unhappy. Now she would +have given many years of her life to be able to change her present +condition (including her trust in Perigal) to be as she was before she +had met him. Directly she crossed Edgware Road, the pavement became +more crowded. Shop-girls (the type of young woman she knew well) and +hobbledehoyish youths, the latter clad in "reach-me-down" frockcoat +suits, high collars, and small, ready-made bow ties, thronged about +her. She could not help contrasting the anaemic faces, the narrow, +stooping shoulders of these youths with the solidly-built, +ruddy-cheeked men whom she had seen in Wiltshire. She was rapidly +losing her old powers of physical endurance; she felt exhausted, and +turned into the small Italian restaurant on the left, which she had +sometimes gone to when at "Dawes'." +</P> + +<P> +"It hasn't changed one bit," she thought, as she entered and walked to +the inner room. There was the same bit of painted canvas at the further +end of the place, depicting nothing in particular. There were the same +shy, self-conscious, whispering couples seated at the marble-topped +tables, who, after critically looking over the soiled bill of fare, +would invariably order coffee, roll and butter, or, if times were good, +steak and fried potatoes. The same puffy Italian waiter stood by the +counter, holding, as of old, coffee-pot in one hand and milk-pot in the +other. Mavis always associated this man with the pots, which he never +relinquished; she remembered wondering if he slept, still holding them +in his grasp. +</P> + +<P> +She ordered a veal cutlet and macaroni, for which the place was famous +among the epicures of "Dawes'." While it was being prepared, she +brought notepaper, envelope, and pencil from her bag, to write a short +note to Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +The morning post had brought her a letter from him, which had enclosed +notes to the value of ten pounds towards the expenses of her enforced +stay in London. Her reply told him that, as she had enough for present +needs, she returned his money. She suggested that if he had no use for +it, he could put it towards the expenses of providing their home; that +she had arrived safely in London; that she was about to look for a +lodging. She ended with passionately affectionate wishes for his +wellbeing. When she had put the money and letter into the envelope, and +this into her bag, her meal was banged down before her. She ordered a +bottle of stout, for had she not to nourish another life beside her +own? After Mavis had finished, she did not feel in the least disposed +to go out. She sat back on the dingy plush seat, and enjoyed the +sensation of the food doing her good. It was seven o'clock when she +paid the waiter and joined the crowd now sauntering along Oxford +Street. She walked towards Regent Circus, hoping to find a post-office, +where she could get a stamp for Perigal's letter. She wondered if she +should go to church, if only for a few minutes, but decided to keep +away from a place of worship, feeling that her thoughts were too +occupied with her troubles to give adequate attention to the service. A +new, yet at the same time familiar dread, oppressed her. She seemed to +get relief from hurrying along the crowded pavement. She longed to get +settled for the night, but was still uncertain where to seek a lodging. +She had some thought of taking the Tube, and looking about her in the +direction of Hammersmith, but her one thought now was to get indoors +with as little delay as possible. She remembered that there was a maze +of private houses along the Tottenham Court Road, in many of which she +had often noticed that there was displayed a card, announcing that +apartments were to let. She took a 'bus to the Tottenham Court Road. +Arrived there, she got out and walked along it, to turn, presently, to +the right. Most of the houses, for all their substantial fronts, had an +indefinable atmosphere of being down at heel, perhaps because many were +almost in darkness. They looked like houses that were in no sense of +the word homes. She selected one of the least forbidding and knocked at +the door. After waiting some time, she heard footsteps scuffling along +the passage. A blowsy, elderly, red-faced woman opened the door. She +was clad in a greasy flannel dressing gown; unbrushed hair fell on her +shoulders; naked, unclean toes protruded through holes in her stockings +and slippers. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening, dear," said the woman. Mavis turned to go. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you wanting rooms, my dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was." +</P> + +<P> +"I've the very thing you want. Don't run away." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't judge of 'em by me. I ain't been quite myself, as you, being +another lady, can quite understand, an' I overslep' myself a bit; but +if you'll walk inside, you'll be glad you didn't go elsewhere." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was so tired, that she persuaded herself that the landlady's +appearance might not be indicative (as it invariably is) of the +character of the rooms. +</P> + +<P> +"One moment. Oo sent yer?" asked the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"No one. I saw—" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't Foxy?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one did. I saw the card in the window." +</P> + +<P> +"Please to walk upstairs." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis followed the woman up unswept stairs to the first floor, where +the landlady fumbled with a key in the lock of a door. +</P> + +<P> +"S'pose you know Foxy?" she queried. +</P> + +<P> +"No. Who is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"'E goes about the West End and brings me lady lodgers." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm from the country," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You a dear little bird from far away? You've fallen on a pretty perch, +my dear, an' you can thank Gawd you ain't got with some as I could +mention." +</P> + +<P> +By this time, they had got into the room, where the landlady lighted +one jet of a dirty chandelier. +</P> + +<P> +"There now!" cried the landlady triumphantly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked about her at the gilt-framed glass over the mantelpiece, +the table, the five chairs (including one arm), the sofa and the +chiffonnier, which was pretty well all the furniture that the room +contained. The remains of a fire untidied the grate; the flimsiest +curtains were hung before the windows. The landlady was quick to notice +the look of disappointment on the girl's face. +</P> + +<P> +"See the bedroom, my dear, before you settle." +</P> + +<P> +This proved to be even less inviting than the sitting-room: hardly any +of the furniture was perfect; a dirty piece of stuff was pinned across +the window; dust lay heavy on toilet glass and mantel. Happily +contrasted with this squalor was the big bed, which was invitingly +comfortable and clean. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was very tired; she looked longingly at the bed, with its +luxurious, lace-fringed pillows. The landlady marked her indecision. +</P> + +<P> +"It's very cheap, miss." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you call cheap?" +</P> + +<P> +"Two guineas a week; light an' coals extry." +</P> + +<P> +"Two guineas a week!" +</P> + +<P> +"You've perfec' liberty to bring in who you like." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stared at her in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"An' no questions asked, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wondered if the woman were in her right senses. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you'd jump at it," she went on. "I could see it when you saw +the bed. The gentlemen like a nice clean bed." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis understood; clutching her bag, she walked to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Not goin' to 'ave 'em?" screeched the landlady. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hurried on. +</P> + +<P> +"Guinea a week and what extries you like. There!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis ran down the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't they give you more than five shillings?" shouted the woman over +the banisters as Mavis reached the door. +</P> + +<P> +"I s'pose your beat is the Park," the woman shrieked, as Mavis ran down +the steps. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis ran a few yards, to stop short. She trembled from head to foot; +tears scalded her eyes, which, with a great effort, she kept back. She +was crushed with humiliation and shame. At once she thought of the +loved one, and how deeply he would resent the horrible insult to which +his tenderly loved little Mavis had been subjected. But there was no +time for vain imaginings. With the landlady's foul insinuations ringing +in her ears, she set about looking for a house where she might get what +she wanted. The rain, that had been threatening all day, began to fall, +but her umbrella was at Paddington. She was not very far from the +Tottenham Court Road. Fearful of catching cold in her present +condition, she hurried to this thoroughfare, where she thought she +might get shelter. When she got there, she found that places of vantage +were already occupied to their utmost capacity by umbrellaless folk +like herself. She hurried along till she came to what, from the +pseudoclassic appearance of the structure, seemed a place of dissenting +worship. She ran up the steps to the lobby, where she found the shelter +she required. A door leading to the chapel was open, which enabled her +to overhear the conclusion of the sermon. As the preacher's words fell +on her ears, she listened intently, and edged nearer to the door +communicating with the chapel. His message seemed meant expressly for +her. It told her that, despite anything anyone might presume to urge to +the contrary, God was ever the loving Father of His children; that He +rejoiced when they rejoiced, suffered when they sorrowed; however much +the faint-hearted might be led to believe that the world was ruled by +remorseless law, that much faith and a little patience would enable +even the veriest sinner to see how the seemingly cruellest inflictions +of Providence were for the sufferer's ultimate good, and, therefore, +happiness. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, when the rain stopped, Mavis came away feeling mentally +refreshed. As is usual with those in trouble, she applied anything +pertinent she read or heard about sorrow to herself. The fact of her +intercourse with Perigal having been in the nature of deadly sin did +not trouble her so much as might have been expected. She felt that God +would understand, and believed that to know all was to forgive all. +Also, try as she might, she could not see that her sin was of such a +deadly nature as it is made out to be by the Church. It seemed that her +surrender to her lover at Polperro had been the natural and inevitable +consequence of her love for him, and that, if the one were condemned, +so also should love be itself, inasmuch as it was plainly responsible +for what had happened. Now, she was glad to learn, on the authority of +the pulpit, that, however much she suffered from her present extremity, +it would be for her ultimate happiness. +</P> + +<P> +She started afresh to look for a lodging. She needed all the resolution +she could muster. Repulsive-looking foreign women opened most of the +doors at which she knocked, whilst surly-looking men hovered in the +background. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wished she had started earlier for Hammersmith, to see what she +could find there. At last she went into a chemist's shop which she saw +open, to ask if she could be recommended to any rooms. A burly, +blotchy-faced, bearded man stood behind the bottle-laden counter. Mavis +stated her wants. +</P> + +<P> +"Married?" asked the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Y—yes—but I'm living by myself for the present." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. But your husband would visit you," remarked the man with a +leer. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at him in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we'll call it your husband," suggested the chemist. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked from the shop. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed that everyone was in league to insult her. Her heart was +heavy with grief. She could not help thinking how the presence of the +loved one, a word of encouragement from him, would instantly dissipate +her soreness of heart and growing physical exhaustion. +</P> + +<P> +She gave up the idea of looking for rooms in this disreputable corner +of London. Her only concern was to get lodging for the night, so that +she could resume her quest on the morrow in a more likely part of the +great city. She stopped a policeman and asked to be directed to a +reasonable hotel. The man told her that she would find what she wanted +in the Euston Road. She walked along this depressing and sordid +thoroughfare, where what were once front gardens before comfortable +houses were now waste spaces, given over to the display of dilapidated +signboards of strange and unfamiliar trades. Here she dragged herself +up the steps of the hotels that abound in this road, to learn at each +one she applied at that they were full for the night. If she had not +been so tired, she would have wondered if they were speaking the truth, +or if they divined her condition and did not consider her to be a +respectable applicant. At the last at which she called, she was asked +to write her name in the hotel book. She commenced to write Mavis +Keeves, but remembered that she had decided to call herself Mrs Kenrick +while in London. She crossed out what she had written, to substitute +the name she had elected to bear. Whether or not this correction made +the hotel people suspicious, she was soon informed that she could not +be accommodated. Mavis, heartsore and weary, went out into the night. A +different class of person to the one that she had met earlier in the +evening began to infest the streets. Bold-eyed women, dressed in cheap +finery, appeared here and there, either singly or in pairs. The vague, +yet familiar fear, which she had experienced when she began to look for +rooms, again took possession of her with gradually increasing force. +She was soon on such familiar terms with this obsession, that she +remembered when and how it had first originated in her mind. It was +after her adventure with Mrs Hamilton and her chance meeting with the +never-to-be-forgotten Mrs Ewer, when a horrid fear of London had +possessed her soul. Now she saw, even plainer than before, the deep +pitfalls and foul morasses which ever menace the feet of unprotected +girls in London who have to earn their daily bread. If it were an +effort for her to snatch a living from the great industrial machine +when she was last in London, now, in her condition, it was practically +hopeless to look for work. Mind and body were paralysed by a great +fear. To add to her discomfiture, the rain again began to fall. +Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she walked up a pathway, running +parallel with the road, which flanked a row of forlorn-looking houses. +Here she felt so faint that she was compelled to cling to the railings +to save herself from falling. Two children passed, one of whom carried +a jug, who stopped to stare at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Please!" called Mavis weakly, at which one of the children approached +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you tell me where I can get a room?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll ask fader," replied the child, who spoke with a German accent. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis remembered little beyond waiting an eternity of suspense, and +then of being assisted into a house, up a flight of stairs to a room +where she sank on the nearest thing handy. She opened her frock to +clutch, as if for protection, the ring Perigal had given her, and which +she always wore suspended on her heart. Then she was overtaken by +unconsciousness. +</P> + +<P> +When she awoke, she rubbed her eyes again and again, whilst a horrible +pungent smell affected her nostrils. She could scarcely believe that +she had got to where she found herself. She saw by the morning light, +which was feebly straggling into the room, that she was lying, fully +dressed, on an untidy, dirty bed. The room looked so abjectly wretched +that she sprang from her resting-place and attempted to draw the +curtains, in order to take complete stock of her +surroundings—attempted, because the dark, cheap cretonne, of which +they were made, refused to move, their tops being nailed to the upper +woodwork of the window by tintacks. She tried the second window (the +room boasted two), with the same result, owing to a like cause. For her +safety's sake, she was relieved to find that the room overlooked the +Euston Road. +</P> + +<P> +After turning back the chintz curtains, she looked about her. She had +never been in such a truly awful-looking room before. She had never +imagined that any four walls could enclose such hopeless, dejected +desolation as she saw. A round table stood in the middle of the +carpetless room. There were several other tables about this one. Upon +one stood a basin, in which was water that had some time ago been used +for the ablutionary purposes of someone sadly in need of a wash. Thick +rims of dirt encrusted the sides of the basin where the water had not +reached. The looking glass was pimpled with droppings from lighted +candles. Upon a further table was a tumbler filthy to look upon. The +bed was painted iron; it wanted a leg, and to supply the deficiency a +grocer's box had been thrust underneath. The blankets of the bed (which +contained two pillows) were as grubby as the sheets. The pillows beside +the one on which she had slept bore the impress of somebody's head. +Over everything, walls, furniture, ceiling, and floor, lay a thick +deposit of dust and grime. Misspelt lewd words were fingered on the +dirt of the window-panes. The horror of the room seemed to grip Mavis +by the throat. She coughed, to sicken at a foul feeling in her mouth, +which seemed to be gritty from the unclean air of the room. This +atmosphere was not only as if the windows had not been opened for +years; it was as if it had been inhaled over and over again by +alcohol-breathing lungs; also, the horrid memories of sordid lusts, of +unnumbered bestial acts, seemed to lie heavy on the polluted fuggy air. +To get away from the all-pervading stench, Mavis hurried to the door. +This, she could not help noticing, hung loosely on its hinges; also, +that about the doorplate were innumerable lock marks and screw holes, +as if the door had been furnished with fastenings, times out of number, +till the rotten wood refused to support any more. Mavis pulled open the +door and walked on to a carpetless landing and stairs. She stamped with +her foot, but this not attracting any attention, she called aloud. Her +voice echoed as if she were in a vault. After some time, she heard a +door unbolted, and a rough, unkempt man came up the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"How much?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Five shillin'." +</P> + +<P> +"For that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Five shillin'," repeated the man doggedly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not further argue the point, as, when she opened her mouth, +the stench of the room she had quitted seemed to fasten on her throat. +</P> + +<P> +She paid the money and was about to fly down the stairs. Then she +remembered her precious bag. Again holding her nose, she hurried back +into the room where she had unwittingly passed the night. The bag was +nowhere to be seen, although its outline was to be easily traced in the +dust on the table where she had put it. +</P> + +<P> +"My bag! my bag!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Vot bag?" +</P> + +<P> +"The one I had last night. Here's its mark upon the table." +</P> + +<P> +"I know nodinks about it," replied the man, as he disappeared down the +stairs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A NEW ACQUAINTANCE +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis' heart seemed to stop. She knew the bag contained her trinkets, +her reserve capital of twenty-three pounds, Perigal's letters, her +powder-puff, and other feminine odds and ends. What she could not +remember was if she had posted her note to Perigal, which contained the +money she was returning to him. As much as her consternation would +permit, she rapidly passed over in her mind everything that had +happened since she had left the restaurant in Oxford Street. For the +life of her, she could not recall going into a postoffice to purchase +the stamp of which she had been in need. Her next thought was the +quickest way to get back her property, at which the word police +immediately suggested itself. Once outside the house, she made careful +note of its number; she then walked quickly till she came upon a +policeman, to whom she told her trouble. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you there alone?" asked the constable. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at him inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean was you with a gentleman?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis bit her lip, but saw it would not help her to be indignant. She +told the man how she got there, a statement which made him civil and +sympathetic. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a bad place, and we've had many complaints about it. You'd better +complain to the inspector at the station, miss." +</P> + +<P> +He directed her to where she should go. Exhausted with hunger and the +fear of losing all her possessions, she followed the policeman's +instructions, till she presently found herself telling an inspector at +the station of the theft; he advised her to either make a charge, or, +if she disliked the publicity of the police court, to instruct a +solicitor. Believing that making a charge would be more effectual, +besides speedier, she told the inspector of her decision. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Your name, please?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mavis Kenrick." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs," he wrote, as he glanced at the wedding ring which she now wore +on her finger. +</P> + +<P> +"What address, please?" was his next question. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't one at present." +</P> + +<P> +The man looked at her in surprise, at which Mavis explained how she had +come from Melkbridge the day before. +</P> + +<P> +"At least you can give us your husband's address." +</P> + +<P> +"He's abroad," declared Mavis, with as much resolution as she could +muster. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you might give me the address of your friends in Melkbridge." +</P> + +<P> +"To write to?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"In case it should be necessary." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was at once aware of the inconvenient consequences to which an +application for references to anyone at Melkbridge would give rise, +especially as her name and state were alike incorrectly given. She +hesitated for a few moments before telling the inspector that, +disliking the publicity of the police court, she would prefer to +instruct a solicitor. As she left the station, she would have felt +considerably crestfallen, had she not been faint from want of food. She +dragged her way to a tea-shop, to feel the better for a cup of tea and +some toast. The taste of the room in which she had passed the night +still fouled her mouth; its stench clung to her clothes. She asked her +way to the nearest public baths, where she thought a shilling well +spent in buying the luxury of a hot bath. Her next concern was to seek +out a solicitor who would assist her to recover her stolen property. +She had a healthy distrust of the tribe, and was wondering if, after +all, it would not have been better to have risked the inspector's +writing to any address she may have given at Melkbridge, rather than +trust any chance lawyer with the matter, when she remembered that her +old acquaintance, Miss Meakin, was engaged to a solicitor's clerk. She +resolved to seek out Miss Meakin, and ask her to get her betrothed's +advice and assistance. As she did not know Miss Meakin's present +address, she thought the quickest way to obtain it was to call on her +old friend Miss Nippett at Blomfield Road, Shepherd's Bush, who kept +the register of all those who attended "Poulter's." +</P> + +<P> +She had never quite lost touch with the elderly accompanist; they had +sent each other cards at Christmas and infrequently exchanged picture +postcards, Miss Nippett's invariably being a front view of "Poulter's," +with Mr Poulter on the steps in such a position as not to obscure +"Turpsichor" in the background. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis travelled by the Underground to Shepherd's Bush, from where it +was only five minutes' walk to Miss Nippett's. The whole way down, she +was so dazed by her loss that she could give no thought to anything +else. The calamities that now threatened her were infinitely more +menacing than before her precious bag had been stolen. It seemed as if +man and circumstance had conspired for her undoing. Her suspense of +mind was such that it seemed long hours before she knocked at the +blistered door in the Blomfield Road where Miss Nippett lived. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Nippett was in, she learned from the red-nosed, chilblain-fingered +slut who opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +"What nyme?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Kenrick, who was Miss Keeves," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you go up?" said the slut when, a few minutes later, she came +downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis went upstairs, past the cupboard containing Miss Nippett's +collection of unclaimed "overs," to the door directly beyond. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P> +"Come in" cried a well-remembered voice, as Mavis knocked. +</P> + +<P> +She entered, to see Miss Nippett half rising from a chair before the +fire. She was startled by the great change which had taken place in the +accompanist's appearance since she had last seen her. She looked many +years older; her figure was quite bent; the familiar shawl was too +ample for the narrow, stooping shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you well?" asked Mavis, as she kissed her friend's cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite. Reely I am but for a slight cold. Mr Poulter, 'e's well too. +Fancy you married!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mavis sadly. +</P> + +<P> +But Miss Nippett took no notice of her dejection. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never 'ad time to get married, there's so much to do at +'Poulter's.' You know! Still, there's no knowing." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, distressed as she was, could hardly restrain a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I've news too," went on Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you?" asked Mavis, who was burning to get to the reason of her +call. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't you heard of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't say I have." +</P> + +<P> +By way of explanation, Miss Nippett handed Mavis one of a pile of +prospectuses at her elbow; she at once recognised the familiar pamphlet +that extolled Mr Poulter's wares. +</P> + +<P> +"See! 'E's got my name on the 'pectus. 'All particulars from Poulter's +or Miss Nippett, 19 Blomfield Road, W.' Isn't that something to talk +about and think over?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hastily assented; she was about to ask for Miss Meakin's address, +but Miss Nippett was too quick for her. +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye think he'll win?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Poulter, of course. 'Aven't you 'eard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say, you are ignorant! He's competing for the great cotillion +prize competition. I thought everybody knew about it." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I've heard something. But could you tell me Miss Meakin's +address?" +</P> + +<P> +"11 Baynham Street, North Kensington, near Uxbridge Road station," Miss +Nippett informed Mavis, after referring to an exercise book, to add: +"This is the dooplicate register of 'Poulter's.' I always keep it here +in case the other should get lost. Mr. Poulter, like all them great +men, is that careless." +</P> + +<P> +"Come again soon," said Miss Nippett, as Mavis rose to go. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis promised that she would. +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you been married?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not long. Three months." +</P> + +<P> +"Any baby?" +</P> + +<P> +"After three months!" blushed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Working so at 'Poulter's' makes one forget them things. No offence," +apologised Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye. I'll look in again soon." +</P> + +<P> +"If you 'ave any babies, see they're taught dancing at 'Poulter's.'" +</P> + +<P> +Between Notting Hill and Wormwood Scrubbs lies a vast desert of human +dwellings. Fringing Notting Hill they are inhabited by lower +middle-class folk, but, by scarcely perceptible degrees, there is a +declension of so-called respectability, till at last the frankly +working-class district of Latimer Road is reached. Baynham Street was +one of the ill-conditioned, down-at-heel little roads which tenaciously +fought an uphill fight with encroaching working-class thoroughfares. +Its inhabitants referred with pride to the fact that Baynham Street +overlooked a railway, which view could be obtained by craning the neck +out of window at risk of dislocation. A brawny man was standing before +the open door of No. 11 as Mavis walked up the steps. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Bill coming?" asked the man, as he furtively lifted his hat. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"To chuck out this 'ere lodger for Mrs. Scatchard wo' won't pay up," he +explained. +</P> + +<P> +"I know nothing about it," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't you Mrs Dancer, Bill's new second wife?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis explained that she had come to see Miss Meakin, at which the man +walked into the passage and knocked at the first door on the left, as +he called out: +</P> + +<P> +"Lady to see you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" asked Miss Meakin, as she displayed a fraction of a scantily +attired person through the barely opened door. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you forgotten me?" asked Mavis, as she entered the passage. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Miss Keeves! So good of you to call!" cried Miss Meakin, not a +little affectedly, so Mavis thought, as she raised her hand high above +her head to shake hands with her friend in a manner that was once +considered fashionable in exclusive Bayswater circles. +</P> + +<P> +She then opened the door wide enough for Mavis to edge her way in. +Mavis found herself in an apartment that was normally a pretentiously +furnished drawing-room. Just now, a lately vacated bed was made up on +the sofa; a recently used washing basin stood on a chair; whilst Miss +Meakin's unassumed garments strewed the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"And what's happened to you all this long time?" asked Miss Meakin, as +she sat on the edge of a chair in the manner of one receiving a formal +call. +</P> + +<P> +"To begin with, I'm married," said Mavis hurriedly, at which piece of +information her friend's face fell. +</P> + +<P> +"Any family?" she asked anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"N-no—not yet." +</P> + +<P> +"I could have married Mr Napper a month ago—in fact he begged me on +his knees to," bridled Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"We're going to his aunt's at Littlehampton for the honeymoon, but I'm +certainly not going till it's the season there." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you?" asked Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"Not if that sort of thing appealed to me." +</P> + +<P> +When Miss Meakin had explained that she had got up late because she had +been to a ball the night before, Mavis told her the reason of her +visit, at which Miss Meakin declared that Mr Napper was the very man to +help her. Mavis asked for his address. While her friend was writing it +down, a violent commotion was heard descending the stairs and advancing +along the passage. Mavis rightly guessed this was caused by the +forcible ejection of the lodger who had failed with his rent. +</P> + +<P> +To Mavis' surprise, Miss Meakin did not make any reference to this +disturbance, but went on talking as if she were living in a refined +atmosphere which was wholly removed from possibility of violation. +</P> + +<P> +"There's one thing I should tell you," said Miss Meakin, as Mavis rose +to take her leave. "Mr Napper's employer, Mr Keating, besides being a +solicitor, sells pianos. Mr N. is expecting a lady friend, who is +thinking of buying one 'on the monthly,' so mind you explain what you +want." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't forget," said Mavis, making an effort to go. But as voices +raised in angry altercation could be heard immediately outside the +front door, Miss Meakin detained Mavis, asking, in the politest tone, +advice on the subject of the most fashionable material to wear at a +select dinner party. +</P> + +<P> +"I've quite given up 'Browning,'" she told Mavis, "he's so +old-fashioned to up-to-date people. Now I'm going to be Mrs Napper, +when the Littlehampton season comes round, I'm going in exclusively for +smartness and fashion." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis making as if she would go, and the disturbance not being finally +quelled, Miss Meakin begged Mavis to stay to lunch. She repeatedly +insisted on the word lunch, as if it conveyed a social distinction in +the speaker. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had got as far as the door, when it burst open and an elderly +woman of considerable avoirdupois broke into the room, to sink +helplessly upon a flimsy chair which creaked ominously with its burden. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Meakin introduced this person to Mavis as her aunt, Mrs Scatchard, +and reminded the latter how Mavis had rescued her niece from the +clutches of the bogus hospital nurse in Victoria Street so many months +back. +</P> + +<P> +"That you should call today of all days!" moaned the perspiring Mrs +Scatchard. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not today?" asked her niece innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"The day I'm disgraced to the neighbourhood by a 'visitor' being turned +out of doors." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew nothing of it," protested Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"And Mr Scatchard being a government official, as you might say." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, who was itching to be off. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost a pillar of the throne, as you might say," moaned the poor +woman. +</P> + +<P> +"True enough," murmured her niece. +</P> + +<P> +"A man who, as you might say, has had the eyes of Europe upon him." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" sighed Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"And me, too, who am, as it were, an outpost of blood in this no-class +neighbourhood," continued Mrs Scatchard. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis wondered when she would be able to get away. +</P> + +<P> +"My father was a tax-collector," Mrs Scatchard informed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" said the latter. +</P> + +<P> +"And in a most select London suburb. Do you believe in blood?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think so." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you must come here often. Blood is so scarce in North Kensington." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not stay and have a bit of dinner?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lunch," corrected Miss Meakin with a frown. +</P> + +<P> +"We've a lovely sheep's heart and turnips," said Mrs Scatchard, +disregarding her niece's pained interruption. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked kindly Mrs Scatchard, but said she must be off. She was +not permitted to go before she promised to let Miss Meakin know the +result of her visit to Mr Napper. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis spent three of her precious pennies in getting to the office of +Mr Keating, which was situated in a tiny court running out of Holborn. +Upon the first door she came to was inscribed "A.F. Keating, Solicitor, +Commissioner for Oaths," whilst upon an adjacent door was painted +"Breibner, Importer of Pianofortes." She tried the handle of the +solicitor's door, to find that it was locked. She was wondering what +she should do when a tall, thin, podgy-faced man came in from the +court. Mavis instinctively guessed that he was Mr Napper. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ave you been waiting long, madam?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I've just come. Are you Mr Napper?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is. Everybody knows me." +</P> + +<P> +"I've come from Miss Meakin." +</P> + +<P> +"Today?" he asked, as his white face lit up. +</P> + +<P> +"I've come straight from her." +</P> + +<P> +"And after what I said at last night's 'light fantastic,' she has sent +you to me!" he cried excitedly, as he opened the door on which was +inscribed "Breibner." +</P> + +<P> +"RE consultation, madam. If you will be good enough to step this way, I +shall be 'appy to take your instructions." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, despite her distress of mind, was not a little amused at this +alteration in Mr Napper's manner. She followed him into Mr Keating's +office, where she saw a very small office-boy, who, directly he set his +eyes on Mr Napper, made great pretence of being busy. She was shown +into an inner room, where she was offered an armchair. Upon taking it, +Mr Napper gravely seated himself at a desk and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Keating is un'appily absent. Any confidence made to me is the same +as made to 'im." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis recited her trouble, of which Mr Napper put down the details. +</P> + +<P> +When he had got these, Mavis waited in suspense. Mr Napper looked at +his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think you can do anything?" Mavis asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to do my best, quite as much for Miss Meakin's sake as for +the dignity of my profession," replied Mr Napper. "Please read through +this, and, if it is correct, kindly sign." +</P> + +<P> +Here he handed Mavis a statement of all she had told him in respect of +her loss. After seeing that it was rightly set down, she signed "Mavis +Kenrick" at the foot of the document. +</P> + +<P> +"Vincent!" cried Mr Napper, as Mavis handed it back. +</P> + +<P> +"Yessur," answered the tiny office-boy smartly, as he made the most of +his height in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going out on important business." +</P> + +<P> +"Yessur." +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't be back for the best part of an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"Yessur." +</P> + +<P> +"If this lady cares to, she will wait till my return." +</P> + +<P> +"Yessur." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Napper dismissed Vincent and then turned to Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"If I may say so, I can see by your face that you're fond of +literature," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I like reading." +</P> + +<P> +"Law and music is my 'obby, as you might say. The higher literature is +my intellect." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let me lend you something to read while you're waiting." +</P> + +<P> +"You're very kind. But I've had nothing to eat. Would you mind if I +took it out with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Delighted! What do you say to Locke's Human Understanding?" he asked, +as he produced a book. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you very much." +</P> + +<P> +"Or here's Butler's Anatomy of Melancholy." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Or 'Obbes's Leviathan," he suggested, producing a third volume. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, but Locke will do to begin upon." +</P> + +<P> +"Ask me to explain anything you don't understand," he urged. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't fail to," she replied, at which Mr Napper took his leave. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis went to a neighbouring tea-shop, where she obtained the food of +which she was in need. When she returned to Mr Keating's office, she +was shown into the inner room by Vincent, who shut the door as he left +her. She was still a prey to anxiety, and succeeded in convincing +herself how comparatively happy she would be if only she could get back +her stolen goods. To distract her thoughts from her present trouble, +she tried to be interested in the opening chapter of the work that Mr +Napper had lent her. But it proved too formidable in her present state +of mind. She would read a passage, to find that it conveyed no meaning; +she was more interested in the clock on the mantel-piece and wondering +how long it would be before she got any news. One peculiarity of Mr +Napper's book attracted her attention: she saw that, whereas the first +few pages were dog's-eared and thumb-marked, the succeeding ones were +as fresh as when they issued from the bookseller's hands. +</P> + +<P> +While she was thus waiting in suspense, she heard strange sounds coming +from the office where Vincent worked. She went to the door, to look +through that part of it which was of glass. She saw Vincent, who, so +far as she could gather, was talking as if to an audience, the while he +held an inkpot in one hand and the office cat in the other. When he had +finished talking, he caused these to vanish, at which he acknowledged +the applause of an imaginary audience with repeated bows. After another +speech, he reproduced the cat and the inkpot, proceedings which led +Mavis to think that the boy had conjuring aspirations. +</P> + +<P> +Her heart beat quickly when Mr Napper re-entered the office. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right!" he hastened to assure her. "You're to come off with +me to the station to identify your property." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked him heartfully when she learned that the police, having +received a further complaint of the house where she had spent the +night, had obtained a warrant and promptly raided the place, with the +result that her bag (with other missing property) had been recovered. +As they walked in the direction of the station, Mr. Napper asked her +how she had got on with Locke's Human Understanding. Upon her replying +that it was rather too much for her just then, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Just you listen to me." +</P> + +<P> +Here he launched into an amazing farrago of scientific terms, in which +the names of great thinkers and scientists were mingled at random. +There was nothing connected in his talk; he seemed to be repeating, +parrot fashion, words and formulas that he had chanced upon in his +dipping into the works that he had boasted of comprehending. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at him in astonishment. He mistook her surprise for +admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you haven't understood much of what I've been saying," he +remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not very much." +</P> + +<P> +"You've paid me a great compliment," he said, looking highly pleased +with himself. +</P> + +<P> +Then he spoke of Miss Meakin. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll tell her what I've done for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"Last night, at the 'light fantastic' I told you of, we had a bit of a +tiff, when I spoke my mind. Would you believe it, she only danced +twenty hops with me out of the twenty-three set down?" +</P> + +<P> +"What bad taste!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you think that. Her sending you to me shows she isn't +offended at what I said. I did give it her hot. I threw in plenty of +scientific terms and all that." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor girl!" remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, she was to be pitied. But here we are at the station." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis went inside with Mr Napper, where she proved her title to her +stolen property by minutely describing the contents of her bag, from +which she was rejoiced to find nothing had been taken. Her unposted +letter to Perigal was with her other possessions. +</P> + +<P> +As they were leaving the station, Mr Napper remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"The day before yesterday I had the greatest compliment of my life paid +me." +</P> + +<P> +"And what was that?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"A lady told me that she'd known me three years, and that all that time +she never understood what my scientific conversation was about." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TRAVAIL +</H3> + +<P> +If Mavis had believed that the recovery of her property would give her +peace of mind, she soon discovered how grievously she was mistaken. +</P> + +<P> +Directly she left the police station with Mr Napper, all her old fears +and forebodings for the future resumed sway over her thoughts. As +before, she sought to allay them by undiminished faith in her lover. +She accepted Mr Napper's hospitality in the form of tea and toast at a +branch of the Aerated Bread Company, where she asked him how much she +was in his debt for his services. To her surprise, he replied, "Nothing +at all," and added that he was only too glad to assist her, not only +for Miss Meakin's sake, but because he felt that Mavis dimly +appreciated his intellectuality. Upon Mavis untruthfully replying that +she did, Mr Napper gave a further effort to impress, not only her, but +others seated about them; he talked his jargon of scientific and +philosophical phrases at the top of his voice. She was relieved when +she was rid of his company. She then took train to Shepherd's Bush, +where she called on Miss Meakin as promised. Much to her surprise, Miss +Meakin, who was now robed in a flimsy and not too clean teagown, had +not the slightest interest in knowing if Mavis had recovered her +property; indeed, she had forgotten that Mavis had lost anything. She +was only concerned to know what Mavis thought of Mr Napper, and what +this person had said about herself: on this last matter, Mavis was +repeatedly cross-questioned. Mavis then spoke of a matter she had +thought of on the way down: that of engaging a room at Mrs Scatchard's +if she had one to let. Miss Meakin, however, protested that she had +nothing to do with the business arrangements of the house, and declared +that her aunt had better be consulted. +</P> + +<P> +Upon Mavis interviewing Mrs Scatchard on the matter, the latter +declared that her niece had suggested the subject to her directly after +Mavis had left in the morning, a statement which Miss Meakin did not +appear to overhear. Mrs Scatchard showed Mavis a clean, homely little +room. The walls were decorated with several photographs of +celebrations, which, so far as she could see, were concerned with the +doings of royalty. When it came to the discussion of terms, Mrs +Scatchard pointed out to Mavis the advantage of being in a house rented +by a man like Mr Scatchard, who was "so mixed up with royalty," as she +phrased it; but, partly in consideration of the timely service which +Mavis had once rendered Miss Meakin, and largely on the score that +Mavis boasted of blood (she had done nothing of the kind), Mrs +Scatchard offered her the room, together with use of the bathroom, for +four-and-sixpence a week. Upon Mavis learning that the landlady would +not object to Jill's presence, she closed with the offer. At Mrs +Scatchard's invitation, she spent the evening in the sitting-room +downstairs, where she was introduced to Mr Scatchard. If, as had been +alleged, Mr Scatchard was a pillar of the throne, that august +institution was in a parlous condition. He was a red-headed, red-eyed, +clean-shaven man, in appearance not unlike an elderly cock; his blotchy +face, thick utterance, and the smell of his breath, all told Mavis that +he was addicted to drink. Mavis wondered how this fuddled man, whose +wife let lodgings in a shabby corner of Shepherd's Bush, could be +remotely associated with Government, till it leaked out that he had +been for many years, and still was, one of the King's State trumpeters. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was grateful to the Scatchards for their humble hospitality, if +only because it prevented her mind from dwelling on her extremity. She +was so tired with all she had gone through, that, directly she got to +bed, she fell asleep, to awake about five with a mind possessed by +fears for the future. Try as she could, faith in her lover refused to +supply the relief necessary to allow her further sleep. +</P> + +<P> +About seven, kindly Mrs Scatchard brought her up some tea, her excuse +for this attention being that "blood" could not be expected to get up +without a cup of this stimulant. Mrs Scatchard, like most stout women, +was of a nervous, kindly, ingenuous disposition. It hurt Mavis +considerably to tell her the story she had concocted, of a husband in +straitened circumstances in America, who was struggling to prepare a +home for her. Mrs Scatchard was herself a bereaved mother. Much moved +by her recollections, she gave Mavis needed and pertinent advice with +reference to her condition. +</P> + +<P> +"There is kindness in the world," thought Mavis, when she was alone. +</P> + +<P> +After breakfast, that was supplied at a previously arranged charge of +fourpence, Mavis, fearing the company of her thoughts, betook herself +to Miss Nippett in the Blomfield Road. +</P> + +<P> +She found her elderly friend in bed, a queer, hapless figure in her +pink flannel nightgown. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't heard anything," said Miss Nippett, as soon as she caught +sight of Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Of what?" +</P> + +<P> +"What luck Mr Poulter's had at the dancing competition! Haven't you +come about that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I came to see how you were." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you worry about me. I shall be right again soon; reely I shall." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis tried to discover if Miss Nippett were properly looked after, but +without result, Miss Nippett's mind being wholly possessed by +"Poulter's" and its chief. +</P> + +<P> +"He promised to send me a postcard to say how he got on, but I suppose +he was too busy to remember," sighed Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely not!" +</P> + +<P> +"He's like all these great men: all their 'earts in their fame, with no +thought for their humble assistants," she complained, to add after a +few moments' pause, "A pity you're married." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause, since I've been laid up, he's been in want of a reliable +accompanist." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis explained that she would be glad of some work, at which her +friend said: +</P> + +<P> +"Then off you go at once to the academy. He's often spoken of you, and +quite nicely, and he's asked for you in family prayers. If he's won the +prize, it's as sure as 'knife' that he'll give you the job. And mind +you come and tell me if he's won." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked her wheezing, kind-hearted friend, and promised that she +would return directly she had any news. Then, with hope in her heart, +she hurried to the well-remembered academy, where she had sought work +so many eventful months ago. As before, she looked into the impassive +face of "Turpsichor" while she waited for the door to be answered. +</P> + +<P> +A slatternly servant of the charwoman species replied to her summons. +Upon Mavis saying that she wanted to see Mr Poulter immediately, she +was shown into the "Ladies' Waiting Room," from which Mavis gathered +that Mr Poulter had returned. +</P> + +<P> +After a while, Mr Poulter came into the room with a shy, self-conscious +smile upon his lovable face. +</P> + +<P> +"You've heard?" he asked, as she shook hands. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at him in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you have, and have come to congratulate me," he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you've been successful," said Mavis, now divining the reason +of his elation. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes" (here he sighed happily), "I've won the great cotillion prize +competition. Just think of it!" Here he took a deep breath before +saying, "All the dancing-masters in the United Kingdom competed, even +including Gellybrand" (here his voice and face perceptibly hardened), +"but I won." +</P> + +<P> +"I congratulate you," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter's features weakened into a broad smile eloquent of an +immense satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"You can tell people you've been one of the first to congratulate me," +he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't forget. I was sorry to see that Miss Nippett is so unwell." +</P> + +<P> +"It's most unfortunate; it so interferes with the evening classes." +</P> + +<P> +"But she may get well soon." +</P> + +<P> +"I fear not." +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" asked Mavis, genuinely concerned for her friend's health. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a great pity. Accompanists like her are hard to find. Besides, +she was well acquainted with all the many ramifications of the academy." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis recalled that, in the old days of her association with +"Poulter's," she had noticed that otherwise kindly Mr Poulter took Miss +Nippett's body and soul loyalty to him quite as a matter of course. +Time, apparently, had not caused him to think otherwise of the faithful +accompanist than as a once capable but now failing machine. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Poulter asked Mavis what had happened to her since he had last seen +her. She told him the fiction of her marriage; it hurt her to see how +glibly the lie now fell from her lips. +</P> + +<P> +After Mr Poulter had congratulated her and her absent husband, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I fear you would not care to undertake any accompanying." +</P> + +<P> +"But I should." +</P> + +<P> +"As you did before?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly!" +</P> + +<P> +It was then arranged that Mavis should commence work at the academy on +that day, for much the same terms she was paid before. This matter +being settled, she asked for notepaper and envelope, on which she wrote +to Mrs Farthing, asking her to be so good as to send Jill at once, and +to be sure to let her know by what train she would arrive at +Paddington. Mavis was careful to head the notepaper with the address of +the academy; she did not wish anyone at Melkbridge to know her actual +address. After taking leave of Mr Poulter and posting her letter, she +repaired to Miss Nippett's as arranged. The accompanist was now out of +bed, in a chair before the fire. Directly she caught sight of Mavis, +she said: +</P> + +<P> +"'As he won?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he's won the great cotillion prize competition." +</P> + +<P> +A look of intense joy illumined Miss Nippett's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he proud?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Very!" +</P> + +<P> +"An' me not there to see him in his triumph." A cloud overspread Miss +Nippett's features. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Did he—did he send and tell you to tell me as 'ow he'd won." +</P> + +<P> +The wistful old eyes were so pleading, that Mavis fibbed. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he sent me." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought he wouldn't forget his old friend," she remarked with a sigh +of relief. "'E'd surely know I was anxious to know." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis told Miss Nippett of her engagement to play at "Poulter's" during +the latter's absence. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you count on it being for long," said Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope it won't be, for your sake." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm counting the minute' till I shall be back again at the academy," +declared Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, as she looked at the eager, pinched face, could well believe +that she was speaking the truth. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall buy you a bottle of port wine," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"What say?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis repeated her words. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say! Fancy me 'avin' port wine! I once 'ad a glass; it did make +me feel 'appy." +</P> + +<P> +Two days later, in accordance with the contents of a letter she had +received from Mrs Farthing, Mavis met the train at Paddington that was +to bring her dear Jill from Melkbridge. She discovered her friend +huddled in a corner of the guard's van; her grief was piteous to +behold, her eyes being full of tears, which the kindly attentions of +the guard had not dissipated. Directly she saw her mistress, Jill +uttered a cry that was almost human in its gladness, and tried to jump +into Mavis' arms. +</P> + +<P> +When Jill was released, Mavis hugged her in her arms, careless of the +attention her devotion attracted. +</P> + +<P> +With her friend restored to her, that evening was the happiest she had +spent for some time. +</P> + +<P> +For many succeeding weeks, Mavis passed her mornings with Jill, or Miss +Nippett, or both; and most of her afternoons and all of her evenings at +the academy. The long hours, together with the monotonous nature of the +work, greatly taxed her energies, lessened as these were by the +physical stress through which she was passing. +</P> + +<P> +She obtained infrequent distraction from the peculiarities of the +pupils. One, in particular, who was a fat Jewess, named Miss Hyman, +greatly amused her. This person was desperately anxious to learn +waltzing, but was handicapped by bandy legs. As she spun round and +round the room with Mr Poulter, or any other partner, she would close +her eyes and continually repeat aloud, "One, two, three; one, two, +three," the while her feet kept step with the music. +</P> + +<P> +Otherwise, her days were mostly drab-coloured, the only thing that at +all kept up her spirits being her untiring faith in Perigal—a faith +which, in time, became a mechanical action of mind. Strive as she might +to quell rebellious thoughts, now and again she would rage soul and +body at the web that fate, or Providence, had spun about her life. At +these times, it hurt her to the quick to think that, instead of being +the wife she deserved to be, she was in her present unprotected +condition, with all its infinite possibilities of disaster. Again and +again the thought would recur to her that she might have been +Windebank's wife at any time that she had cared to encourage his +overtures, and if she were desirable as a wife in his eyes, why not in +Charlie Perigal's! Gregarious instincts ran in her blood. For all her +frequent love of solitude, there were days when her soul ached for the +companionship of her own social kind. This not being forthcoming-indeed +(despite her faith in Perigal) there being little prospect of it—she +avoided as much as possible the sight of, or physical contact with, +those prosperous ones whom she knew to be, in some cases, her equals; +in most, her social inferiors. +</P> + +<P> +It was at night when she was most a prey to unquiet thoughts. Tired +with her many hours' work at the piano, she would fall into a deep +sleep, with every prospect of its continuing till Mrs Scatchard would +bring up her morning cup of tea, when Mavis would suddenly awaken, to +remain for interminable hours in wide-eyed thought. She would go over +and over again events in her past life, more particularly those that +had brought her to her present pass. The immediate future scarcely +bothered her at all, because, for the present, she was pretty sure of +employment at the academy. On the very rare occasions on which she +suffered her mind to dwell on what would happen after her child was +born, should Perigal not fulfil his repeated promises, her vivid +imagination called up such appalling possibilities that she refused to +consider them; she had enough sense to apply to her own case the wisdom +contained in the words, "sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." +</P> + +<P> +In these silent watches of the night, so protracted and awesome was the +quiet, that it would seem to the girl's preternatural sensibilities as +if the life of the world had come to a dead stop, and that only she and +the little one within her were alive. Then she would wonder how many +other girls in London were in a like situation to hers; if they were +constantly kept awake obsessed by the same fears; also, if, like her, +they comforted themselves by clasping a ring which they wore suspended +on their hearts—a ring given them by the loved one, even as was hers. +Then she would fall to realising the truth of the saying, "How easily +things go wrong." It seemed such a little time since she had been a +happy girl at Melkbridge (if she had only realised how really happy she +was!), with more than enough for her everyday needs, when her heart was +untrammelled by love; when she was healthful, and, apart from the hours +which she was compelled to spend at the office, free. Now—An alert +movement within her was more eloquent than thought. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes she would believe that her present visitation of nature was a +punishment for her infringement of God's moral law; whilst at others +she would rejoice with a pagan exultation that, whatever the future +held in store, she had most gloriously lived in these crowded golden +moments which were responsible for her present plight. +</P> + +<P> +Once or twice her distress of mind was such that she could no longer +bear the darkness; she would light the candle, when the confinement of +the walls, the sight of the orderly and familiar furniture of the room, +would suggest an imprisoning environment from which there was no +escape. As if to make a desperate effort to free herself, she would +jump out of bed, and, throwing the window up, would look out on the +night, as if to implore from nature the succour that she failed to get +elsewhere. If the night were clear, she would gaze up at the heavens, +as if to wrest from its countless eyes some solution of, or, failing +that, some sympathy for her extremity of mind. But, for all the +eagerness with which her terror-stricken eyes would search the stars, +these looked down indifferently, unpityingly, impersonally, as if they +were so inured to the sight of sorrow that they were now careless of +any pain they witnessed. Then, with a pang at her heart, she would +wonder if Perigal were also awake and were thinking of her. She +convinced herself again and again that her agonised communing with the +night would in some mysterious way affect his heart, to incline it +irresistibly to hers, as in those never-to-be-forgotten nights and days +at Polperro. +</P> + +<P> +She heard from him fairly regularly, when he wrote letters urging her +for his sake to be brave, and telling of the many shocks he had +received from the persistent ill luck which he was seeking to overcome. +If he had known how eagerly she awaited the familiar writing, how she +read and re-read, times without number, every line he wrote, how she +treasured the letters, sleeping with them under her pillow at night, he +would have surely written with more persistency and at greater length +than he did. Occasionally he would enclose money; this she always +returned, saying that, as she was now in employment, she had more than +enough for her simple needs. Once, after sending back a five-pound note +he had sent her, she received a letter by return of post—a letter +which gave a death blow to certain hopes she had cherished. She had +long debated in her mind if she should apply the gold-mounted dressing +case which Windebank had sent her for a wedding present to a purchase +very near to her heart. She knew that, if he could know of the purpose +to which she contemplated devoting it, and of her straightened +circumstances, he would wish her to do as she desired. Having no other +money available, she was tempted to sell or pawn the dressing case, to +buy with the proceeds a handsome outfit for the expected little life, +one that should not be unworthy of a gentlewoman's child. She felt +that, as, owing to the unconventional circumstances of its birth, the +little one might presently be deprived of many of life's advantages, it +should at least be appropriately clad in the early days of its +existence. She had already selected the intended purchase, and was +rejoicing in its richness and variety, when the reply came to her +letter to Perigal that returned the five-pound note. This told Mavis +what straitened circumstances her lover was in. He asked what she had +done with the gold-mounted dressing case, and, if it were still in her +possession, if she could possibly let him have the loan of it in order +to weather an impending financial storm. With a heart that strove +valiantly to be cheerful, Mavis renounced further thought of the +contemplated layette, and sent off the dressing case to her lover. It +was a further (and this time a dutiful) sacrifice of self on the altar +of the loved one. Most of her spare time was now devoted to the making +of the garments, which, in the ordinary course of nature, would be +wanted in about two months. Sometimes, while working, she would sing +little songs that would either stop short soon after they were started, +or else would continue almost to the finish, when they would end +abruptly in a sigh. Often she would wonder if the child, when born, +would resemble its father or its mother; if her recent experiences +would affect its nature: all the thousand and one things that that most +holy thing on earth, an expectant, loving mother, thinks of the life +which love has called into being. +</P> + +<P> +At all times she told herself that, if her wishes were consulted, she +would prefer the child to be a boy, despite the fact that it was a more +serious matter to launch a son on the world than a daughter. But she +knew well that, if anything were to happen to her lover (this was now +her euphemism for his failing to keep his promise), a boy, when he came +to man's estate, might find it in his heart to forgive his mother for +the untoward circumstances of his birth, whereas a daughter would only +feel resentment at the possible handicap with which the absence of a +father and a name would inflict her life. Thus Mavis worked with her +needle, and sang, and thought, and travailed; and daily the little life +within her became more insistent. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NURSING HOME +</H3> + +<P> +A day came when Mavis's courage failed. Acting on the advice of kindly +Mrs Scatchard, she had bought, for the sum of one guinea, a confinement +outfit from a manufacturer of such things. She unpacked her purchase +fearfully. Her heart beat painfully at the thought of the approaching +ordeal that the sight of the various articles awakened. +</P> + +<P> +At the same time, she saw Perigal's conduct in the cold light of +reason. She was surprised to find how bitter she was with herself for +loving a man who could behave as selfishly as he had done. While the +mood possessed her, she went to a post-office and sent a reply-paid +telegram to Perigal, telling him to come to town at once, and asking +him to wire the train by which he would arrive. After sending the +telegram, she somewhat repented of her precipitancy, and waited in much +suspense to see what the answer would be. When, some two hours later, +she heard the double knock of a telegraph boy at the door, her heart +was filled with nervous apprehension, in which reawakened love for +Perigal bore no inconsiderable part. She opened his reply with +trembling hands. "Why? Wire or write reason—love—Charles," it ran. +</P> + +<P> +In reply, she sat down and wrote a long letter, in which she told him +how she was situated, reminded him of his promises, which, if he still +loved her, as he had professed times out of number in his letters, it +was now more than ever incumbent on him to fulfil; she concluded by +imploring him to decide either one way or the other and put an end to +her suspense. Two days later, the first post brought a letter from +Wales. By the time it arrived Mavis had, in some measure, schooled her +fears and rebellious doubtings of her lover; therefore, she was not so +disappointed at its contents as she would otherwise have been. The +letter was written in much the same strain as his other communications. +While expressing unalterable love for Mavis, together with pride at the +privileges she had permitted him to enjoy, it told her how he was beset +by countless perplexities, and that directly he saw his way clear he +would do as she wished: in the meantime, she was to trust him as +implicitly as before. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sighed as she finished the letter; she then became lost in +troubled thought, during which she was uncertain whether to laugh for +joy or sorrow. She laughed for joy, perhaps because her mind, as once +before when similarly confronted, had chosen the easier way of +self-preservation, an instinct specially insistent in one of Mavis's +years. She laughed for very happiness and persuaded herself that she +was indeed a lucky girl to be loved so devotedly. +</P> + +<P> +Although the colour soon went out of the blue sky of her joy-world, and +its trees and flowers lacked much of their one-time freshness, she was +not a little grateful for her short experience of its delights. It +helped her to bear the slights and disappointments of the following +days, of which she had no inconsiderable share. +</P> + +<P> +As the year grew older, it became increasingly necessary for Mavis to +discover a place where she might stay during, and for a while after, +her confinement. Mrs Scatchard had told her from the first, that +however much she might be disposed to let Mavis remain in the house for +this event, Mr Scatchard strongly objected, at his age, to the +inconvenience of a baby under the same roof. Mavis filled many weary +hours in dragging herself up and down front-door steps in the quest for +accommodation; but she spent her strength in vain. Directly landladies +learned of the uses to which Mavis would put the room she wished to +engage, they became resentful, and sullenly told her that they could +not accommodate her. Little as Mavis was disposed to find harbourage +for herself and little one in the unhomely places she inspected, she +was hurt by the refusals encountered. It seemed to her that the act of +gravely imperilling life in order to confer life was a situation which +demanded loving care and devoted attention, necessities she lacked: the +refusal of blowsy landladies to entertain her application hurt her more +than the other indignities that she had, so far, been compelled to +endure. One Sunday afternoon Mrs Scatchard brought up the People, in +the advertising columns of which was a list of nursing homes. Mavis +eagerly scanned the many particulars set forth, till she decided that +"Nurse G.," who lived at New Cross, made the most seductive offer. This +person advertised a comfortable home to married ladies during and after +confinement; skilled care and loving attention were furnished for +strictly moderate terms. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis decided to call on Nurse G. the following day. +</P> + +<P> +The atmosphere of the Scatchards' had recently been highly charged, as +if in preparation for an event of moment. Whenever Mr Scatchard took +his walks abroad, he was always accompanied by either his wife or +niece, who, when they finally piloted him home, would wear a look of +self-conscious triumph. When Mavis came down to breakfast, before +setting out for New Cross, there was a hum of infinite preparation. Mr +Scatchard was greasing his hair; gorgeous raiment was being packed into +a bag; the final polish was being given to a silver trumpet. Both Mrs +Scatchard and her niece, besides being cloaked and bonneted, wore an +expression of grim resolution. Mr Scatchard had the look of a hunted +animal at bay. Little was said, but just before Mavis started, Miss +Meakin came to her and whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Wish us luck, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"Luck?" queried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know of uncle and to-day's great doings?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle and the King Emperor," explained Miss Meakin. "There's a royal +kick up to-day, and uncle and the King Emperor will be there." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you and your aunt had an invitation too?" asked Mavis +mischievously. +</P> + +<P> +"Not into the palace, as you might say. But we're both going as far as +the gates with uncle, to see he gets there safely and isn't tempted by +the way." +</P> + +<P> +Soon after, Mr Scatchard left with the two women, looking, for all the +world, like a prisoner in charge of lynx-eyed warders. Then Mavis made +the long and tiring journey to New Cross. Nurse G. had advertised her +nursing home as being at No. 9 Durley Road. This latter she found to be +a depressing little thoroughfare of two-storeyed houses, all exactly +alike. She could discover nothing particularly inviting in the outside +appearance of No. 9. Soiled, worn, cotton lace curtains hung behind not +over-clean windows; behind these again were dusty, carefully closed +Venetian blinds. Mavis passed and repassed the house, uncertain whether +or not to call. Before deciding which to do, she made a mental +calculation (she was always doing this now) of exactly how much she +would have left after being paid by Mr Poulter and settling up with Mrs +Scatchard. As before, she reckoned to have exactly seven pounds fifteen +shillings. She had no intention of asking Perigal for help, as in his +last letter he had made copious reference to his straitened +circumstances. Any debasing shifts and mean discomforts to which her +poverty might expose her she looked on as a yet further sacrifice upon +the altar of the loved one, faith in whom had become the cardinal +feature of her life. The terms "strictly moderate" advertised by Nurse +G. decided her. She opened the iron gate and walked to the door. +Directly she knocked, she heard two or three windows thrown up in +neighbouring houses, from which the bodies of unkempt women projected, +to cast interested glances in Mavis's direction. As she waited, she +could hear the faint puling of a baby within the house. Next, she was +conscious that a lath of a Venetian blind was pulled aside and that +someone was spying upon her from the aperture. She waited further, the +while two of the curious women who leaned from the windows were loudly +deciding the date on which Mavis's baby would be born. Then, the door +of No. 9 was suspiciously opened about six inches. Mavis found herself +eagerly scanned by a fraction of a woman's face. The next moment, the +woman, who had caught sight of Mavis's appearance, which was now very +indicative of her condition, threw the door wide open and called +cheerily: +</P> + +<P> +"Come in, my dear; come in." +</P> + +<P> +"I want Nurse G.," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That's me: G—Gowler. Come inside." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" hesitated Mavis, as she glanced at the repulsive face of the +woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Do either one thing or the other: come right in or keep out. The +neighbours do that talk." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked into the passage, at which the woman sharply closed the +door. The puling of the baby was distinctly louder. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll 'ave to talk 'ere," continued the woman, with some weakening of +her previous cordiality, "we're that full up: two in a room an' all +expectin'. But then it never rains but it pours, as you might say." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis resisted an impulse to fly from the house. The more she saw of +Mrs Gowler (the woman wore a wedding ring), the less she liked her. To +begin with, her appearance had given Mavis much of a shock. Her alert +fancy had conjured up a vision of a kindly, motherly woman, with soft +eyes and voice, whose mere presence would have spoken of the sympathy +and tenderness for which the lonely heart of Mavis ached. Nurse Gowler +was short, fat, and puffy, with her head sunk right into her shoulders. +Her pasty face, with its tiny eyes, contained a mouth of which the +upper lip was insufficient to cover her teeth when her jaws were +closed; some of these teeth were missing, but whole ones and stumps +alike were discoloured with decay. It was her eyes which chiefly +repelled Mavis: pupil, iris, and the part surrounding this last, were +all of the same colour, a hard, bilious-looking green. Her face +suggested to Mavis a flayed pig's head, such as can be seen in pork +butchers' shops. As if this were not enough to disgust Mavis, the +woman's manner soon lost the geniality with which she had greeted her; +she stood still and impassively by Mavis, who could not help believing +that Mrs Gowler was attentively studying her from her hat to her shoe +leather. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis began her story, to be interrupted by a repressed cry of pain +proceeding from the partly open door on the right. Mrs Gowler quickly +closed it. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis resumed her story. When she got to the part where her supposed +husband was in America, Mrs Gowler impatiently interrupted her by +saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Where 'e's making a 'ome for you." +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know?" asked the astonished Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's always the way; we've lots of 'em like that here, occasionals and +regulars." +</P> + +<P> +"Occasionals and regulars!" +</P> + +<P> +"Lor' bless you, some of 'em comes as punctual as the baked potato man +in October. When was you expectin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not quite certain," replied Mavis, at which Mrs Gowler plied her +with a number of questions, leading the former to remark presently: +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you're due next Friday two weeks. To prevent accidents, you'd +better come on the Wednesday night. If you like to book a bed, I'll see +it's kep'." +</P> + +<P> +"But what are your charges?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow much can you afford?" +</P> + +<P> +After discussion, it was arranged that, if Mavis decided to stay with +Mrs Gowler for three weeks certain, she was to pay twenty-two shillings +a week, this sum to include the woman's skilled attendance and nursing, +together with bed and board. In the event of Mavis wanting medical +advice, Mrs Gowler had an arrangement with a doctor by which he charged +the moderate fee of a shilling a visit to any of her patients that +required his services. The extreme reasonableness of the terms inclined +Mavis to decide on going to Mrs Gowler's. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one thing," she said: "I've a dog; she's a great pet and +quite clean. If you wouldn't object to her coming, I might—" +</P> + +<P> +"Bring her: bring her. Is she having dear little puppies?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh dear, no." +</P> + +<P> +"A pity. The more the merrier. I love work." +</P> + +<P> +This decided Mavis. With considerable misgiving, but spurred by +poverty, she told the woman that she was coming. +</P> + +<P> +"An' what about binding our bargain?" asked Mrs Gowler. +</P> + +<P> +"How much do you want?" asked Mavis, as she produced her purse. "Will +five shillings do?" +</P> + +<P> +"It'll do," admitted Mrs Gowler grudgingly, although the deposit she +usually received was half a crown. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel rather faint. Is there anywhere I can sit down for a minute?" +asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't mind the kitchen. P'raps you'd like a cup of tea. I +always keep it ready on the fire." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked her and followed Mrs Gowler to the room indicated. +Although it was late in May, a roaring fire was burning in the kitchen, +about which, on various sized towel-horses, numerous articles of +babies' attire were airing. +</P> + +<P> +"Too 'ot for yer?" asked Mrs Gowler. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind where it is so long as I sit down." +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow do you like your tea?" asked her hostess. "Noo or stooed?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like fresh tea if it isn't any trouble," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The tea was quickly made, there being a plentiful supply of boiling +water. Whilst Mavis was gratefully sipping hers, a noise of something +falling was heard in the scullery behind. +</P> + +<P> +"It's that dratted cat," cried Mrs Gowler, as she caught up a broom and +waddled from the kitchen. She returned, a moment later, with something +remotely approaching a look of tenderness in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"It's awright; it's my Oscar," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +Then what appeared to be a youth of eighteen years of age entered the +kitchen. He was dark, with a receding forehead; his chin, much too +large for his face, seemed as if it had been made for somebody else. +His absence of expression, together with the feeling of discomfort that +at once seized Mavis, told her that he was an idiot. +</P> + +<P> +"Go an' shake hands with the lady, Oscar." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis shuddered to feel his damp palm upon hers. +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't believe it, but 'e's six fingers on each 'and, and 'e's +twenty-eight: ain't yer, Oscar?" remarked his mother proudly. +</P> + +<P> +Oscar turned to grin at his mother, whilst Mavis, with all her maternal +instinct aroused, avoided looking at or thinking of the idiot as much +as possible. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Gowler waxed eloquent on the subject of her Oscar, to whom she was +apparently devoted. She was just telling Mavis how he liked to amuse +himself by torturing the cat, when a sharp cry penetrated into the +kitchen, as if coming from the neighbourhood of the front door. +</P> + +<P> +"Bella's coming on," she said, as she caught up an apron before leaving +the kitchen. "Be nice to the lady, Oscar, and see her out, like the +gent you are," cried Mrs Gowler, before shutting the door. +</P> + +<P> +Alone with the grinning idiot, Mavis shut her eyes, the while she +finished her tea. She did not want her baby to be in any way affected +by the acute mental discomfort occasioned to its mother by the presence +of Mrs Gowler's son, a contingency she had understood could easily be a +reality. When she looked about for her hat and umbrella, she +discovered, to her great relief, that she was alone, Oscar having +apparently slipped out after his mother, the kitchen door being ajar. +Mavis drew on her gloves, stopped her ears with her fingers as she +passed along the passage, opened the door and hurried away from the +house. +</P> + +<P> +Once outside, the beauty of the sweet spring day emphasised the horror +of the house she had left. +</P> + +<P> +She set her lips grimly, thought lovingly of Perigal, and resolved to +dwell on her approaching ordeal as little as possible. Before returning +to Mrs Scatchard's, she looked in to see Miss Nippett, who, with the +coming of summer, seemed to lose strength daily. She now hardly ever +got up, but remained in bed all day, where she would talk softly to +herself. She always brightened up when Mavis came into the room, and +was ever keenly interested in the latest news from the academy, +particularly in Mr Poulter's physical and economic wellbeing. Seeing +how make-believe inquiries of Mr Poulter after his accompanist's health +cheered the lonely old woman, Mavis had no compunction in employing +these white lies to brighten Miss Nippett's monotonous days. +</P> + +<P> +She raised herself in bed and nodded a welcome as Mavis entered the +room. After assuring Mavis "that she was all right, reely she was," she +asked: +</P> + +<P> +"When are you going to 'ave your baby?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very soon now," sighed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I shall ever 'ave one," remarked Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"They're a great tie if one has a busy life," she said, to add +wistfully, "Though it would be nice if one could get Mr Poulter for a +godfather." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it!" echoed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Give it a good start in the world, you know. It 'ud be something to +talk about 'avin' 'im for a godfather." +</P> + +<P> +Presently, when Mavis stooped to kiss the wan face before going, Miss +Nippett said: +</P> + +<P> +"If I was to die, d'ye know what 'ud make me die 'appy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk such nonsense: at your age, too." +</P> + +<P> +"If I could just be made a partner in 'Poulter's,'" continued Miss +Nippett. "Not for the money, you understand, reely not for that; but +for the honour, as you might say." +</P> + +<P> +"I quite understand." +</P> + +<P> +"But there, one mustn't be too ambitious. That's the worst of me. And +it's the way to be un'appy," she sighed. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked with heavy heart to her lodging; for all her own griefs, +Miss Nippett's touching faith in "Poulter's" moved her deeply. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis got back, she found Mrs Scatchard and her niece in high +feather. They insisted upon Mavis joining them at what they called a +knife and fork tea, to which Mr Napper and two friends of the family +had been invited. Mr Scatchard was not present, but no mention was made +of his absence, it being looked upon as an inevitable relaxation after +the work and fret of the day. The room was littered with evening papers. +</P> + +<P> +"It all went off beautiful, my dear," Mrs Scatchard remarked to Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"We left him safe at the palace, and as there's nothing in the papers +about anything going wrong, it must be all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," Mavis assented. +</P> + +<P> +"We know Mr Scatchard has his weaknesses; but then, if he hadn't, he +wouldn't be the musical artiste he is," declared his wife, at which +Mavis, who was just then drinking tea, nearly swallowed it the wrong +way. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Napper soon dropped in, to be closely followed by a Mr Webb and a +Miss Jennings, who had never met the solicitor's clerk before. Mr Webb +and Miss Jennings were engaged to be married. As if to proclaim their +unalterable affection to the world, they sat side by side with their +arms about each other. +</P> + +<P> +The presence of strangers moved Mr Napper to talk his farrago of +philosophical nonsense. It did not take long for Mavis to see that Miss +Jennings was much impressed by the flow of many-syllabled words which +issued, without ceasing, from the lawyer's clerk's lips. The admiration +expressed in the girl's eyes incited Mr Napper to further efforts. +</P> + +<P> +He presently remarked to Miss Jennings: +</P> + +<P> +"I can tell your character in two ticks." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Jennings, who had been wholly resigned to the fact of her +insignificance, began to take herself with becoming seriousness. +</P> + +<P> +"How?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with interest. +</P> + +<P> +"By your face or by your 'ead." +</P> + +<P> +"Do tell me," she pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ead or face?" +</P> + +<P> +"Try the head," she said, as she sought to free herself from her +lover's entangling embrace. But Mr Webb would not let her go; he +grasped her firmly by the waist, and, despite her entreaties, would not +relax his hold. Mr Napper made as if he would approach Miss Jennings, +but was restrained by Miss Meakin, who stamped angrily on his corns, +and, when he danced with pain, stared menacingly at him. When he +recovered, Miss Jennings begged him to tell her character by her face. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Napper, looking out of the corner of one eye at Miss Meakin, stared +attentively at Miss Jennings, who was now fully conscious of the +attention she was attracting. Mr Webb waited in suspense, with his eye +on Mr Napper's face. +</P> + +<P> +"You're very fond of draughts," said the latter presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Right!" cried Miss Jennings, as she smiled triumph antly at her lover. +</P> + +<P> +"But I shouldn't say you was much good at 'huffing,'" he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"Right again!" smiled the delighted Miss Jennings. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say your 'eart governed your 'ead," came next. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite right!" cried Miss Jennings, who was now quite perked up. +</P> + +<P> +"You're very fond of admiration," exclaimed Mr Napper, after a further +pause. +</P> + +<P> +"She isn't; she isn't," cried Mr Webb, as his hold tightened on the +loved one's form. +</P> + +<P> +More was said by Mr Napper in the same strain, which greatly increased +not only Miss Jennings's sense of self-importance, but her interest in +Mr Napper. +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis perceived how his ridiculous talk captivated Miss Jennings, it +occurred to her that the vanity of women was such, that this instance +of one of their number being impressed by a foolish man's silly +conversation was only typical of the manner in which the rest of the +sex were fascinated. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISS 'PETT'S APOTHEOSIS +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis was seriously alarmed for Miss Nippett. Her friend was so ill +that she insisted upon a doctor being called in. After examining the +patient, he told her that Miss Nippett was suffering from acute +influenza; also, that complications were threatening. He warned Mavis +of the risk of catching the disease, which, in her present condition, +might have serious consequences; but she had not the heart to leave her +friend to the intermittent care of the landlady. With the money that +Miss Nippett instructed her to find in queer hiding-places, Mavis +purchased bovril, eggs, and brandy, with which she did her best to +patch up the enfeebled frame of the sick woman. Nothing that she or the +doctor could do had any permanent effect; every evening, Miss Nippett's +temperature would rise with alarming persistence. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if she's anything on her mind that might account for it," the +doctor said to Mavis, when leaving one evening. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see what she could have, unless—" +</P> + +<P> +"Unless?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe she worries about a matter connected with her old +occupation. I'll try and find out," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow did 'e say I was?" asked Miss Nippett, as Mavis rejoined her. +</P> + +<P> +"Much better." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"Reely I ain't. If 'e says I'm better, 'e'd better stay away. That's +the worst of these fash'nable 'Bush' doctors; they make fortunes out of +flattering people they're better when they're not." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had more than a suspicion that Miss Nippett's retarded +convalescence was due to not having attained that position in the +academy to which she believed her years of faithful service entitled +her. Mavis made reference to the matter; the nature of Miss Nippett's +replies converted suspicion into certainty. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, Mavis called on Mr Poulter, whom she had not seen for +two weeks, the increasing physical disabilities of her condition +compelling her to give up work at the academy. She found him engaged in +the invention of a new country dance for a forthcoming competition. +Mavis explained her errand, but had some difficulty in convincing even +kindly Mr Poulter of Miss Nippett's ambitious leanings: in the course +of years, he had come to look on his devoted accompanist very much as +he regarded "Turpsichor" who stood by the front door. Mavis's request +surprised him almost as much as if he had been told that "Turpsichor" +herself ached to waltz with him in the publicity of a long night. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe she's very long to live," said Mavis. "If you could +make her a partner, merely in an honorary sense, it would make her last +days radiantly happy." +</P> + +<P> +"It might be done, my dear," mused Mr Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +"But, whatever you do, don't let her think I suggested it to you." +</P> + +<P> +"'Poulter's' can be the soul of tact and discretion," he informed her. +</P> + +<P> +After more conversation on the subject, Mavis was about to take her +leave when the postman brought a parcel addressed to her at the +academy, from her old Pennington friend, Mrs Trivett. It contained +eggs, butter, and cream, together with a letter. This last told Mavis +that things were in a bad way at the farm; in consequence, her husband +was thinking of sub-letting his house, in order to migrate to +Melkbridge, where he might earn a living by teaching music. It closed +with repeated wishes for Mavis's welfare. +</P> + +<P> +"These people will send things in my maiden name," said Mavis, as she +wondered if Mr Poulter's suspicions had been aroused by similar +packages having occasionally arrived for her addressed in the same way. +</P> + +<P> +"It was only to be expected. From your professional association with +the academy, they would think it only proper to address you by 'Miss' +and your maiden name," remarked guileless Mr Poulter. +</P> + +<P> +Upon Mavis's third visit to Miss Nippett after her interview with Mr +Poulter, she noticed a change in the sick woman's appearance; she was +sitting up in bed with a face wreathed in smiles. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ave you 'eard?" she cried excitedly, when she saw Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Heard what?" asked Mavis innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"'Bout me an' 'Poulter's.' You don't mean to say you 'aven't 'eard!" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope it's good news." +</P> + +<P> +"Good! Good! It's wonderful! Jest you throw your eye over that." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis read a formally worded letter from Mr Poulter, in which he +informed Miss Nippett "that, in consideration of her many years' +faithful service, he could think of no more fitting way to reward her +than by taking her into partnership: in accordance with this resolve, +what was formerly known as 'Poulter's' would in future be described for +all time as 'Poulter and Nippett's.'" +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye think of that?" asked Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only what you deserved." +</P> + +<P> +"There's no going back on it now it's in black and white." +</P> + +<P> +"He wouldn't wish to." +</P> + +<P> +"It's proof, ain't it, legal an' all that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolute. I congratulate you," said Mavis, as she took the wan white +hand in hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Even now I can't b'lieve it's true," sighed the accompanist, as she +sank exhausted on her pillows. +</P> + +<P> +"You're overdoing it," said Mavis, as she mixed some brandy and milk. +</P> + +<P> +"I 'ate the muck," declared Miss Nippett, when Mavis besought her to +drink it. +</P> + +<P> +"But if you don't do what you're told, you'll never get well." +</P> + +<P> +"Reely!" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not. Take this at once," Mavis commanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, I say, who are you talking to? Have you for gotten I'm a partner +in—" Here the little woman broke off, to exclaim as she burst into +tears: "It's true: it's true: it's reely, reely true." +</P> + +<P> +Before Mavis went home, she soothed Miss Nippett's tears; she left her +in a condition of radiant, enviable happiness. She had never seen +anyone so possessed by calm abiding joy as the accompanist at her +unlooked-for good fortune. +</P> + +<P> +On her way back, Mavis marvelled at what she believed to be the +all-wise arrangements of Providence, by which happiness was parcelled +out to the humblest of human beings. With the exception of Windebank, +she had not been friendly with a rich person since she had been a +child, so could not, at present, have any opinion of how much happiness +the wealthy enjoyed; but she could not help remarking how much joy and +contentment she had encountered in the person seemingly most unlikely +to be thus blessed. At this period of her life, it did not occur to her +that the natural and proper egoism of the human mind finds expression +in a vanity, that, if happily unchastened by knowledge or experience, +is a source of undiluted joy to the possessor. +</P> + +<P> +If time be measured by the amount of suffering endured, it was a little +later that Mavis realised that to be ignorant is to be often happy, +enlightenment begetting desires that there is no prospect of staying, +and, therefore, discontentment ensues. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis next visited Miss Nippett, she rummaged, at her friend's +request, in the cupboard containing the unclaimed "overs" for finery +with which the accompanist wished to decorate her exalted state. If +Miss Nippett had had her way and had appeared in the street wearing the +gaudy, fluffy things she picked out, she would have been put down as a +disreputable old lady. But, for all Miss Nippett's resolves, it was +written in the book of fate that she was to take but one more journey +out of doors, and that in the simplest of raiment. For all her +prodigious elation at her public association with Mr Poulter, her +health far from improved; her strength declined daily; she wasted away +before Mavis' dismayed eyes. She did not suffer, but dozed away the +hours with increasingly rare intervals in which she was stark awake. On +these latter occasions, for all the latent happiness which had come +into her life, she would fret because Mr Poulter rarely called to +inquire after her health. Such was her distress at this remissness on +the part of the dancing master, that more often than not, when Miss +Nippett, after waking from sleep, asked with evident concern if Mr +Poulter had been, Mavis would reply: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. But he didn't like to come upstairs and disturb you." +</P> + +<P> +For five or six occasions Miss Nippett accepted this explanation, but, +at last, she became skeptical of Mavis' statements. +</P> + +<P> +"Funny 'e always comes when I'm asleep!" she would say. "S'pose he was +too busy to send up 'is name an' chance waking me. Tell those stories +to them as swallers them." +</P> + +<P> +But a time came when Miss Nippett was too ill even to fret. For three +days she lay in the dim borderland of death, during which the doctor, +when he visited her, became more and more grave. A time came when he +could do no more; he told Mavis that the accompanist would soon be +beyond further need of mortal aid. +</P> + +<P> +The news seemed to strike a chill to Mavis' heart. Owing to their +frequent meetings, Miss Nippett had become endeared to her: she could +hardly speak for emotion. +</P> + +<P> +"How long will it be?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll probably drag through the night. But if I were you, I should go +home in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"And leave her to die alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"You have your own trouble to face. Hasn't she any friends?" +</P> + +<P> +"None that I know of." +</P> + +<P> +"No one she'd care to see?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's one man, her old employer. But he's always so busy." +</P> + +<P> +"Where does he live?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis told him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll find time to see him and ask him to come." +</P> + +<P> +"It's very kind of you." +</P> + +<P> +But the kindly doctor did not seem to hear what she said; he was sadly +regarding Miss Nippett, who, just now, was dozing uneasily on her +pillows. Then, without saying a word, he left the room. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it came about that Mavis kept the long, sad night vigil beside the +woman whom death was to claim so soon. As Miss Nippett's numbered +moments remorselessly passed, the girl's heart went out to the pitiful, +shrivelled figure in the bed. It seemed that an unfair contest was +being fought between the might and majesty of death on the one hand, +and an insignificant, work-worn woman on the other, in which the ailing +body had not the ghost of a chance. Mavis found herself reflecting on +the futility of life, if all it led to were such a pitifully unequal +struggle as that going on before her eyes. Then she remembered how she +had been taught that this world was but a preparation for the joyous +life in the next; also, that directly Miss Nippett ceased to breathe it +would mean that she was entering upon her existence in realms of bliss. +Somehow, Mavis could not help smiling at the mental picture of her +friend which had suddenly occurred to her. In this, she had imagined +Miss Nippett with a crown on her head and a harp in her hand, singing +celestial melodies at the top of her voice. The next moment, she +reproached herself for this untimely thought; her heart ached at the +extremity of the little old woman huddled up in the bed. Mavis had +always lived her life among more or less healthy people, who were +ceaselessly struggling in order to live; consequently, she had always +disregarded the existence of death. The great destroyer seemed to find +small employment amongst those who flocked to their work in the morning +and left it at night; but here, in the meagre room, where human clay +was, as it were, stripped of all adornments, in order not to lose the +smallest chance in the fell tussle with disease, it was brought home to +Mavis what frail opposition the bodies of men and women alike offer to +the assaults of the many missioners of death. Things that she had not +thought of before were laid bare before her eyes. The inevitable ending +of life bestowed on all flesh an infinite pathos which she had never +before remarked. The impotence of mankind to escape its destiny made +life appear to her but as a tragic procession, in which all its +distractions and vanities were only so much make-believe, in order to +hide its destination from eyes that feared to see. The helplessness, +the pitifulness of the passing away of the lonely old woman gave a +dignity, a grandeur to her declining moments, which infected the common +furniture of the room. The cheap, painted chest of drawers, the worn +trunk at the foot of the bed, the dingy wall-paper, the shaded white +glass lamp on the rickety table, all seemed invested with a nobility +alien to their everyday common appearance, inasmuch as they assisted at +the turning of a living thing, who had rejoiced, and toiled, and +suffered, into unresponsive clay. Even the American clock on the +mantelpiece acquired a fine distinction by reason of its measuring the +last moments of a human being, with all its miserable sensibility to +pain and joy—a distinction that was not a little increased, in Mavis' +eyes, owing to the worldly insignificance of the doomed woman. +</P> + +<P> +After Mavis had got ready to hand things that might be wanted in the +night, she settled herself in a chair by the head of the bed in order +to snatch what sleep she might. Before she dozed, she wondered if that +day week, which she would be spending at Mrs Gowler's, would find her +as prostrated by illness as was her friend. Two or three times in the +dread silent watches of the night, she was awakened by Miss Nippett's +continually talking to herself. Mavis would interrupt her by asking if +she would take any nourishment; but Miss Nippett, vouchsafing no +answer, would go on speaking as before, her talk being entirely +concerned with matters connected with the academy. And all the time, +the American clock on the mantelpiece remorselessly ticked off the +accompanist's remaining moments. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, heartsick and weary, got little sleep. She watched the night +grow paler and paler outside the window, till, presently, the shaded +lamp at the bedside seemed absurdly wan. Birds greeted with their songs +the coming of the day. The sun rose in another such a blue sky as that +on which she and Charlie Perigal had enjoyed their +never-to-be-forgotten visit to Llansallas Bay. Mavis was not a little +jarred by the insensibility of the June day to Miss Nippett's +approaching dissolution. She reflected in what a sad case would be +humanity, if there were no loving Father to welcome the bruised and +weary traveller, arrived at the end of life's pilgrimage, with loving +words or healing sympathy. In her heart of hearts, she envied Miss +Nippett the heavenly solace and divine compassion which would soon be +hers. Then her heart leapt to the glory of the young June day; she +devoutly hoped that she would be spared to witness many, many such days +as she now looked upon. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Kenrick!" said a voice from the bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you awake?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Do draw that there blind. I can't stand that there sun." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it worry you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give me the 'lectric, same as they have at the Athenaeum on long +nights." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did as she was bid: the light of the lamp at once became an +illumination of some importance. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I want me shawl on again; the old one." "Don't you want any +nourishment?" asked Mavis, as she fastened the familiar shawl about +Miss Nippett's shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use?" +</P> + +<P> +"To get better, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"No getting better for me. I know: reely I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Nippett shook her head as resolutely as her bodily weakness +permitted. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the time?" she asked presently. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis told her. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever 'appens, I shall go down to posterity as a partner in +'Poulter's'!" +</P> + +<P> +"You've no business to think of such things," faltered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use codding me. I know; reely I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, if you don't believe me, wouldn't you like to see a clergyman?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's someone else I'd much sooner see." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Poulter?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've guessed right this time. Is there—is there any chance of his +coming?" asked Miss Nippett wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +"There's every chance. The doctor was going to tell him how ill you +were." +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't understand; these great, big, famous men ain't like me +and you. They—they forget and—" Tears gathered in the red rims of +Miss Nippett's eyes. Mavis wiped them gently away and softly kissed the +puckered brow. +</P> + +<P> +"There's somethin' I'd like to tell you," said Miss Nippett, some +minutes later. +</P> + +<P> +"Try and get some sleep," urged Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"But I want to tell someone. It isn't as if you was a larruping girl +who'd laugh, but you're a wife, an' ever so big at that, with what +you're expectin' next week." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Bend over: you never know oo's listening." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did as she was asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Mr Poulter—can't you guess?" faltered Miss Nippett. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"I b'lieve I love him: reely I do. Don't laugh." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I?" +</P> + +<P> +"There was nothing in it—don't run away thinking there was—but how +could there be, 'im so great and noble and famous, and me—" +</P> + +<P> +Increasing weakness would not suffer Miss Nippett to finish the +sentence. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis forced her to take some nourishment, after which, Miss Nippett +lay back on her pillow, with her eyes fixed on the clock. Mavis sat in +the chair by the bedside. Now and again, her eyes would seek the +timepiece. Whenever she heard a sound downstairs (for some time the +people of the house could be heard moving about), Miss Nippett would +listen intently and then look wistfully at Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The girl divined how heartfully the dying woman hungered for Mr +Poulter's coming. +</P> + +<P> +Thrice Mavis offered to seek him out, but on each occasion Miss +Nippett's terrified pleadings not to be left alone constrained her to +stay. +</P> + +<P> +It wanted a few minutes to eight when Miss Nippett fell into a peaceful +doze. Mavis took this opportunity of making herself a much-needed cup +of tea. Whilst she was gratefully sipping it, Miss Nippett suddenly +awoke to say: +</P> + +<P> +"There! There's something I always meant to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind now," said Mavis soothingly. +</P> + +<P> +"But I do. It is something to mind about—I never stood 'Turpsichor' a +noo coat of paint." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about it." +</P> + +<P> +"I always promised I would, but kep' putting it off an' off, an' now +she'll never get it from me. Poor old 'Turpsichor'!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Nippett soon forgot her neglect of "Turpsichor" and fell into a +further doze. +</P> + +<P> +When she next awoke, she asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Would you mind drawing them curtains?" +</P> + +<P> +"Like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You are good to me: reely you are." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"But then you ought to be: you've got a good man to love you an' give +you babies." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it you want?" asked Mavis sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you see the 'Scrubbs'?" +</P> + +<P> +"The prison?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, the 'Scrubbs.' Can you see 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite distinct?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite." +</P> + +<P> +"That's awright." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Nippett sighed with some content. +</P> + +<P> +"If 'e don't come soon, 'e'll be too late," murmured Miss Nippett after +an interval of seeming exhaustion. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis waited with ears straining for the sound of the knocker on the +front door. Miss Nippett lay so that her weakening eyes could watch the +door of the bedroom. Now and again, Mavis addressed one or two remarks +to her, but the old woman merely shook her head, as if to convey that +she had neither the wish nor the strength for further speech. Mavis, +with a great fear, noted the failing light in her friend's eyes, but +was convinced that, for all the weakening of the woman's physical +processes, she desired as ardently as ever a sight of Mr Poulter before +she died. A few minutes later, a greyness crept into Miss Nippett's +face. Mavis repressed an inclination to fly from the room. Then, +although she feared to believe the evidence of her ears, a knock was +heard at the door. After what seemed an interval of centuries, she +heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Mavis glanced at Miss Nippett. +She was horrified to see that her friend was heedless of Mr Poulter's +possible approach. She moved quickly to the door. To her unspeakable +relief, Mr Poulter stood outside. She beckoned him quickly into the +room. He hastened to the bedside, where, after gazing sadly at the all +but unconscious Miss Nippett, he knelt to take the woman's wan, worn +hand in his. To Mavis's surprise, Miss Nippett's fingers at once closed +on those of Mr Poulter. As the realisation of his presence reached the +dying woman's understanding, a smile of infinite gladness spread over +her face: a rare, happy smile, which, as if by magic, effaced the +puckered forehead, the wasted cheeks, the long upper lip, to substitute +in their stead a great contentment, such as might be possessed by one +who has found a deep joy, not only after much travail, but as if, till +the last moment, the longed-for bliss had all but been denied. The wan +fingers grasped tighter and tighter; the smile faded a little before +becoming fixed. +</P> + +<P> +Another moment, and "Poulter's" had lost the most devoted servant which +it had ever possessed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ORDEAL +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis and Jill stood outside Mrs Gowler's, in the late evening of the +Wednesday after the day on which Miss Nippett had commenced her long, +long rest. Mavis had left the trunk she was bringing at the station (a +porter was trundling it on), but before opening the gate of No. 9 +Durley Road, she instinctively paused to take what she thought might +prove a last look at the world. +</P> + +<P> +The contented serenity of the summer night enhanced the meanness of the +little street; but Mavis's imagination soared over the roofs, not only +of the road in which she stood, but of countless other roofs, till it +winged its way to Melkbridge. Instead of the depressing road, with its +infrequent down-at-heel passers-by, Mavis saw only the Avon as she had +known it a year ago. The river flowed lazily beneath the pollard +willows, as if complaisant enough to let these see their reflection in +the water. Forget-me-nots jewelled the banks; ragged robin looked +roguishly from, clumps of bushes; the scent of hay seemed to fill the +world. That was then. +</P> + +<P> +Now—! Before she had set out for Durley Road, she had penned a little +note to Perigal. In this she had told him of the circumstances in which +she was writing it, and had said that if it proved to be the last +letter she should send him, that she would never cease to love and +trust him in any world to which it might please God to take her. This +was all she had written; but the moving simplicity of her words might +have touched even Perigal's heart. Besides writing to her lover, Mavis +had given Mrs Scatchard the address to which she was going, and had +besought her, in the event of anything untoward happening, either to +take Jill for her own or to find her a good home. Mrs Scatchard's +promise to keep and cherish Jill herself, should anything happen to her +mistress, cheered Mavis much. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis took a last long look of the June night, sighed and entered the +gate of No. 9: her nerves were so disordered that it seemed as if it +shut behind her with a menacing clang. She knocked at the door, but, +upon no one coming, she knocked again and again. She knew there was +someone in the house, for the wailing of babies could be heard within. +For all anyone cared, her baby might have been born on the step. After +knocking and waiting for quite a long time, the door was opened by a +sad-faced girl, who, with the remains of a fresh complexion, looked as +if she were countryborn and bred. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Gowler?" asked Mavis wearily. +</P> + +<P> +Without making any reply, the young woman left the door open and +disappeared up the stairs. Mavis, followed by Jill, dragged herself +into the passage. The puling and smell of unwashed babies assailed her +ears and nostrils to such an extent, that, to escape from these, she +walked into the kitchen and closed the door. This room was empty, but, +as on her last visit, a fire roared in the kitchener, before which +innumerable rows of little garments were airing. Overpowered by the +stifling heat, Mavis sank on a chair, where a horde of flies buzzed +about her head and tried to settle on her face. She was about to seek +the passage in preference to the stuffy kitchen, when she heard a loud +single knock at the front door. Believing this to be the porter with +her luggage, she went to the door, to find that her surmise was correct. +</P> + +<P> +"Which room shall I take it to, miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"It will do if you put it in the hall," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +When she had paid the man and shut the door, she sat upon her box in +the passage. Jill nestled beside her, whilst Mavis rested with her +fingers pressed well against her ears, to deaden the continual crying +of babies which came from various rooms in the house. +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis thus waited, disconsolate and alone, her heart sank within +her. Her present case seemed to foreshadow the treatment she would +receive at Mrs Gowler's hands during her confinement, which might now +occur at any moment. As she waited, she lost all count of time; her +whole being was concerned with an alteration in her habits of thought, +which had been imminent during the last few months, but which needed a +powerful stimulus to be completely effected. This was now supplied. +Hitherto, when it became a question whether she should consider others +before herself, she had, owing to an instinct in her blood, chosen the +way of self-abnegation. She often suspected that others took advantage +of this unselfishness, but found it hard to do otherwise than she had +always done. Whether it was owing to all she had lately endured, or +because her maternal instinct urged her to think only of her as yet +unborn little one, she became aware of a hardening of heart which +convinced her of the expediency of fighting for her own hand in the +future. Mrs Gowler's absence was the immediate cause of this +manifestation. Had she not loved Perigal so devotedly and trusted him +so completely, she would have left the miserable house in Durley Road +and gone to an expensive nursing home, to insist later upon his meeting +the bill. For all her awakened instinct of self, the fact of her still +deciding to remain at Mrs Gowler's was a yet further sacrifice on the +altar of the loved one. Perhaps this further self-effacement where her +lover was concerned urgently moved her to stand no trifling in respect +of others. Consequently, when about half-past ten Mrs Gowler opened the +door, accompanied by her idiot son, Oscar, who looked more imbecile +than ever in elaborate clothes, she was not a little surprised to be +greeted by Mavis with the words: +</P> + +<P> +"What does this mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"What does what mean?" replied Mrs Gowler, bridling. +</P> + +<P> +"Keeping me waiting like this." +</P> + +<P> +"Wot do you expect for wot you're payin'—brass banns and banners?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't expect impertinence from you!" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Imperence! imperence! And oo's Mrs Kenrick to give 'erself such airs! +And before my Oscar too!" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to me," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder you don't send for your 'usband to go for me." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Your lovin' 'usband wot's in Ameriky a-making a snug little 'ome for +you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was, for the moment, vanquished by the adroitness of Mrs Gowler's +thrust. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not well enough to quarrel. Please to show me my room." +</P> + +<P> +"That's better. An' I'll be pleased to show you what you call 'my room' +when I've given my Oscar 'is supper," shouted Mrs Gowler, as she sailed +into the kitchen, followed by her gibbering son, who twice turned to +stare at Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Alone in the unlit, stuffy passage, Mavis whispered her troubles to +Jill. Tears came to her eyes, which she held back by thinking +persistently of the loved one. While she waited, she heard the clatter +of plates and the clink of glasses in the kitchen. Mavis would have +gone for a short walk, but she had a superstitious fear of going out of +doors again till after her baby was born. +</P> + +<P> +The sharp cry, as of one suddenly assailed by pain, came from the floor +overhead. Then a door opened, and footsteps came to the top of the +first flight of stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs Gowler! Mrs Gowler!" cried a woman's voice frantically. But the +woman had to call many times before her voice triumphed over the +thickness of the kitchen door and the noise of the meal. +</P> + +<P> +"Oo is it?" asked Mrs Gowler, when she presently came from the kitchen, +with her mouth full of bread, cheese, stout, and spring onions. +</P> + +<P> +"Liz—Mrs Summerville!" replied the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"'Arf a mo', an' I'll be up," grumbled Mrs Gowler, as she returned to +the kitchen, to emerge a few seconds later pinning on her apron. +</P> + +<P> +"You finish yer supper, Oscar, but don't drink all the stout," she +called to her son, as she went up the stairs. Before she had got to the +landing, the cry was heard again and yet again. It sounded to Mavis +like some wounded animal being tortured beyond endurance. The cries +continued, to seem louder when a door was opened, and to be +correspondingly deadened when this was closed. Mavis shuddered; +anticipation of the torment she would have to endure chilled the blood +in her veins; cold shivers coursed down her back. It was as if she were +imprisoned in a house of pain, from which she could only escape by +enduring the most poignant of all torture inflicted by nature on +sensitive human bodies. The cries became continuous. Mavis placed her +fingers in her ears to shut them out. For all this precaution, a scream +of pain penetrated to her hearing. A few moments later, when she had to +use her hands in order to prevent Jill from jumping on to her lap, she +did not hear a sound. Some quarter of an hour later, Mrs Gowler +descended the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"A quick job that," she remarked to Mavis, who did not make any reply. +"Let's 'ope you'll be as sharp," added the woman, as she disappeared +into the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis gathered from these remarks that a mother had been delivered of a +child during Mrs Gowler's brief sojourn upstairs. The latter confirmed +this surmise by saying a little later, when she issued from the kitchen +drying her hands and bared arms on a towel: +</P> + +<P> +"The worst of these here nursing 'omes is that yer never knows when +you're going to be on the job. I didn't expect Liz till termorrer." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you like a glass of stout?" asked Mrs Gowler. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to open another bottle an' thought you'd join, jes' friendly +like, as you might say. What with the work an' the 'eat of the kitchen, +I tell yer, I can do with it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tired of sitting in this horrible passage. I wish you would show +me to my room." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait till it's ready," retorted Mrs Gowler, angry at her hospitality +being refused. +</P> + +<P> +"It ought to be ready. What else did I arrange to come for?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can go up if you like, but Mrs May is bathing her baby, an' +there's no room to move." +</P> + +<P> +"Does—does that mean that you haven't given me a room to myself?" +cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Wot more d'ye expect for wot you're payin'?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made up her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't give me a room to myself, I shall go," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"And 'ave yer baby in the street?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's my affair." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis rose as if to make good her words. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing that she was in earnest, Mrs Gowler said: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be a mug. I'll see what I can do." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was much relieved when Mrs Gowler waddled up the stairs, taking +with her an evil-smelling oil lamp. The woman's presence was beginning +to inspire her with a nameless dread, which was alien to the repulsion +inspired by her appearance and coarse speech. Now and again, Mavis +caught a glimpse of terrifying depths of resolution in the woman's +nature; then she seemed as if she would stick at nothing in order to +gain her ends. +</P> + +<P> +"This way, please, Mrs 'Aughty," Mrs Gowler presently called from the +landing above Mavis's head. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked up the two flights of stairs, followed by Jill, where she +found Mrs Gowler in the passage leading to the two top-back rooms of +the house. One of these was small, being little larger than a box-room, +but to Mavis's eyes it presented the supreme advantage of being +untenanted by any other patient. +</P> + +<P> +"We'd better 'ave most of the furniture out, 'ceptin' the bed and +washstand," declared Mrs Gowler. +</P> + +<P> +"But where am I to keep my things?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you 'ave your box jes' outside the door? If there ain't no +space, you might pop off before I could hop round the bed." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it often dangerous?" faltered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That depends. 'Ave you walked much?" +</P> + +<P> +"A good deal. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's in yer favour. But I 'ope nothin' will 'appen, for my sake. I +can't do with any more scandals here. I've my Oscar to think of." +</P> + +<P> +"Scandals?" queried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"What about gettin' your box upstairs?" asked Mrs Gowler, as if wishful +to change the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't there anyone who can carry it up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not to-night. Yer can't expect my Oscar to soil 'is 'ands with menial +work. I'm bringing him up to be the gent he is." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll go down and fetch what I want for the night." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me git 'em for yer," volunteered Mrs Gowler, as her eyes twinkled +greedily. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't trouble you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis went down to the passage, taking with her the evil-smelling lamp: +the spilled oil upon the outside of this greased Mavis's fingers. +</P> + +<P> +To save her strength, she cut the cords with which her trunk was bound +with a kitchen knife, borrowed from Mrs Gowler for this purpose. She +took from this box such articles as she might need for the night. +Amongst other things, she obtained the American clock which had +belonged to her old friend Miss Nippett. Mr Poulter, to whom the +accompanist had left her few possessions, had prevailed on Mavis to +accept this as a memento of her old friend. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis toiled up the stairs with an armful of belongings, preceded by +Mrs Gowler carrying the lamp, the woman impressed at the cut and +material of which her last arrival's garments were made. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis had wound up the clock and placed it on the mantelpiece, +and, with a few deft touches, had made the room a trifle less +repellent, she saw her landlady come into the room with three bottles +and two glasses (one of these latter had recently held stout) tucked +under her arms. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought we'd 'ave a friendly little chat, my dear," remarked Mrs +Gowler, as if to explain her hospitality. +</P> + +<P> +Just then, Mavis's heart ached for the sympathy and support of some +motherly person in whom she could confide. A tender word, a hint of +appreciation of her present extremity, would have done much to give her +stay for the approaching dread ordeal. Perhaps this was why, for the +time being, she stifled her dislike of Mrs Gowler and submitted to the +woman's presence. Mrs Gowler unscrewed a bottle of stout, poured +herself out a glass, drank it at one draught, and then half filled a +glass for Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Drink it, my dear. It will do us both good," cried Mrs Gowler, who +already showed signs of having drunk more than she could conveniently +carry. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, not to seem ungracious, sipped the stout as she sat on the bed. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow is it you ain't in a proper nursing 'ome?" asked Mrs Gowler, after +she had opened the second bottle. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't I?" asked Mavis quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"I've 'eard of better," answered Mrs Gowler guardedly. "Though, after +all, I may be a better friend to you than all o' them together, with +their doctors an' all." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, wondering what she meant. +</P> + +<P> +"But that's tellin's," continued Mrs Gowler, looking greedily at Mavis +from the depths of her little eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Babies is little cusses; noisy, squally little brats." +</P> + +<P> +"Not one's own." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I say. I love the little dears. Gawd's messages I call +them. All the same, they're there, as you might say. An' yer can't +explain them away." +</P> + +<P> +"True," smiled Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"An' their cost!" grumbled Mrs Gowler, as she drained the second bottle +by putting it to her lips. "They simply eat good money, an' never 'ave +enough." +</P> + +<P> +"One must look after one's own," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Little dears! 'Ow I love their pretty prattle. It makes me think of +'eavens an' Gawd's angels," said Mrs Gowler. Then, as Mavis did not +make any remark, she added: "Six was born 'ere last week." +</P> + +<P> +"So many!" +</P> + +<P> +"But onny three's alive." +</P> + +<P> +"The other three are dead!" +</P> + +<P> +"It costs five bob a week an' extries to let a kid live, to say nothin' +of the lies and trouble an' all. An' no thanks you get for it." +</P> + +<P> +"A mother loves and looks after her own," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Little dears! Ain't they pretty when they prattles their little +prayers?" asked Mrs Gowler, as her lips parted in a terrible smile. +"Many's the time I've given 'em gin from me own bottle to give the +little angels sleep." +</P> + +<P> +She said more to the same effect, to pause before saying, with a return +to her practical manner: +</P> + +<P> +"An' the gentlemen! They're always 'appy when anything 'appens to baby." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at the woman with questioning eyes; she wondered what she +meant. For a few moments Mrs Gowler attempted to lull Mavis's +uneasiness by extravagant praise of infants' ways, which culminated in +a hideous imitation of baby language. Suddenly she stopped; her little +eyes glared fiercely at Mavis, while her face became rigid. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" asked the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Gowler rose unsteadily to her feet and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Ten quid down will save you from forking out five bob a week till +you're blue in the face from paying it." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stared at her in astonishment. Mrs Gowler backed to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Told yer you'd fallen on your feet. Next time you'll know better. No +pretty pretties: one little nightdress is all you'll want. But it's +spot cash." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was alone; it was, comparatively, a long time before she gathered +what Mrs Gowler meant. When she realised that the woman had as good as +offered to murder her child, when born, for the sum of ten pounds, her +first impulse was to leave the house. But it was now late; she was worn +out with the day's happenings; also, she reflected that, with the +scanty means at her disposal, a further move to a like house to Mrs +Gowler's might find her worse off than she already was. Her heart was +heavy with pain when she knelt by her bedside to say her prayers, but, +try as she might, she could find no words with which to thank her +heavenly Father for the blessings of the day and to implore their +continuance for the next, as was her invariable custom. When she got up +from her knees, she hoped that the disabilities of her present +situation would atone for any remissness of which she had been guilty. +Although she was very tired, it was a long time before she slept. She +lay awake, to think long and lovingly of Perigal. This, and Jill's +presence, were the two things that sustained her during those hours of +sleeplessness in a strange, fearsome house, troubled as she was with +the promise of infinite pain. +</P> + +<P> +That night she loved Perigal more than she had ever done before. It +seemed to her that she was his, body and soul, for ever and ever; that +nothing could ever alter it. When she fell asleep, she did not rest for +long at a stretch. Every now and then, she would awaken with a start, +when, for some minutes, she would listen to the ticking of the American +clock on the mantelpiece. Her mind went back to the vigil she had spent +during Miss Nippett's kit night of life. Then, it had seemed as if the +clock were remorselessly eager to diminish the remaining moments of the +accompanist's allotted span. Now, it appeared to Mavis as if the clock +were equally desirous of cutting short the moments that must elapse +before her child was born. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, she was awakened soon after eight by the noise of a +tray being banged down just inside the door, when she gathered that +someone had brought her breakfast. This consisted of coarsely cut +bread, daubed with disquieting-looking butter, a boiled shop egg, and a +cup of thin, stewed tea. As Mavis drank the latter, she recollected the +monstrous suggestion which Mrs Gowler had insinuated the previous +evening. The horror of it filled her mind to the exclusion of +everything else. She had quite decided to leave the house as soon as +she could pack her things, when a pang of dull pain troubled her body. +She wondered if this heralded the birth of her baby, which she had not +expected for quite two days, when the pain passed. She got out of bed +and was setting about getting up, when the pain attacked her again, to +leave her as it had done before. She waited in considerable suspense, +as she strove to believe that the pains were of no significance, when +she experienced a further pang, this more insistent than the last. She +washed and dressed with all dispatch. While thus occupied, the pains +again assailed her. When ready, she went downstairs to the kitchen, +followed by Jill, to find the room deserted. She called "Mrs Gowler" +several times without getting any response. Before going to her box to +get some things she wanted, she gave Jill a run in the enclosed space +behind the house. When Mavis presently went upstairs with an armful of +belongings from her box, she heard a voice call from the further side +of a door she was passing: +</P> + +<P> +"Was you wanting Piggy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted Mrs Gowler." +</P> + +<P> +"She's gone out and taken Oscar with her." +</P> + +<P> +"When will she be back?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gawd knows. Was you wanting her pertikler?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not very," answered Mavis, at which she sought her room. +</P> + +<P> +For four hours, Mavis sat terrified and alone in the poky room, during +which her pains gradually increased. They were still bearable, and not +the least comparable to the mental tortures which continually +threatened her, owing to the dreariness of her surroundings and her +isolation from all human tenderness. Now and again, she would play with +Jill, or she would remake her bed. When the horror of her position was +violently insistent, she would think long and lovingly of Perigal, and +of how he would overwhelm her with caresses and protestations of +livelong devotion, could he ever learn of all she had suffered from her +surrender at Looe. +</P> + +<P> +About one, the door was thrust open, and Mrs Gowler, hot and +perspiring, and wearing her bonnet, came into the room, carrying a +plate, fork, knife, and spoon in one hand and a steaming pot in the +other. +</P> + +<P> +"'Elp yerself!" cried Mrs Gowler, as she threw the plate and spoon upon +the bed and thrust the pot beneath Mavis's nose. +</P> + +<P> +"It's coming on," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't tell me that. I see it in yer face. 'Elp yerself." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll talk to you when I've got the dinners. 'Elp yerself." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Lovely boiled mutting. Eat all you can swaller. You can do with it +before you've done," admonished the woman. +</P> + +<P> +Six o'clock found Mavis lying face downwards on the bed, her body +racked with pain. Mrs Gowler sat impassively on the only chair in the +room, while Jill watched her mistress with frightened eyes from a +corner. Now and again, when a specially violent pain tormented her +body, Mavis would grip the head rail of the bed with her hands, or bite +Perigal's ring, which she wore suspended from her neck. Once, when Mrs +Gowler was considerate enough to wipe away the beads of sweat, which +had gathered on the suffering girl's forehead, Mavis gasped: +</P> + +<P> +"Is it nearly over?" +</P> + +<P> +"What! Over!" laughed Mrs Gowler mirthlessly. "I call that the +preliminary canter." +</P> + +<P> +"Will it be much worse?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're bound to be worse before you're better." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't—I can't bear it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Bite yer wedding ring and trus' in Gawd," remarked Mrs Gowler, in the +manner of one mechanically repeating a formula. "This is what some of +the gay gentlemen could do with." +</P> + +<P> +"It's—it's terrible," moaned Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause it's your first. When you've been here a few times, it's as +easy as kiss me 'and." +</P> + +<P> +Very soon, Mavis was more than ever in the grip of the fiend who seemed +bent on torturing her without ruth. She had no idea till then of the +immense ingenuity which pain can display in its sport with prey. During +one long-drawn pang, it would seem to Mavis as if the bones in her body +were being sawn with a blunt saw; the next, she believed that her flesh +was being torn from her bones with red-hot pincers. Then would follow a +hallowed, blissful, cool interval from searing pain, which made her +think that all she had endured was well worth the suffering, so vastly +did she appreciate relief. Then she would fall to shivering. Once or +twice, it seemed that she was an instrument on which pain was +extemporising the most ingenious symphonies, each more involved than +the last. Occasionally, she would wonder if, after all, she were +mistaken, and if she were not enjoying delicious sensations of +pleasure. Then, so far as her pain-racked body would permit, she found +herself wondering at the apparently endless varieties of torment to +which the body could be subjected. +</P> + +<P> +Once, she asked to look at herself in the glass. She did not recognise +anything resembling herself in the swollen, distorted features, the +distended eyes, and the dilated nostrils which she saw in the glass +which Mrs Gowler held before her. She was soon lost to all sense of her +surroundings. She feared that she was going mad. She reassured herself, +however, because, by a great effort of will, she would conjure up some +recollection of the loved one's appearance, which she saw as if from a +great distance. Then, after eternities of torment, she was possessed by +a culminating agony. Sweat ran from her pores. Every nerve in her being +vibrated with suffering, as if the accumulated pain of the ages was +being conducted through her body. More and even more pain. Then, a +supreme torment held her, which made all others seem trifling by +comparison. The next moment, a new life was born into the world—a new +life, with all its heritage of certain sorrow and possible joy; with +all its infinite sensibility to pleasure or pain, to hope and love and +disillusion. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE "PERMANENT" +</H3> + +<P> +When Mavis regained a semblance of consciousness, something soft and +warm lay on her heart. Jill was watching her with anxious eyes. A queer +little female figure stood beside the bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Better, dear?" asked this person. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Mrs Gowler?" whispered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"She got tired of waiting, so I came in. I've been here a hour" (she +pronounced the aspirate). +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the 'permanent.'" +</P> + +<P> +"The what?" +</P> + +<P> +"The 'permanent': at least, that's what they call me here. But you +mustn't talk. You've 'ad a bad time." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"A boy. Don't say no more." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not know if she were pleased or otherwise with the sex of her +child; she could only thankfully realise that she was free from +torment. She lay back, enjoying to the full her delicious comparative +ease, before lifting the bed clothes to press her lips against her +baby's head. She held it closer to her heart as she realised that its +father was the man she loved. Although the woman who had introduced +herself as the "permanent" had told Mavis not to talk, she did not set +the example of silence. While she busied herself about and in and out +of the room, she talked incessantly, chiefly about herself. For a long +time, Mavis was too occupied with her own thoughts to pay any attention +to what she was saying. Before she listened to the woman's gossip, she +was more intent on taking in the details of her appearance. Mavis could +not make up her mind whether she was young, old, or middle-aged; she +might so easily have been one of these. Her face was not unpleasant, +although her largish dark eyes were quite close to her snub nose, over +which the eyebrows met. Her expression was that of good-natured +simplicity, while her movements and manner of speaking betrayed great +self-consciousness, the result of an immense personal vanity. She was +soon to be a mother. +</P> + +<P> +"It's my eighth, and all by different fathers," she told Mavis, who +wondered at the evident pride with which the admission was made, till +the woman added: "When you have had eight, and all by different +fathers, it proves how the gentlemen love you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, for all her exhaustion, could not help smiling at the +ingenuousness of the "permanent's" point of view. Seeing Mavis smile, +the woman laughed also, but her hilarity was inspired by self-conscious +pride. +</P> + +<P> +"P'raps you wonder what's become of the little dears. Three's dead, +two's 'dopted, an' two is paid for at five bob a week by the +gentlemen," she informed Mavis. She then asked: "I'spose this is your +first?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"My! You're a baby at it. I 'spect I'll have a dozen to your six." +</P> + +<P> +Presently, she spoke of Mrs Gowler. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had every kid here, all seven of 'em, before the one I'm +'spectin' on Sunday. That's why Piggy calls me the 'permanent.' Do you +like Piggy?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis moved her head in a way that could either be interpreted as a nod +or a negative shake. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care for her very much, though I must say that so long as you +locks up yer things, and don't take notice of what she says or does +when she's drunk, she's always quite the lady." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, for all her growing weariness, smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know why I reely come here?" asked the "permanent." "'Cause I +love Piggy's son, Oscar. Oh, he is that comic! He do make me laugh so, +I never can see enough of him. Don't you love looking at Oscar?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think him comic?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," whispered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Go h'on! But there, I nearly forgot!" +</P> + +<P> +The "permanent" left the room, at which Mavis closed her eyes, thankful +for a few moments' peace. +</P> + +<P> +"Take this cornflour," said a voice at her elbow: the "permanent" had +brought her a basinful of this food. "I made it meself, 'cause Piggy +always burns it, an' Oscar puts his fingers in it." +</P> + +<P> +"You're very kind," murmured Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold yer jaw," remarked the "permanent" with mock roughness. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis gratefully swallowed the stuff, to feel the better for it. When +she had finished the last drop, she lay back to watch the "permanent," +who arranged the room for the night. Candle, matches, and milk were put +handy for Mavis to reach; an old skirt was put down for Jill; bed and +pillows were made comfortable. +</P> + +<P> +"If you want me, I'm in the left top front with Mrs Rabbidge." +</P> + +<P> +"Not alone?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Not me. Give me company when I 'ave kids. I'll bring yer tea in the +morning." +</P> + +<P> +Whatever misfortunes the fates had reserved for Mavis, they had endowed +her with a magnificent constitution; consequently, despite the +indifferent nursing, the incompetent advice, the ill-cooked food, she +quickly recovered strength. Hourly she felt better, although the +nursing of her baby was a continuous tax upon her vitality. Following +the "permanent's" advice, who was an old hand in such matters, Mavis +kept quite still and did not exert herself more than she could possibly +help. But although her body was still, her mind was active. She fretted +because she had received no reply to her last little letter to Perigal. +Morning and evening, which was the time when she had been accustomed to +get letters from Wales, she would wait in a fever of anxiety till the +post arrived; when it brought no letter for her, she suffered acute +distress of mind. +</P> + +<P> +Upon the fifth evening after her baby was born, Mrs Gowler thrust an +envelope beneath her door shortly after the postman had knocked. It was +a yellow envelope, on which was printed "On His Majesty's Service." +Mavis tore it open, to find her own letter to Perigal enclosed, which +was marked "Gone, no address." A glance told her that it had been +correctly addressed. +</P> + +<P> +When, an hour later, Mrs Gowler came up to see if she wanted anything, +she saw that Mavis was far from well. She took her hand and found it +hot and dry. +</P> + +<P> +"Does yer 'ead ache?" she asked of Mavis, whose eyes were wide open and +staring. +</P> + +<P> +"It's awful." +</P> + +<P> +"If you're no better in the morning, you'd better 'ave a shillingsworth +of Baldock." +</P> + +<P> +If anything, Mavis was worse on the morrow. She had passed a restless +night, which had been troubled with unpleasantly vivid dreams; +moreover, the first post had brought no letter for her. +</P> + +<P> +"Got a shillin'?" asked Mrs Gowler after she had made some pretence of +examining her. +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor's fee. You'll be bad if you don't see 'im." +</P> + +<P> +"Is he clever?" asked the patient. +</P> + +<P> +"Clever! 'E be that clever, it drops orf 'im." +</P> + +<P> +When, with the patient's consent, Mrs Gowler set out to fetch the +doctor, she, also at the girl's request, sent a telegram to Mrs +Scatchard, asking her to send on at once any letters that may have come +for Mavis. She was sustained by a hope that Perigal may have written to +her former address. +</P> + +<P> +"Got yer shillin' ready?" asked Mrs Gowler, an hour or so later. "'E'll +be up in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +Two minutes later, Mrs Gowler threw the door wide open to admit Dr +Baldock. Mavis saw a short, gross-looking, middle-aged man, who was +dressed in a rusty frock-coat; he carried an old bowler hat and two odd +left-hand gloves. Mrs Gowler detailed Mavis's symptoms, the while Dr +Baldock stood stockstill with his eyes closed, as if intently listening +to the nurse's words. When she had finished, the doctor caught hold of +Mavis's wrist; at the same time, he fumbled for his watch in his +waistcoat pocket; not finding it, he dropped her arm and asked her to +put out her tongue. After examining this, and asking her a few +questions, he told her to keep quiet; also, that he would look in again +during the evening to see how she was getting on. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor's fee," said Mrs Gowler, as she thrust herself between the +doctor and the bed. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis put the shilling in her hand, at which the landlady left the +room, to be quickly followed by the doctor, who seemed equally eager to +go. Mavis, with aching head, wondered if the evening post would bring +her the letter she hungered for from North Kensington. +</P> + +<P> +An hour later, a note was thrust beneath her door. She got out of bed +to fetch it, to read the following, scrawled with a pencil upon a +soiled half sheet of paper:— +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you go and be a fool and have no more of Piggy's doctors. He +isn't a doctor at all, and is nothing more than a coal merchant's +tally-man, who got the sack for taking home coals in the bag he carried +his dinner in. My baby is all right, but he squints. Does yours?—I +remain yours truly, the permannente, MILLY BURT." +</P> + +<P> +Anger possessed Mavis at the trick Mrs Gowler had played in order to +secure a further shilling from her already attenuated store, an emotion +which increased her distress of mind. When Mrs Gowler brought in the +midday meal, which to-day consisted of fried fish and potatoes from the +neighbouring fried fish shop, Mavis said: +</P> + +<P> +"If that man comes here again, I'll order him out." +</P> + +<P> +"The doctor!" gasped Mrs Gowler. +</P> + +<P> +"He's an impostor. He's no doctor." +</P> + +<P> +"'E's as good as one any day, an' much cheaper." +</P> + +<P> +"How dare he come into my room! I shall stop the shilling out of my +bill." +</P> + +<P> +"You will, will yer! You try it on," cried Mrs Gowler defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe he could be prosecuted, if I told the police about it," +remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +At the mention of "police," Mrs Gowler's face became rigid. She +recovered herself and picked out for Mavis the least burned portion of +fish; she also gave her a further helping of potatoes, as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"We won't quarrel over that there shillin', an' a cup o' tea is yours +whenever you want it." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis smiled faintly. She was beginning to discover how it paid to +stick up for herself. +</P> + +<P> +As the comparative cool of the evening succeeded to the heat of the +day, Mavis's agitation of mind was such that she could scarcely remain +in bed. The fact of her physical helplessness served to increase the +tension in her mind, consequently her temperature. She feared what +would happen to her already over-taxed brain should she not receive the +letter she desired. When she presently heard the postman's knock at the +door, her heart beat painfully; she lay in an immense suspense, with +her hands pressed against her throbbing head. After what seemed a great +interval of time (it was really three minutes), Mrs Gowler waddled into +the room, bringing a letter, which Mavis snatched from her hands. To +her unspeakable relief, it was in Perigal's handwriting, and bore the +Melkbridge postmark. She tore it open, to read the following:— +</P> + +<P> +"MY DEAREST GIRL,—Why no letter? Are you well? Have you any news in +the way of a happy issue from all your afflictions? I have left Wales +for good. Love as always, C. D. P." +</P> + +<P> +These hastily scribbled words brought a healing joy to Mavis's heart. +She read and re-read them, pressing her baby to her heart as she did +so. As a special mark of favour, Jill was permitted to kiss the letter. +If Mavis had thought that a communication, however scrappy, from her +lover would bring her unalloyed gladness, she was mistaken. No sooner +was her mind relieved of one load than it was weighted with another; +the substitution of one care for another had long become a familiar +process. The intimate association of mind and body being what it is, +and Mavis's offspring being dependent on the latter for its well-being, +it was no matter for surprise that her baby developed disquieting +symptoms. Hence, Mavis's new cause for concern. +</P> + +<P> +Contrary to the case of unwedded mothers, as usually described in the +pages of fiction, Mavis's love for her baby had, so far, not been +particularly active, this primal instinct having as yet been more +slumbering than awake. As soon after his birth as she was capable of +coherent thought, she had been much concerned at the undeniable +existence of the new factor which had come into her life. There was no +contradicting Mrs Gowler, who had said that "babies take a lot of +explaining away." She reflected that, if the fight for daily bread had +been severe when she had merely to fight for herself, it would be much +harder to live now that there was another mouth to fill, to say nothing +of the disabilities attending her unmarried state. The fact of her +letter to Perigal having been returned through the medium of the +dead-letter office had almost distracted her with worry, and it is a +commonplace that this variety of care is inimical to the existence of +any form of love. +</P> + +<P> +Her baby's illness quickly called to life all the immense maternal +instinct which she possessed, but, at the same time, her recent +awakening to her own claims to consideration made her realise, with a +heartfelt sigh, that, in loving her boy as she now did, she was only +giving a further precious hostage to happiness. +</P> + +<P> +For three days the mother was kept in a suspense that served to +protract the boy's illness, but, at the end of this time, largely owing +to Mrs Gowler's advice, he began to improve. The day that his +disquieting symptoms disappeared, which was also the day on which he +recovered his appetite, was signalised by the arrival of Perigal's +reply to Mavis's letter from Durley Road, announcing the birth of their +son. In this, he congratulated her on her fortitude, and assured her +that her happiness and well-being would always be his first +consideration. It also told her that she was the best and most charming +girl he had ever met; meeting with other women only the more +strengthened this conviction. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's heart leapt with a great joy. So long as she was easily first +in her lover's eyes, nothing else mattered. She had been foolish ever +to have done other than implicitly trust him. His love decorated the +one-time sparrow that she was with feathers of gorgeous hue. +</P> + +<P> +Days succeeded each other within the four walls of Mrs Gowler's nursing +home much as anywhere else, although in each twenty-four hours there +usually occurred what were to Mavis's sensitive eyes and ears +unedifying sights, agonised cries of women in torment. All day and +night, with scarcely any intermission, could be heard the wailing of +one or more babies in different rooms in the house. Mrs Gowler's +nursing home attracted numberless girls from all parts of the great +city, whose condition necessitated their temporary retirement from +employment, whatever it might be. Mavis gathered that they were mostly +the mean sort of general servant, who had succumbed to the +blandishments of the men who make it a practice to prey on this class +of woman. So far as Mavis could see, they were mostly plain and +uninteresting-looking; also, that the majority of them stayed only a +few days, lack of means preventing them being at Mrs Gowler's long +enough to recover their health. They would depart, hugging their baby +and carrying their poor little parcel of luggage, to be swallowed up +and lost in London's ravening and cavernous maw. As they sadly left the +house, Mavis could not help thinking that these deserted women were +indeed human sparrows, who needed no small share of their heavenly +Father's loving kindness to prevent them from falling and being utterly +lost in the mire of London. Once or twice during Mavis's stay, the +house was so full that three would sleep in one room, each of whom +would go downstairs to the parlour, which was the front room on the +ground floor, for the dreaded ordeal, to be taken upstairs as soon as +possible after the baby was born. Mavis, who had always looked on the +birth of a child as something sacred and demanding the utmost privacy, +was inexpressibly shocked at the wholesale fashion in which children +were brought into the world at Mrs Gowler's. +</P> + +<P> +There was much that was casual, and, therefore, callous about the +circumstances attending the ceaseless succession of births; they might +as well have been kittens, their mothers cats, so Mavis thought, owing +to the mean indignities attaching to the initial stages of their +motherhood. It did not occur to her how house-room, furniture, doctors, +nurses, and servants supply dignity to a commonplace process of nature. +It seemed to Mavis that Mrs Gowler lived in an atmosphere of horror and +pain. At the same time, the girl had the sense to realise that Mrs +Gowler had her use in life, inasmuch as she provided a refuge for the +women, which salved their pride (no small matter) by enabling them to +forego entering the workhouse infirmary, which otherwise could not have +been avoided. +</P> + +<P> +Oscar inspired Mavis with an inexpressible loathing. For the life of +her, she could not understand why such terrible caricatures of humanity +were permitted to live, and were not put out of existence at birth. The +common trouble of Mrs Gowler's lodgers seemed to establish a feeling of +fellowship amongst them during the time that they were there. Mavis was +not a little surprised to receive one day a request from a woman, to +the effect that she should give this person's baby a "feed," the mother +not being so happily endowed in this respect as Mavis. The latter's +indignant refusal gave rise to much comment in the place. +</P> + +<P> +The "permanent" was soon on her feet, an advantage which she declared +was owing to her previous fecundity. Mavis could see how the +"permanent" despised her because she was merely nursing her first-born. +</P> + +<P> +"'As Piggy 'ad a go at your box yet?" she one day asked Mavis, who +replied: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm too careful. I always keep it locked." +</P> + +<P> +"Locks ain't nothin' to her. If you've any letters from a gentleman, as +would compromise him, burn them." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"If she gets hold of 'em, she'll make money on 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! She wouldn't dare." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't she! Piggy 'ud do anythink for gin or that there dear comic +Oscar." +</P> + +<P> +In further talks with the "permanent," Mavis discovered that, for all +her acquaintance's good nature, she was much of a liar, although her +frequent deviations from the truth were caused by the woman's boundless +vanity. Time after time she would give Mavis varying accounts of the +incidents attending her many lapses from virtue, in all of which +drugging by officers of His Majesty's army played a conspicuous part. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, except at meal times, saw little of Mrs Gowler, who was usually +in the downstair parlour or in other rooms of the house. Whenever she +saw Mavis, however, she persistently urged her to board out her baby +with one of the several desirable motherly females she was in a +position to recommend. Mrs Gowler pointed out the many advantages of +thus disposing of Mavis's boy till such time as would be more +convenient for mother and son to live together. But Mavis now knew +enough of Mrs Gowler and her ways; she refused to dance to the woman's +assiduous piping. But Mrs Gowler was not to be denied. One day, when +Mavis was sitting up in bed, Mrs Gowler burst into the room to announce +proudly that Mrs Bale had come to see Mavis about taking her baby to +nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is Mrs Bale?" asked Mavis, much annoyed at the intrusion. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait till you see her," cried Mrs Gowler, as if her coming were a +matter of rare good fortune. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had not long to wait. In a few moments a tall, spare, +masculine-looking woman strode into the room. Mrs Bale's red face +seemed to be framed in spacious black bonnet strings. Mavis thought +that she had never seen such a long upper lip as this woman had. This +was surmounted by a broken, turned-up nose, on either side of which +were boiled, staring eyes, which did not hold expression of any kind. +If Mavis had frequented music halls, she would have recognised the +woman as the original of a type frequently seen on the boards of those +resorts, played by male impersonators. Directly she saw Mavis, Mrs Bale +hurried to the bedside and seized the baby, to dandle it in her arms, +the while she made a clucking noise not unlike the cackling of a hen. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis noticed that Mrs Bale's breath reeked of gin. +</P> + +<P> +"Put my baby down," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll leave you two ladies to settle it between yer," remarked Mrs +Gowler, as she left the room. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not going to put my baby out to nurse. Good morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Not for five shillings a week?" asked Mrs Bale. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Say I made it four and six?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made no reply, at which Mrs Bale sat down and began to weep. +</P> + +<P> +"What about the trouble and expense of coming all the way here?" asked +Mrs Bale. +</P> + +<P> +"I never asked you to come." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I shan't leave this room till you give me six-pence for +refreshment to get me to the station." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't give it to you; I'll give it to Mrs Gowler." +</P> + +<P> +"An' a lot of it I'd see." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Gowler, who had been listening at the door, came into the room and +demanded to know what Mrs Bale meant. +</P> + +<P> +Then followed a stream of recriminations, in which each accused the +other of a Newgate calendar of crime. Mavis at last got rid of them by +giving them threepence each. +</P> + +<P> +Three nights before Mavis left Durley Road, she was awakened by the +noise of Jill's subdued growling. Thinking she heard someone outside +her room, she went stealthily to the door; she opened it quickly, to +find Mrs Gowler on hands and knees before her box, which she was trying +to open with a bunch of keys. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The woman entered into a confused explanation, which Mavis cut short by +saying: +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard about your tricks. If I have any more bother from you, I +shall go straight from here to the police station." +</P> + +<P> +"Gawd's truth! Why did I ever take you in?" grumbled Mrs Gowler as she +waddled downstairs. "I might 'ave known you was a cat by the colour of +your 'air." +</P> + +<P> +The time came when Mavis was able to leave Durley Road. Whither she was +going she knew not. She paid her bill, refusing to discuss the many +extras which Mrs Gowler tried to charge, had her box taken by a porter +to the cloak room at the station, dressed her darling baby, said +good-bye to Piggy and went downstairs, to shudder as she walked along +the passage to the front door. She had not walked far, when an +ordinary-looking man came up, who barely lifted his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I speak to you, m'am?" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You have just left 9 Durley Road?" +</P> + +<P> +"Y-yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a detective officer. I'm engaged in watching the house. Have you +any complaint to make?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't wish to, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"We know all sorts of things go on, but it's difficult to get evidence." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care to give you any because—because—" +</P> + +<P> +"I understand, ma'm," said the man kindly. "I know what trouble is." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was feeling so physically and mentally low with all she had gone +through, that the man's kindly words made the tears course down her +cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +She wiped them away, resettled the baby in her arms, and walked +sorrowfully up the road, followed by the sympathetic glance of the +plain-clothes detective. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PIMLICO +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis found a resting-place for her tired body in the unattractive +district of Pimlico, which is the last halting-place of so many of +London's young women before the road to perdition is irretrievably +taken. Mavis had purposed going to Hammersmith, but the fates which +decide these matters had other views. On the tedious underground +journey from New Cross, she felt so unwell that she got out at Victoria +to seek refuge in the ladies' cloak room. The woman in charge, who was +old, wizened, and despondent, gave Mavis some water and held her baby +the while she lamented her misfortunes: these were embodied in the fact +that "yesterday there had only been three 'washies' and one torn +dress"; also, that "in the whole of the last month there had been but +three 'faints' and six ladies the worse for drink." Acting on the +cloak-room attendant's advice, Mavis sought harbourage in one of the +seemingly countless houses which, in Pimlico, are devoted to the +letting of rooms. But Mavis was burdened with a baby; moreover, she +could pay so little that no one wished to accommodate her. Directly she +stated her simple wants, together with the sum that she could afford to +pay, she was, in most cases, bundled into the street with scant +consideration for her feelings. After two hours' fruitless search, she +found refuge in a tiny milk-shop in a turning off the Vauxhall Bridge +Road, where she bought herself a scone and a glass of milk; she also +took advantage of the shop's seclusion to give her baby much-needed +nourishment. Ultimately, she got a room in a straight street, flanked +by stucco-faced high houses, which ran out of Lupus Street. Halverton +Street has an atmosphere of its own; it suggests shabby vice, unclean +living, as if its inhabitants' lives were mysterious, furtive +deviations from the normal. Mavis, for all her weariness, was not +insensible to the suggestions that Halverton Street offered; but it was +a hot July day; she had not properly recovered from her confinement; +she felt that if she did not soon sit down she would drop in the +street. She got a room for four shillings a week at the fifth house at +which she applied in this street. The door had been opened by a tall, +thin, flat-chested girl, whose pasty face was plentifully peppered with +pimples. The only room to let was on the ground floor at the back of +the house; it was meagre, poorly furnished, but clean. Mavis paid a +week's rent in advance and was left to her own devices. For all the +presence of her baby and Jill, Mavis felt woefully alone. She bought, +and made a meal of bloater paste, bread, butter, and a bottle of stout, +to feel the better for it. She then telephoned to the station master at +New Cross, to whom she gave the address to which he could forward her +trunk. On her return from the shop where she had telephoned, she went +into a grocer's, where, for twopence, she purchased a small packing +case. With this she contrived to make a cradle for her baby, by +knocking out the projecting nails with a hammer borrowed from the +pimply-faced woman at her lodging. If the extemporised cradle lacked +adornment, it was adorable by reason of the love and devotion with +which she surrounded her little one. Her box arrived in the course of +the evening, when Mavis set about making the room look as homelike as +possible. This done, she made further inroads on her midday purchases +of bread and bloater paste, washed, fed her baby, and said her prayers +before undressing for the night. At ten o'clock, mother and child were +asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had occupied her room for some days before she learned anything +of the house in which she lodged. It was kept by a Mr, Mrs, and Miss +Gussle, who lived in the basement. It was Miss Gussle who had opened +the door to Mavis on the day she came. Mrs Gussle was never seen. Mavis +heard from one source that she was always drunk; from another, that she +was a teetotaller and spent her time at devotions; from a third, that +she neither drank nor prayed, but passed the day in reading novelettes. +But it was Mr Gussle who appealed the most to Mavis's sense of +character. He was a wisp of a bald-headed, elderly man, who was +invariably dressed in a rusty black frockcoat suit, a not too clean +dicky, and a made-up black bow tie, the ends of which were tucked +beneath the flaps of a turned down paper collar. He had no business or +trade, but did the menial work of the house. He made the beds, brought +up the meals and water, laid the tables and emptied the slops; but, +while thus engaged, he never made any remark, and when spoken to +replied in monosyllables. The ground floor front was let to a +third-rate Hebraic music-hall artiste, who perfunctorily attended his +place of business. The second and third floors, and most of the top +rooms, were let to good-looking young women, who were presumed to +belong to the theatrical profession. If they were correctly described, +there was no gainsaying their devotion to their calling. They would +leave home well before the theatre doors were open to the public, with +their faces made up all ready to go on the stage; also, they were +apparently so reluctant to leave the scene of their labours that they +would commonly not return till the small hours. The top front room was +rented by an author, who made a precarious living by writing improving +stories for weekly and monthly journals and magazines. Whenever the +postman's knock was heard at the door, it was invariably followed by +the appearance of the author in the passage, often in the scantiest of +raiment, to discover whether the post had brought him any luck. +Although his stories were the delight of the more staid among his +readers, the writer was on the best of terms with the "theatrical" +young women, he spending most of his time in their company. The lodgers +at Mrs Gussle's were typical of the inhabitants of Halverton Street. +And if a house influences the natures of those who dwell within its +walls, how much more does the character of tenants find expression in +the appearance of the place they inhabit? Hence the shabbiness and +decay which Halverton Street suggested. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis heard from Perigal at infrequent intervals, when he would write +scrappy notes inquiring after her health, and particularly after his +child. Once, he sent a sovereign, asking Mavis to have the boy +photographed and to send him a copy. Mavis did as she was asked. The +photographs cost eight shillings. Although she badly wanted a few +shillings to get her boots soled and heeled, she returned the money +which was over after paying for the photographs, to Perigal. She was +resolved that no sordid question of money should soil their +relationship, however attenuated this might become. +</P> + +<P> +Much of Mavis's time was taken up with her baby. She washed, dressed, +undressed, and took out her little one, duties which took up a +considerable part of each day. From lack of means she was compelled to +wash her own and the baby's body-linen, which she dried by suspending +from cords stretched across the room. All these labours were an aspect +of maternity which she had never encountered in books. Much of the work +was debasing and menial; its performance left her weak and irritable; +she believed that it was gradually breaking the little spirit she had +brought from Mrs Gowler's nursing home. When she recalled the glowing +periods she had chanced upon in her reading, which eulogised the +supreme joys of motherhood, she supposed that they had been penned by +writers with a sufficient staff of servants and with means that made a +formidable laundry bill of no account. She wondered how working-class +women with big families managed, who, in addition to attending to the +wants of their children, had all the work of the house upon their +hands. Mavis's spare time was filled by the answering of advertisements +in the hope of getting sorely needed work; the sending of these to +their destination cost money for postage stamps, which made sad inroads +on her rapidly dwindling funds. But time and money were expended in +vain. The address from which she wrote was a poor recommendation to +possible employers. She could not make personal application, as she +dared not leave her baby for long at a stretch. Sometimes, her lover's +letters would not bring her the joy that they once occasioned; they +affected her adversely, leaving her moody and depressed. Conversely, +when she did not hear from Melkbridge for some days, she would be +cheerful and light-hearted, when she would spend glad half-hours in +reading the advertisements of houses to let and deciding which would +suit her when she was married to Perigal. Sometimes, when burdened with +care, she would catch sight of her reflection in the glass, to be not a +little surprised at the strange, latent beauty which had come into her +face. Maternity had invested her features with a surpassing dignity and +sweetness, which added to the large share of distinction with which she +had originally been endowed. At the same time, she noticed with a sigh +that sorrow had sadly chastened the joyous light-heartedness which +formerly found constant expression in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had been at Mrs Gussle's about three weeks when she made the +acquaintance of one of the "theatrical" young women upstairs. They had +often met in the passage, when the girl had smiled sympathetically at +Mavis. One afternoon, when the latter was feeling unusually depressed, +a knock was heard at her door. She cried "Come in," when the girl +opened the door a few inches to say: +</P> + +<P> +"May I?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know it was you," remarked Mavis, distressed at her poverty +being discovered. +</P> + +<P> +"I came to ask if I could do anything for you," said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"That's very nice of you. Do come in." +</P> + +<P> +The girl came in and stayed till it was time for her to commence the +elaborate dressing demanded by her occupation. Mavis made her some tea, +and the girl (who was called "Lil") prevailed upon her hostess to +accept cigarettes. If the girl had been typical of her class, Mavis +would have had nothing to do with her; but although Lil made a brave +show of cynicism and gay worldliness, Mavis's keen wits perceived that +these were assumed in order to conceal the girl's secret resentment +against her habit of life. Mavis, also, saw that the girl's natural +kindliness of heart and refined instincts entitled her to a better fate +than the one which now gripped her. Lil was particularly interested in +Mavis's baby. She asked continually about him; she sought him with her +eyes when talking to Mavis, conduct that inclined the latter in her +favour. +</P> + +<P> +When Lil was going she asked: +</P> + +<P> +"May I come again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know I—I—So long," cried Lil, as she glanced in the +direction of the baby. +</P> + +<P> +On the occasion of her next visit, which took place two afternoons +later, Lil asked: +</P> + +<P> +"May I nurse your baby?" to add, as Mavis hesitated, "I promise I won't +kiss him." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis consented, greatly to Lil's delight, who played with the baby for +the rest of the afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +"You're fond of children?" commented Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The girl nodded, the while she bit her lip. +</P> + +<P> +"I can see you've had baby brothers or sisters," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"By the way you hold him." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of Gertie?" asked Lil quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's Gertie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Gussle. Upstairs we always call him Gertie." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't make him out," said Mavis, at which she learned from Lil that +Mr Gussle loathed his present means of earning a livelihood; also, that +he hungered for respectability, and that, to satisfy his longing, he +frequented, in his spare time, a tin tabernacle of evangelical +leanings. Mavis also learned that the girls upstairs, knowing of Mr +Gussle's proclivities, tempted him with cigarettes, spirits, and +stimulating fleshly allurements. +</P> + +<P> +One day, when Mavis had left her sleeping baby to go out for a few +minutes, she returned to find Lil nursing her boy, the while tears fell +from her eyes. Mavis pretended not to notice the girl's grief. She +busied herself about the room, till Lil recovered herself. Later, when +Mavis was getting seriously pressed for money, she came across odd half +sovereigns in various parts of the room, which she rightly suspected +had been put there by her friend. For all Lil's entreaties, Mavis +insisted on returning the money. Lil constantly wore a frock to which +Mavis took exception because it was garish. One day she spoke to Lil +about it. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you so often wear that dress?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you like it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit. It's much too loud for you." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like it myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why wear it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's my 'lucky dress.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Your what?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Lucky' dress. Don't you know all we girls have their 'lucky' dresses?" +</P> + +<P> +This was news to Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean a dress that—" +</P> + +<P> +"Brings us luck with the gentlemen," interrupted Lil. +</P> + +<P> +The subject thus opened, Lil became eloquent upon many aspects of her +occupation. Presently she said: +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't always the worst girls who are 'on the game.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"So many are there through no fault of their own." +</P> + +<P> +"How is that?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"They get starved into it. It's all these big shops and places. They +pay sweating wages, and to get food the girls pick up men. That's the +beginning." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nodded assent. She remembered all she had heard and seen on this +matter when at "Dawes'." +</P> + +<P> +"And the small employers are getting just as bad. And of them the women +are the worst. They don't care how much they grind poor girls down. If +anything, I b'lieve they enjoy it. And if once a girl goes wrong, +they're the ones to see she don't get back. Why is it they hate us so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give it up," replied Mavis, who added, "I should think it wanted an +awful lot of courage." +</P> + +<P> +"Courage! courage! You simply mustn't think. And that's where drink +comes in." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you ever take to the life," admonished Lil. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not likely to," shuddered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause you ain't the least built that way. And thank God you ain't." +</P> + +<P> +"I do; I do," said Mavis fervently. +</P> + +<P> +"It's easy enough to blame, I know; but if you've a little one and no +one in the wide world to turn to for help, and the little one's crying +for food, what can a poor girl do?" asked Lil, as she became thoughtful +and sad-looking. +</P> + +<P> +A time came when Mavis was sorely pressed for money to buy the bare +necessaries of life. She could not even afford soap with which to wash +her own and her baby's clothes. Of late, she had made frequent visits +to Mrs Scatchard's, where she had left many of her belongings. All of +these that were saleable she had brought away and had disposed of +either at pawnshops or at second-hand dealers in clothes. She had at +last been constrained to part with her most prized trinkets, even +including those which belonged to her father and the ring that Perigal +had given her, and which she had worn suspended from her neck. +</P> + +<P> +She now had but one and sixpence in the world. The manifold worries and +perplexities consequent upon her poverty had affected her health. She +was no longer able to supply her baby with its natural food. She was +compelled to buy milk from the neighbouring dairy and to sterilise it +to the best of her ability. To add to her distress, her boy's health +suffered from the change of diet. Times without number, she had been on +the point of writing to Perigal to tell him of all she had suffered and +to ask for help, but pride had held her back. Now, the declension in +her boy's health urged her to throw this pride to the winds, to do what +common sense had been suggesting for so long. She had prayed +eloquently, earnestly, often, for Divine assistance: so far, no reply +had been vouchsafed. When evening came, she could bear no longer the +restraint imposed by the four walls of her room. She had had nothing to +eat that day; all she had had the day before was a crust of bread, +which she had gleefully lighted upon at the back of her cupboard. This +she would have shared with Jill, had not her friend despised such plain +fare. Jill had lately developed a habit of running upstairs at meal +times, when, after an interval, she would come down to lick her chops +luxuriously before falling asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was faint for lack of nourishment; hunger pains tore at her +stomach. She felt that, if she did not get some air, she would die of +the heat and exhaustion. Her baby was happily sleeping soundly, so she +had no compunction in setting out. She crossed Lupus Street, where her +nostrils were offended by the smell of vegetable refuse from the +costermonger stalls, to walk in the direction of Victoria. The air was +vapid and stale, but this did not prevent the dwellers in Pimlico from +sitting at open windows or standing on doorsteps in order to escape the +stuffiness of their houses. They were mostly vulgar lodging-house +people, who were enjoying their ease following upon the burden of the +day; but Mavis found herself envying them, if only for the fact that +their bodies were well supplied with food. Hunger unloosed a savage +rage within her, not only against everyone she encountered, but also +against the conditions of her life. "What was the use of being of +gentle birth?" she asked herself, if this were all it had done for her. +She deeply regretted that she had not been born an ordinary London +girl, in which case she would have been spared the possession of all +those finer susceptibilities with which she now believed herself to be +cursed, and which had prevented her from getting assistance from +Perigal. She lingered by the cook shop in Denbigh Street, where she +thought that she had never smelt anything so delicious as the greasy +savours which came from the eating-house. It was only with a great +effort of will that she stopped herself from spending her last one and +sixpence (which she was keeping for emergency) in food. When she +reached the Wilton Road, she walked of a set purpose on the station +side of that thoroughfare. She feared that the restaurants opposite +might prevail against her already weakened resolution. By the time she +reached the Victoria Underground Station, her hunger was no longer +under control. Her eyes searched the gutters greedily for anything that +was fit to eat. She glared wolfishly at a ragged boy who picked up an +over-ripe banana, which had been thrown on the pavement. The thought of +the little one at home decided her. She turned in the direction of the +post-office, having at last resolved to wire to her lover for help. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm blowed!" said a familiar voice at her side. Mavis turned, to +see the ill-dressed figure of flat-chested, dumpy Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Toombs!" she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you see me staring at you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not. What are you doing in London?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm up here on a holiday. I am glad to see you." +</P> + +<P> +"So am I. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"I must go home. I said good night." +</P> + +<P> +"You are a pig. I thought you'd come and have something to eat." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not—I'm not hungry." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sit down by me while I feed. I feel I want a jolly good blow +out." +</P> + +<P> +They had reached the doors of the restaurant opposite the main entrance +to the underground railway. The issuing odours smote Mavis's hesitation +hip and thigh. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I really must be off," faltered Mavis, as she stood stockstill on +the pavement. +</P> + +<P> +By way of reply, Miss Toombs shoved the unresisting Mavis through the +swing doors of the eating house; then, taking the lead, she piloted her +to a secluded corner on the first floor, which was not nearly so +crowded as the downstair rooms. +</P> + +<P> +"It's nice to see good old Keeves again," remarked Miss Toombs, as she +thrust a list of appetising foods under Mavis's nose. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm really not a bit hungry," declared Mavis, who avoided looking at +the toothsome-looking bread-rolls as far as her ravening hunger would +permit. She grasped the tablecloth to stop herself from attacking these. +</P> + +<P> +"Got any real turtle soup?" asked Miss Toombs of the polyglot waiter +who now stood beside the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Mock turtle," said the man, as he put his finger on this item in the +menu card. +</P> + +<P> +"Two oxtail soups," Miss Toombs demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Apres?" +</P> + +<P> +"Two stewed scallops, and after that some lamb cutlets, new potatoes, +and asparagus." +</P> + +<P> +"Bon! Next, meiss," said the waiter, who began to think that the +diner's prodigality warranted an unusually handsome tip. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Toombs ordered roast ducklings and peas, together with other +things, which included a big bottle of Burgundy, the while Mavis stared +at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed; the starving girl could scarcely +believe her ears. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it—is it all true?" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Is what true?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, meeting with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why? Have I altered much?" +</P> + +<P> +It seemed a long time to Mavis till the soup was placed before her. +Even when its savoury appeal made her faint with longing, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm—I'm really not a bit—" +</P> + +<P> +She got no further. She had taken a mouthful of the soup, to hold it +for a few moments in her mouth. She had no idea till then that it was +possible to enjoy such delicious sensations. Once her fast was broken, +the floodgates of appetite were open. She no longer made pretence of +concealing her hunger; she would not have been able to if she had +wished. She swallowed great mouthfuls of food greedily, silently, +ravenously; she ate so fast that once or twice she was in danger of +choking. If anyone had taken her food away, she would have fought to +get it back. Thus Mavis devoured course after course, unaware, careless +that Miss Toombs herself was eating next to nothing, and was watching +her with quiet satisfaction from the corners of her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +At last, Mavis was satisfied. She lay back silent and helpless on her +plush seat, enjoying to the full the sensation of the rich, fat food +nourishing her body. She closed her eyes and was falling into a deep +sleep. +</P> + +<P> +"Have some coffee and brandy," said Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis pulled herself together and drank the coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd give my soul for a cigarette," murmured Mavis, as she began to +feel more awake. +</P> + +<P> +"Blow you!" complained Miss Toombs, as she signalled to the waiter. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at her surprised, when her hostess said: +</P> + +<P> +"You're prettier than ever. When I first saw you, I was delighted to +think you were 'going off.'" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, regardless what others might think of her, lit the cigarette. +Although she took deep, grateful puffs, which she wholly enjoyed, she +soon let it go out; neither did she trouble to relight it, nor did she +pay any attention to Miss Toombs's remarks. Mavis's physical content +was by no means reflected in her mind. Her conscience was deeply +troubled by the fact of her having, as it were, sailed with her +benefactress under false colours. +</P> + +<P> +Her cogitations were interrupted by Miss Toombs putting a box of +expensive cigarettes (which she had got from the waiter) in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you so good to me?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I've always really liked you." +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't if you knew." +</P> + +<P> +"Knew what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Come. I'll show you." +</P> + +<P> +After Miss Toombs had settled with the waiter, they left the +restaurant. Miss Toombs accompanied Mavis along the Wilton Road and +Denbigh Street. Halverton Street was presently reached. Mavis opened +the door of Mrs Gussle's; with set face, she walked the passage to her +room, followed by plain Miss Toombs. She unlocked the door of this and +made way for her friend to enter. Clothes hung to dry from ropes +stretched across the room: the baby slept in his rough, soap-box cradle. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Toombs seemed to disregard the appearance of the room; her eyes +sought the baby sleeping in the box. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" cried Mavis. "Now you know." +</P> + +<P> +"A baby!" gasped Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been kind to me. I had to let you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you damn beast!" cried Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at her defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you damn beast!" cried Miss Toombs again. "You were always lucky!" +</P> + +<P> +"Lucky!" echoed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"To go and have a little baby and not me. Oh, it's too bad: too bad!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked inquiringly at her friend to see if she were sincere. The +next moment, the two foolish women were weeping happy tears in each +other's arms over the unconscious, sleeping form of Mavis's baby. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISS TOOMBS REVEALS HERSELF +</H3> + +<P> +"Fancy you being like this," said Mavis, when she had dried her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Like what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not minding my having a baby without being married." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not such a fool as to believe in that 'tosh,'" declared Miss +Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +"What 'tosh,' as you call it?" +</P> + +<P> +"About thinking it a disgrace to have a child by the man you love." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"How can it be if it's natural and inevitable?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at Miss Toombs wide-eyed. +</P> + +<P> +"Does the fact of people agreeing to think it wrong make it really +wrong?" asked Miss Toombs, to add, "especially when the thinking what +you call 'doing wrong' is actuated by selfish motives." +</P> + +<P> +"How can morality possibly be selfish?" inquired Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's never anything else. If it weren't selfish it wouldn't be of use; +if it weren't of use it couldn't go on existing." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I don't follow you," declared Mavis, as she lit a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait. What would nearly all women do if you were mad enough to tell +them what you've done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Drop on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I've done wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Are women 'down' on men for 'getting round' girls, or forgery, or +anything else you like?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was compelled to acknowledge her sex's lack of enthusiasm in the +condemnation of such malpractices. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why would they hunt you down?" cried Miss Toombs triumphantly. +"Because, in doing as you've done, you've been a traitress to the +economic interests of our sex. Women have mutually agreed to make +marriage the price of their surrender to men. Girls who don't insist on +this price choke men off marrying, and that's why they're never +forgiven by other women." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it you talking?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, my dear Keeves; women, in this world, who look for marriage, have +to play up to men and persuade them they're worth the price of a man +losing his liberty." +</P> + +<P> +"But fancy you talking like that!" +</P> + +<P> +"If they're pretty, and play their cards properly, they're kept for +life. If they're like you, and don't get married, it's a bad look-out. +If they're pretty rotten, and have business instincts, they must make +hay while the sun shines to keep them when it doesn't." +</P> + +<P> +"And you don't really think the worse of me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think the more. It's always the good girls who go wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"That means that you will." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't the chance. When girls are plain, like me, men don't notice +them, and if they've no money of their own they have to earn a pittance +in Melkbridge boot factories." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't believe it's you, even now." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind giving myself away, since you've done the same to me. And +it's a relief to let off steam sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"And you really don't think the worse of me for having—having this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd do the same myself to-morrow if I'd the chance and could afford to +keep it, and knew it wouldn't curse me when it grew up." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis winced to recover herself and say: +</P> + +<P> +"But I may be married any day now." +</P> + +<P> +"Whoever the father is, he seems a bit of a fool," remarked Miss +Toombs, as she took the baby on her knee. +</P> + +<P> +"To love me?" +</P> + +<P> +"In not marrying you and getting you for life. From a man's point of +view, you're a find, pretty Mavis." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't call it nonsense. Just look at your figure and your hips and +the colour of your hair, your lovely white skin and all, to say nothing +of the passion in your eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it staid Miss Toombs talking?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I'm staid, it's because I have to be. No man 'ud ever want me. As +for you, if I were a man, I'd go to hell, if there were such a place, +if I could get you for all my very own." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe in hell?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. Don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"The only hell I know is the jealous anger in a plain woman's heart. Of +course there are others. You've only to dip into history to read of the +hells that kings and priests, mostly priests, have made of this earth." +</P> + +<P> +"What about Providence?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk that 'tosh' to me," cried Miss Toombs vehemently. +</P> + +<P> +"But is it 'tosh'?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I were to give you a list of even the few things I've read about, +the awful, cruel, blood-thirsty, wicked doings, it would make your +blood boil at the injustice, the wantonness of it all. Read how the +Spaniards treated the Netherlanders once upon a time, the internal +history of Russia, the story of Red Rubber, loads of things, and over +and over again you'd ask, 'What was God doing to allow such unnecessary +torture?'" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Toombs paused for breath. Seeing Mavis looking at her with +open-mouthed astonishment, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Have I astonished you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You have." +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you heard anyone else talk like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"What I was thinking of was, that you, of all people, should preach +revolt against accepted ideas. I always thought you so straitlaced." +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind about me." +</P> + +<P> +"But I do. If you believe all you say, why do you go to church and all +that?" +</P> + +<P> +"What does it matter to anyone what an ugly person like me thinks or +does?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway, you're quite interesting to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Really: really interesting?" asked Miss Toombs, with an inflection of +genuine surprise in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I say so if I didn't think so?" +</P> + +<P> +A flush of pleasure overspread the plain woman's face as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you're speaking the truth. If ever I play the hypocrite, +it's because I'm a hopeless coward." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" laughed Mavis, who was beginning to recover her spirits. +</P> + +<P> +"Although I believe my cowardice is justified," declared Miss Toombs. +"I haven't a friend or relation in the world. If I were to get ill, or +lose my job to-morrow, I've no one to turn to. I've a bad circulation +and get indigestion whenever I eat meat. I've only one pleasure in +life, and I do all I know to keep my job so that I can indulge in it." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll laugh when I tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing that gives a human being innocent pleasure can be ridiculous," +remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"My happiness comes in winter," declared Miss Toombs. "I love nothing +better than to go home and have tea and hot buttered toast before the +blazing fire in my bed-sitting room. Then, about seven, I make up the +fire and go to bed with my book and hot-water bottles. It's stuffy, but +it's my idea of heaven." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not offer any comment. +</P> + +<P> +"Now laugh at me," said Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +Instead of doing any such thing, Mavis bent over to kiss Miss Toombs's +cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"No one's ever wanted to kiss me before," complained Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +"Because you've never let anyone know you as you really are," rejoined +Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we've talked quite enough about me. Let's hear a little more about +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"My history is written in this room." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk rot. I suppose it all happened when you went away for your +holidays last year?" +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't think—" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I didn't think you had the pluck." +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't require much of that." +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't it? There are loads of girls, nice girls too, who'd do as +you've done to-morrow if they only dared," declared Miss Toombs. "And +why not?" she added defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"You take my breath away," laughed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't laugh, dear. It's much too serious to laugh at," remonstrated +Miss Toombs. "We're here for such a short time, and so much of that is +taken up with youth and age and illness and work that it's our duty to +get as much happiness as we can. And if two people love each other—" +</P> + +<P> +"The woman can be brought down to this." +</P> + +<P> +"And wasn't it worth it?" cried Miss Toombs hotly. +</P> + +<P> +"Worth it!" echoed Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you have a lovely time when you were away?" +</P> + +<P> +"Heavenly!" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't he kiss your hands and feet and hair and tell you you were the +most beautiful woman in the whole world, as they do in books?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"And didn't he hold you to his heart all the night through, and didn't +you think you were in heaven? No—no, don't tell me. It would make me +miserable and jealous for weeks." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who's ever wanted to love and kiss my feet and hands? But there it +is—you're a pretty girl, and all that, but you can't have everything +in this world. You've had to pay one of the chief penalties for your +attractiveness." +</P> + +<P> +Just then Mavis's baby began to cry. +</P> + +<P> +"It's my hard knee," remarked Miss Toombs ruefully. "They always cry +when I nurse them." +</P> + +<P> +"I think he's hungry," remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Then give the boy his supper. Don't mind me." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis busied herself with the preparations for sterilising the milk, +but the boy cried so lustily that, to quiet him, Mavis blushingly undid +her bodice to put the nipple of her firm, white breast in his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the only thing to quiet him," explained Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder. He's got taste, has that boy. Don't turn away. It's all so +beautiful, and there's nothing wrong in nature." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you thinking of?" asked Miss Toombs presently, after Mavis +had been silent for a while. "Don't you feel at home with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be silly! You know you profess not to believe in Providence." +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've been in a bad way lately and I've prayed for help. Surely meeting +with you in a huge place like London is an answer to my prayer." +</P> + +<P> +"Meeting you, when you were hard up, was like something out of a book, +eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something out of a very good book," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it wasn't chance at all. These sort of things never happen when +they're wanted to. I've been up in town looking for you." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" +</P> + +<P> +"And thereby hangs a very romantic tale." +</P> + +<P> +"You've been looking for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the time?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're not thinking of going yet? Why were you looking for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's nearly ten," declared Miss Toombs, as she looked at her watch. +"Unless I stay the night here, I must be off." +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you staying?" +</P> + +<P> +"Notting Hill. I beg its pardon—North Kensington. They're quiet +people. If I'm not back soon, my character will be lost and I shall be +locked out for the night." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd love you to stay. But there's scarcely room for you in this poky +little hole." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't I engage another room?" +</P> + +<P> +"But the expense?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blow that! See if they can put me up." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis talked to Miss Gussle on the subject. Very soon, Mr Gussle could +be heard panting up the stairs with an iron chair bedstead, which was +set up, with other conveniences, in the music-hall agent's office. +</P> + +<P> +"Nice if he comes back and came into my room in the night," remarked +Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth would you do?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Lock the door to keep him in," replied Miss Toombs quickly, at which +the two friends laughed immoderately. +</P> + +<P> +As Miss Toombs was leaving the room to wire to her landlady to tell her +that she was staying with friends for the night, she kissed her hand to +Mavis's baby. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to call him?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie, of course," promptly replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment, she could have bitten off her tongue for having given +Miss Toombs a possible clue to her lover's identity: she had resolved +never to betray him to a living soul. +</P> + +<P> +But Mavis comforted herself on the score that her friend received her +information without betraying interest or surprise. Twenty minutes +later, Miss Toombs came back, staggering beneath the weight of an +accumulation of parcels, which contained a variety of things that Mavis +might want. +</P> + +<P> +"How could you spend your money on me?" asked Mavis, as the different +purchases were unpacked. +</P> + +<P> +"If one can't have a romance oneself, the next best thing is to be +mixed up in someone else's," replied Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis and her friend sat down to a supper of strawberries and cream, +whilst they drank claret and soda water. Jill was not forgotten; Miss +Toombs had bought her a pound of meat scraps from the butcher's, which +the dog critically consumed in a corner. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me hear about your romance and all the Melkbridge news," said +Mavis, as she stopped her friend from pouring more cream upon her plate +of strawberries. +</P> + +<P> +"Blow Melkbridge!" exclaimed Miss Toombs, her face hardening. +</P> + +<P> +"But I love it. I'm always thinking about it, and I'd give anything to +go back there." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"I said I'd give anything to be back there." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why rot?" +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't dream of going back," cried Miss Toombs anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Why on earth not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! Oh, because I say so." +</P> + +<P> +"Does anyone down there know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not that I'm aware of." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why shouldn't I go back?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no reason, only—" +</P> + +<P> +"Only what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let me tell you of my romance." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, only—" +</P> + +<P> +"When I tell you I'm in love, I don't think you ought to interrupt," +remarked Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +"I only wanted to know why I mustn't dream of going back to +Melkbridge," said Mavis anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I can get you a better job elsewhere. There now!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's hear of your love affair," said Mavis, partly satisfied by Miss +Toombs's reason for not wishing her to return to the place where her +lover was. +</P> + +<P> +"Five weeks ago, a man strode into our office at the factory; tall, +big, upright, sunburned." +</P> + +<P> +"Who was he?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"He wasn't a man at all; he was a god. And his clothes! Oh, my dear, my +heart came up in my mouth. And when he gave me his card—" +</P> + +<P> +"Who was he?" interrupted Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you guess?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give it up." +</P> + +<P> +"Captain Sir Archibald Windebank." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish it hadn't been. I've never forgotten him since." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he want?" +</P> + +<P> +"You!" +</P> + +<P> +"Me?" +</P> + +<P> +"You, you lucky girl! Has he ever kissed you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Once." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you! No, I don't mean that. You were made for love. But why +didn't you hold him in your arms and never let him go? I should have." +</P> + +<P> +"That's not a proper suggestion," laughed Mavis. "What did he want me +for?" +</P> + +<P> +"He wanted to find out what had become of you." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you tell him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't get much chance. Directly he saw Miss Hunter was +nice-looking, he addressed all his remarks to her." +</P> + +<P> +"Not really?" +</P> + +<P> +"A fact. Then I got sulky and got on with my work." +</P> + +<P> +"What did she say?" +</P> + +<P> +"What could she say? But, my goodness, wouldn't she have told some lies +if I hadn't been there, and she had had him all to herself!" +</P> + +<P> +"Lies about me?" +</P> + +<P> +"She hated the sight of you. She never could forgive you because you +were better born than she. And, would you believe it, she started to +set her cap at him." +</P> + +<P> +"Little cat!" +</P> + +<P> +"He said he would come again to see if we heard any more of you, and, +when he went, she actually made eyes at him. And, if that weren't +enough, she wore her best dress and all her nick-knacks every day till +he came again." +</P> + +<P> +"He did come again?" +</P> + +<P> +"This time he spoke to me. He went soon after I told him we hadn't +heard of you." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he send you to town to look for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did that on my own. I traced you to a dancing academy, then to North +Kensington, and then to New Cross." +</P> + +<P> +"Where at New Cross?" asked Mavis, fearful that her friend had inquired +for her at Mrs Gowler's. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd been given an address, but I lost it on the way. I described you +to the station master and asked if he could help me. He remembered a +lady answering your description having a box sent to an address in +Pimlico. When I told him you were a missing relative, he turned it up." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you call?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know if you were Mrs Kenrick, and, if you were, how you would +take my 'nosing' into your affairs." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you bother?" +</P> + +<P> +"I always liked you, and when I feared you'd got into a scrape for love +of a man, my heart went out to you and I wanted to help you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis bent over to kiss her friend before saying: "I only hope I live +to do you a good turn." +</P> + +<P> +"You've done it already by making friends with me. But isn't Hunter a +pig?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate her," said Mavis emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +"She tried to get my time for her holidays, but it's now arranged that +she goes away when I get back." +</P> + +<P> +"Where is she going?" asked Mavis absently. +</P> + +<P> +"Cornwall." +</P> + +<P> +"Cornwall? Which part?" +</P> + +<P> +"South, I believe. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Curiosity," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Then Miss Toombs told Mavis the rest of the Melkbridge news. She +learned how Mr and Mrs Trivett had given up Pennington Farm and were +now living in Melkbridge, where Miss Toombs had heard that they had a +hard struggle to get along. Miss Toombs mentioned several other names +well known to Mavis; but she did not speak of Charlie Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long time before Mavis slept that night. She had long and +earnestly thanked her Heavenly Father for having sent kindly Miss +Toombs to help her in her distress. She then lay awake for quite a long +while, wondering why Miss Toombs had been against her going to +Melkbridge. Vague, intangible fears hovered about her, which were +associated with her lover and his many promises to marry her. He also +was at Melkbridge. Mavis tried to persuade herself that Miss Toombs's +objection to her going to the same place could have nothing in common +with the fact of her lover's presence there. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, while the two friends were breakfasting, Mavis again +spoke of the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't make out why you were so against my going to Melkbridge," she +said. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you been worrying about it?" asked Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Is there any reason why I shouldn't go back?" +</P> + +<P> +"You great big silly! The reason why I didn't want you to go there is +because I might get you a better job in town." +</P> + +<P> +"But you told me last night you were friendless. Friendless girls can't +get others work in town. So don't try and get over me by saying that." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Toombs explained how the manager of a London house, which had +extensive dealings with Devitt's boot factory, was indebted to her for +certain crooked business ways that she had made straight. She told +Mavis that she had gone to see this man on Mr Devitt's behalf since she +had been in town, and that he was anxious to keep in her good books. +She thought that a word from her would get Mavis employment. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked her friend; she made no further mention of the matter +which occasionally disturbed her peace of mind. +</P> + +<P> +For all her friend's kindly offer, she longed to tread the familiar +ways of the country town which was so intimately associated with the +chief event of her life. +</P> + +<P> +During the five unexpired days of Miss Toombs's holiday, the two women +were rarely apart. Of a morning they would take the baby to the grounds +of Chelsea Hospital, which, save for the presence of the few who were +familiar with its quietude, they had to themselves. Once or twice, they +took a 'bus to the further side of the river, when they would sit in a +remote corner of Battersea Park. They also went to Kew Gardens and +Richmond Park. Mavis had not, for many long weeks, known such happiness +as that furnished by Miss Toombs's society. Her broad views of life +diminished Mavis's concern at the fact of her being a mother without +being a wife. +</P> + +<P> +The time came when Mavis set out for Paddington (she left the baby +behind in charge of Jill), in order to see her friend go by the +afternoon train to Melkbridge. Mavis was silent. She wished that she +were journeying over the hundred miles which lay between where she +stood and her lover. Miss Toombs was strangely cheerful: to such an +extent, that Mavis wondered if her friend guessed the secret of her +lover's identity, and, divining her heart's longings, was endeavouring +to distract her thoughts from their probable preoccupation. Mavis +thanked her friend again and again for all she had done for her. Miss +Toombs had that morning received a letter from her London boot +acquaintance in reply to one she had written concerning Mavis. This +letter had told Miss Toombs that her friend should fill the first +vacancy that might occur. Upon the strength of this promise, Miss +Toombs had prevailed on Mavis to accept five pounds from her; but Mavis +had only taken it upon the understanding that the money was a loan. +</P> + +<P> +While they were talking outside Miss Toombs's third class compartment, +Mavis saw Montague Devitt pass on his way to a first, followed by two +porters, who were staggering beneath the weight of a variety of +parcels. Mavis hoped that he would not see her; but the fates willed +otherwise. One of the porters dropped a package, which fell with a +resounding thwack at Mavis's feet. Devitt turned, to see Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Keeves!" he said, raising his hat. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis bowed. +</P> + +<P> +"May I speak to you a moment?" he asked, after glancing at Miss Toombs, +and furtively lifting his hat to this person. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis joined him. +</P> + +<P> +"What has become of you all this time?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've been working in London." +</P> + +<P> +"I've often thought of you. What are you doing now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm looking for something to do." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you'd never care to come back and work for me in Melkbridge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing I should like better," remarked Mavis, as her heart leapt. +</P> + +<P> +They talked for two or three minutes longer, when, the train being on +the point of starting, Devitt said: +</P> + +<P> +"Send me your address and I'll see you have your old work again." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thanked him. +</P> + +<P> +"Just met Miss Toombs?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"She's been staying with me. Thank you so much." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hurried from the man's carriage to that containing her friend, +who was standing anxiously by the window. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right!" cried Mavis excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +"What's all right, dear?" cried Miss Toombs as the train began to move. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm coming to work at Melkbridge. It's au revoir, dear!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was astonished, and not a little disquieted, to see the +expression of concern which came over her friend's disappearing face at +this announcement. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AN OLD FRIEND +</H3> + +<P> +Four days later, Mavis spent the late afternoon with her baby and Jill +in the grounds of Chelsea Hospital. She then took a 'bus to Ebury +Bridge (Jill running behind), to get out here and walk to her lodging. +As she went up Halverton Street, she noticed, in the failing light, a +tall, soldierly looking man standing on the other side of the road. But +the presence of men of military bearing, even in Halverton Street, was +not sufficiently infrequent to call for remark. Mavis opened her door +with the key and went to her room. Here, she fed her baby and ate +something herself. When her boy fell asleep, Mavis left him in charge +of Jill and went out to do some shopping. She had not gone far when she +heard footsteps behind her, as if seeking to overtake her. Mavis, who +was well used to being accosted by night prowlers, quickened her steps, +but to no purpose: a moment or two later, someone touched her arm. She +turned angrily, to see Windebank beside her. Her expression relaxed, to +become very hard. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know me?" he asked huskily. +</P> + +<P> +She stopped, but did not reply. She recalled the man she had seen +standing on the other side of the road, and whom she now believed to +have been Windebank. If it were he, and he had been waiting to see her, +he had undoubtedly seen her baby. Rage, self-pity at the realisation of +her helplessness, defiance, desire to protect the good name of the +loved one, filled her being. She walked for some moments in silence, he +following. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you very angry?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry." +</P> + +<P> +The deep note of sincerity in his voice might have arrested her wrath. +If anything, his emotion stimulated her anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do, you take pleasure in spying on me?" she cried. "I always knew +you were a beast." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! Oh, rot!" he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Why can't you leave me alone? You would if you knew how I hated you." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that?" he asked quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"You shouldn't have spied on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be angry: at least not very. You wouldn't if you knew how I've +longed to see you again, to find out what's become of you." +</P> + +<P> +"You know now!" she exclaimed defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"And since I know, what is the use of your getting angry?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate meanness," cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Spying's meanness. It's hateful: hateful." +</P> + +<P> +"So are fools," he cried, with a vehemence approaching hers. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him, surprised. He went on: +</P> + +<P> +"I hate fools, and much, much as I think of you and much as you will +always be to me, I can't help telling you what a fool you've been." +</P> + +<P> +"Not so loud," urged Mavis. They had now reached the corner of +much-frequented Lupus Street, where the man's emphatic voice would +attract attention. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll say what I please. And if I choose to tell you I think you a +precious fool, nothing on earth shall stop me." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right: insult me," remarked Mavis, who was secretly pleased at +his unrestrained anger. +</P> + +<P> +"'Insult' be hanged! You're an arrant, downright fool! You'd only to +say the word to have been my wife." +</P> + +<P> +"What an honour!" laughed Mavis, saying the first words which came into +her head. The next moment she would have given much to have been able +to recall them. +</P> + +<P> +"For me," said Windebank gravely. "And I know I'd have made you happy." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you would," admitted Mavis, wishing to atone for her +thoughtless remark. +</P> + +<P> +As if moved by a common impulse, they crossed Lupus Street and sought +the first quiet thoroughfare which presented itself. This happened to +be Cambridge Street, along the shabby pretentiousness of which they +walked for some minutes in silence, each occupied with their thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you find out where I was?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Toombs." +</P> + +<P> +"You've seen her?" +</P> + +<P> +"She sent me 'Halverton Street' written on a piece of paper. I guessed +what it meant." +</P> + +<P> +"You spoke to her before about me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I was anxious to know what had become of you." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't have bothered." +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't help myself." +</P> + +<P> +"You really, really cared?" +</P> + +<P> +"A bit. And now I see what a fool you've been—-" +</P> + +<P> +"It won't make any difference," she interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"It won't make any difference to me. I'm to be married any day now." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" he asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis repeated her statement. +</P> + +<P> +"To whom?" +</P> + +<P> +"The man I love; whom else?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you counting on that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," she answered, surprised at the question. +</P> + +<P> +She wondered what he could mean, but she could get no enlightenment +from his face, which preserved a sphinx-like impenetrability. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you thinking of?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"How best to help you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not in need of help: besides, I can take care of myself." +</P> + +<P> +"H'm! Where were you going when I met you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shopping." +</P> + +<P> +"May I come too?" +</P> + +<P> +"It wouldn't interest you." +</P> + +<P> +"How long can you spare?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not long. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +They had now reached the Wilton Road. By way of reply to her question, +he elbowed her into one of the pretentious restaurants which lined the +side of the thoroughfare on which they walked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not hungry," she protested. +</P> + +<P> +"Do as you're told," he replied, urging her to a table. +</P> + +<P> +He called the waiter and ordered an elaborate meal to be brought with +all dispatch. He then took off the light overcoat covering his evening +clothes before joining Mavis, who was surprised to see how much older +he was looking. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you staring at?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"You. Have you had trouble?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he replied, looking her hard in the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," she remarked, dropping hers. +</P> + +<P> +As if to leaven her previous ungraciousness, Mavis ate as much of the +food as she could. She noticed, however, that, beyond sipping his wine, +Windebank merely made pretence of eating: but for all his remissness +with regard to his own needs, he was full of tender concern for her +comfort. +</P> + +<P> +"You're eating nothing," she presently remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Like our other meal in Regent Street." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded reminiscently. +</P> + +<P> +"You hadn't forgotten?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was the night I left you in the fog." +</P> + +<P> +"Like the little fool you were!" +</P> + +<P> +She did not make any reply. He seemed preoccupied for the remainder of +the meal, an absent-mindedness which was now and again interrupted by +sparks of forced gaiety. +</P> + +<P> +She wondered if he had anything on his mind. She had previously +resolved to wish him good-bye when they left the restaurant; but, +somehow, when they went out together, she made no objection to his +accompanying her in the direction of Halverton Street, the reason being +that she felt wholly at home with him; he seemed so potent to protect +her; he was so concerned for her happiness and well-being. She revelled +in the unaccustomed security which his presence inspired. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to buy?" he asked, as they again approached Lupus +Street. +</P> + +<P> +"Odds and ends." +</P> + +<P> +"You must let me carry them." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled a little sadly, but otherwise made no reply to Windebank's +suggestion. She was bent on enjoying to the full her new-found +sensation of security. When they reached Lupus Street, she went into +the mean shops to order or get (in either case to pay for) the simple +things she needed. These comprised bovril, tea, bacon, sugar, +methylated spirit, bread, milk, a chop, a cauliflower, six bottles of +stout, and three pounds of potatoes. Whatever shop she entered, +Windebank insisted on accompanying her, and, in most cases, quadrupled +her order; in others, bought all kinds of things which he thought she +might want. In any other locality, the sight of a man in evening dress, +with prosperity written all over him, accompanying a shabbily-dressed +girl, as Mavis then was, in her shopping, would have excited comment; +but in Pimlico, anything of this nature was not considered at all out +of the way. +</P> + +<P> +Windebank, loaded with parcels, accompanied Mavis to the door of her +lodging. Here, she opened the door, and in three or four journeys to +her room relieved Windebank of his burdens. She was loth to let him go. +Seeing that her baby was sleeping peacefully, she said to Windebank, +when she joined him outside: +</P> + +<P> +"I'll walk a little way with you." +</P> + +<P> +"It's very good of you." +</P> + +<P> +As they walked towards Victoria, neither of them seemed eager for +speech. They were both oppressed by the realisation of the inevitable +roads to which life's travellers are bound, despite the personal +predilections of the wayfarers. +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis! little Mavis! what is going to happen?" he presently +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to be married and live happily ever after," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had shocking luck. I mean with regard to you," he continued. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis making no reply to this remark, he went on: +</P> + +<P> +"But what I can't understand is, why you ran away that night when I got +you out of Mrs Hamilton's." +</P> + +<P> +"I escaped in the fog." +</P> + +<P> +"But why? Why? Little Mavis! little Mavis! these things are much too +sacred to play the fool with." +</P> + +<P> +"I ran away out of consideration for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why else should I? I didn't want you to burden your life with a nobody +like me." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you serious?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm hanged!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use worrying now." +</P> + +<P> +"One can't altogether help it. Why hadn't you a better sense of your +value? I'd have married you; I'd have lived for you, and I swear I'd +have made you happy." +</P> + +<P> +"I know you would," she assented. +</P> + +<P> +"And now I find you like this." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be going back now." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll turn with you if I may." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be late." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll chance that," he laughed. "Months before I met you at Mrs +Hamilton's, I heard about you from Devitt." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he say?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was just before you were going down to see him, from some school +you were at, about taking a governess's billet. He told me of this, and +I sent you a message." +</P> + +<P> +"I never had it." +</P> + +<P> +"Not really?" +</P> + +<P> +"A fact. What was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I said that my people and myself were no end of keen on seeing you +again and that we wanted you to come down and stay." +</P> + +<P> +"You told him that?" +</P> + +<P> +"One day in the market-place at Melkbridge. Afterwards, I often asked +about you, if he knew your address and all that; but I never got +anything out of him." +</P> + +<P> +"But he knew all the time where I was. I don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis is very young." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right: insult me," she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Those sort of people with a marriageable daughter aren't going to +handicap their chances by having sweet Mavis about the house." +</P> + +<P> +"People aren't really like that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit; they're as artless as you. My dear little Mavis, one 'ud +think you'd never left the nursery." +</P> + +<P> +"But I have." +</P> + +<P> +"Curse it, you have! Why did you? Oh! why did you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do as I've done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Why did you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I loved him." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"The only possible reason—I loved him." +</P> + +<P> +"And if you'd loved me, you'd have done the same for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd asked me." +</P> + +<P> +"For me? For me?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I loved you, and if you asked me." +</P> + +<P> +"But that's just it. If a chap truly loves a girl, he'd rather die than +injure a hair of her head. And if you loved me, my one idea would be to +protect my darling little Mavis from all harm. Why—-" +</P> + +<P> +He stopped. Mavis's face was drawn as if she were in great pain. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"How dare you? Oh, how dare you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dare I what?" he asked, much perplexed at her sudden anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Insult the man I love. If what you say is true, it would mean he +didn't truly love me. You lie! I tell you he does! You lie—you lie!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're right," assented Windebank sadly, after a moment's thought. +"You're quite right. I made a mistake. I ask everyone's pardon. How +could any man fail to appreciate you?" +</P> + +<P> +Much to his surprise, her anger soon abated. A not too convincing +light-heartedness took the place of this stormy ebullition. If +Windebank had been more skilled in the mechanism of a woman's heart, he +would have promptly divined the girl's gaiety had been wilfully +assumed, in order to conceal from herself the anxiety that Windebank's +words, with reference to the proper conduct of a true lover, had +inspired. By the time they had reached her door, she had expended her +fund of forced gaiety; she was again the subdued Mavis whom trouble had +fashioned. She thanked Windebank many times for his kindness; although +she was tired, she was in no mood to leave him. She liked the +restfulness that she discovered in his company; also, she dreaded +to-night the society of her own thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +They were now standing in the street immediately outside the door of +her lodging. They had been silent for some moments. Mavis regretfully +realised that he must soon leave her. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you do me a favour?" he asked suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +She looked up inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"May I see—-?" he continued softly. "May I see—-?" +</P> + +<P> +"My boy?" she asked, divining his wish. +</P> + +<P> +She thought for a moment before slipping into the house. A little +later, she came out carrying the sleeping baby in her arms. Mavis's +heart inclined to Windebank for his request; at the same time, she knew +well that, were she a man, and in his present situation, she would not +be the least interested in the loved woman's child, whose father was a +successful rival. +</P> + +<P> +Windebank uncovered the little one's face. He looked at it intently for +a while. He then bent down to kiss the baby's forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless you, little boy!" he murmured. "God bless you and your +beautiful mother!" +</P> + +<P> +He then covered the baby's face, and walked quickly away in the +direction of Victoria. +</P> + +<P> +That night, Mavis saw dawn touch the eastern sky with light before she +slept. She lay awake, wondering at and trying to resolve into coherence +the many things which had gone to the shaping of her life. What +impressed her most was that so many events of moment had been brought +about by trivial incidents to which she had attached no importance at +the time of their happening. Strive as she might, she could not hide +from herself how much happier would have been her lot if she had loved +and married Windebank. It also seemed to her as if fate had done much +to bring them together. She recalled, in this connection, how she again +met this friend of her early youth at Mrs Hamilton's, of all places, +where he had not only told her of the nature of the house into which +she had been decoyed, but had set her free of the place. Then had +followed the revelation of her hitherto concealed identity, a +confession which had called into being all his old-time, boyish +infatuation for her. To prevent possible developments of this passion +for a portionless girl from interfering with his career, she had left +him, to lose herself in the fog. If her present situation were a +misfortune, it had arisen from her abnormal, and, as it had turned out, +mischievous consideration for his welfare. But scruples of the nature +which she had displayed were assuredly numbered amongst the virtues, +and to arrive at the conclusion that evil had arisen from the practice +of virtue was unthinkable. Such a sorry sequence could not be; God +would not permit it. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's head ached. Life to her seemed an inexplicable tangle, from +which one fact stood out with insistent prominence. This, that although +Windebank's thoughtless words about the safety of a woman with the man +who truly loved her had awakened considerable apprehension in her +heart, she realised how necessary it was to trust Perigal even more (if +that were possible) than she had ever done before. He was her life, her +love, her all. She trusted and believed in him implicitly. She was sure +that she would love him till the last moment of her life. With this +thought in her heart, with his name on her lips, the while she clutched +Perigal's ring, which Miss Toombs's generosity had enabled her to get +out of pawn, she fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +The first post brought two letters. One was from Miss Toombs's business +acquaintance, offering her a berth at twenty-eight shillings a week; +the other was from Montague Devitt, confirming the offer he had made +Mavis at Paddington. Devitt's letter told her that she could resume +work on the following Monday fortnight. It did not take Mavis the +fraction of a second to decide which of the two offers she would +accept. She sat down and wrote to Mr Devitt to thank him for his +letter; she said that the would be pleased to commence her duties at +the time suggested. The question of where and how she was to lodge her +baby at Melkbridge, and, at the same time, avoid all possible risk of +its identity being discovered, she left for future consideration. She +was coming back from posting the letter, when she was overtaken by +Windebank, who was driving a superb motor car. He pulled up by the kerb +of the pavement on which she was walking. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," he cried cheerily. "I was coming to take you out." +</P> + +<P> +"Shopping?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"To have a day in the country. Jump in and we'll drive back for the +youngster." +</P> + +<P> +"It's very kind of you, but—-" +</P> + +<P> +"There are no 'buts.' I insist." +</P> + +<P> +"I really mustn't go," said Mavis, thinking longingly of the peace of +the country. +</P> + +<P> +"But you must. Remember you've someone else to think of besides +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"You?" +</P> + +<P> +"The youngster. A change to country air would do him no end of good." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really think it would?" asked Mavis, hesitating before +accepting his offer. +</P> + +<P> +"Think! I know. If you don't want to come, it's your duty to sacrifice +yourself for the boy's health." +</P> + +<P> +This decided Mavis. Less than an hour later, they were driving in the +cool of Surrey lanes, where the sweet air and the novelty of the motion +brought colour to Mavis's cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +They lunched at a wayside inn, to sit, when the simple meal was over, +in the garden where the air was musical with bees. +</P> + +<P> +"This is peace," exclaimed Mavis, who was entranced with the change +from dirty, mean Pimlico. +</P> + +<P> +"As your life should always be, little Mavis." +</P> + +<P> +"It is going to be." +</P> + +<P> +"But what are you going to do till this marriage comes off?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis told him how it was arranged that she was soon to commence work +at Melkbridge. Much to her surprise and considerably to her mind's +disquiet, Windebank hotly attempted to dissuade her from this course. +He urged a variety of reasons, the chief of which was the risk she ran +of the fact of her motherhood being discovered. But he might as well +have talked to Jill, who accompanied the party. Mavis's mind was made +up. The obstacles he sought to put in her way, if anything, +strengthened her determination. One concession, however, he wrung from +her—this, that if ever she were in trouble she would not hesitate to +seek his aid. On the return home in the cool of the evening, Windebank +asked if he could secure her better accommodation than where she now +lived until she left for Wiltshire. Mavis would not hear of it, till +Windebank pointed out that her child's health might be permanently +injured by further residence in unwholesome Halverton Street. Before +Mavis fell in with his request, she stipulated that she was not to pay +more than a pound a week for any rooms she might engage. When she got +back, she was overwhelmed with inquiries from Lil, the girl upstairs, +with reference to "the mug" whom she (Mavis) had captured. But Mavis +scarcely listened to the girl's questions; she was wondering why, first +of all, Miss Toombs and then Windebank should be against her going to +Melkbridge. Her renewed faith in Perigal prevented her from believing +that any act of his was responsible for their anxiety in the matter. +She could only conclude that they believed that in journeying to +Melkbridge, as she purposed, she ran a great risk of her motherhood +being discovered. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, Mavis set about looking for the new rooms which she +had promised Windebank to get. Now she could afford to pay a reasonable +price for accommodation, she was enabled to insist upon good value for +the money. The neat appearance of a house in Cambridge Street, which +announced that lodgings were to let, attracted her. A clean, +white-capped servant showed her two comfortably furnished rooms, which +were to let at the price Mavis was prepared to pay. She learned that +the landlady was a Mrs Taylor. Upon asking to see her, a woman, whose +face still displayed considerable beauty, glided into the room. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Taylor spoke in a low, sweet voice; she would like to accommodate +Mavis, but she had to be very, very particular: one had to be so +careful nowadays. Could Mavis furnish references; failing that, would +Mavis tell her what place of worship she attended? Mavis referred Mrs +Taylor to Miss Toombs at Melkbridge and Mrs Scatchard at North +Kensington, which satisfied the landlady. When, twenty-four hours +later, Mavis moved in, she found that Windebank had already sent in a +profusion of wines, meats, fruit and flowers for her use. She was +wishing she could send them back, when Mrs Taylor came into her +sitting-room with her hands to her head. +</P> + +<P> +Upon Mavis asking what was amiss, she learned that Mrs Taylor had a +violent headache and the only thing that did her any good was +champagne, which she could not possibly afford. Mavis hastened to offer +Mrs Taylor a bottle of the two dozen of champagne which were among the +things that Windebank had sent in. +</P> + +<P> +Under the influence of champagne, Mrs Taylor became expansive. She had +already noted the abundance with which Mavis was surrounded. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you a gentleman friend, dear?" she presently asked in her soft, +caressing voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I have one very dear friend," remarked Mavis, thinking of Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you're very careful," remarked Mrs Taylor. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse my mentioning it, but gentlemen will be gentlemen where a +pretty girl is concerned." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, but I am quite, quite safe," replied Mavis hotly. "And do +you know why?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Taylor shook her auburn head. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you. It's because he loves me more than anything else in the +world. And, therefore, I'm safe," she declared proudly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAVIS GOES TO MELKBRIDGE +</H3> + +<P> +On the following Sunday fortnight, Mavis left the train at Dippenham +quite late in the evening. She purposed driving with her baby and Jill +in a fly the seven miles necessary to take her to Melkbridge. She +choose this means of locomotion in order to secure the privacy which +might not be hers if she took the train to her destination. +</P> + +<P> +During the last few days, her boy had not enjoyed his usual health; he +had lost appetite and could not sleep for any length of time. Mavis +believed the stuffy atmosphere of Pimlico to be responsible for her +baby's ailing; she had great hopes of the Melkbridge air effecting an +improvement in his health. +</P> + +<P> +She had travelled down in a reserved first-class compartment, which +Windebank, who had seen her off at Paddington, had secured. He had only +been a few minutes on the platform, as he had to catch the boat train +at Charing Cross, he being due at Breslau the following day, to witness +the German army manoeuvres on a special commission from the War Office. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had seen much of him during her stay at Mrs Taylor's. At all +times, he had urged upon Mavis the inadvisability of going to +Melkbridge. He was so against this contemplated proceeding that he had +vainly offered to settle money on her if only it would induce her to +forego her intention. Miss Toombs had by letter joined her entreaties +to Windebank's. She pointed out that if Mavis brought her child to +Melkbridge, as she purposed doing, it was pretty certain that its +identity would be discovered. But Windebank pleaded and Miss Toombs +wrote to no purpose. Before Windebank had said good-bye at Paddington, +he again made Mavis promise that she would not hesitate to communicate +at once with him should she meet with further trouble. +</P> + +<P> +The gravity with which he made this request awakened disquiet in her +mind, which diminished as her proximity to Melkbridge increased. +Impatient to lessen the distance that separated her from her +destination, she quickly selected a fly. A porter helped the driver +with her luggage; she settled herself with her baby and Jill, and very +soon they were lumbering down the ill-paved street. Her mind was so +intent on the fact of her increasing nearness to the loved one, that +she gave but a passing remembrance to the occasion of her last visit to +Dippenham, when she had met Perigal after letting him know that she was +about to become a mother. Her eyes strained eagerly from the window of +the fly in the direction of Melkbridge. She was blind, deaf, +indifferent to anything, other than her approaching meeting with her +lover, which she was sure could not long be delayed now she had come to +live so near his home. She was to lodge with her old friend Mrs +Trivett, who had moved into a cottage on the Broughton Road. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had written to tell Mrs Trivett the old story of her fictitious +marriage; she had, also, stated that for the present she wished this +fact, together with the parentage of her child, to be kept a strict +secret. Mavis little recked the risk she ran of discovery. She was +obsessed by the desire to breathe the Melkbridge air. She believed that +her presence there would in some way or other make straight the tangle +into which she had got her life. The fly had left Dippenham well +behind, and was ambling up and down the inclines of the road. Mavis +looked out at the stone walls which, in these parts, take the place of +hedgerows: she recognised with delight this reminder that she was again +in Wiltshire. Four miles further, she would pass a lodge gate and the +grounds of Major Perigal's place. She might even catch a glimpse of the +house amongst the trees as she passed. As the miles were wearily +surmounted and the dwelling of the loved one came ever nearer, Mavis's +heart beat fast with excitement. She continually craned her neck from +the window to see if the spot she longed to feast her eyes upon were in +sight. When it ultimately crept into view, she could scarcely contain +herself for joy. She caught up her baby from the seat to hold him as +high as it was possible in order that he might catch a glimpse of his +darling daddy's home. +</P> + +<P> +The baby arms were hot and dry to the touch, but Mavis was too intent +on looking eagerly across the expanse of park to notice this just now. +Many lights flashed in her eyes, to be hidden immediately behind trees. +Her lover's home was unusually illuminated to-night—unusually, +because, at other times, when she had passed it, only one or two lights +had been visible, Major Perigal living the life of a recluse who +disliked intercourse with his species. Half an hour later, Mavis was +putting her baby to bed at Mrs Trivett's. His face was flushed, his +eyes staring and wide awake; but Mavis put down these manifestations to +the trying journey from town. She went downstairs to eat a few +mouthfuls with Mr and Mrs Trivett before returning to his side. She +found them much altered; they had aged considerably and were weighted +with care. Music teaching in Melkbridge was a sorry crutch on which to +lean for support. During the short meal, neither husband nor wife said +much. Mavis wondered if this taciturnity were due to any suspicions +they might entertain of Mavis's unwedded state. But when Mrs Trivett +came upstairs with her, she sat on the bed and burst into tears. +</P> + +<P> +Upon Mavis asking what was amiss, Mrs Trivett told her that they were +overwhelmed with debt and consequent difficulties to such an extent, +that they did not know from one day to another if they would continue +to have a roof over their heads. She also told Mavis that her coming as +a lodger had been in the nature of a godsend, and that she had returned +to Melkbridge upon the anniversary of the day on which her husband had +commenced his disastrous tenancy of Pennington Farm. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis slept little that night. Her baby was restless and wailed +fitfully throughout the long hours, during which the anxious mother did +her best to comfort him. Mavis made up her mind to call in a doctor if +he were not better in the morning. When she was dressing, the baby +seemed calmer and more inclined to sleep, therefore she had small +compunction in leaving him in Mrs Trivett's motherly arms when, some +two hours later, she left the Broughton Road for the boot factory. Miss +Toombs was already at the office when she got there. Mavis scarcely +recognised her friend, so altered was she in appearance. Dark rings +encircled her eyes; her skin was even more pasty than was its wont. +Mavis noticed that when her friend kissed her, she was trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter, dear?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Indigestion. It's nothing at all." +</P> + +<P> +The two friends talked quickly and quietly till Miss Hunter joined +them. Beyond giving Mavis the curtest of nods, this young person took +no notice of her. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was more grateful than otherwise for Miss Hunter's indifference; +she had feared a series of searching questions with regard to all that +had happened since she had been away from Melkbridge. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Toombs's appearance and conduct at meeting with Mavis was not the +only strange behaviour which she displayed. When anyone came into the +office, she seemed in a fever of apprehension; also, when anyone spoke +to Mavis, her friend would at once approach and speak in such a manner +as to send them about their business as soon as possible. Mavis +wondered what it could mean. +</P> + +<P> +Her boy did not seem quite so well when she got back to Mrs Trivett's +for the midday meal. During the afternoon's work, her anxiety was such +that she could scarcely concentrate her attention on what she was +doing. When she hurried home in the evening, the boy was decidedly +worse; there was no gainsaying the seriousness of his symptoms. Every +time Mavis tried to make him take nourishment, he would cry out as if +it hurt him to swallow. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Trivett, who had had much experience with the ailments of a +sister's big family, feared that the baby was sickening for something. +Mavis would have sent for a doctor at once, but Mrs Trivett pointed out +that doctors could do next to nothing for sick babies beyond ordering +them to be kept warm and to have nourishment in the shape of two drops +of brandy in water every two hours; also, that if it were necessary to +have skilled advice, the doctor had better be sent for when Mavis was +at the boot factory; otherwise, he might ask questions bearing on +matters which, just now, Mavis would prefer not to make public. Mrs +Trivett had much trouble in making the distraught mother appreciate the +wisdom of this advice. She only fell in with the woman's views when she +reflected, quite without cause, that the doctor's inevitable +questioning might, in some remote way, compromise her lover. Late in +the evening, when it was dark, Miss Toombs came round to see how +matters were going. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all your fault, foolish Mavis, for coming to Melkbridge," she +remarked, when Mavis had told her of her perplexities. +</P> + +<P> +"But how was I to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"The only way to have guarded against complications was to keep away +altogether. I suppose you wouldn't go even now?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's much too ill to move. Besides—-" +</P> + +<P> +"Will you go when he's better, if I tell you something?" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" asked Mavis, seriously alarmed by the deadly earnestness of her +friend's manner. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Hunter!" +</P> + +<P> +"What of her?" +</P> + +<P> +"First tell me, where was it you went for your—your honeymoon?" +</P> + +<P> +"Polperro. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's one of the places she's been to." +</P> + +<P> +"And you think—-?" +</P> + +<P> +"Her manner's so funny. And you wondered why I was so jolly keen on +your not coming to Melkbridge!" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought—I hoped my troubles were at an end," murmured Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever happens, you can rely on me till the death—when it's after +dark." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that much, much as I love you, I'm not going to risk the loss of +my winter fire, hot-water bottles, and books, for getting mixed up in +any scrape pretty Mavis gets herself into." +</P> + +<P> +The next morning Mavis went to business in a state bordering on +distraction. The baby was not one whit better, and even hopeful Mrs +Trivett had shaken her head sadly. But she had pointed out that Mavis +could not help matters by remaining at home; she also promised to send +for a doctor should the baby's health not improve in the course of the +morning. Mavis was so distraught that she stared wildly at the one or +two people she chanced to meet, who, knowing her, seemed disposed to +stop and speak. She wondered if she should let her lover know the +disquieting state of his son's health. So far, she had not told him of +her coming to Melkbridge, wishing the inevitable meeting to come as a +delightful surprise. When she got to the office, she found a long +letter from Windebank, which she scarcely read, so greatly was her mind +disturbed. She only noted the request on which he was always insisting, +namely, that she was at once to communicate with him should she find +herself in trouble. +</P> + +<P> +When she got back at midday, she found that, the baby being no better, +Mrs Trivett had sent her husband for a doctor who had recently come to +Melkbridge; also, that he had promised to call directly after lunch. +With this information, Mavis had to possess herself in patience till +she learned the doctor's report. That afternoon, the moments were +weighted with leaden feet. Three o'clock came; Mavis was beginning to +congratulate herself that, if the doctor had pronounced anything +seriously amiss with her child, Mrs Trivett would not have failed to +communicate with her, when a boy came into the office to ask for Miss +Keeves. +</P> + +<P> +She jumped up excitedly, and the boy put a note into her hand. A +faintness overwhelmed her so that she could hardly find strength with +which to tear open the missive. When she finally did so, she read: +"Come at once, much trouble," scrawled in Mrs Trivett's writing. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, reached for her hat, the +while Miss Toombs watched her with sympathetic eyes. At the same time, +one of the factory foremen came into the office and put an envelope +into Mavis's hand. She paid no attention to this last beyond stuffing +it into a pocket of her frock. Her one concern was to reach the +Broughton Road with as little delay as possible. Once outside the +factory, she closely questioned the boy as he ran beside her, but he +could tell her nothing beyond that Mrs Trivett had given him a penny to +bring Mavis the note. When Mavis, breathless and faint, arrived at Mrs +Trivett's gate, she saw two or three people staring curiously at the +cottage. She all but fell against the door, and was at once admitted by +Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +"The worst! Let me know the worst!" gasped the terror-stricken girl. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was told that her baby was ill with diphtheria; also, that a +broker's man was in possession at Mrs Trivett's. +</P> + +<P> +"Will he get over it?" was Mavis's next question. +</P> + +<P> +"It's for a lot of money. It's just on thirty pounds." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean my boy." +</P> + +<P> +"The doctor has hopes. He's coming in again presently." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hurried to the stairs leading to her bedroom. As she went up +these, she brushed against a surly-looking man who was coming down. She +rightly judged him to be the man in possession. She found the little +sufferer stretched upon his bed of pain with wildly dilating eyes; it +wrung Mavis's heart to see what difficulty he had with his breathing. +If she could only have done something to ease her baby's sufferings, +she would have been better able to bear the intolerable suspense. She +realised that she could do nothing till the doctor paid his next visit. +But she had forgotten; one thing she could do: she could pray for +divine assistance to the Heavenly Father who was able to heal all +earthly ills. This she did. Mavis prayed long and earnestly, with words +that came from her heart. She told Him how she had endured pain, +sorrow, countless debasing indignities without murmuring; if only in +consideration of these, she begged that the life of her little one +might be spared. +</P> + +<P> +Whilst thus engaged, Mavis heard a tap at the door. She got up +impatiently as she called to whomsoever it might be to enter. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Trivett came in with many apologies for disturbing Mavis. She then +told her lodger that the broker's man was aware of the illness from +which Mavis's baby was suffering; also that, as he was a family man, he +objected to being in a house where there was a contagious disease, and +that, if the child were not removed to the local fever hospital by the +evening, he would inform the authorities. Mrs Trivett's information +spelt further trouble for Mavis. Apart from her natural disinclination +to confide her dearly loved child to the care of strangers, she saw a +direct menace to herself should the man carry out his threat of +insisting on the removal of the child. Montague Devitt was much bound +up with the town's municipal authorities. In this capacity, it was +conceivable that he might discover the identity of the child's mother; +failing this, her visits to the hospital to learn the child's progress +would probably excite comment, which, in a small town like Melkbridge, +could easily be translated into gossip that must reach the ears of the +Devitt family. The cloud of trouble hung heavily over Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't—can't anything be done?" she asked desperately. +</P> + +<P> +"It's either the hospital or paying the broker." +</P> + +<P> +"How much is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty-nine pounds sixteen." +</P> + +<P> +"That's easily got," remarked Mavis. "At once?" asked Mrs Trivett, as +her worn face brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't suppose I could get it till the morrow. It would be then too +late?" +</P> + +<P> +"But if you're sure of getting it, something might be arranged." +</P> + +<P> +"Would the man take my word?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. But he might know someone who would lend the money in a way that +would be convenient." +</P> + +<P> +"See him at once. Find out if anything can be done," urged the +distracted mother. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later, whilst Mavis was waiting in suspense, Mrs Trivett +came up to say that the doctor had come again. Mavis had no time to ask +her landlady what she had done with the broker's man, as the doctor +came into the room directly after he had been announced. He was quite a +young doctor, on whom the manners of an elderly man sat incongruously. +He glanced keenly at Mavis as he bowed to her; then, without saying a +word, he fell to examining the child's throat. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" asked Mavis breathlessly, when he had satisfied himself of its +condition. +</P> + +<P> +"I must ask you a few questions," replied the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you wish to know?" she asked with anxious heart. +</P> + +<P> +He asked her much about the baby's place of birth, subsequent health +and diet. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis told him of the Pimlico supplied milk, which she had +sterilised herself, he shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"That accounts for the whole trouble," he remarked. "You should have +fed him yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"It didn't agree with him, and then it went away," Mavis told him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you had worry?" +</P> + +<P> +"A bit. Do you think he'll pull through?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you more to-night," he informed her. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis attracted men. The doctor, not being blind to her fascinations, +was not indisposed to linger for a moment's conversation, after he had +treated the baby's throat, during which Mavis thought it necessary to +tell him the old story of the husband in America who was preparing a +home for her. +</P> + +<P> +"Some chap's been low enough to land that charming girl with that +baby," thought the doctor as he walked home. "She's as innocent as they +make 'em, otherwise she wouldn't have told me that silly husband yarn. +If she were an old hand, she'd have kept her mouth shut." +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, Mavis had been summoned downstairs to a conference, in which +the broker's man (his name was Gunner), Mrs Trivett, and a man named +Hutton, whom Mr Trivett had fetched, took part. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was informed that Mr Hutton would lend her the money needed to +get rid of Mr Gunner's embarrassing presence, for which she was to pay +two pounds interest, if repaid in a month, and eight pounds interest a +year during which the capital sum was being repaid by monthly +instalments. +</P> + +<P> +"I will telegraph to Germany," said Mavis. "You shall have the money +next week at latest." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Hutton wanted guarantees; failing these, was Mavis in any kind of +employment? +</P> + +<P> +Mavis told him how she was employed by Mr Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +The man opened his eyes. Had the lady proof of this statement? +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thrust her hand into her pocket, believing she might find the +letter which Montague Devitt had written to Pimlico. She brought out, +instead, the letter the foreman had put into her hand when she was +leaving in reply to Mrs Trivett's summons. The envelope of this was +addressed in Mr Devitt's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a letter from him here," declared Mavis, as she tore it open to +glance at its contents before passing it on to Hutton. +</P> + +<P> +But the glance hardened into a look of deadly seriousness as her eyes +fell on what was written. She re-read the letter two or three times +before she grasped its import. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Dear Miss Keeves," it ran, "it is with the very deepest regret that I +write to say that certain facts have come to my knowledge with regard +to the way in which you spent your holiday last year at Polperro. I, +also, gather that your sudden departure from Melkbridge was in +connection with this visit. As a strict moral rectitude is a sine qua +non amongst those I employ, I must ask you to be good enough to resign +your appointment. I enclose cheque for present and next week's +salary.—Truly yours, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"MONTAGUE S.T. DEVITT." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The faces about her faded from her view; the room seemed as if it were +going round. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter, ma'am?" asked Mrs Trivett anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't give the guarantee," gasped Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Hutton rose and buttoned his coat. +</P> + +<P> +"What about Germany?" put in Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd forgotten that," said Mavis. "I'll write a telegram at once." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Hutton unbuttoned his coat. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's ink and paper, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis took up the pen, at which Mr Hutton sat down. But she could not +remember the address. With swimming head, she dived her hand into the +pockets of her frock, but could not find Windebank's letter. +</P> + +<P> +"I must have left it at the office," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it you want?" asked Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +"His letter for the address." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Hutton got up. +</P> + +<P> +"What time is it?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Just six o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +"The factory would be locked for the night. Won't they take my word?" +she asked. "I don't want to be parted from my child while I go to the +factory." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Hutton buttoned his coat. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made an impassioned appeal to the man in possession and his +friend. She might as well have talked to the stone walls which lined +the Dippenham Road for any impression she produced. +</P> + +<P> +"This address will find me up to ten o'clock to-night, mum," said Mr +Hutton, as he threw a soiled envelope on the table. "An' if I'm woke up +arter, I charge it on the interest." +</P> + +<P> +When Mr Hutton had taken his leave, Mavis fought an attack of +hysterics. Realising that Gunner, the broker's man, would prove as good +as his word in the matter of having her sick child removed, if the +money were not forthcoming, Mavis saw that there was no time to be +lost. She quickly wrote two notes, one of which was to Miss Toombs, the +other to Charlie Perigal. In these she briefly recounted the +circumstances of her necessity. Trivett was dispatched to Miss Toombs, +whilst his wife undertook to deliver Perigal's note at his father's +house. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis waited by her beloved boy's side while the messengers sped upon +their respective errands. Her child was doubly dear to her now that +their separation was threatened. As his troubled eyes looked helplessly +(sometimes it seemed appealingly) into hers, she vowed again and again +that he should never be taken away to be nursed by strangers. Something +would happen, something must happen to prevent such a mutilation of her +holiest feelings as would be occasioned by her enforced separation from +her sick boy. Of course, why had she not thought of it before? Her +lover, the boy's father, would return with the messenger, to be +reconciled to her over the nursing of the ailing little life back to +health and strength. She had read much the same sort of thing in books, +which were always informed with life. +</P> + +<P> +The minutes of the American clock, which had belonged to Miss Nippett, +laboriously totalled into an hour. Mavis could hear Gunner uneasily +shuffling in the room below. The late August evening was drawing in. +Mavis quite succeeded in persuading herself that this would prove the +last night of her misfortunes. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Trivett was the first to return. He brought six pounds from Miss +Toombs, with a note saying that it was all she could lay hands upon. +This, with the four which Mavis possessed, made ten. Gunner smiled +amiably and set about collecting his clay pipes, which he had left in +odd corners of the cottage. Then, after half an hour of weary waiting, +Mrs Trivett came to the door, which Mavis opened with trembling hands. +She was alone. Her face proclaimed the fruitlessness of her errand. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Charles Perigal was out for the evening and would not be back till +quite late," she had been told. +</P> + +<P> +This decided Mavis to act upon a resolve that, had been formulating in +her mind while waiting for Mrs Trivett's return. +</P> + +<P> +"Give me half an hour," she said to the sullen Gunner. "I'll make it +well worth your while." She then went upstairs to kiss her baby before +setting out. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going, ma'am?" asked tearful Mrs Trivett, who had +followed her upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +"To Mr Devitt. He's kind at heart. I know, if I can see him, he'll give +me what I want." +</P> + +<P> +"But will he see you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see to that. Promise you won't leave baby while I'm gone." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis took a last look of her darling as she went out of the door. She +then let herself out and sped in the direction of the Bathminster Road. +She scarcely knew, she did not care, what she should say when she came +face to face with Devitt. She had almost forgotten that he had been +informed of her secret. All she knew was that she was in peril of +losing her sick child, and that she was fighting for its possession +with the weapons that came handiest. Nothing else in the world was of +the smallest account. She also dimly realised that she was fighting for +her lover's approval, to whom she would soon have to render an account +of her stewardship to his son. This gave edge to her determination. She +knocked at the door of the brightly lit, pretentious-looking house in +the Bathminster Road. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see Mr Devitt privately," she told the fat butler who opened +the door. +</P> + +<P> +He would have shown her into a room, but she preferred to wait in the +hall, which, just now, was littered with trunks. +</P> + +<P> +"I think he's with Mr Harold," said the man, as he walked to a door at +the further end of the hall. +</P> + +<P> +The trunk labels were written in a firm, bold hand, which caught +Mavis's eye. "Harold Devitt, Esq., Homeleigh, Swanage, Dorset," was the +apparent destination of the luggage. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Devitt must be in the drawing-room," said Hayter, as he reappeared +to walk up the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, followed the man up the +heavily carpeted stairs, which did not betray her footfalls. +</P> + +<P> +The man opened the door of the drawing-room. +</P> + +<P> +As she followed close on his heels, she heard a terrific peal at the +front door bell. Recollection of what she saw in the drawing-room is +burned into Mavis's memory and will remain there till her last moment +of consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +Montague Devitt, in evening dress, was lolling before the fireplace. +His wife and her sister were busily engaged in unpacking showy articles +from boxes, which Mavis divined to be wedding gifts. Victoria Devitt, +sumptuously dressed, was seated on a low chair. Bending over her +shoulder in an attitude of unconcealed devotion was Charlie Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis took in the significance of all that she saw at a glance. Her +blood went ice cold. Something snapped in her head. She opened her lips +to speak, but no words issued. Instead, one arm was uplifted to accuse. +Then she became rigid; only her eyes were eloquent. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal was struck dumb by the apparently miraculous appearance of +Mavis in the room. Then, as her still body continued to menace him with +a gesture of seemingly eternal accusation, he became shamefaced. A hum +of voices sounded in Mavis's ears, but she was indifferent to what they +were saying. +</P> + +<P> +Next, as if from a great distance, she heard her name called by a +familiar voice. She was impelled to turn in the direction from which it +came, to see Mrs Trivett, tearful, distraught, standing in the doorway. +Mavis's eyes expressed a fearful inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't come back! don't come back," wailed the woman. +</P> + +<P> +Thus, almost in the same breath, Mavis learned how she had lost both +lover and child. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis never left the still, white body of her little one. She was +convinced that they were all mistaken, and that he must soon awaken +from the sleep into which he had fallen. She watched, with +never-wearying eyes, for the first signs of consciousness, which she +firmly believed could not long be delayed. Now and again she would hold +its cold form for an hour at a stretch to her heart, in the hope that +the warmth of her breasts would be communicated to her child. Once, +during her long watch, she fancied that she saw his lips twitch. She +excitedly called to Mrs Trivett, to whom, when she came upstairs, she +told the glad news. To humour the bereaved mother, Mrs Trivett waited +for further signs of animation, the absence of which by no means +diminished Mavis's confidence in their ultimate appearance. Her faith +in her baby's returning vitality, that never waned, that nothing could +disturb, was so unwaveringly steadfast, that, at last, Mrs Trivett +feared to approach her. Letters arrived from Miss Toombs, Perigal, +Windebank, and Montague Devitt, Mavis did not open them; they +accumulated on the table on which lay her untasted food. The funeral +had been fixed for some days later (Mavis was indifferent as to who +gave the orders), but, owing to the hot weather, it was necessary that +this dread event should take place two days earlier than had originally +been arranged. The night came when Mavis was compelled to take a last +farewell of her loved one. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at his still form with greedy, dry eyes, which never +flinched. By and by, Mrs Trivett gently touched her arm, at which Mavis +went downstairs without saying a word. The change from the room +upstairs to the homely little parlour had the effect of making her, in +some measure, realise her loss: she looked about her with wide, fearful +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"My head! my head!" she suddenly cried. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold it! Hold it, someone! It's going to burst." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Trivett held the girl's burning head firmly in her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Tighter! tighter!" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, deary, deary! Why isn't your husband here to comfort you?" sobbed +Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's face hardened. She repressed an inclination to laugh. Then she +became immersed in a stupor of despair. She knew that it would have +done her a world of good if she had been able to shed tears; but the +founts of emotion were dry within her. She felt as if her heart had +withered. Then, it seemed as if the walls and ceiling of the room were +closing in upon her; she had difficulty in breathing; she believed that +if she did not get some air she would choke. She got up without saying +a word, opened the door, and went out. Trivett, at a sign from his +wife, rose and followed. +</P> + +<P> +The night was warm and still. Mavis soon began to feel relief from the +stifling sensations which had threatened her. But this relief only +increased her pain, her sensibilities being now only the more capable +of suffering. As Mavis walked up the deserted Broughton Road, her eyes +sought the sky, which to-night was bountifully spread with stars. It +occurred to her how it was just another such a night when she had +walked home from Llansallas Bay; then, she had fearfully and, at the +same time, tenderly held her lover's hand. The recollection neither +increased nor diminished her pain; she thought of that night with such +a supreme detachment of self that it seemed as if her heart were +utterly dead. She turned by the dye factory and stood on the stone +bridge which here crosses the Avon. The blurred reflection of the stars +in the slowly moving water caused her eyes again to seek the skies. +</P> + +<P> +Thought Mavis: "Beyond those myriad lights was heaven, where now was +her beloved little one. At least, he was happy and free from pain, so +what cause had she, who loved him, to grieve, when it was written that +some day they would be reunited for ever and ever?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked questioningly at the stars. It would have helped her much +if they had been able to betray the slightest consciousness of her +longings. But they made no sign; they twinkled with aloof indifference +to the grief that wrung her being. Distraught with agonised despair, +and shadowed by Trivett, she walked up the principal street of the +town, now bereft of any sign of life. Unwittingly, her steps strayed in +the direction of the river. She walked the road lying between the +churchyard and the cemetery, opened the wicket gate by the church +school, and struck across the well-remembered meadows. When she came to +the river, she stood awhile on the bank and watched the endless +procession of water which flowed beneath her. The movement of the +stream seemed, in some measure, to assuage her grief, perhaps because +her mind, seeking any means of preservation, seized upon the moving +water, this providing the readiest distraction that offered. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis walked along the bank (shadowed by the faithful Trivett) in the +direction of her nook. Still with the same detachment of mind which had +affected her when she had looked at the stars in the Broughton Road, +she paused at the spot where she had first seen Perigal parting the +rushes upon the river bank. Unknown to him, she had marked the spot +with three large stones, which, after much search, she had discovered +in the adjacent meadow. As of old, the stones were where she had placed +them. Something impelled her to kick them in the river, but she forbore +as she remembered that this glimpse of Perigal which they commemorated +was, in effect, the first breath which her boy had drawn within her. +And now—-! Mavis was racked with pain. As if to escape from its +clutch, she ran across the meadows in the direction of Melkbridge, +closely followed by Trivett. Memories of the dead child's father +crowded upon her as she ran. It seemed that she was for ever alone, +separated from everything that made life tolerable by an impassable +barrier of pain. When she came to the road between the churchyard and +the cemetery, she felt as if she could go no further. She was bowed +with anguish; to such an extent did she suffer, that she leaned on the +low parapet of the cemetery for support. The ever-increasing colony of +the dead was spread before her eyes. She examined its characteristics +with an immense but dread curiosity. It seemed to Mavis that, even in +death, the hateful distinctions between rich and poor found expression. +The well-to-do had pretentious monuments which bordered the most +considerable avenue; their graves were trim, well-kept, filled with +expensive blooms, whilst all that testified to remembrance on the part +of the living on the resting-places of the poor were a few wild flowers +stuck in a gallipot. Away in a corner was the solid monument of the +deceased members of a county family. They appeared, even in death, to +shun companionship with those of their species they had avoided in +life. It, also, seemed as if most of the dead were as gregarious as the +living; well-to-do and poor appeared to want company; hence, the graves +were all huddled together. There were exceptions. Now and again, one +little outpost of death had invaded a level spread of turf, much in the +manner of human beings who dislike, and live remote from, their kind. +</P> + +<P> +But it was the personal application of all she saw before her which +tugged at her heartstrings. It made her rage to think that the little +life to which her agony of body had given birth should be torn from the +warmth of her arms to sleep for ever in this unnatural solitude. It +could not be. She despairingly rebelled against the merciless fate +which had overridden her. In her agony, she beat the stones of the +parapet with her hands. Perhaps she believed that in so doing she would +awaken to find her sorrows to have been a horrid dream. The fact that +she did not start from sleep brought home the grim reality of her +griefs. There was no delusion: her baby lay dead at home; her lover, to +whom she had confided her very soul, was to be married to someone else. +There was no escape; biting sorrow held her in its grip. She was borne +down by an overwhelming torrent of suffering; she flung herself upon +the parapet and cried helplessly aloud. Someone touched her arm. She +turned, to see Trivett's homely form. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't bear it: I can't, I can't!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +Trivett looked pitifully distressed for a few moments before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Would you like me to play?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know if the church is open; but, if it is, they've been +decorating it for—for—Would you very much mind?" +</P> + +<P> +"Play to me: play to me!" cried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The musician, whose whole appearance was eloquent of the soil, clumped +across the gravelled path of the churchyard, followed by Mavis. He +tried many doors, all of which were locked, till he came to a small +door in the tower; this was unfastened. +</P> + +<P> +He admitted Mavis, and then struck a wax match to enable her to see. +The cold smell of the church at once took her mind back to when she had +entered it as a happy, careless child. With heart filled with dumb +despair, she sat in the first seat she came to. As she waited, the +gloom was slowly dissipated, to reveal the familiar outlines of the +church. At the same time, her nostrils were assailed by the pervading +and exotic smell of hot-house blooms. +</P> + +<P> +The noise made by the opening of the organ shutters cracked above her +head and reverberated through the building. While she waited, none of +the sacred associations of the church spoke to her heart; her soul was +bruised with pain, rendering her incapable of being moved by the +ordinary suggestions of the place. Then Trivett played. Mavis's +highly-strung, distraught mind ever, when sick as now, seeking the way +of health, listened intently, devoutly, to the message of the music. +Sorrow was the musician's theme: not individual grief, but the travail +of an aged world. There had been, there was, such an immense +accumulation of anguish that, by comparison with the sum of this, her +own griefs now seemed infinitesimal. Then the organ became eloquent of +the majesty of sorrow. It was of no dumb, almost grateful, resignation +to the will of a Heavenly Father, who imposed suffering upon His erring +children for their ultimate good, of which it spoke. Rather was the +instrument eloquent of the power wielded by a pagan god of pain, before +whose throne was a vast aggregation of torment, to which every human +thing, and particularly loving women, were, by the conditions +consequent on their nature, condemned to contribute. In return for this +inevitable sacrifice, the god of pain bestowed a dignity of mind and +bearing upon his votaries, which set them apart, as though they were +remote from the thoughtless ruck. +</P> + +<P> +While Trivett played, Mavis was eased of some of her pain, her mind +being ever receptive to any message that music might offer. When the +organ stopped, the cold outlines of the church chilled her to the +marrow. The snap occasioned by the shutting up of the instrument seemed +a signal on the part of some invisible inquisitor that her torments +were to recommence. Before Trivett joined her, the sound of the church +clock striking the hour smote her ear with its vibrant, insistent +notes. This reminder of the measuring of time recalled to Mavis the +swift flight, not only of the hours, but of the days and years. It +enabled her dimly to realise the infinitesimal speck upon the chart of +recorded time which even the most prolonged span of individual life +occupied. So fleeting was this stay, that it almost seemed as if it +were a matter of no moment if life should happen to be abbreviated by +untimely death. Whilst the girl's mind thus struggled to alleviate its +pain and to mend the gaps made by the slings and arrows of poignant +grief in its defences, Trivett stumbled downstairs and blundered +against the pews as he approached. Then the two walked home, where +Mavis resumed her lonely vigil beside the ark which contained all that +was mortal of her baby. No matter what further anguish this watch +inflicted, she could not suffer her boy to be alone during the last +night of his brief stay on earth. +</P> + +<P> +The next afternoon, about two, when all Melkbridge was agog with +excitement at the wedding of Major Perigal's son to Victoria Devitt, +two funeral carriages might have been seen drawing up at a cottage in +the Broughton Road. Under the driver's seat of the first was quickly +placed a small coffin, which was smothered with wreaths, while a tall, +comely, fair young woman, clad in deep mourning, stepped into the +coach, the blinds of which were closely drawn. A homely, elderly man, +accompanied by his wife, got into the next, and the two carriages drove +off at a smart trot in the direction of the town. Soon after the little +procession had started, a black spaniel might have been seen escaping +into the road, where it followed the carriages with its nose to the +ground, much in the same way as it had been used to follow the Pimlico +'buses in which its mistress travelled when she had carried her baby. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, white and drawn, lay back in the carriage that was proceeding on +its relentless way. She did not know, she did not care, who had made +the arrangements for this dismal ride. All she knew was that all she +had left of life seemed confined in the glass case beneath the driver's +seat. +</P> + +<P> +During the morning, Mrs Trivett had brought in wreaths of flowers from +Windebank, Miss Toombs, herself, and her husband. A last one had +arrived, which bore upon the attached card, "From C.P., with all +imaginable sympathy." Mavis, after glancing at the well-remembered +writing, had trodden the flowers underfoot and then had passionately +kicked the ruined wreath from the room. +</P> + +<P> +He, at least, should have no part in her sorrowful lot. As she drove +into the town, she was now and again met by gay carriages which were +returning from setting down wedding guests at the church door. The +drivers of these wore wedding favours pinned to their coats, while +their whips were decorated with white satin ribbons. As each carriage +passed, Mavis felt a sharp tugging at her heart. She guessed that she +was not being driven to Melkbridge; she wondered with an almost +impersonal curiosity whither they were bound. She had been told, but +she had not listened. She had reached such depths of suffering—indeed, +she had quite touched bottom—that it now needed an event of +considerable moment to make the least impression on her mutilated +sensibilities. When they reached the market-place and bore to the +right, she gathered that they were going to Pennington. +</P> + +<P> +The day was perfect—a day that in happier circumstances Mavis would +have loved. The sun reigned in a cloudless sky, the blue of which was +mellowed with a touch of autumn dignity. The grasses waved gladly by +the road-side, and along the ditches; patches of sunlight played +delightful games of hide-and-seek on hedge-rows and among the trees. +Most of the bushes were gay with song, while the birds seemed to laugh +in very defiance of winter when the sun was so warm. The unrestrained +joy and vivacity of the day emphasised the gloom that rilled the first +of the two funeral carriages. Mavis stared with dull surprise at the +rollicking gaiety of the afternoon: its callousness to her anguish +irked her. It made her think how unnecessary and altogether bootless +was the loss she had sustained. She tried to realise that God had +singled her out for suffering as a mark of His favour. But at the +bottom of her heart she nourished something in the nature of resentment +against the Most High. She knew that, if only life could be restored to +the child, she would be base enough to forfeit her chances of eternal +life in exchange for the boon. As she passed a by-lane, a smart cart, +containing a youngish man and a gaily-clad, handsome, happy-looking +girl, pulled up sharply in coming from this in order to avoid a +collision. Mavis saw the gladness fade from the faces of the occupants +of the cart as they realised the nature of the procession they had +encountered. The man took off his cap; the girl looked away with +frightened eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later, the two carriages entered the gates of Pennington +Churchyard. The wind was blowing from Melkbridge, therefore she had not +heard before the measured tolling of the bell, which now seemed, every +time it struck, to stab her soul to the quick. The carriage pulled up +at the door of the tiny church. After waiting a few moments, Mavis got +out. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she walked up the church, to sit +in a pew near the top. Although she never took her eyes from the +flower-covered coffin, she was aware that Windebank was sitting at the +back, whilst, a few moments later, Miss Toombs strolled into the church +with the manner of one who had got there by the merest chance. +</P> + +<P> +"Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stood up directly those words were spoken; otherwise, she paid no +attention to the exquisite periods of the burial service: her heart was +with her boy. The present was as much as she could endure; she was +nerving herself for the time when she should leave the church. Till +now, she felt that her baby was part of this life and herself; then, +without further ado, he would be torn from her cognisance to be put out +of sight in the ground. +</P> + +<P> +The inexorable minutes passed. Mavis stood before the open grave. Miss +Toombs, ashamed of her earlier timidity, stood beside her. Windebank, +erect and bare-headed, was a little behind. As the box containing her +baby disappeared, Mavis felt as if the life were being mercilessly +drawn from her. It was as if she stood there for untold ages. Then it +seemed as if her heart were torn out by the roots. Blinded with pain, +she found herself being led by Miss Toombs towards the carriage in +which she had been driven from Melkbridge. But Mavis would not get into +this. Followed by her friend, she struck into a by-path which led into +a lane. Here she walked dry-eyed, numbed with pain, in a world that was +hatefully strange. Then Miss Toombs made brave efforts to talk +commonplaces, while tears streamed from her eyes. The top of Mavis's +head seemed both hot and cold at the same time; she wondered if it +would burst. Then, with a sharp bark of delight, Jill sprang from the +hedge to jump delightedly about her mistress. Mavis knelt down and +pressed her lips to her faithful friend's nose. At the same moment, the +wind carried certain sounds to her ears from the direction of +Melkbridge. Mavis looked up. The expression of fear which Miss Toombs's +face wore confirmed her suspicions. Suddenly, Miss Toombs flung herself +upon Mavis, and clapped her hands against the suffering woman's ears. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't listen! don't listen!" screamed Miss Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +But Mavis thrust aside the other woman's arms, to hear the sound of +wedding bells, which were borne to her by the wind. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis listened intently for some moments, the while Miss Toombs +fearfully watched her. Then, Mavis placed her hands to her head, and +laughed and laughed and laughed, till Miss Toombs thought that she was +never going to stop. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap36"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A VISIT +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis's ride to Pennington was her last appearance out of doors for +many a long day. For weeks she lay at Mrs Trivett's on the borderland +of death. For nights on end, it was the merest chance whether or not +she would live to see another dawn; but, in the end, youth, aided by +skilful doctoring and careful nursing, prevailed against the dread +illness which had fastened on her brain. As she slowly got better, the +blurred shadows which had previously hovered about her took shape into +doctor, nurses, and Mrs Trivett. When they told her how ill she had +been, and how much better she was, despair filled her heart. She had no +wish to live; her one desire was to join her little one beyond the +grave. +</P> + +<P> +A time came when the improvement which had set in was not maintained; +she failed to get better, yet did not become worse, although Mavis +rejoiced in the belief that her health was daily declining. Often, she +would wake in the night to listen with glad ears to the incessant +ticking of the American clock on the mantelpiece. If alone she would +say: +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, go on, little clock, and shorten the time till I again see my +dearest." +</P> + +<P> +As if in obedience to her behest, the clock seemed to tick with renewed +energy. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes she would try and picture the unspeakable bliss which would +be hers when the desire of her heart was gratified. She often thanked +God that she would soon be with Him and her little one. She believed +that He found His happiness in witnessing the joy of mothers at again +meeting with their children from whom they had been parted for so long. +</P> + +<P> +She had no idea who paid the expenses of her illness; she was assured +by Mrs Trivett, whom she often questioned on the subject, that there +was no cause for uneasiness on the matter. Her health still refusing to +improve, a further medical adviser was called in. He suggested foreign +travel as the most beneficial course for Mavis to pursue. But the +patient flatly refused to go abroad; for a reason she could not divine, +the name of Swanage constantly recurred to her mind. She did not at +once remember that she had seen the name on the labels of the luggage +which had cumbered the hall on the night when she had called at the +Devitts. She often spoke of this watering-place, till at last it was +decided that, as she had this resort so constantly in her mind, it +might do her good to go there. Even then, it was many more weeks before +she was well enough to be moved. She remained in a condition of torpor +which the visits of Windebank or Miss Toombs failed to dissipate. At +last, when a mild February came, it was deemed possible for her to make +the journey. The day before it was arranged that she should start, she +was told that a gentleman, who would give no name, and who had come in +a carriage of which the blinds were drawn, wished to see her. When she +went down to the parlour, she saw a spare old man, with a face much +lined and wrinkled, who was clad in ill-fitting, old-fashioned clothes, +fidgeting about the room. +</P> + +<P> +"You wish to see me?" asked Mavis, as she wondered who he could be. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. My name's Perigal: Major Perigal." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +The man seemed surprised at her silence. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I knew your father," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew your son," said Mavis icily. +</P> + +<P> +"More's the pity!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked up, mildly surprised. The man continued: +</P> + +<P> +"He's mean: mean right through. I've nothing good to say of him. I know +him too well." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis kept silent. Major Perigal went on: +</P> + +<P> +"A nice mess you've made of it." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's eyes held the ghost of a smile. He continued: +</P> + +<P> +"I did my best for you, but you thought yourself too clever." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked up inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"When I heard who it was he was going to marry, I wanted to do you a +good turn for your father's sake, as I knew Charles could never make +you happy. I forbade the marriage, knowing he wouldn't face poverty for +you. He's hateful: hateful right through." +</P> + +<P> +"And if we'd married?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd have come round, especially after seeing you. You're a +daughter-in-law any man would be proud of. And now he's married that +Devitt girl for her money." +</P> + +<P> +"For her money?" queried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"What little she has. Never mind her: I want to speak of you. For all +your fine looks, you were too clever by half." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she asked, with dull, even voice. +</P> + +<P> +"What I say. That for all your grand appearance you were much too +knowing. Since you couldn't get him one way, you thought you'd have him +another." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean—-" +</P> + +<P> +"By doing as you did." +</P> + +<P> +"You insult me!" cried Mavis, now roused from her lethargy. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Insult me. And that is why you came. But since you're here, you may as +well know I made a mess of it, as you call it, because I loved your +son. If I'd the time over again, I suppose I'd be just such another +fool. I can't help it. I loved him. I wish you good morning." +</P> + +<P> +Major Pengal had never been so taken aback in his life. Mavis's words +and manner carried conviction to his heart. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know—I beg your pardon—I take hack my words," he said +confusedly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis relapsed into her previous torpor. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know there was such a woman in the world," he continued. +"What you must have been through!" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +"May I have the honour of calling on you again?" he asked with +old-fashioned courtesy. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be useless. I go away to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"For good?" +</P> + +<P> +"For some weeks." +</P> + +<P> +"If you return, perhaps you would honour me by calling on me. I never +see anyone. But, if you would permit me to say so, your friendship +would be an honour." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, but I don't know what I shall be doing," said Mavis wearily. +</P> + +<P> +A few moments later, Major Perigal took his leave, but without +recovering from his unaffected surprise at Mavis's honesty. He looked +at her many times, to say, as he went out of the door of the parlour: +</P> + +<P> +"I always believed Charles to have brains: now I know him to be a +cursed fool." +</P> + +<P> +The following day, Mavis, accompanied by Mrs Trivett and Jill, set out +for Swanage. They took train to Dorchester, where they changed into the +South-Western system, which carried them to Swanage, after making a +further change at ancient Wareham. Arrived at Swanage station, they +took a fly to the house of a Mrs Budd, where lodgings, at the doctor's +recommendation, had been secured. On their way to Mrs Budd's, Mavis +noticed a young man in a hand-propelled tricycle, which the fly +overtook. The nature of the machine told Mavis that its occupant was a +cripple. +</P> + +<P> +If she had encountered him eighteen months ago, her heart would have +filled with pity at seeing the comely young man's extremity: now, she +looked at him very much as she might have noticed a cat crossing the +road. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Budd was waiting on the doorstep in anxious expectation of her +lodgers. To see her white hair, all but toothless mouth, and wrinkled +face, she looked seventy, which was about her age; but to watch her +alert, brisk movements, it would seem as if she enjoyed the energy of +twenty. She ushered Mavis into her apartments, talking volubly the +while; but the latter could not help seeing that, whereas she was +treated with the greatest deference by the landlady, this person quite +ignored the existence of Mrs Trivett. +</P> + +<P> +It was with a feeling of relief that Mavis sat down to a meal after the +door had been closed on Mrs Budd's chatter. The change had already done +her good. Her eyes rested approvingly on the spotless table +appointments. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor dear!" exclaimed Mrs Trivett in pitying tones, who waited to see +if Mavis had everything she wanted before eating with Mrs Budd in the +kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew something dreadful would happen. It's the anniversary of the +day on which I had my first lot of new teeth, which gave me such +dreadful pain." +</P> + +<P> +"What's wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +"That Mrs Budd. I took a dislike to her directly I saw her." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stared at Mrs Trivett in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"I do hope you'll be comfortable," continued Mrs Trivett. "But I fear +you won't be. She looks the sort of person who would give anyone damp +sheets and steal the sugar." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Trivett said more to the same effect. Mavis, remembering Mrs Budd's +behaviour to her, could scarcely keep back a smile; it was the first +time since her illness that anything had appeared at all amusing. +</P> + +<P> +But this was not the sum of Mrs Trivett's resentment against Mrs Budd. +After the meal was over, she rejoined Mavis with perspiration dropping +from her forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"The kitchen's like an oven, and I've nearly been roasted," complained +Mrs Trivett. "And her horrid old husband is there, who can't do +anything for himself." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you leave before you got so hot?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's that there Mrs Budd's fault. She's only one tooth, and it takes +her all her time to eat." +</P> + +<P> +"I meant, why didn't you leave so that you could finish eating in here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't like to, ma'am, but if you wouldn't very much mind in +future—-" +</P> + +<P> +"By all means, eat with me if you wish it." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you kindly. I'm sure that woman and me would come to blows +before many days was over." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis rested for the remainder of the day and only saw Mrs Budd during +the few minutes in which the table was being either laid or cleared +away; but these few minutes were enough for the landlady to tell Mavis +pretty well everything of moment in her life. Mavis learned how Mrs +Budd's husband had been head gardener to a neighbouring baronet, until +increasing infirmities had compelled him to give up work; also, that as +he had spent most of his life in hot-houses, the kitchen had always to +have a big fire blazing in order that the old man might have the heat +necessary for his comfort. It appeared that Mrs Budd's third daughter +had died from curvature of the spine. The mother related with great +pride how that, just before death, the girl's spine had formed the +figure of a perfect "hess." Mavis was also informed that Mrs Budd could +not think of knowing her next-door neighbour, because this person paid +a penny a pound less for her suet than she herself did. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis was going upstairs to bed, she came upon Mrs Budd +laboriously dragging her husband, a big, heavy man, up to bed by means +of a cord slung about her shoulders and fastened to his waist. Mavis +subsequently learned that Mrs Budd had performed this feat every night +for the last four years, her husband having lost the use of his limbs. +</P> + +<P> +After Mavis had been a few days at Mrs Budd's, she was sufficiently +recovered to walk about Swanage. One day she was even strong enough to +get as far as the Tilly Whim caves, where she was both surprised and +disgusted to find that some surpassing mediocrity had had the +fatuousness to deface the sheer glory of the cliffs with improving +texts, such as represent the sum of the world's wisdom to the mind of a +successful grocer, who has a hankering after the natural science which +is retailed in ninepenny popular handbooks. Often in these walks, Mavis +encountered the man whom she had seen upon the day of her arrival; as +before, he was pulling himself along on his tricycle. The first two or +three times they met, the cripple looked very hard at Jill, who always +accompanied her mistress. Afterwards, he took no notice of the dog; he +had eyes only for Mavis, in whom he appeared to take a lively interest. +Mavis, who was well used to being stared at by men, paid no heed to the +man's frequent glances in her direction. +</P> + +<P> +The sea air and the change did much for Mavis's health; she was +gradually roused from the lethargy from which she had suffered for so +long. But with the improvement in her condition came a firmer +realisation of the hard lot which was hers. Her love for Charlie +Perigal had resulted in the birth of a child. Although her lover had +broken his vows, she could, in some measure, have consoled herself for +his loss by devoting her life to the upbringing of her boy. Now her +little one had been taken from her, leaving a vast emptiness in her +life which nothing could fill. God, fate, chance, whatever power it was +that ruled her life, had indeed dealt hardly with her. She felt an old +woman, although still a girl in years. She had no interest in life: she +had nothing, no one to live for. +</P> + +<P> +One bright March day, Mavis held two letters in her hand as she sat by +the window of her sitting-room at Mrs Budd's. She read and re-read +them, after which her eyes would glance with much perplexity in the +direction of the daffodils now opening in the garden in front of the +house. She pondered the contents of the letters; then, as if to +distract her thoughts from an unpalatable conclusion, which the subject +matter of one of the letters brought home to her, she fell to thinking +of the daffodils as though they were the unselfish nurses of the other +flowers, insomuch as they risked their frail lives in order to see if +the world were yet warm enough for the other blossoms now abed snugly +under the earth. The least important of the two letters was from Major +Perigal; it had been forwarded on from Melkbridge. In his cramped, odd +hand, he expressed further admiration for Mavis's conduct; he begged +her to let him know directly she returned to Melkbridge, so that he +might have the honour of calling on her again. The other letter was +from Windebank, in which he briefly asked Mavis if she would honour him +by becoming his wife. Mavis was much distressed. However brutally her +heart had been bruised by the events of the last few months, she +sometimes believed (this when the sun was shining) that some day it +would be possible for her to conjure up some semblance of affection for +Windebank, especially if she saw much of him. His mere presence +radiated an atmosphere of protection. It offered a welcome harbourage +after the many bufferings she had suffered upon storm-tossed seas. If +she could have gone to him as she had to Perigal, she would not have +hesitated a moment. Now, so far as she was concerned, there was all the +difference in the world. Although she knew that her soul was not +defiled by her experience with Perigal, she had dim perceptions of the +way in which men, particularly manly males, looked upon such +happenings. It was not in the nature of things, after all that had +occurred, for Windebank to want her in a way in which she would wish to +be desired by the man of her choice. Here was, apparently, no +overmastering passion, but pity excited by her misfortunes. Mavis had +got out of Mrs Trivett (who had long since left for Melkbridge) that it +was Windebank who had insisted on paying the expenses of her illness +and stay at Swanage, in spite of Major Perigal's and his son's desire +to meet all costs that had been incurred. Mavis also learned that +Windebank and Charles Perigal had had words on the subject—words which +had culminated in blows when Windebank had told Perigal in unmeasured +terms what he thought of his conduct to Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis recalled Windebank's generosity with regard to her illness, it +seemed to her that this proposal of marriage was all of a piece with +his other behaviour since her baby had died. Consideration for her, not +love, moved his heart. If she were indeed so much to him, why did he +not come down and beg her with passionate words to join her life to his? +</P> + +<P> +Mavis made no allowance for the man's natural delicacy for her +feelings, which he considered must have been cruelly harrowed by all +she had lately suffered. Just now, there was no room in her world for +the more delicate susceptibilities of emotion. She wholly misjudged +him, and the more she thought of it, the more she believed that his +letter was dictated by pity rather than love. This pity irked her pride +and made her disinclined to accept his offer. +</P> + +<P> +Then Mavis thought of Major Perigal's letter. It flattered her to think +how her personality appealed to those of her own social kind. She began +to realise what a desirable wife she would have made if it had not been +for her meeting and subsequent attachment to Charlie Perigal. Any man, +Windebank, but for this experience, would have been proud to have made +her his wife. She believed that her whole-hearted devotion to a +worthless man had for ever cut her off from love, wifehood, +motherhood—things for which her being starved. Then she tried to +fathom the why and wherefore of it all. She had always tried to do +right: in situations where events were foreign to her control, she had +trusted to her Heavenly Father for protection. "Why was it," she asked +herself, "that her lot had not been definitely thrown in with Windebank +before she had met with Charles Perigal? Why?" Such was her resentment +at the ordering of events, that she set her teeth and banged her +clenched fist upon the arm of her chair. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment the crippled man wheeled himself past the house on his +self-propelled tricycle. He looked intently at the window of the room +that Mavis occupied. At the same moment Mrs Budd came into the room to +ask what Mavis would like for luncheon. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is that passing?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +The old woman ran lightly to the window. +</P> + +<P> +"The gentleman on that machine?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I've often seen him about." +</P> + +<P> +"It's Mr Harold Devitt, miss." +</P> + +<P> +"Harold Devitt! Where does he come from?" asked Mavis of Mrs Budd, who +had a genius for gleaning the gossip of the place. +</P> + +<P> +"Melkbridge. He's the eldest son of Mr Montague Devitt, a very rich +gentleman. Mr Harold lives at Mrs Buck's with a male nurse to look +after him, poor fellow." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Budd went on talking, but Mavis did not hear what she was saying. +Mention of the name of Devitt was the spark that set alight a raging +conflagration in her being. She had lost a happy married life with +Windebank, to be as she now was, entirely owing to the Devitts. Now it +was all plain enough—so plain that she wondered how she had not seen +it before. It was the selfish action of the Devitts, who wished to +secure Windebank for their daughter, which had prevented Montague from +giving Mavis the message that Windebank had given to him. It was the +Devitts who had not taken her into their house, because they feared how +she might meet Windebank in Melkbridge. It was the Devitts who had +given her work in a boot factory, which resulted in her meeting with +Perigal. It was the Devitts, in the person of Victoria, who had +prevented Perigal from keeping his many times repeated promises to +marry Mavis. The Devitts had blighted her life. Black hate filled her +heart, overflowed and poisoned her being. She hungered to be revenged +on these Devitts, to repay them with heavy interest for the irreparable +injury to her life for which she believed them responsible. Then, she +remembered how tenderly Montague Devitt had always spoken of his +invalid boy Harold; a soft light had come into his eyes on the few +occasions on which Mavis had asked after him. A sudden resolution +possessed her, to be immediately weakened by re-collections of +Montague's affection for his son. Then a procession of the events in +her life, which were for ever seared into her memory, passed before her +mind's eye—the terror that possessed her when she learned that she was +to be a mother; her interview with Perigal at Dippenham; her first +night in London, when she had awakened in the room in the Euston Road; +Mrs Gowler's; her days of starvation in Halverton Street; the death and +burial, not only of her boy, but of her love for and faith in +Perigal—all were remembered. Mavis's mind was made up. She went to her +bedroom, where, with infinite deliberation, she dressed for going out. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Harold Devitt!" she said, when she came upon him waiting on his +tricycle by the foolish little monument raised to the memory of one of +Alfred the Great's victories over invading Danes. +</P> + +<P> +The man raised his hat, while he looked intently at Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I have to thank you for almost the dearest treasure I've ever +possessed. Do you remember Jill?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course: I wondered if it might prove to be she when I first saw +her. But is your name, by any chance, Miss Keeves?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I've often wondered if I were ever going to meet you. And when I saw +you about—-" +</P> + +<P> +"You noticed me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who could help it? I'm in luck." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she asked lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Meeting with you down here." +</P> + +<P> +Thus they talked for quite a long while. Long before they separated for +the day, Mavis's eyes had been smiling into his. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap37"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAVIS AND HAROLD +</H3> + +<P> +"You're late!" +</P> + +<P> +"I always am. I've been trying to make myself charming." +</P> + +<P> +"That wouldn't be difficult." +</P> + +<P> +"You think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure of it." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis spoke lightly, but Harold's voice was eloquent of conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure of it," he repeated, as if to himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I so perfect?" she asked, as her eyes sought the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"In my eyes. But, then, I'm different from other men." +</P> + +<P> +"You are." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't remind me of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it nice to be different from others?" +</P> + +<P> +"And wheel myself about because I can't walk?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is that what you meant? Believe me, I didn't mean that. I was thinking +how different you were to talk to, to other men I've met." +</P> + +<P> +"You flatter me." +</P> + +<P> +"It's the truth." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, since I'm so exceptional, will you do something for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +"Never be later than you can help. I worry, fearing something's +happened to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Not really?" +</P> + +<P> +"You are scarcely a subject I should fib about." +</P> + +<P> +This was the beginning of a conversation that took place a fortnight +after Mavis's first meeting with Harold by the sea. During this time, +they had seen each other for the best part of every day when the +weather was fine enough for Harold to be out of doors; as it was an +exceptionally fine spring, they met constantly. Mavis was still moved +by an immense hatred of the Devitt family, whom, more than ever before, +she believed to be responsible for the wrongs and sufferings she had +endured. In her determination to injure this family by making Harold +infatuated with her, she was not a little surprised at the powers of +dissimulation which she had never before suspected that she possessed. +She was both ashamed and proud of this latent manifestation of her +individuality—proud because she was inclined to rejoice in the power +that it conferred. But, at times, this elation was diluted with +self-reproaches, chiefly when she was with Harold, but not looking at +him; then his deep, rich voice would awaken strange tremors in her +being. +</P> + +<P> +However much Mavis was occasionally moved to pity his physical +misfortune, the recollection of her griefs was more than enough to +harden her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Very, very strange that I should have run against you here," he went +on. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was at home when your old schoolmistress's letter came about you. I +remember she dragged in Ruskin." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Miss Mee!" +</P> + +<P> +"I was always interested in you, and when I was in the South of France, +I was always asking my people to do their best for you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's eyes grew hard as she asked: +</P> + +<P> +"You've kept your promise to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"That I shouldn't tell my people I'd met you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I made it because—-" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind why. You made it: that is enough for me." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's eyes softened. Then she and Harold fell to talking of +Melkbridge and Montague Devitt; presently of Victoria. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope she was kind to you at Melkbridge," said Harold. +</P> + +<P> +"Very," declared Mavis, saying what was untrue. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Vic is a little disappointing. I'm always reproaching myself I +don't love her more than I do. Have you ever met the man she married?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Perigal? I've met him," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I scarcely remember." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't overmuch. I'm sorry Vic married him, although my people were, +of course, delighted." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"We're quite new people, while the Perigals are a county family. But, +somehow, I don't think he'll make Vic happy." +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you say that?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's not happy himself. Everything he takes up he wearies of; he gets +pleasure out of nothing. And the pity of it is, he's no fool; if +anything, he's too many brains." +</P> + +<P> +"How can anyone have too many?" +</P> + +<P> +"Take Perigal's case. He's too analytical; he sees too clearly into +things. It's a sort of Rontgen ray intelligence, which I wouldn't have +for worlds. Isn't it old Solomon who says, 'In much wisdom there is +much sorrow'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Solomon says a good many things," said Mavis gravely, as she +remembered how the recollection of certain passion-charged verses from +the "Song" had caused her to linger by the canal at Melkbridge on a +certain memorable evening of her life, with, as it proved, disastrous +consequences to herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever read the 'Song'?" asked Harold. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I love it, but I daren't read it now." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"More than most things, it brings home to me my—my helplessness." +</P> + +<P> +The poison, begotten of hatred, made Mavis thankful that the Devitt +family had not had it all their own way in life. +</P> + +<P> +When she next looked at Harold, he was intently regarding her. Mavis's +glance dropped. +</P> + +<P> +"But now there's something more than reading the 'Song' that makes me +curse my luck," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"And that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you guess?" he asked earnestly. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not try; she was already aware of the fascination she +possessed for the invalid. +</P> + +<P> +For the rest of the time they were together, Mavis could get nothing +out of Harold; he was depressed and absent-minded when spoken to. +Mavis, of set purpose, did her utmost to take Harold out of himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," he said, as she was going. +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wasting your time on me and helping me to forget." +</P> + +<P> +"Forget what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind," he said, as he wheeled himself away. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis got back to Mrs Budd's, she found a bustle of preparation +afoot. Mrs Budd was running up and downstairs, carrying clean linen +with all her wonted energy; whilst Hannah, her sour-faced assistant, +perspired about the house with dustpan and brushes. +</P> + +<P> +"Expecting a new lodger?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"It's my daughter, Mrs Perkins; she's telegraphed to say she's coming +down from Kensington for a few days." +</P> + +<P> +"She'll be a help." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Budd's face fell as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, miss, she comes from Kensington, and she has a baby." +</P> + +<P> +"Is she bringing that too?" +</P> + +<P> +"And her nurse," declared Mrs Budd, not without a touch of pride. +</P> + +<P> +When Mrs Perkins arrived, she was wearing a picture hat, decorated with +white ostrich feathers, a soiled fawn dust-coat, and high-heeled patent +leather shoes. She brought with her innumerable flimsy parcels +(causing, by comparison, a collapsible Japanese basket to look +substantially built), and a gaily-dressed baby carried by a London +slut, whose face had been polished with soap and water for the occasion. +</P> + +<P> +After the dust-cloak had settled with the driver, it advanced +self-consciously to the steps leading to the front door, the while it +called to the London slut: +</P> + +<P> +"Come along, nurse, and be careful of baby." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, who saw and heard this from the window of her sitting-room, +noticed that Mrs Perkins greeted her mother, who was waiting at the +door, with some condescension. When the last flimsy parcel had been +taken within, Mrs Budd brought in Mrs Perkins and the baby to introduce +them to Mavis. Mrs Perkins sat down and assumed a manner of superfine +gentility, while she talked with a Cockney accent. Her mother remained +standing. The dust-cloak lived in Kensington, it informed Mavis, "which +was so convenient for the West End: it was only an hour's 'bus ride +from town." +</P> + +<P> +"Less than that," said Mavis to the dust-cloak. +</P> + +<P> +"I have known it to take fifty-five minutes when it hasn't been stopped +by funerals," declared Mrs Perkins. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at the dust-cloak in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"I always thought it took a quarter of an hour at the outside," +remarked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"For my part, when I go to London, I'm afraid of the 'buses," said Mrs +Budd. "I always take the train to Willesden Junction. Florrie's house +is only five minutes from there." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Perkins frowned, coughed, and then violently changed the subject. +Mavis gave no heed to what she was saying. Her eyes were fixed on the +baby, which Mrs Budd had put in her arms. +</P> + +<P> +Passionate regrets filled her mind, while a dull pain assailed her +heart. She held the baby with a tense grip as Mrs Perkins talked at +her, the while the mother kept one eye self-consciously upon her +offspring. +</P> + +<P> +Baby that and baby this, she was saying, as Mavis continued to stare +with dry-eyed grief at the baby's pasty face. Then blind rage possessed +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should this common brat, which, even at this early age, carried +his origin in his features, live, while my sweet boy is beneath the +ground in Pennington Churchyard?" she asked herself. +</P> + +<P> +It was cruel, unjust. Mavis's rage was such that she was within +measurable distance of dashing the baby to the ground. Perhaps the +dust-cloak's maternal sensibilities scented danger, for, rather +abruptly, it got up to go, giving as an excuse that it must rest in +order to fulfil social engagements in Swanage. When Mrs Budd, her +daughter and grandson, had gone, Mavis still sat in her chair. Her +hands grasped its arms; her eyes stared before her. If, at any time, +Harold's personality had caused her hatred of his family to wane, the +sight of Mrs Perkins's baby was sufficient to restore its vigour. +</P> + +<P> +Then it occurred to Mavis how her love for Perigal, which she had +thought to be as stable as the universe, had unconsciously withered +within her. It was as if there had been an immense reaction from her +one-time implicit faith in her lover, making her despise, where once +she had had unbounded confidence. This awakening to the declension that +had taken place in her love gave her many anxious hours. +</P> + +<P> +For some days Mavis saw nothing of Harold. She walked on the sweep of +sea front and in the streets of the little town in the hope of meeting +him, but in vain. She wondered if he had gone home, but persuaded +herself that he would not have left Swanage without letting her know. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was not a little irked at Harold's indifference to her +friendship; it hurt her self-esteem, which had been enhanced by the +influence she had so palpably wielded over him. It also angered her to +think that, after all, she would not be able to drink the draught of +revenge which she had promised herself at the Devitts' expense. +</P> + +<P> +All this time she had given no further thought to Windebank's letter; +it remained unanswered. As the days passed, and she saw nothing of +Harold, she began to think considerably of the man who had written to +offer her marriage. These thoughts were largely coloured with +resentment at the fact of Windebank's not having followed up his +unanswered letter by either another communication or a personal appeal. +Soon she was torn by two emotions: hatred of the Devitts and awakened +interest in Windebank; she did not know which influenced her the more. +She all but made up her mind to write some sort of a reply to +Windebank, when she met Harold pulling himself along the road towards +the sea. +</P> + +<P> +He had changed in the fortnight that had elapsed since she had last +seen him; his face had lost flesh; he looked worn and anxious. +</P> + +<P> +When he saw her, he pulled up. She gave him a formal bow, and was about +to pass him, when the hurt expression on the invalid's face caused her +to stop irresolutely by his side. +</P> + +<P> +"At last!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked at him inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"I could bear it no longer," he went on. +</P> + +<P> +"Bear what?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not reply; indeed, he did not appear to listen to her words, but +said: +</P> + +<P> +"I feared you'd gone for good." +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen nothing of you either." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you missed me? Tell me that you did." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"I have missed YOU." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"I daren't say how much. Where are you going now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nowhere." +</P> + +<P> +"May I come too?" he asked pleadingly. "I'll go a little way," she +remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Meet me by the sea in ten minutes." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not go there together?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd far rather meet you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you like being seen with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes and no. Yes, because I am very proud at being seen with you." +</P> + +<P> +"And 'no'?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's why I wanted you to meet me by the sea." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you guess?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I could I wouldn't ask." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you. When you walk with me, I'm afraid you notice my +infirmity the more." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll only go on one condition," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That—-?" +</P> + +<P> +"That we go straight there from here." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm helpless where you're concerned," he sighed, as he started his +tricycle. +</P> + +<P> +They went to the road bordering the sea, which just now they had to +themselves. On the way they said little; each was occupied with their +thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was touched by Harold's devotion; also, by his anxiety not to +obtrude his infirmity upon her notice. She looked at him, to see in his +eyes unfathomable depths of sadness. She repressed an inclination to +shed tears. She had never been so near foregoing her resolve to make +him the instrument of her hatred of his family. But the forces that +decide these matters had other views. Mavis was staring out to sea, in +order to hide her emotion from Harold's distress, when the sight of the +haze where sea and sky met arrested her attention. Something in her +memory struggled for expression, to be assisted by the smell of seaweed +which assailed her nostrils. +</P> + +<P> +In the twinkling of an eye, Mavis, in imagination, was at Llansallas +Bay, with passionate love and boundless trust in her heart for the +lover at her side, to whom she had surrendered so much. The merest +recollection of how her love had been betrayed was enough to dissipate +the consideration that she was beginning to feel for Harold. Her heart +turned to stone; determination possessed her. +</P> + +<P> +"Still silent!" she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"I have to be." +</P> + +<P> +"Who said so?" +</P> + +<P> +"The little sense that's left me." +</P> + +<P> +"Sense is often nonsense." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a bitter truth to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Particularly now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now and always." +</P> + +<P> +"May I know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you come into my life?" he asked, as if he had not heard her +request. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why have you? Why have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're not the only one who can ask that question," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her for some moments in amazement before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Say that again." +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't." +</P> + +<P> +"If I were other than I am, I should compel you." +</P> + +<P> +"How could you?" +</P> + +<P> +"With my lips. As it is—-" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—tell me." +</P> + +<P> +"My infirmity stops me from saying and doing what I would." +</P> + +<P> +"Why let it?" asked Mavis in a low voice, while her eyes sought the +ground. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you mean that?" he asked, in the manner of one who scarcely +believed the evidence of his ears. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it." +</P> + +<P> +He did not speak for such a long time that Mavis began to wonder if he +regretted his words. When she stole a look at him, she saw that his +eyes were staring straight before him, as if his mind were all but +overwhelmed by the subject matter of its concern. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis touched his arm. He shivered slightly and glanced at her as if +surprised, before he realised that she was beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" he said. "You asked—you shall know; whether you like or hate +me for it. I love you. Women have never come into my life; they've +always looked on me with pitying eyes. I would rather it were so. But +you—you—you are beautiful, with a heart like your face, both rare and +wonderful. Perhaps I love you so much because you are young and +healthy. It hurts me." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes held such a piteously fearful look that Mavis was moved in +spite of herself. He went on: +</P> + +<P> +"If my disposition were like my twisted body, it wouldn't matter. But I +love life, movement, struggling. Were I as I used to be, I should love +to have a beautiful, responsive woman for my own. I should love to have +you." +</P> + +<P> +Before Mavis knew what she had done, she had put her hand on his. Then +he said, as if speaking to himself: +</P> + +<P> +"What have I to offer besides a helpless, envious love? My wife would +be a nurse, not a mistress, as she should be." +</P> + +<P> +"Stop! stop!" she pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I will not stop," he cried, as he bent over to hold her head so +that her eyes looked into his. "You shall listen and then decide. I +love you. If it's good enough, I'm yours. You know what I have to +offer, and I ask you to be my wife because I can't help myself. +Because—" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis had closed her eyes for fear that he should read her heart. He +passionately kissed the closed lids before sinking back exhausted in +his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to me," said Mavis after a while. "It's I who am to blame. Let +me go away so that you can forget me." +</P> + +<P> +"Forget you! forget you!" he cried. "No, you shall not go away; not +till you've said 'yes' or 'no' to what I ask." +</P> + +<P> +"When shall I answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give yourself time—only—" +</P> + +<P> +"Only?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't keep me waiting longer than you can help." +</P> + +<P> +For three days, Mavis drifted upon uncertain tides. She was borne +rapidly in one direction only to float as certainly in another. She +lacked sufficient strength of purpose to cast anchor and abide by the +consequences. She deplored her irresolution, but, try as she might, she +found it a matter of great difficulty to give her mind to the +consideration of Harold's offer. Otherwise, the most trivial happenings +imprinted themselves on her brain: the aspect of the food she ate, the +lines on her landlady's face, the flittings in and out of the front +door of the "dust-cloak" on its way to trumpery social engagements, the +while its mother minded the baby, all acquired in her eyes a prominence +foreign to their importance. Also, thoughts of Windebank now and again +flooded her mind. Then she remembered all he had done for her, at which +gratitude welled from her soul. At such times she would be moved by a +morbid consideration for his feelings; she longed to pay back the money +he had spent on her illness, and felt that her mind would never be at +ease on the matter till she had. +</P> + +<P> +If only he would come down, and, despite anything she could say or do, +insist on marrying her and determine to win her heart; failing that, if +he would only write words of passionate longing which might awaken some +echo in her being! She read and re-read the letter in which he offered +her marriage; she tried to see in his formal phrases some approximation +to a consuming love, but in vain. +</P> + +<P> +She had never answered this letter; she reproached herself for not +having done so. Mavis sat down to write a few words, which would reach +Windebank by the first post in the morning, when she found that the ink +had dried in the pot. She rang the bell. While waiting, a vision of the +piteous look on Harold's face when he had told her of his love came +into her mind. Accompanying this was the recollection of the cause of +which her friendship with Harold was an effect. Hatred of the Devitts +possessed her. She remembered, and rejoiced, that it was now in her +power to be revenged for all she believed she had suffered at their +hands. So black was the quality of this hate that she wondered why she +had delayed so long. When the ink was brought, it was to Harold that +she was about to write; Windebank was forgotten. +</P> + +<P> +As Mavis wrote the day of the month at the head of the page, she seemed +to hear echoes of Harold's resonant voice vibrating with love for her. +She sighed and put down her pen. If only she were less infirm of +purpose. Her hesitations were interrupted by Mrs Budd bringing in a +letter for Mavis that the postman had just left. It was from Mrs +Trivett. It described with a wealth of detail a visit that the writer +had paid to Pennington Churchyard, where she had taken flowers to lay +on the little grave. Certain nerves in the bereaved mother's face +quivered as she read. Memories of the long-drawn agony which had +followed upon her boy's death crowded into her mind. Mavis hardened her +heart. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap38"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAVIS'S REVENGE +</H3> + +<P> +Upon a day on which the trees and hedges were again frocked in spring +finery in honour of approaching summer, Mrs Devitt was sitting with her +sister in the drawing-room of Melkbridge House. Mrs Devitt was trying +to fix her mind on an article in one of the monthly reviews dealing +with the voluntary limitation of families on the part of married folk. +Mrs Devitt could not give her usual stolid attention to her reading, +because, now and again, her thoughts wandered to an interview between +her husband and Lowther which was taking place in the library +downstairs. This private talk between father and son was on the subject +of certain snares which beset the feet of moneyed youth when in London, +and in which the unhappy Lowther had been caught. Mrs Devitt was +sufficiently vexed at the prospect of her husband having to fork out +some hundreds of pounds, without the further promise of revelations in +which light-hearted, lighter living young women were concerned. Debts +were forgivable, perhaps excusable, in a young gentleman of Lowther's +standing, but immorality, in Mrs Devitt's eyes, was a horse of quite +another colour; anything of this nature acted upon Mrs Devitt's +susceptibilities much in the same way as seeing red afreets an angry +bull. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Spraggs, whom the last eighteen months had aged in appearance, +looked up from the rough draft of a letter she was composing. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear anything?" she asked, as she listened intently. +</P> + +<P> +"Hear what?" +</P> + +<P> +"The door open downstairs. Lowther's been in such a time with Montague." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose Lowther is confessing everything," sighed Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing of the sort," remarked Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one ever does confess everything: something is always kept back." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think, Eva, you look at things from a very material point of +view?" +</P> + +<P> +Eva shrugged her narrow shoulders. Mrs Devitt continued: +</P> + +<P> +"Now and again, you seem to ignore the good which is implanted in us +all." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps because it's buried so deep down that it's difficult to see." +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour afterwards, it occurred to Mrs Devitt that she might have +retorted, "What one saw depended on the power of one's perceptions," +but just now, all she could think of to say was: +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so; but there's so much good in the world, I wonder you don't +see more of it." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you reading?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she revised the draft of +her letter. +</P> + +<P> +The scribbling virgin often made a point of talking while writing, in +order to show how little mental concentration was required for her +literary efforts. +</P> + +<P> +"An article on voluntary limitations of family. It's by the Bishop of +Westmoreland. He censures such practices: I agree with him." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt spoke from her heart. The daughter of a commercial house, +which owed its prosperity to an abundant supply of cheap labour, she +realised (although she never acknowledged it to herself) that the +practices the worthy bishop condemned, if widely exercised, must, in +course of time, reduce the number of hands eager to work for a +pittance, and, therefore, the fat profits of their employers. +</P> + +<P> +"So do I," declared Miss Spraggs, who only wished she had the ghost of +a chance of contributing (legitimately) to the sum of the population. +</P> + +<P> +"There's an admirable article about Carlyle in the same number of the +National Review," said Miss Spraggs presently. +</P> + +<P> +"I never read anything about Carlyle," declared Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Spraggs raised her straight eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't get on with his wife," said Mrs Devitt, in a manner +suggesting that this fact effectually disposed in advance of any +arguments Miss Spraggs might offer. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after, Montague Devitt came into the room, to be received with +inquiring glances by the two women. He walked to the fireplace, where +he stood in moody silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" said his wife presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" replied Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"What has Lowther confessed?" +</P> + +<P> +"The usual." +</P> + +<P> +"Money?" +</P> + +<P> +"And other things." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! What were the other things?" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll talk it over presently," replied Montague, as he glanced at Miss +Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I so very young and innocent that I shouldn't learn what has +happened?" asked Miss Spraggs, who, in her heart of hearts, enjoyed +revelations of masculine profligacy. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather speak later," urged Montague gloomily, to add, "It never +rains but it pours." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you say that?" asked his wife quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd a letter from Charlie Perigal this mornin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Where from?" +</P> + +<P> +"The same Earl's Court private hotel. He wants somethin' to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Something to do!" cried the two sisters together. +</P> + +<P> +"His father hasn't done for him what he led me to believe he would," +explained Devitt gloomily. +</P> + +<P> +"You can find him something?" suggested Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"And, till you do, I'd better ask them to stay down here," said his +wife. +</P> + +<P> +"That part of it's all right," remarked Devitt. "But somehow I don't +think Charlie—-" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" interrupted Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Is much of a hand at work," replied her husband. +</P> + +<P> +No one said anything for a few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt spoke next. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm scarcely surprised at Major Perigal's refusal to do anything for +Charles," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" asked her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you ask?" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean all that business with poor Mavis Keeves?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean all that business, as you call it, with that abandoned creature +whom we were so misguided as to assist." +</P> + +<P> +Devitt said nothing; he was well used to his wife's emphatic views on +the subject—views which were endorsed by her sister. +</P> + +<P> +"The whole thing was too distressing for words," she continued. "I'd +have broken off the marriage, even at the last moment, for Charles's +share in it, but for the terrible scandal which would have been caused." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well; it's all over and done with now," sighed Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so sure; one never knows what an abandoned girl, as Miss +Keeves has proved herself to be, is capable of!" +</P> + +<P> +"True!" remarked Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"Come! come!" said Devitt. "The poor girl was at the point of death for +weeks after her baby died." +</P> + +<P> +"What of that?" asked his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Girls who suffer like that aren't so very bad." +</P> + +<P> +"You take her part, as you've always done. She's hopelessly bad, and +I'm as convinced as I'm sitting here that it was she who led poor +Charlie astray." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all very unfortunate," said Devitt moodily. +</P> + +<P> +"And we all but had her in the house," urged Mrs Devitt, much irritated +at her husband's tacit support of the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway, she's far away from us now," said Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Where has she gone?" asked Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"Somewhere in Dorsetshire," Devitt informed her. +</P> + +<P> +"If she hadn't gone, I should have made it my duty to urge her to leave +Melkbridge," remarked Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"She's not so bad as all that," declared Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't understand why men stand up for loose women," said his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"She's not a loose woman: far from it. If she were, Windebank would not +be so interested in her." +</P> + +<P> +Devitt could not have said anything more calculated to anger the two +women. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Spraggs threw down her pen, whilst Mrs Devitt became white. +</P> + +<P> +"She must be bad to have fascinated Sir Archibald as she has done," she +declared. +</P> + +<P> +"Windebank is no fool," urged her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose the next thing we shall hear is that she's living under his +protection," cried Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"In St John's Wood," added Miss Spraggs, whose information on such +matters was thirty years behind the times. +</P> + +<P> +"More likely he'll marry her," remarked Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" cried the two women. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe he'd give his eyes to get her," the man continued. +</P> + +<P> +"He's only to ask," snapped Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway, we shall see," said Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Should that happen, I trust you will never wish me to invite her to +the house," said Mrs Devitt, rising to her full height. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all very sad," remarked Devitt gloomily. +</P> + +<P> +"It is: that you should take her part in the way you do, Montague," +retorted his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry if you're upset," her husband replied. "But I knew Miss +Keeves as a little girl, when she was always laughin' and happy. It's +all very, very sad." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt moved to a window, where she stood staring out at the +foliage which, just now, was looking self-conscious in its new finery. +</P> + +<P> +"Who heard from Harold last?" asked Devitt presently. +</P> + +<P> +"I did," replied Miss Spraggs. "It was on Tuesday he wrote." +</P> + +<P> +"How did he write?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite light-heartedly. He has now for some weeks: such a change for +him." +</P> + +<P> +"H'm!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you ask?" said Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw Pritchett when I was in town yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"Harold's doctor?" queried Miss Spraggs. +</P> + +<P> +"He told me he'd seen Harold last week." +</P> + +<P> +"At Swanage?" +</P> + +<P> +"Harold had wired for him. I wondered if anythin' was up." +</P> + +<P> +"What should be 'up,' as you call it, beyond his being either better or +worse?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I want to know." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that it was more from Pritchett's manner than from anything else +that I gathered somethin' had happened." +</P> + +<P> +"So long as he's well, there's nothing to worry about," said Mrs Devitt +reassuringly. +</P> + +<P> +The late afternoon post brought a letter for Montague from his son +Harold. This told his father that a supreme happiness had come in his +life; that, by great good fortune, he had met and quietly married Mavis +Keeves; that, by her wish, the marriage had been kept a secret for +three weeks; it ended by saying how he hoped to bring his wife to his +father's house early in the following week. Montague Devitt stared +stupidly at the paper on which this information was conveyed; then he +leaned against the mantelpiece for support. He looked as if he had been +struck brutally and unexpectedly between the eyes. "Montague! +Montague!" cried his wife, as she noticed his distress. +</P> + +<P> +The letter fell from his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Read!" he said faintly. +</P> + +<P> +"Harold's writing!" exclaimed Mrs Devitt, as she caught up the letter. +</P> + +<P> +Devitt watched her as she read; he saw her face grow hard; then her jaw +dropped; her eyes stared fixedly before her. When Miss Spraggs read the +letter, as she very soon did, she went into hysterics; she had a great +affection for Harold. The hand of fate had struck the Devitts +remorselessly; they were stunned by the blow for quite a long while. +For her part, Mrs Devitt could not believe that Providence would allow +her to suffer such a terrible affliction as was provided by the fact of +her stepson's marriage to Mavis; again and again she looked at the +letter, as if she found it impossible to believe the evidence of her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What's—what's to be done?" gasped Mrs Devitt, when she was presently +able to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ask me!" replied her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you do anything?" asked Miss Spraggs, during a pause in her +hysterical weeping. +</P> + +<P> +"Do what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something: anything. You're a man." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't grasped it yet. I must think it out," he said, as he began +to walk up and down the room so far as the crowded furniture would +permit. +</P> + +<P> +"We must try and think it's God's will," said his wife, making an +effort to get her thoughts under control. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" cried Devitt, stopping short in his walk to look at his wife +with absent eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"God has singled us out for this bitter punishment," snuffled Mrs +Devitt, as her eyes glanced at the heavily gilded chandelier. +</P> + +<P> +With a gesture of impatience, Devitt resumed his walk, while Miss +Spraggs quickly went to windows and door, which she threw open to their +utmost capacity for admitting air. +</P> + +<P> +"One thing must be done," declared Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" asked his wife eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"That Hunter girl who split on Mavis Keeves havin' been at Polperro +with Perigal." +</P> + +<P> +"She knows everything; we shall be disgraced," wailed Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. I'll see to that," replied her husband grimly. +</P> + +<P> +"What will you do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give her a good job in some place as far from here as possible, and +tell her that, if her tongue wags on a certain subject, she'll get the +sack." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" asked his wife, surprised at her husband's decision and the way +in which he expressed himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Suggest somethin' better." +</P> + +<P> +"I was wondering if it were right." +</P> + +<P> +"Right be blowed! We're fightin' for our own hand." +</P> + +<P> +With this view of the matter, Mrs Devitt was fain to be content. +</P> + +<P> +It was a dismal and forlorn family party which sat down to dinner that +evening under the eye of the fat butler. Husband, wife, and Miss +Spraggs looked grey and old in the light of the table lamps. By this +time Lowther had been told of the trouble which had descended so +suddenly upon the family. His comment on hearing of it was +characteristic. +</P> + +<P> +"Good God! But she hasn't a penny!" he said. He realised that the +prospects of his father assisting him out of his many scrapes had +declined since news had arrived of Harold's unlooked-for marriage. When +the scarcely tasted meal was over, Montague sent Lowther upstairs "to +give the ladies company," while he smoked an admirable cigar and drank +the best part of a bottle of old port wine. The tobacco and the wine +brought a philosophical calm to his unquiet mind; he was enabled to +look on the marriage from its least unfavourable aspects. He had always +liked Mavis and would have done much more for her than he had already +accomplished, if his womenfolk had permitted him to follow the leanings +of his heart; he knew her well enough to know that she was not the girl +to bestow herself lightly upon Charlie Perigal. He had not liked +Perigal's share in the matter at all, and the whole business was still +much of a mystery. Although grieved beyond measure that the girl had +married his dearly loved boy, he realised that with Harold's ignorance +of women he might have done infinitely worse. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs Devitt of her husband in the +seclusion of their bedroom. +</P> + +<P> +"Try and make the best of it. After all, she's a lady." +</P> + +<P> +"What! You're not going to try and have the marriage annulled?" +</P> + +<P> +It was her husband's turn to express astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely you'll do something?" she urged. +</P> + +<P> +"What can I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"As you know, it can't be a marriage in—in the worldly sense; when +it's like that something can surely be done," said Mrs Devitt, annoyed +at having to make distant allusions to a subject hateful to her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"What about Harold's feelin's?" +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"He probably loves her dearly. What of his feelin's if he knew—all +that we know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did not think of that. Oh dear! oh dear! it gets more and more +complicated. What can be done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait." +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Till we see them. Then we can learn the why and the wherefore of it +all and judge accordin'ly." +</P> + +<P> +With this advice Mrs Devitt had to be content, but for all the comfort +it may have contained it was a long time before husband or wife fell +asleep that night. +</P> + +<P> +But even the short period of twenty-four hours is enough to accustom +people to trouble sufficiently to make it tolerable. When this time had +passed, Mrs Devitt's mind was well used to the news which yesterday +afternoon's post had brought. Her mind harked back to Christian +martyrs; she wondered if the fortitude with which they met their +sufferings was at all comparable to the resolution she displayed in the +face of affliction. The morning's post had brought a letter from +Victoria, to whom her brother had written to much the same effect as he +had communicated with his father. In this she expressed herself as +admirably as was her wont; she also treated the matter with a +sympathetic tact which, under the circumstances, did her credit. She +trusted that anything that had happened would not influence the love +and duty she owed her husband. Harold's marriage to Miss Keeves was in +the nature of a great surprise, but if it brought her brother happiness +she would be the last to regret it; she hoped that, despite past +events, she would be able to welcome her brother's wife as a sister; +she would not fail to come in time to greet her sister-in-law, but she +would leave her husband in town, as he had important business to +transact. +</P> + +<P> +Some half hour before the time by which Harold and his wife could +arrive at Melkbridge House, the Devitt family were assembled in the +library; in this room, because it was on the ground floor, and, +therefore, more convenient for Harold's use, he having to be carried up +and down stairs if going to other floors of the house. +</P> + +<P> +Devitt was frankly ill at ease. His wife did her best to bear herself +in the manner of the noblest traditions (as she conceived them) of +British matronhood. Miss Spraggs talked in whispers to her sister of +"that scheming adventuress," as she called Mavis. Victoria chastened +agitated expectation with resignation; while Lowther sat with his hands +thrust deep into his trouser pockets. At last a ring was heard at the +front door bell, at which Devitt and Lowther went out to welcome bride +and bridegroom. Those left in the room waited while Harold was lifted +out of the motor and put into the hand-propelled carriage which he used +in the house. The Devitt women nerved themselves to meet with becoming +resolution the adventuress's triumph. +</P> + +<P> +Through the open door they could hear that Mavis had been received in +all but silence; only Harold's voice sounded cheerily. The men made way +for Mavis to enter the library. It was by no means the triumphant, +richly garbed Mavis whom the women had expected who came into the room. +It was a subdued, carelessly frocked Mavis, who, after accepting their +chastened greetings, kept her eyes on her husband. When the door was +closed, Harold was the first to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Mother, if I may call you that! father! all of you! I want you to hear +what I have to say," he began, in his deep, soothing voice. "You know +what my accident has made me; you know how I can never be other than I +am. For all that, this winsome, wonderful girl, out of the pity and +goodness of her loving heart, has been moved to throw in her lot with +mine—even now I can hardly realise my immense good fortune" (here +Mavis dropped her eyes), "but there it is, and if I did what was right, +I should thank God for her every moment of my life. Now you know what +she is to me; how with her youth and glorious looks she has blessed my +life, I hope that you, all of you, will take her to your hearts." +</P> + +<P> +A silence that could almost be heard succeeded his words; but Harold +did not notice this; he had eyes only for his wife. +</P> + +<P> +Tea was brought in, when, to relieve the tension, Victoria went over to +Mavis and sat by her side; but to her remarks Harold's wife replied in +monosyllables; she had only eyes for her husband. The Devitts could +make nothing of her; her behaviour was so utterly alien to the scarcely +suppressed triumph which they had expected. But just now they did not +give very much attention to her; they were chiefly concerned for +Harold, whose manner betrayed an extra-ordinary elation quite foreign +to the depression which had troubled him before his departure for +Swanage. Now a joyous gladness possessed him; from the frequent tender +glances he cast in his wife's direction, there was little doubt of its +cause. Harold's love for his wife commenced by much impressing his +family, but ended by frightening them; they feared the effect on his +mind when he discovered, as he undoubtedly must, when his wife had +thrown off the mask, that he had wedded a heartless adventuress, who +had married him for his money. At the same time, the Devitts were +forced to admit that Mavis's conduct was unlike that of the scheming +woman of their fancies; they wondered at the reason of her humility, +but did not learn the cause till the family, other than Harold, were +assembled upstairs in the drawing-room waiting for dinner to be +announced. When Mavis had come into the room, the others had been +struck by the contrast between the blackness of her frock and the milky +whiteness of her skin; they were little prepared for what was to follow. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we are alone, I have something to say to you," she began. The +frigid silence which met her words made her task the harder; the +atmosphere of the room was eloquent of antagonism. With an effort she +continued: "I don't know what you all think of me—I haven't tried to +think—but I'm worse—oh! ever so much worse than you believe." +</P> + +<P> +The others wondered what revelations were toward. Devitt's mind went +back to the night when Mavis had last stood in the drawing-room. Mavis +went on: +</P> + +<P> +"When I was away my heart was filled with hate: I hated you all and +longed to be revenged." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's audience were uncomfortable; it was an axiom of their existence +to shy at any expression of emotion. +</P> + +<P> +The Devitts longed for the appearance of the fat butler, who would +announce that dinner was served. But to-night his coming was delayed +till Mavis had spoken. +</P> + +<P> +"Chance threw Harold in my way," she went on. "He loved me at once, and +I took advantage of his love, thinking to be revenged on you for all I +believed—yes, I must tell you everything—for all I believed you had +done against me." +</P> + +<P> +Here Mrs Devitt lifted up her hands, as if filled with righteous anger +at this statement. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis took no notice, but continued: +</P> + +<P> +"That is why I married him. That was then. Now I am punished, as the +wicked always are, punished over and over again. Why did I do it? Why? +Why?" +</P> + +<P> +Here a look of terror came into her eyes; these looked helplessly about +the room, as if nothing could save her from the torment that pursued +her. +</P> + +<P> +"He is ill; very ill. His doctor told me. How long do you think he will +live?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pritchett?" asked Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, when he came down to Swanage. What he told me only makes it +worse." +</P> + +<P> +"Makes what worse?" asked Devitt, who was eager to end this painful +scene. +</P> + +<P> +"My punishment. He thinks me good—everything I ought to be. I love +him! I love him! I love him! He's all goodness and love. He believes in +me as he believes in God. I love him! How long do you think he'll live? +I love him! I love him! I love him!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap39"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A SURPRISE +</H3> + +<P> +Mavis spoke truly. She loved her husband, although with a different +love from that which she had known for Perigal. She had adored the +father of her child with her soul and with her body, but in her +affection for her husband there was no trace of physical passion, of +which she had no small share. This new-born love was, in truth, an +immense maternal devotion which seemed to satisfy an insistent longing +of her being. +</P> + +<P> +Upon the day of their wedding, Mavis was already wondering if she were +beginning to love Harold; but for all this uncertainty, she believed +that if the marriage were to be a physical as well as a civil union, +she would have confessed before the ceremony took place her previous +intimacy with Perigal. After the marriage, the holy fervour with which +Harold had regarded Mavis bewildered her. The more his nature was +revealed to her, the better she was enabled to realise the cold-blooded +brutality with which the supreme Power (Mavis's thoughts did not run so +easily in the direction of a Heavenly Father as was once their wont) +had permanently mutilated Harold's life, which had been of the rarest +promise. Still ignorant of her real sentiments for her husband, she had +persuaded him, for no apparent reason, to delay acquainting his family +with the news of their marriage. Truth soon illumined Mavis's mind. +Directly she realised how devotedly she loved her husband (the maternal +aspect of her love did not occur to her), her punishment for her +previous duplicity began. She was constantly overwhelmed with bitter +reproaches because of her having set out to marry her husband from +motives of revenge against his family. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's confession to the Devitts temporarily eased her mind, but, as +her husband's solicitude for her happiness redoubled, her torments +recommenced with all their old-time persistency. Harold's declining +health gave her innumerable anguished hours; she realised that, so long +as he lived, she would suffer for the deception she had practised. She +believed that, if she survived him, her remaining days would be filled +with grief. +</P> + +<P> +Whichever way she looked, trouble confronted her with hard, unbending +features. +</P> + +<P> +She was enmeshed in a net of sorrow from which there was no escape. +</P> + +<P> +In order to stifle any hints or rumours which might have got about +Melkbridge of Mavis having been a mother without being a wife, she was +pressed by the Devitts to make a stay of some length at Melkbridge +House. Guessing the reason of this invitation, she accepted, although +she, as well as her husband, were eager to get into a quaint, +weather-beaten farmhouse which Harold had bought in the neighbourhood. +</P> + +<P> +To make her stay as tolerable as possible, Mavis set herself to win the +hearts of the Devitt family, the feminine members of which, she was +convinced, were bitterly hostile to her. The men of the household, to +the scarcely concealed dismay of the women, quickly came over to her +side. Lowther she appreciated at his worth; her studied indifference to +him went a long way towards securing that youth's approval, which was +not unmingled with admiration for her person. Montague she was +beginning to like. For his part, he was quickly sensible of the +feminine distinction which Mavis's presence bestowed upon his home. The +fine figure she cut in evening dress at dinner parties, when the +Devitts feasted their world; her conversation in the drawing-room +afterwards; the emotion she put into her playing and singing (it was +the only expression Mavis could give to the abiding griefs gnawing at +her heart), were social assets of no small value, which Devitt was the +first to appreciate. Mrs Harold Devitt's appearance and parts gave to +his assemblies a piquancy which was sadly lacking when his friends +repaid his hospitality. Mavis, also, pointed out to Devitt the +advisability of rescuing from the lumber rooms several fine old pieces +of furniture which were hidden away in disgrace, largely because they +had belonged to Montague's humble grandfather. The handiwork of +Chippendale and Hepplewhite was furbished up and put about the house, +replacing Tottenham Court Road monstrosities. When the old furniture +epidemic presently seized upon Melkbridge, the Devitts could flatter +themselves that they had done much to influence local fashion in the +matter. +</P> + +<P> +Montague came to take pleasure in Mavis's society, when he would drop +his blustering manner to become his kindly self. They had many long +talks together, which enabled Mavis to realise the loneliness of the +man's life. The more Montague saw of her the more he disliked his +son-in-law's share in the paternity of Mavis's dead child. +</P> + +<P> +Now and again he would discuss business worries with her, which +established a community of interest between them. His friendship gave +Mavis confidence in her endeavours to placate the female Devitts. This +latter was uphill work: Mrs Devitt and her sister entrenched themselves +in a civil reserve which resisted Mavis's most strenuous assaults. With +Victoria, Mavis believed, at first, that she had better luck, Mrs +Charlie Perigal's sentiments and manner of expressing them being all +that the most exigent fancy might desire; but as time wore on, Mavis +got no further with her sister-in-law; she could never feel that she +and Victoria had a single heart beat in common. +</P> + +<P> +As with so many others, Mavis began by liking but ended by being +repelled by Victoria's inhuman flawlessness. +</P> + +<P> +Thus Mavis lived for the weeks she stayed at Melkbridge House. But at +all times, no matter what she might be doing, she was liable to be +attacked by bitter, heart-rending grief at the loss of her child. Mavis +had already suffered so much that she was now able to distinguish the +pains peculiar to the different varieties of sorrow. This particular +grief took the shape of a piteous, persistent heart hunger which +nothing could stay. Joined to this was a ceaseless longing for the lost +one, which cast drear shadows upon the bright hues of life. The way in +which she was compelled to isolate her pain from all human sympathy did +not diminish its violence. +</P> + +<P> +One night, when the Devitts were entertaining their kind, the +conversation at dinner touched upon a local petty sessions case, in +which the nursemaid of one of those present had been punished for +concealing the birth of an illegitimate child, who had since died. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a great worry to me," complained the nurse's mistress. "She was +such a perfect nurse." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you'll do something for her when she comes out," urged Harold. +</P> + +<P> +The woman stared at Harold in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Think how the poor girl's suffered," he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really think so?" asked the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"She's lost her child." +</P> + +<P> +"But I always understood that those who lose children out of wedlock +cannot possible grieve like married women who have the same loss." +</P> + +<P> +In a moment Mavis's thoughts flew to Pennington Churchyard, where her +heart seemed buried deep below the grass; certain of her facial nerves +twitched, while tears filled her eyes. Devitt's voice recalled her to +her surroundings; she looked up, to catch his eyes looking kindly into +hers. Although she made an effort to join in the talk, she was mentally +bowing her head, the while her being ached with anguish. She did not +recover her spirits for the rest of the evening. +</P> + +<P> +There came a day when one of the big guns of the financial world was +expected to dinner. Mavis had many times met at Melkbridge House some +of the lesser artillery of successful business men, when she had been +surprised to discover what dull, uninteresting folk they were; apart +from their devotion to the cult of money-getting, they did not seem to +have another interest in life, the ceaseless quest for gold absorbing +all their vitality. This big gun was a Sir Frederick Buntz, whose +interest Devitt, as he told Mavis, was anxious to secure in one of his +company-promoting schemes. In order to do Devitt a good turn, Mavis +laid herself out to please the elderly Sir Frederick, who happened to +have an eye for an attractive woman. Sir Frederick scarcely spoke to +anyone else but Mavis throughout dinner; at the end of the evening, he +asked her if she advised him to join Devitt's venture. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's behaviour formed the subject of a complaint made by Mrs Devitt +when alone with Montague in their bedroom. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you notice the shameless way she behaved?" asked Mrs Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" replied her well-pleased lord. +</P> + +<P> +"Everyone noticed it. She's rapidly going from bad to worse." +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway, it's as good as put five thousand in my pocket, if not more." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +Montague's explanation modified his wife's ill opinion of Mavis. The +next morning, when Devitt thanked his daughter-in-law for influencing +Sir Frederick in the way she had done, Mavis said: +</P> + +<P> +"I want something in return." +</P> + +<P> +"Some shares for yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"A rise of a pound a week for Miss Toombs." +</P> + +<P> +"That plain, unhealthy little woman at the boot factory!" +</P> + +<P> +"She's a heart of gold. I know you'll do it for me," said Mavis, who +was now conscious of her power over Devitt. +</P> + +<P> +Having won her way, Mavis set out to intercept Miss Toombs, who about +this time would be on her way to business. They had not met since +Mavis's marriage to Harold, Miss Toombs refusing to answer Mavis's many +letters and always being out when her old friend called. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis ran against Miss Toombs by the market-place; her friend looked in +worse health than when she had last seen her. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk to me," cried Miss Toombs. "I hate the sight of you." +</P> + +<P> +"No, you don't. And I've done you a good turn." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to hear it. I wish you good morning." +</P> + +<P> +"What have I done to upset you?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't pretend you don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't." +</P> + +<P> +"What! Then I'll tell you. You've married young Devitt, when there's a +man worth all the women who ever lived eating his heart out for you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stopped, amazed at the other woman's vehemence. +</P> + +<P> +"A man who you've treated like the beast you are," continued Miss +Toombs hotly. "After all that's happened, he longed to marry you, and +that's more than most men would have done." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know—you can't understand," faltered Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I do. You're not really bad; you're only a precious big fool and +don't know when you've got a good thing." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I love my husband." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot! You may think you do, but you don't. You're much too hot-blooded +to stick that kind of marriage long. I know I wouldn't. And it serves +you right if you ever make a mess of it." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought Sir Archibald only pitied me," said Mavis, in extenuation of +her marriage. +</P> + +<P> +"Pity! pity! He's a man, not a bloodless nincompoop," said Miss Toombs. +"And it's you I have to thank for seeing him so often," she added, as +her anger again flamed up. +</P> + +<P> +"Sir Archibald?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"He sees me to talk about you," said Miss Toombs sorrowfully. "And he +never looks twice at me. He doesn't even like me enough to ask me to go +away for a week-end with him. I'm simply nothing to him, and that's the +truth." +</P> + +<P> +"I think you a dear, anyway. And I've got you a rise of a pound a week." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis repeated her information. +</P> + +<P> +"That'll buy me some summer muslins I've long had my eye on, and one or +two bits of jewellery. Then, perhaps, he'll look at me," declared Miss +Toombs. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment she caught sight of her reflection in Perrott's (the +grocer's) window, at which she cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Just look at me! What on earth could ever make that attractive?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your kind nature," replied Mavis. "You're much too fond of +under-valuing your appearance." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all damned unfair!" cried Miss Toombs passionately. "What use are +your looks to you? What fun do you get out of life? Why—oh why haven't +I your face and figure?" +</P> + +<P> +"What would you do with it?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Get him, get him somehow. If he wouldn't marry me I'd manage to +'live.' And he's not a cad like Charlie Perigal," cried Miss Toombs, as +she hurried off to work. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis got back, she learned that the morning post had brought an +invitation for the Devitts and herself for a dinner that Major Perigal +was giving in two weeks' time. Major Perigal, also, wrote privately to +Mavis, urging her to give him the honour of her company; he assured her +that his son would not be present. +</P> + +<P> +Little else but the approaching dinner was discussed by the Devitts for +the rest of the day. As if to palliate their interest in the matter, +they explained to Mavis how the proffered hospitality was alien to the +ways of the giver of the feast. At heart they were greatly pleased with +the invitation; it promised a meeting with county folk on equal terms, +together with a termination to the aloofness with which Major Perigal +had treated the Devitts since his son's marriage to Victoria. They +accepted with alacrity. Mavis, alone, hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +Her husband urged her to go, although his physical disability would +prevent him from accompanying her. +</P> + +<P> +"I want my dearest to go," he said. "It will give me so much pleasure +to know how wonderful you looked, and how everyone admired you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis decided to accept the invitation, largely because it was her +husband's wish; a little, because she had the curiosity to meet those +who would have been acquaintances and friends had her father been +alive. Her lot had been thrown so much among those who worked for daily +bread, that she was not a little eager to mix, if it were only for a +few hours, with her own social kind. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis, again at Harold's wish, reluctantly ordered an expensive frock +for the dinner. It was of grey taffetas embroidered upon bodice and +skirt with black velvet butterflies. The night of the dinner, when +Mavis was ready to go, she showed herself to her husband before setting +out. He looked at her long and intently before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"I shall always remember you like this." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she asked, a little afraid. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't what I expect. It's what I deserve for marrying a glorious +young creature like you." +</P> + +<P> +"Am I discontented?" she asked proudly. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless you. You're as good as you're beautiful," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +As she stooped to kiss him, the prayer of her heart was: +</P> + +<P> +"May he never know why I married him." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes, alight with love, followed her as she left the room. +</P> + +<P> +Major Perigal received his guests in the drawing-room. The first person +whom Mavis encountered after she had greeted her host was Windebank. +She recalled that she had not seen him since her illness at Mrs +Trivett's, He had written to congratulate her on her marriage when she +had come to stay with the Devitts; since then, she had not heard from +him. +</P> + +<P> +Although Mavis knew that she might see him to-night, she was so taken +aback at meeting him that she could think of nothing to say. He +relieved her embarrassment by talking commonplace. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's someone who much wishes to meet you," he said presently. "It's +Sir William Ludlow; he served with your father in India." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis knew the name of Sir William Ludlow as that of a general with a +long record of distinguished service. +</P> + +<P> +When he was introduced by Windebank, Mavis saw that he had soldier +written all over his wiry, spare person; she congratulated herself upon +meeting a man who might talk of the stirring events in which he had +taken so prominent a part. He had only time to tell Mavis how she more +resembled her mother than her father when a move was made for the +dining-room. Mavis was taken down by Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," she said in an undertone, when they had reached the +landing. +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"All you've done." +</P> + +<P> +He turned on her such a look of pain that she did not say any more. +</P> + +<P> +Windebank sat on her right; General Sir William Ludlow on her left. +Directly opposite was a little pasty-faced woman with small, bright +eyes. Victoria, by virtue of her relationship to Major Perigal, faced +her father-in-law at the bottom of the table; upon her right sat the +most distinguished-looking man Mavis had ever seen. Tall, finely +proportioned, with noble, regular features, surmounted by grey hair, he +suggested to Mavis a fighting bishop of the middle ages: she wondered +who he was. The soldier on her left talked incessantly, but, to Mavis's +surprise, he made no mention of his campaigns; he spoke of nothing else +but rose culture, his persistent ill-luck at flower shows, the +unfairness of the judging. The meal was long and, even to Mavis, to +whom a dinner party was in the nature of an experience, tedious. +</P> + +<P> +Infrequent relief was supplied by the pasty-faced woman opposite, who +was the General's wife; she did her best to shock the susceptibilities +of those present by being in perpetual opposition to their stolid views. +</P> + +<P> +An elderly woman, whose face showed the ravages of time upon what must +have been considerable beauty (somehow she looked rather disreputable), +had referred to visits she had paid, when in London for the season, to +a sister who lived in Eccleston Square. +</P> + +<P> +"Such a dreadful neighbourhood!" she complained. "It made me quite ill +to go there." +</P> + +<P> +"I love it," declared Lady Ludlow. +</P> + +<P> +"That part of London!" exclaimed the faded beauty. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? Whatever life may be there, it is honest in its +unconcealment. And to be genuine is to be noble." +</P> + +<P> +"You're joking, Kate," protested the faded beauty. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm doing nothing of the kind. Give me Pimlico," declared Lady Ludlow +emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +At mention of Pimlico, Mavis and Windebank involuntarily glanced into +each other's eyes; the name of this district recalled many memories to +their minds. +</P> + +<P> +When dinner was over, Mavis had hardly reached the drawing-room with +the women-folk, when Lady Ludlow pounced upon her. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been so anxious to meet you," she declared. "You're one of the +lucky ones." +</P> + +<P> +"Since when am I lucky?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Since your father died and you had to earn your living till you were +married. Old Jimmy Perigal told me all about it. You're to be envied." +</P> + +<P> +"I fail to see why." +</P> + +<P> +"You've mixed with the world and have escaped living with all these +stuffy bores." +</P> + +<P> +"They don't know how lucky they are," remarked Mavis with conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! Give me life and the lower orders. What did my husband talk +about during dinner?" +</P> + +<P> +"Roses." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. When he was at his wars, I had some peace. Now I'm bored to +death with flowers." +</P> + +<P> +"Who was that distinguished-looking man who sat on Mrs Charles +Perigal's right?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That's Lord Robert Keevil, whose brother is the great tin-god 'Seend.'" +</P> + +<P> +"The Marquis of Seend?" queried Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"That's it: he was foreign minister in the last Government. But Bobbie +Keevil is adorable till he's foolish enough to open his mouth. Then he +gives the game away." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's the complete fool. If he would only hold his tongue, he might be +a success. His wife is over there. Her eyes are always weeping for the +loss of her beauty. Your father wanted to marry her in his youth. But +give me people who don't bother about such tiresome conventionalities +as marriage." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis looked curiously at the woman whom her father had loved. +Doubtless, she was comely in her youth, but now Mavis saw pouched eyes, +thin hair, a care-lined face not altogether innocent of paint and +powder. And it was those cracked lips her father had longed to kiss; +those dim eyes, the thought of which had, perhaps, shortened his hours +of rest! The sight of the faded beauty brought home to Mavis the vanity +of earthly love, till she reflected that, had the one-time desire of +her father's heart been gratified, the sorrow they would have shared in +common would ever endear her to his heart, and keep her the fairest +woman the earth possessed, for all the defacement time might make in +her appearance. +</P> + +<P> +When the men came up from the dining-room, there was intermittent music +in which Mavis took part. The sincerity of her voice, together with its +message of tears, awoke genuine approval in her audience. +</P> + +<P> +"An artiste, my dear," declared Lady Ludlow. "Artistes have always a +touch of vulgarity in their natures, or they wouldn't make their +appeal. We must be great friends. I'm sick to death of correct people." +</P> + +<P> +For the rest of the evening, Mavis noticed how she herself was +constantly watched by Windebank and Major Perigal, the former of whom +dropped his eyes when he saw that Mavis perceived the direction of his +glance. As the evening wore on, Mavis was faintly bored and not a +little troubled. She reflected that it was in these very rooms that +Charlie Perigal had read her piteous little letters from London, and +from where he probably penned his lying replies. Mavis would have liked +to have been alone so that she could try to appreciate the whys and +wherefores of the most significant events in her life. The conditions +of her last stay in London and those of her present life were as the +poles apart so far as material well-being was concerned; her mind ached +to fasten upon some explanation that would reconcile the tragic events +in her life with her one-time implicit faith in the certain protection +extended by a Heavenly Father to His trusting children. Perhaps it was +as well that Mavis was again asked to sing; the effort of remembering +her words put all such thoughts from her mind. +</P> + +<P> +Whatever clouds may have gathered about Mavis's appreciation of the +evening, there was no doubt of the enjoyment of those Devitts who were +present. The dinner was, to them, an event of social moment in their +lives. Although they looked as if they had got into the dignified +atmosphere of Major Perigal's drawing-room by mistake, they were +greatly delighted with their evening; afterwards, they did not fail to +make copious references to those they had met at dinner to their +Melkbridge friends. +</P> + +<P> +A month after the dinner, Major Perigal died suddenly in his chair. Two +days after he was buried, Mavis received an intimation from his +solicitors, which requested her presence at the reading of his will. +Wondering what was toward, Mavis made an appointment. To her boundless +astonishment, she learned that Major Perigal, "on account of the esteem +in which he held the daughter of his old friend, Colonel Keeves," had +left Mavis all his worldly goods, with the exception of bequests to +servants and five hundred pounds to his son Charles. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap40"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FORTY +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MIDNIGHT WALK +</H3> + +<P> +Thus it would seem as if fate wished to make amends for the sorry +tricks it had played Mavis. Her first impressions after hearing the +news were of such a contradictory nature that she was quite bewildered. +Those present at the reading of the will, together with Montague +Devitt, who had accompanied her, hastened to offer their +congratulations (those of Devitt being chastened by the reflection of +how much his daughter Victoria suffered from Mavis's good fortune), +but, even while these were talking and shaking her hand, two salient +emotions were already emerging from the welter in Mavis's mind. One of +these was an immeasurable, passionate regret for her child's untimely +death. If he had lived, she would now have been able to devote her +sudden enrichment to providing him, not only with the comforts that +wealth can secure, but also with a career when he should come to man's +estate. The other emotion possessing her was the inevitable effect of +unexpected good fortune on a great and persistent remorse: more than +ever, she suffered tortures of self-reproach for having set out to +marry her husband from motives of revenge against his family. Whilst +thus occupied with her thoughts, she became conscious that someone was +watching her; she turned in the direction from which she believed she +was being regarded, to see Charlie Perigal with his eyes fixed on her. +She looked him full in the eyes, the while she was relieved to find +that his presence did not affect the beating of her heart. Seeing that +she did not avoid his glance, he came over to her. +</P> + +<P> +"I congratulate you," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," she replied indifferently. +</P> + +<P> +"I have also to congratulate you on your marriage—that is, if you are +happy." +</P> + +<P> +"I am very happy," she declared with conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"That's more than I am." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" she remarked carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Although, in some respects, I deserve all I've got—I'm bad and mean +right through." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" said Mavis, as before. +</P> + +<P> +"But there's something to be said for me. To begin with, no one can +help being what they are. There's no more merit in your being good than +there is demerit in my being what I am." +</P> + +<P> +"Did I ever lay claim to goodness?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because you didn't, it goes nearer to making you good and admirable +than anything else you could do. Directly virtue becomes +self-conscious, it is vulgar." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis began to wonder if it would ease the pain at her heart if she +were to confess her duplicity to her husband. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal continued: +</P> + +<P> +"An act is judged by its results; it is considered either virtuous or +vicious according as its results are harmful or helpful to the person +affected." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" said Mavis absently. +</P> + +<P> +"Once upon a time, there was no right and no wrong, till one man in the +human tribe got more than his fair share of arrow-heads—then, his wish +to keep them without fighting for them led to the begetting of vice and +virtue as we know it." +</P> + +<P> +"How was that?" asked Mavis, striving to escape from her distracting +emotions by following what Perigal was saying. +</P> + +<P> +"The man with the arrow-heads hired a chap with a gift of the gab to +tell the others how wrong it was to want things someone else had +collared. That was the first lesson in morality, and the preacher, +seeing there was money in the game, started the first priesthood. Yes, +morality owes its existence to the fact of the well-to-do requiring to +be confirmed in their possessions without having to defend them by +force." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was now paying no attention to Perigal's talk: mind and heart +were in Pennington Churchyard. Perigal, thinking he was interesting +Mavis, went on: +</P> + +<P> +"You mayn't think it, but a bad egg like me does no end of a lot of +good in the world, although downright criminals do more. If it weren't +for people who interfered with others' belongings, the race would get +slack and deteriorate. It's having to look after one's property which +keeps people alert and up to the mark, and, therefore, those who're the +cause of this fitness have their uses. No, my dear Mavis, evil is a +necessary ingredient of the body politic, and if it were abolished +to-morrow the race would go to 'pot.'" +</P> + +<P> +Perigal said more to the same effect. Mavis was, presently, moved to +remark: +</P> + +<P> +"You take the loss of the money you expected very calmly." +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder!" +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder?" she queried, without expressing any surprise in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"To begin with, you have it. Then I've seen you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis thought for a moment before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose, as I'm another man's wife, I ought to be angry at that +remark." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you?" he asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +She did not reply directly; perhaps some recognition of the coldness +with which she regarded him penetrated his understanding, for he added +pleadingly: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say you don't mind because you're absolutely indifferent to me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anything but that," he said, while a distressed look crept into his +eyes. "But then, if you speak the truth, you couldn't say that after +all that has— +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to speak the truth," she interrupted. "It doesn't interest +me to say anything else." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he exclaimed anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't in the least mind what you said. And I'm not in the least +offended, because, whatever you might ever say or do, it would never +interest me." +</P> + +<P> +He stared at her helplessly for a few moments before saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Serve me jolly well right." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not say any more, at which Perigal got up to leave her. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been a precious fool," he muttered, after glancing at Mavis's +face before moving away. +</P> + +<P> +Devitt scarcely spoke whilst driving Mavis home; consequently, her +thoughts had free play. It would certainly ease her mind, she +reflected, if she made full confession to her husband of the reasons +that impelled her to make his acquaintance and accept his offer of +marriage; but it then occurred to her that this tranquillity of soul +would be bought at the price, not only of his implicit faith in her, +but of his happiness. Therefore, whatever pangs of remorse it was +destined for her to suffer, he must never know; she being the offender, +it was not meet that she should shift the burden of pain from her +shoulders to his. Her sufferings were her punishment for her wrongdoing. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs were silent when they learned of Mavis's +good fortune; they were torn between enhanced respect for Harold's wife +and concern for Victoria, who had married a penniless man. Mavis could +not gauge the effect of the news on Victoria, as she had gone back to +London after Major Perigal's funeral, her husband remaining at +Melkbridge for the reading of the will. Harold, alone among the +Devitts, exhibited frank dismay at his wife's good fortune. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you glad, dearest?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"For your sake." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not for yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the thing most likely to separate us." +</P> + +<P> +"Separate us!" she cried in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? This money will put you in the place in life you are entitled +to fill." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis stared at him in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"With your appearance and talents you should be a great social success +with the people who matter," he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"You undervalue your wonderful self. I should never have been so +selfish as to marry you." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't regret it?" +</P> + +<P> +"For the great happiness it has brought me—no. But when I think how +you might have made a great marriage and had a real home—" +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't we going to have a real home?" she interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"Are we?" +</P> + +<P> +"If it's love that makes the home, we have one whatever our condition," +declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for saying that. But what I meant was that children are +wanted to make the perfect home." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's face fell. +</P> + +<P> +"You, with your rare nature, must want to have a child," he continued. +"I don't know which must be worse: for a childless woman to long for a +child or to have one and lose it." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis grasped the arm of the chair for support. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed. +</P> + +<P> +"What you said. Don't, don't say I'm dissatisfied any more." +</P> + +<P> +Thus Mavis and those nearest to her learned of the alteration in her +fortunes. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was not long in discovering that the command of money provided +her with a means of escape from the prepossessions afflicting her mind. +The first thing she did was to summon the most renowned nerve +specialists to Melkbridge, where they held a lengthy consultation in +respect of Harold's physical condition. Mavis was anxious to know if +anything could be done to strengthen the slender thread of his life; +she was much distressed to learn that the specialists' united skill +could do nothing to stay the pitiless course of his disease. This +verdict provided a further sorrow for Mavis, which she had to keep +resolutely to herself, inasmuch as she told Harold that the doctors had +spoken most favourably of the chances of his obtaining considerable +alleviation of his physical distresses. +</P> + +<P> +"And then you regret my coming into all this money, when it can do so +much for you," she said, with a fine assumption of cheerfulness. +</P> + +<P> +To get some distraction from her many troubles, Mavis next set about +seeking out all the people who had ever been kind to her in order that +they should benefit from her good fortune. +</P> + +<P> +It did not take her long to discover that Miss Annie Mee was dead; but +for all she and her solicitors were able to do, they could find no +trace of 'Melia. Mavis paid Mr Poulter's debts, gave him a present of a +hundred pounds (endowing the academy he called it), and, in memory of +Miss Nippett, she gave "Turpsichor" two fine new coats of paint. Mavis +also discovered where Miss Nippett was buried, and, finding that the +grave had no headstone, she ordered one. To Mrs Scatchard and her niece +she made handsome presents, and gave Mr Napper a finely bound edition +of the hundred best books; whilst Mr and Mrs Trivett were made +comfortable for life. Mavis was unable to find two people she was +anxious to help. These were the "Permanent" and the "Lil" of Halverton +Street days. One day, clad in shabby garments, she went to Mrs Gowler's +address at New Cross to get news of the former. But the house of evil +remembrance was to let; a woman at the next door house told Mavis that +Mrs Gowler had been arrested and had got ten years for the misdeeds +which the police had at last been able to prove. Mavis went on a +similar errand to Halverton Street, to find that Lil had long since +left and that there was no one in the house who knew of her +whereabouts. She had been lost in one of the many foul undercurrents of +London life. The one remaining person Mavis wished to benefit was Miss +Toombs. For a long time, this independent-minded young woman resisted +the offers that Mavis made her. One day, however, when Miss Toombs was +laid up with acute indigestion, Mavis prevailed on her to accept a +handsome cheque which would enable her to do what she pleased for the +rest of her life, without endangering the happiness she derived from +tea, buttered toast, and hot-water bottles in winter. +</P> + +<P> +"It was unkind of you not to take it before," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Toombs looked stupidly at her benefactor. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I know you want to thank me. Good night," said Mavis, as she put +out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Toombs took it, gripped it, and then turned round with her face to +the wall. The next morning, Mavis received a letter from her in pencil. +In this, she told Mavis that the desire of her life had been for +independence; but that she had held out against taking the money +because she had latterly become jealous of Mavis, owing to Windebank's +lifelong infatuation for her. +</P> + +<P> +In addition to these benefactions, Mavis insisted on repaying Windebank +for all the expense he had been put to for her illness, her child's +funeral, and for her long stay at Swanage. +</P> + +<P> +Thus, Mavis's first concern was to benefit those who had shown her +kindness; whether or not she added to the sum of their individual +happiness is another matter. Mr Poulter, doubtless, thought that dear +Mrs Harold Devitt, while she was about it, might just as well have +gilded "Turpsichor's" head and face. Mrs Scatchard, and particularly +Miss Meakin, were probably resentful that Mavis did not ask them to mix +with her swell friends; whilst Miss Toombs had plenty of time on her +hands in which to indulge in vain regrets because she was not as +attractive and finely formed as Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond these gifts, it was a long time before Mavis could get into the +habit of spending her substance freely, and without thought of whether +she could really afford to part with money; the reason being that, for +so many years in her life, she had had to consider so carefully every +penny she spent, that she found it difficult to break away from these +habits of economy. Late in the year, she moved up from her Melkbridge +place (which she had long since gone into) to the house in town which +Major Perigal had been in the habit of letting, or, if a tenant were +not forthcoming, shutting up. +</P> + +<P> +When she got there with Harold and Jill, she welcomed the distractions +that London life offered, and in which her husband joined so far as his +physical disability would permit. Windebank, to whom Harold took a +great liking, and Lady Ludlow introduced Mavis to their many +acquaintances. In a very short time, Mavis had more dear, devoted +friends than she knew what to do with. The women, who praised her and +her devotion "to a perfect dear of a husband" to her face, would, after +enjoying her hospitality, go away to discuss openly how soon she would +elope with Windebank, or any other man they fancied was paying her +attention. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was not a little surprised by the almost uniform behaviour of the +men who frequented her house. Old or young, rich or impecunious, +directly they perceived how comely Mavis was, and that her husband was +an invalid, did not hesitate to consider her fair game to be bagged as +soon as may be. Looks, manners, veiled words, betrayed their thoughts; +but, somehow, even the hardiest veteran amongst them did not get so far +as a declaration of love. Something in Mavis's demeanour suggested a +dispassionate summing up of their desires and limitations, in which the +latter made the former appear a trifle ridiculous, and restrained the +words that were ever on their tongues. This propensity on the part of +men who, Mavis thought, ought to know better, occasioned her much +disquiet. She confided these tribulations to Lady Ludlow's ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Men are all alike all the world over," remarked the latter, on hearing +Mavis's complaint. "You can't trust 'em further than you can see 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Not all, surely," replied Mavis, thinking of the innocuous young men, +indigenous to Shepherd's Bush, whom she had so often danced with at +"Poulter's." +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow, men in our class of life are all at one on that point. +Directly they see a pretty woman, their one idea is to get hold of her." +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't believe it, unless I'd seen for myself the truth of it." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a great pity all of our sex didn't realise it; but then it would +make the untempted more morally righteous than ever," declared Lady +Ludlow. +</P> + +<P> +"But if a man really and truly loves a woman—" +</P> + +<P> +"That's another story altogether. A woman is always safe with the man +who loves her." +</P> + +<P> +"Because his love is her best protection?" +</P> + +<P> +"Assuredly." +</P> + +<P> +The sudden reflection that Perigal had never really loved her produced, +strangely enough, in Mavis a sharp but short-lived revulsion of feeling +in his favour. On the whole, Mavis's, heart inclined to social gaiety. +To begin with, the constant change afforded by a succession of events +which, although all of a piece, were to her unseasoned senses ever +varying, provided some relief from the remorse and suffering that were +always more or less in possession of her heart. Also, having for all +her life been cut off from the gaieties natural to her age and kind, +her present innocent dissipations were a satisfaction of this long +repressed social instinct. +</P> + +<P> +But, at all times, Windebank's conduct was a puzzle. Although he had +the run of the house, although scarcely a day passed without Mavis +seeing a good deal of him, he never betrayed by word or look the love +which Miss Toombs declared burned within him for Mavis. He had left the +service in order to devote more time to his Wiltshire property, but his +duties seemed to consist chiefly in making himself useful to Mavis or +her husband. Womanlike, Mavis would sometimes try to discover her power +over him, but although no trouble was too great for him to take in +order to oblige her, Mavis's most provoking moods neither weakened his +allegiance nor made him other than his calm, collected self. +</P> + +<P> +"No! Miss Toombs is mistaken," thought Mavis. "He doesn't love me; he +but understands and pities me." +</P> + +<P> +A week before Christmas, Mavis and her husband returned to Melkbridge. +Christmas Day that year fell on a Sunday. Upon the preceding Saturday, +she bade her many Melkbridge acquaintances to the feast. When this was +over, she wished her guests good night and a happy Christmas. After +seeing her husband safely abed and asleep, she set about making +preparations for a project that she had long had in her mind. Going to +her room, she put on the plainest and most inconspicuous hat she could +find; she also donned a long cloak and concealed face and hair in a +thick veil. Unlocking a box, she got out a cross made of holly, which +she concealed under her cloak. Then, after listening to see if the +house were quiet, she went downstairs in her stockings, and carrying +the thick boots she purposed wearing. Arrived at the front door, the +bolts and bars of which she had secretly oiled, she opened this after +putting on her boots, and let herself out into the night. Vigorous +clouds now and again obscured the stars: the world seemed full of a +great peace. Mavis waited to satisfy herself that she had not awakened +anyone in the house; she then struck out in the direction of +Pennington. It was only on the rarest occasions that Mavis could visit +her boy's grave, when she had to employ the greatest circumspection to +avoid being seen. Although since her translation from insignificance to +affluence and local importance, she was remarkably well known in and +about Melkbridge, and although her lightest acts were subjects of +common gossip, she could not let Christmas go by without taking the +risk that a visit to the churchyard at Pennington would entail. Her +greatest fear of detection was in going through the town, but she kept +well under the shadows of the town hall side of the market-place, so +that the policeman, who was there on duty, walking-stick in hand, would +not see her. Once in the comparative security of the Pennington road, +she hurried past dark inanimate cottages and farmsteads, whilst +overhead familiar constellations sprawled in a now clear sky. Several +times on her progress, she fancied that she heard footsteps striking +the hard, firm road behind her, but, whenever she stopped to listen, +she could not hear a sound. Just as she reached the brewery at +Pennington, clouds obscured the stars; she had some difficulty in +picking her way in the darkness. When she got to the churchyard gate, +happily unlocked, it was still so dark that she had to light matches in +order to avoid stumbling on the graves. Even with the help of matches, +it was as much as she could do to find her way to the plain white stone +on which only the initials of her boy and the dates of his birth and +death were recorded. When she got to the grave, the wind had blown out +so many of her matches that she had only four left. One of these she +lit in order to place the holly cross on the grave; she had just time +to put it where she wanted it to lie, when the match went out. She +knelt on the ground, while her heart went out to what was lying so many +feet beneath. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear! my dear!" she cried, but the sound of her own voice +startled her into silence. The cry of her heart was: +</P> + +<P> +"What is all that I have worth without you! How gladly would I give up +my all, if only I could hold you warm and breathing in my arms!" +</P> + +<P> +Then she fell to thinking what a joyous time would be hers at this +season of the year, were her boy alive and if they were going to spend +Christmas together. Pain possessed her; its operation seemed to isolate +her from the world that she had lately known. She breathed an +atmosphere of anguish; the mourning that the presence of those in the +churchyard had caused their loved ones seemed to find expression in her +heart, till, happily, tears eased her pain. +</P> + +<P> +Then she became conscious of the physical discomfort occasioned by +kneeling on the ground in the cold night air. +</P> + +<P> +She got up. In order to take a last look at the grave, she lit another +match. This burned steadily, enabling her to glance about her to see +what companionship her boy possessed on this drear December night. The +feeble match flame intensified the gloom and emphasised the deep, black +quietude of the place. This hamlet of the dead was amazingly remote +from all suggestions of life. It appeared to hug itself for its +complete detachment from human interests. It seemed desolate, alone, +forgotten by the world. As Mavis left its stillness, she thought: +</P> + +<P> +"At least he's found a great peace." +</P> + +<P> +Before Mavis left the churchyard, the stars enabled her to discern her +path. She hastened in the direction of Melkbridge, wondering if her +absence had been discovered. As before, she believed that she was +followed, but strove to think that the footsteps she was all but +certain she heard were the echo of her own. As she hurried through the +town, this impression became a conviction. She was alarmed, and +resolved to find out who it was who had elected to spy upon her +actions. When she came to the place where the road branched off to her +house, she concealed herself in the shadow of the wall. She had not +long to wait. Very soon, the tall upright figure of a man swung into +the road in which she was standing. One glance was enough to tell her +that it was Windebank. As he was about to pass her, he paused as if to +listen. +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you looking for?" asked Mavis, who was anxious to discover +what he was doing out of doors. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see you home," he said coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"If anyone sees us, they will think—" she began. +</P> + +<P> +"We shan't meet anyone. It's not safe for you to be out." +</P> + +<P> +They walked in silence. As he did not express the least surprise at +finding her out alone in the small hours of the morning, Mavis believed +that he had divined her intention of going to Pennington and had hung +about the house till she had come out, when he had followed, all the +way to and from her destination, in order to protect her from harm. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night," he said, as he stopped just before they reached the +nearest lodge gates of her grounds. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night and thank you," replied Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't wish you a very happy Christmas." +</P> + +<P> +"May I wish you one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good night," he answered curtly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap41"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FORTY-ONE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TRIBULATION +</H3> + +<P> +Although, as time went on, Mavis became used to her griefs, and +although she got pleasure from the opulent, cultured atmosphere with +which she was surrounded, she was neither physically nor spiritually +happy. It was not that the mutual love existing between herself and +Harold abated one jot; neither was it that she had lost overmuch of her +old joyousness in nature and life. But there were two voids in her +being (one of which she knew could never be filled) which were the +cause of her distress. A woman of strong domestic instincts, she would +have loved nothing better than to have had one or two children. Owing +to her changed circumstances, maternity would not be associated with +the acute discomforts which she had once experienced. Whenever she +heard of a woman of her acquaintance having a baby, her face would +change, her heart would be charged with a consuming envy. Illustrations +of children's garments in the advertisement columns of women's journals +caused her to turn the page quickly. Whenever little ones visited her, +she would often, particularly if the guest were a boy, furtively hug +him to her heart. Once or twice, on these occasions, she caught +Windebank's eye, when she wondered if he understood her longing. +</P> + +<P> +Her other hunger was for things of the spirit. She was as one adrift +upon a sea of doubt; many havens noticed her signals of distress, but, +despite the arrant display of their attractions, she could not find one +that promised anchorage to which she could completely trust. Her +old-time implicit faith in the existence of a Heavenly Father, who +cared for the sparrows of life, had waned. Whenever the simple belief +recurred to her, as it sometimes did, she would think of Mrs Gowler's, +to shudder and put the thought of beneficent interference with the +things of the world from her mind. +</P> + +<P> +At the same time she could not forget that when there had seemed every +prospect of her being lost in the mire of London, or in the slough of +anguish following upon her boy's death, she had, as if by a miracle, +escaped. +</P> + +<P> +Now and again, she would find herself wondering if, after all, the +barque of her life had been steered by a guiding Hand, which, although +it had taken her over storm-tossed seas and stranded her on lone +beaches, had brought her safely, if troubled by the wrack of the waters +she had passed, into harbour. +</P> + +<P> +Incapable of clear thought, she could arrive at no conclusion that +satisfied her. +</P> + +<P> +At last, she went to Windebank to see if he could help. +</P> + +<P> +"What is one to do if one isn't altogether happy?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Who isn't happy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not altogether." +</P> + +<P> +"You! But you've everything to make you." +</P> + +<P> +"I know. But I'll try and explain." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Why? You don't know what troubles me." +</P> + +<P> +"That's nothing to do with it. All troubles are alike in this respect, +that the only thing to be done is to mend what's wrong. If you can't, +you must make the best of it," he declared grimly. +</P> + +<P> +After this rough-and-ready advice, Mavis felt that it would be futile +to attempt a further explanation of her disquiet. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks; but it isn't so easy as it sounds," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" he remarked, not without a suggestion of sarcasm in his +exclamation. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +About this time, Mavis saw a good deal of Perigal. He rented from her +husband the farm that Harold had purchased soon after his marriage, and +in which he had purposed living. Perigal had long since spent the ten +thousand pounds he had inherited from his mother; he was now living on +the four hundred a year his wife possessed. If anything, Mavis +encouraged his frequent visits; his illuminating comments on men and +things took her out of herself; also, if the truth be told, Mavis's +heart held resentment against the man who had played so considerable a +part in her life. Whenever Mavis was in London, the sight of a fallen +woman always fed this dislike; she reflected that, but for the timely +help she had enjoyed, she might have been driven to a like means of +getting money if her child had been in want. Another thing that urged +her against Perigal was that she constantly noticed how negligently +many of the married women of her acquaintance interpreted their wifely +duties, and, in most cases, to husbands who had dowered their mates +with affection and worldly goods. She reflected that, by all the laws +of justice, Perigal should have appreciated to the full the treasure of +love and passion which she had poured out so lavishly at his feet. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal, all unconscious of the way in which Mavis regarded him, went +out of his way to pay her attention. +</P> + +<P> +One summer afternoon, while Harold rested indoors, Mavis gave Perigal +tea beneath the shade of a witch-elm on the lawn. She was looking +particularly alluring; if she were at all doubtful of this fact, the +admiration expressed in Perigal's eyes would have reassured her. They +had been talking lightly, brightly, each in secret pursuing the bent of +their own feelings for the other, when the spectre of Mavis's spiritual +troublings blotted out the sunlight and the brilliant gladness of the +summer afternoon. She was silent for awhile, presently to be aware that +Perigal's eyes were fixed on her face. She looked towards him, at which +he sighed deeply. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you happy?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"How can I be?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've everything you want in life." +</P> + +<P> +"Have I? Since when?" +</P> + +<P> +"The day you married." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot!" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can tell you after all that" (here he caught Mavis's eye)—"after +we've been such friends—as far as I'm concerned, my marriage has been +a ghastly failure." +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't tell me that," declared Mavis, to whom the news brought a +secret joy. +</P> + +<P> +"I can surely tell you after—after we've been such dear friends. But +we don't hit it off at all. I can't stick Vic at any price." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! She's pretty and charming. Everyone who knows her says the +same." +</P> + +<P> +"When they first know her; then they think no end of a lot of her; but +after a time everyone's 'off' her, although they haven't spotted the +reason." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Unfortunately, that's been my privilege. Vic has enough imagination to +tell her to do the right thing and all that; but otherwise, she's +utterly, constitutionally cold." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! She must have sympathy to 'do the right thing,' as you call +it." +</P> + +<P> +"Not necessarily. Hers comes from the imagination, as I told you; but +her graceful tact chills one in no time. I might as well have married +an icicle." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," remarked Mavis, saying what was untrue. +</P> + +<P> +"And then Vic has a conventional mind: it annoys me awfully. +Conventions are the cosmetics of morality." +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you read that?" +</P> + +<P> +"And these conventions, that are the rudiments of what were once +full-blooded necessities, are most practised by those who have the +least call for their protection. Pity me." +</P> + +<P> +"I do." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal's eyes brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm unhappy too," said Mavis, after a pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Not really?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wondered if you would help me." +</P> + +<P> +"Try me." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal's eyes glittered, a manifestation which Mavis noticed. +</P> + +<P> +"You know how you used to laugh at my belief in Providence." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that how you want me to help?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you will." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal's face fell. +</P> + +<P> +"Fire away," he said, as he lit a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis told him something of her perplexities. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see things clearly. I want to find out exactly where I am. +Everything's so confusing and contradictory. I shan't be really happy +till I know what I really and truly believe." +</P> + +<P> +"How can I help you? You have to believe what you do believe." +</P> + +<P> +"But why do I believe what I do believe?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because you can't help yourself. Your present condition of mind is the +result of all you have experienced in your existence acting upon the +peculiar kind of intelligence with which your parents started you in +life. Take my advice, don't worry about these things. If you look them +squarely in the face, you only come to brutal conclusions. Life's a +beastly struggle to live, and then, when subsistence is secured, to be +happy. It's nature's doing; it sees to it that we're always sharpening +our weapons." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not speak for a few moments; when she did, it was to say: +</P> + +<P> +"I can't understand how I escaped." +</P> + +<P> +"From utter disaster?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Scarcely that." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope not, indeed. But you were a fool not to write to me and let me +have it for my selfishness. But I take it that at the worst you'd have +written, when, of course, I should have done all I could." +</P> + +<P> +"All?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—all I reasonably could." +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't thinking so much of that," said Mavis. "What I can't +understand is why I've dropped into all this good fortune, even if it's +at your expense." +</P> + +<P> +"You owe it to the fact of your being your father's daughter and that +he was friendly with the pater. Next, you must thank your personality; +but the chief thing was that you are your father's daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"And I often and often wished I'd been born a London shop-girl, so that +I should never long for things that were then out of my reach. So there +was really something in my birth after all." +</P> + +<P> +"I should jolly well think there was. It's no end of an asset. But to +go back to what we were talking about." +</P> + +<P> +"About nature's designs to make us all fight for our own?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Look at yourself. You're now ever so much harder than you were." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you surprised?" she asked vehemently, as she all but betrayed her +hatred. +</P> + +<P> +"It's really a good thing from your point of view. It's made you more +fitted to take your own part in the struggle." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, those who injured me were the strong preying on the weak?" she +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the unalterable law of life. It's a disagreeable one, but it's +true. It's the only way the predominance of the species is assured." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll have a cigarette," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"One of mine?" +</P> + +<P> +"One of my own, thanks." +</P> + +<P> +"You're very unkind to me," said Perigal. +</P> + +<P> +"In not taking your cigarette?" +</P> + +<P> +"You ignore everything that's been between us. You look on me as +heartless, callous; you don't make allowances." +</P> + +<P> +"For what?" +</P> + +<P> +"My cursed temperament. No one knows better than I what a snob I am at +heart. When you were poor, I did not value you. Now—" +</P> + +<P> +"Now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can you ask?" +</P> + +<P> +A joy possessed Mavis's heart; she felt that her moment of triumph was +near. +</P> + +<P> +Perigal went on: +</P> + +<P> +"Still, I deserve all I get, and that's so rare in life that it's +something in the nature of an experience." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not speak. She was hoping no one would come to interrupt them. +</P> + +<P> +"There's one thing you might have told me about," he went on. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +Perigal dropped his eyes as he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Someone who died." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis's heart was pitiless. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I?" +</P> + +<P> +"He was mine as much as yours. There are several things I want to know. +And if it were the last word I utter, all that happened over that has +'hipped' me more than anything." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall tell you nothing," declared Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"I've a right to know." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, no. You left me to fight alone; it was all so terrible, I +daren't think of it more than I can help." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"There are no 'buts,' no anything. I bore the sorrow alone, and I shall +keep to myself all the tenderness that remains: nothing can ever alter +it." +</P> + +<P> +"You say that as if you hated me. Don't do that, little Mavis. I love +you more than I do my mean selfish self." +</P> + +<P> +"You love me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I do now. I wanted you to know. Once or twice, I hoped—never mind +what. But from the way you said what you said just now, I see it's +utterly 'off.'" +</P> + +<P> +"You never said anything truer. And do you know why?" she asked with +flaming eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I left you in the lurch?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not altogether that, but because you were a coward, and, above all, a +fool, in the first place. I know what I was. I see what other women +are, and it makes me realise my value. I realise my value as, if you'd +married me, I'd have faced death, anything with you. Pretty women with +a few brains who'll stick to a man are rather scarce nowadays. But it +wasn't good enough for you: you wouldn't take the risk. You've no—no +stuffing. That is why, if you and I were left alone in the world +together for the rest of our lives, I should never do anything but +despise you." +</P> + +<P> +Perigal's face went white. He bit his thin lips. Then he smiled as he +said: +</P> + +<P> +"Retributive justice." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to be so candid. But it's what I've been thinking for +months. I've only waited for an opportunity to say it." +</P> + +<P> +"We've both scored," he said. "You can't take away what you've given, +and that's a lot to be thankful for—but—but—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm dependent for my bread and butter on a woman who bores me to +death, and have to look to a family for any odd jobs I may get—a +family that, whatever they may do for me, I should always despise. +That, and because I see what a fool I've been to lose you, is where +you've scored." +</P> + +<P> +As he strolled away, wondering how Mavis could be so indifferent to him +after all that had happened, she did not trouble to glance after his +retreating form. +</P> + +<P> +Henceforth, Mavis was left much to herself. Perigal avoided her; whilst +Windebank, about this time, to her annoyance, discontinued his frequent +visits. Having so much time on her hands, Mavis returned to her old +prepossessions about the why and wherefore of the varied happenings in +her life. +</P> + +<P> +Looking back, she found that her loving trust, her faith in her lover, +her girlish innocence of the ways of sensual men had been chiefly +responsible for her griefs; that it was indeed, as Perigal said, that +she in her weakness had been preyed upon by the strong. Thus, it +followed that girlish confidence in the loved one's word, the primal +instinct of abnegation of self to the adored one, whole-hearted +faith—all these characteristics (which were above price) of a loving +heart were in the nature of a handicap in the struggle for happiness. +It also followed that a girl thus equipped would be at a great +disadvantage in rivalry with one who was cold, selfish, calculating. +Mavis shuddered as she reached this conclusion. +</P> + +<P> +Her introspections were interrupted by an event that, for the time, put +all such thoughts from her mind. +</P> + +<P> +One morning, upon going into Harold's room, she found that he did not +recognise her. The local doctor, who usually attended him, was called +in; he immediately asked for another opinion. This being obtained from +London, the remedies the specialist prescribed proved so far beneficial +that the patient dimly recovered the use of his senses, with the faint +promise of further improvement if the medical instructions were obeyed +to the letter. Then followed for Mavis long, scarcely endurable night +watches, which were so protracted that often it seemed as if the hand +of time had stopped, as if darkness for ever enshrouded the world. +When, at last, day came, she would make an effort to snatch a few +hours' sleep in order to fit her for the next night's attendance on the +loved one. The shock of her husband's illness immediately increased her +faith in Divine Providence. It was as if her powerlessness in the face +of this new disaster were such that she relied on something more than +human aid to give her help. Always, before she tried to sleep, she +prayed long and fervently to the Most High that He would restore her +beloved husband to comparative health; that He would interfere to +arrest the fell disease with which he was afflicted. She prayed as a +mother for a child, sick unto death. At the back of her mind she had +formed a resolution that, if her prayer were answered, she would +believe in God for the rest of her life with all her old-time fervour. +She dared not voice this resolve to herself; she believed that, if she +did so, it would be in the nature of a threat to the Almighty; also, +she feared that, if her husband got worse, it would be consequently +incumbent on her to lose the much needed faith in things not of this +world. Thus, when Mavis knelt she poured out her heart in supplication. +She was not only praying for her husband but for herself. +</P> + +<P> +But Mavis's prayer was unheard. Her husband steadily got worse. One +night, when the blackness of the sky seemed as a pall thrown over the +corpse of her hopes, she took up a chance magazine, in which some +verses, written to God by an author, for whose wide humanity Mavis had +a great regard, attracted her. +</P> + +<P> +The substance of these lines was a complaint of His pitiless disregard +of the world's sorrow. One phrase particularly attracted her: it was +"His unweeting way." +</P> + +<P> +"That is it," thought Mavis. "That expresses exactly what I feel. There +is, there must be, a God, but His ways are truly unweeting. He has seen +so much pain that He has got used to it and grown callous." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap42"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FORTY-TWO +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WELL-BELOVED +</H3> + +<P> +One morning, when Mavis was leaving Harold, she was recalled by one of +the nurses. He had signalled that he wished to see her again. Upon +Mavis hastening to his side, he tried to speak, but could not. His eyes +seemed to smile a last farewell till unconsciousness possessed him. +</P> + +<P> +As before, Mavis called in the most expensive medical advice, which +told her that nothing could be done. It appeared that Harold's spine +had commenced to curve in such a manner that his lungs were seriously +affected. It was only a question of months before the slight thread, by +which his life hung, would be snapped. Mavis knew of many cases in +which enfeebled lungs had been bolstered up for quite a long time by a +change to suitable climates; she was eager to know if the same held +good in her husband's case. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes," said the great specialist. "There were parts of South Africa +where the veld air was so rarefied that a patient with scarcely any +lung at all might live for several years. But—" +</P> + +<P> +"But what?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"If I may say so, he will never be other than what he now is. Would it +be advisable to prolong—?" +</P> + +<P> +The expression on Mavis's face stopped him short in the middle of his +question. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, if you've decided to send him, it's quite another matter," +he went on. "In that case, you cannot be too careful in seeing he has +the most reliable attendants procurable." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis hesitated the fraction of a second before replying: +</P> + +<P> +"I should go with him." +</P> + +<P> +It needed only that brief moment for Mavis to make up her mind. She +would do her utmost to prolong her husband's life; she would accompany +him wherever he went to obtain this end. +</P> + +<P> +In making this last resolve, Mavis knew well the trials and discomforts +to which she would expose herself. Her well-ordered days, her present +existence, which seemed to run on oiled wheels, the friends and +refinements with which she had surrounded herself, the more +particularly appealed to her when contrasted with the lean years of her +earlier life. Her days of want, joined to her natural inclinations, had +created a hunger for the good things of the earth, which her present +opulence had not yet stayed. She still held out her hands to grasp the +beautiful, satisfying things which money, guided by a mind of some +force and a natural refinement, can buy. Therefore, it was a +considerable sacrifice for Mavis to give up the advantage she not only +possessed, but keenly appreciated, to tend a man who was a physical and +mental wreck, in a part of the world remote from civilising influences. +But, together with her grief for the loss of her boy, there lived in +her heart an immense and ineradicable remorse for having married her +husband from motives of revenge against his family. +</P> + +<P> +Harold's living faith in her goodness kept these regrets green; +otherwise, the kindly hand of time would have rooted them from her +heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you believe?" Mavis had once asked of her husband on a day when she +had been troubled by things of the spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"In you," he had replied, which was all she could get from him on the +subject. +</P> + +<P> +His reply was typical of the whole-hearted reverence with which he +regarded her. +</P> + +<P> +Mavis believed that to tend her husband in the land where existence +might prolong his life would be some atonement for the deception she +had practised. When she got a further eminent medical opinion, which +confirmed the previous doctor's diagnosis, she set about making +preparations for the melancholy journey. These took her several times +to London; they proved to be of a greater magnitude than she had +believed to be possible. +</P> + +<P> +When driving to a surgical appliance manufacturer on one of these +visits, she saw an acquaintance of her old days playing outside a +public house. It was Mr Baffy, the bass viol player, who was fiddling +his instrument as helplessly as ever, while he stared before him with +vacant eyes. Mavis stopped her cab, went up to his bent form and put a +sovereign into his hand as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember me?" +</P> + +<P> +The vacant manner in which his eyes stared into hers told Mavis that he +had forgotten her. +</P> + +<P> +When Mavis's friends learned of her resolution, they were unanimous in +urging her to reconsider what they called her Quixotic fancy. Lady +Ludlow was greatly concerned at losing her friend for an indefinite +period; she pointed out the uselessness of the proceeding; she +endeavoured to overwhelm Mavis's obstinacy in the matter with a torrent +of argument. She may as well have talked to the Jersey cows which +grazed about Mavis's house, for any impression she produced. After a +while, Mavis's friends, seeing, that she was determined, went their +several ways, leaving her to make her seemingly endless preparations in +peace. +</P> + +<P> +Alone among her friends, Windebank had not contributed to the appeals +to Mavis with reference to her leaving England with her husband: for +all this forbearing to express an opinion, he made himself useful to +Mavis in the many preparations she was making for her departure and +stay in South Africa. So ungrudgingly did he give his time and +assistance, that Mavis undervalued his aid, taking it as a matter of +course. +</P> + +<P> +Three days before it was arranged that Mavis should leave Southampton +with Harold, her resolution faltered. The prospect of leaving her home, +which she had grown to love, increased its attractions a thousand-fold. +The familiar objects about her, some of which she had purchased, had +enabled her to sustain her manifold griefs. Cattle in the stables (many +of which were her dear friends), with the passage of time had become +part and parcel of her lot. A maimed wild duck, which she had saved +from death, waited for her outside the front door, and followed her +with delighted quacks when she walked in the gardens. All of these +seemed to make their several appeals, as if beseeching her not to leave +them to the care of alien hands. Her dearly loved Jill she was taking +with her. Another deprivation that she would keenly feel would be the +music her soul loved. Whenever she was assailed by her remorseless +troubles in London, she would hasten, if it were possible, to either +the handiest and best orchestral concert, or a pianoforte recital where +Chopin was to be played. The loneliness, sorrowings, and longings of +which the master makers of music (and particularly the consumptive +Pole) were eloquent, found kinship with her own unquiet thoughts, and +companionship is a notorious assuager of griefs. +</P> + +<P> +Physical, and particularly mental illness, was hateful to her. If the +truth be told, it was as much as she could do to overcome the +repugnance with which her husband's presence often inspired her, +despite the maternal instinct of which her love for Harold was, for the +most part, composed. In going with him abroad, she was, in truth, +atoning for any wrong she may have done him. +</P> + +<P> +Two days later, Mavis occupied many hours in saying a last farewell to +her home. It was one of the October days which she loved, when +milk-white clouds sailed lazily across the hazy blue peculiar to the +robust ripe age of the year. This time of year appealed to Mavis, +because it seemed as if its mellow wisdom, born of experience, +corresponded to a like period in the life of her worldly knowledge. The +prize-bred Jersey cows grazed peacefully in the park grounds. Now and +again, she would encounter an assiduous bee, which was taking advantage +of the fineness of the day to pick up any odds and ends of honey which +had been overlooked by his less painstaking brethren. Mavis, with heavy +heart, visited stables, dairies, poultry-runs. These last were well at +the back of the house; beyond them, the fields were tipped up at all +angles; they sprawled over a hill as if each were anxious to see what +was going on in the meadow beneath it. Followed by Jill and Sally, her +lame duck, Mavis went to the first of the hill-fields, where geese, +scarcely out of their adolescence, clamoured about her hands with their +soothing, self-contented piping. Even the fierce old gander, which was +the terror of stray children and timid maid-servants, deigned to notice +her with a tolerant eye. Mavis sighed and went indoors. +</P> + +<P> +Just before tea, she was standing at a window sorrowfully watching the +sun's early retirement. The angle of the house prevented her from +seeing her favourite cows, but she could hear the tearing sound their +teeth made as they seized the grass. +</P> + +<P> +She had seen nothing of her friends (even including Windebank) for the +last few days. They had realised that she was not to be stopped from +going on what they considered to be her mad enterprise, and had given +her up as a bad job. No one seemed to care what became of her; it was +as if she were deserted by the world. A sullen anger raged within her; +she would not acknowledge to herself that much of it was due to +Windebank's latent defection. She longed to get away and have done with +it; the suspense of waiting till the morrow was becoming intolerable. +As the servants were bringing in tea, Mavis could no longer bear the +confinement of the house; she hurried past the two men to go out of the +front door. +</P> + +<P> +She walked at random, going anywhere so long as she obeyed the passion +for movement which possessed her. Some way from the house, she chanced +upon Windebank, who was standing under a tree. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you here?" she asked, as she stood before him. +</P> + +<P> +"I was making up my mind." +</P> + +<P> +"What about?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I should see you again." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't. Do you hear? You needn't," she said passionately. He +looked at her surprised. She went on: +</P> + +<P> +"Everyone's forgotten me and doesn't care one bit what becomes of me. +You're the worst of all." +</P> + +<P> +"I?" +</P> + +<P> +"You. They're honest and stay away. You, in your heart, don't wish to +trouble to say good-bye, but you haven't the pluck to act up to your +wishes. I hate you!" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Mavis—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't call me that. You haven't the courage of your convictions. I +hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I wish I'd never seen you. Be honest +and go away and leave me." +</P> + +<P> +"No!" cried Windebank, as he seized her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right! Strike me!" cried Mavis, reckless of what she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to be honest at last and tell you something," he declared. +</P> + +<P> +"More insults!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is an insult this time, but all the same you'll hear it." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was a little awed by the resolution in his face and manner. He +went on now a trifle hoarsely: +</P> + +<P> +"Little Mavis, I love you more than I ever believed it possible for man +to love woman. I've tried to forget you, but I want you more and more." +</P> + +<P> +"How—how dare you!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I love you. And because I do, I've fought against seeing you; +but as you've come to me and you're going away to-morrow, I must tell +you." +</P> + +<P> +Mavis was less resentful of his words; she resisted an inclination to +tremble violently. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't go," urged Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"Abroad. Don't go and leave me. I love you." +</P> + +<P> +"How can you! Harold was your friend." +</P> + +<P> +"My enemy. He took you from me when I was sure of you; my enemy, I tell +you. Oh, little Mavis, let me make you happy. You can do no good going +with him, so why not stay? I'd give my life to hold you in my arms, and +I know I'd make you happy." +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't; you mustn't," murmured Mavis, as she strove to believe +that his words and the grasp of his hand on her arm did not minister to +the repressed, but, none the less ardent longings of her being. +</P> + +<P> +"I must. I tell you I haven't been near a woman since I struck you +again in Pimlico, and all for love of you. I've waited. Now, I'll get +you." +</P> + +<P> +Windebank placed his arms about her and kissed her lips, eyes, and hair +many, many times. Then he held her at arm's length, while his eyes +looked fixedly into hers. +</P> + +<P> +A delicious inertia stole over Mavis's senses. He had only to kiss her +again for her to fall helplessly into his arms. +</P> + +<P> +Although she realised the enormity of his offence, something within her +seemed to impel her to wind her arm about his neck and draw his lips to +hers. Instead, she summoned all her resolution; striking him full in +the face, she freed herself to run quickly from him. As she ran, she +strove to hide from herself that, in her inmost heart, she was longing +for him to overtake her, seize her about the body, and carry her off, +as might some primeval man, to some lair of his own, where he would +defend her with his life against any who might seek to disturb her +peace. +</P> + +<P> +But Windebank did not follow her. That night she sobbed herself to +sleep. The next morning, Mavis left with Harold for Southampton. +</P> + +<P> +Many months later, Mavis, clad in black, stood, with Jill at her side, +on the deck of a ship that was rapidly steaming up Southampton water. +Her eyes were fixed on the place where they told her she would land. +The faint blurs on the landing pier gradually assumed human shape; one +on which she fixed her eyes became suspiciously like Windebank. When +she could no longer doubt that he was waiting to greet her, she went +downstairs to her cabin, to pin a bright ribbon on her frock. When he +joined her on the steamer, neither of them spoke for a few moments. +</P> + +<P> +"I got your letter from—" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say anything about it," she interrupted. "I know you're sorry, +but I'd rather not talk of it." +</P> + +<P> +Windebank turned his attentions to Jill, to say presently to Mavis: +</P> + +<P> +"Are you staying here or going on?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I think I'll stay a little. And you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll stay too, if you've no objection." +</P> + +<P> +"I should like it." +</P> + +<P> +Windebank saw to the luggage and drove Mavis to the barrack-like +South-Western Hotel; then, after seeing she had all she wanted, he went +to his own hotel to dress for his solitary dinner. He had scarcely +finished this meal when he was told that a lady wished to speak to him +on the telephone. She proved to be Mavis, who said: +</P> + +<P> +"If you've nothing better to do, come and take me out for some air." +</P> + +<P> +The next few days, they were continually together, when they would +mostly ramble by the old-world fortifications of the town. During all +this time, neither of them made any mention of events in the past in +which they were both concerned. +</P> + +<P> +One evening, an unexpected shower of rain disappointed Windebank's +expectation of seeing Mavis after dinner. He telephoned to her, saying +that, after coming from a hot climate, she must not trust herself out +in the wet. +</P> + +<P> +He was cursing the weather and wondering how he would get through the +evening without her, when a servant announced that a lady wished to see +him. The next moment, Mavis entered his sitting-room. He noticed that +she had changed her black frock for one of brighter hue. +</P> + +<P> +"Why have you come?" he asked, when the servant had gone. +</P> + +<P> +"To see you. Don't you want me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but—" +</P> + +<P> +"Then sit down and talk; or rather don't. I want to think." +</P> + +<P> +"You could have done that better alone." +</P> + +<P> +"I want to think," she repeated. +</P> + +<P> +They sat for some time in silence, during which Windebank longed to +take her in his arms and shower kisses on her lips. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, when she got up to leave, she found so much to say that she +continually put off going. At last, when they were standing near the +door, Mavis put her face provokingly near his. He bent, meaning to kiss +her hair, but instead his lips fell on hers. +</P> + +<P> +To his surprise, Mavis covered his mouth with kisses. Windebank's eyes +expressed astonishment, while his arm gripped her form. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me; forgive me," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" he gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been a brute, a beast, and you've never once complained." +</P> + +<P> +"Dearest!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's true enough; too true. All your life you've given me love, and +all I've given you are doubts and misunderstandings. But I'll atone, +I'll atone now. I'm yours to do what you will with, whenever you +please, now, here, if you wish it. You needn't marry me; I won't bind +you down; I only ask you to be kind to me for a little, I've suffered +so much." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean—you mean—" +</P> + +<P> +"That you've loved me so long and so much that I can only reward you by +giving you myself." +</P> + +<P> +She opened her arms. He looked at her steadily for a while, till, with +a great effort, he tore himself from her presence and left the room. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, Mavis received a letter from Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +"My own dearest love," it ran, "don't think me a mug for leaving you +last night as I did, but I love you so dearly that I want to get you +for life and don't wish to run any risk of losing what I treasure most +on earth. I am making arrangements so that we can get married at the +very earliest date, which I believe is three days from now. And then—" +</P> + +<P> +Mavis did not read any more just then. +</P> + +<P> +"When and where you please," she scribbled on the first piece of paper +she could find. Lady Ludlow's words occurred to her as she sent off her +note by special messenger: "A woman is always safe with the man who +loves her." +</P> + +<P> +Three days later, Windebank and Mavis were made man and wife. For all +Windebank's outward impassivity, Mavis noticed that, when he put the +ring on her finger, his hand trembled so violently that he all but +dropped it. Directly the wedding was over, Windebank and Mavis got into +the former's motor, which was waiting outside the church. +</P> + +<P> +"At last!" said Windebank, as he sat beside his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Where next?" asked Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"To get Jill and your things and then we'll get away." +</P> + +<P> +"Where to? I hope it's right away, somewhere peaceful in the country." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll go on till you come to a place you like." +</P> + +<P> +They went west. They had lunched in high spirits at a wayside inn, +which took Mavis's fancy, to continue travelling till the late +afternoon, when the machine came to a dead stop. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to camp in a ditch," said Mavis. +</P> + +<P> +"How you'd curse me if we had to!" said her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be heaven with you," she declared. +</P> + +<P> +Windebank reverently kissed her. +</P> + +<P> +He saw that the car wanted spirit, which he learned could be bought at +a village a short way ahead. Mavis and Jill accompanied Windebank to +the general shop where petrol was sold. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't let you out of my sight," she said, as they set out. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"You might run off." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. By the time they reached the shop, Mavis had quite emerged +from the sobriety of her demeanour to become an approximation to her +old light-hearted self. +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I love to see you," remarked Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +When they entered the shop, Mavis' face fell. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" he asked, all concern for his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you smell paraffin?" +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It takes me back to Pimlico—that night when we went shopping +together—you bought me a shilling's worth." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish someone would come; then we'd get out of it," remarked +Windebank. +</P> + +<P> +But his wife did not appear to listen; she was lost in thought. Then +she clung desperately to his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he asked tenderly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's love I want; love. Nothing else matters. Love me: love me: love +me. A little love will help me to forget." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sparrows, by Horace W. C. Newte + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPARROWS *** + +***** This file should be named 4345-h.htm or 4345-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/4/4345/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version 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: Sparrows + The Story of an Unprotected Girl + +Author: Horace W. C. Newte + +Posting Date: August 1, 2009 [EBook #4345] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 22, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPARROWS *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +SPARROWS + +THE STORY OF AN UNPROTECTED GIRL + + +by + +Horace W. C. Newte + + + + +CONTENTS + + ONE THE DEVITTS + TWO MAVIS KEEVES + THREE FRIENDS IN NEED + FOUR MAVIS LEAVES HER NEST + FIVE BARREN WAYS + SIX "DAWES" + SEVEN WIDER HORIZONS + EIGHT SPIDER AND FLY + NINE AWING + TEN "POULTER'S" + ELEVEN MAVIS'S PRAYER + TWELVE MRS HAMILTON'S + THIRTEEN MAVIS GOES OUT TO SUPPER + FOURTEEN THE SEQUEL + FIFTEEN A GOOD SAMARITAN + SIXTEEN SURRENDER + SEVENTEEN SPRINGTIME + EIGHTEEN CHARLIE PERIGAL + NINETEEN THE MOON GODDESS + TWENTY THE WAY OF ALL FLESH + TWENTY-ONE THE AWAKENING + TWENTY-TWO O LOVE, FOR DELIGHTS! + TWENTY-THREE THE CURSE OF EVE + TWENTY-FOUR SNARES + TWENTY-FIVE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE + TWENTY-SIX TRAVAIL + TWENTY-SEVEN THE NURSING HOME + TWENTY-EIGHT MISS 'PETT'S APOTHEOSIS + TWENTY-NINE THE ORDEAL + THIRTY THE "PERMANENT" + THIRTY-ONE PIMLICO + THIRTY-TWO MISS TOOMBS REVEALS HERSELF + THIRTY-THREE AN OLD FRIEND + THIRTY-FOUR MAVIS GOES TO MELKBRIDGE + THIRTY-FIVE THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW + THIRTY-SIX A VISIT + THIRTY-SEVEN MAVIS AND HAROLD + THIRTY-EIGHT MAVIS'S REVENGE + THIRTY-NINE A SURPRISE + FORTY A MIDNIGHT WALK + FORTY-ONE TRIBULATION + FORTY-TWO THE WELL-BELOVED + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +THE DEVITTS + + +Everyone at Melkbridge knew the Devitts: they lived in the new, +pretentious-looking house, standing on the right, a few minutes after +one left the town by the Bathminster road. It was a blustering, +stare-one-in-the-face kind of house, which defied one to question the +financial stability of its occupants. The Devitts were like their home +in being new, ostentatious folk; their prosperity did not extend +further back than the father of Montague, the present head of the +family. + +Montague Devitt did little beyond attending board meetings of the +varied industries which his father's energy had called into being. He +was a bluff, well-set-up man, who had married twice; both of his wives +had brought him money. Each time Montague chose a mate, he had made +some effort to follow the leanings of his heart; but money not lying in +the same direction as love, an overmastering instinct of his blood had +prevailed against his sentimental inclinations; in each case it had +insisted on his marrying, in one instance an interest in iron works, in +another, a third share of a Portland cement business. + +His first wife had borne him two sons and a daughter; his second was +childless. + +Montague was a member of two or three Bohemian clubs in London, to +which, as time went on, he became increasingly attached. At these, he +passed as a good fellow, chiefly from a propensity to stand drinks to +any and everyone upon any pretence; he was also renowned amongst his +boon companions for his rendering of "The Village Blacksmith" in dumb +show, a performance greeted by his thirsty audience with thunders of +applause. + +Harold, his first born, will be considered later. + +Lowther, his second son, can be dismissed in a few words. He was a +good-looking specimen of the British bounder. His ideas of life were +obtained from the "Winning Post," and the morality (or want of it) +suggested by musical comedy productions at the Gaiety Theatre. He +thought coarsely of women. While spending money freely in the society +of ladies he met at the Empire promenade, or in the Cafe d' l'Europe, +he practised mean economics in private. + +Victoria, Montague's daughter, was a bit of a puzzle to friends and +relations alike, all of whom commenced by liking her, a sentiment +which, sooner or later, gave place to a feeling of dissatisfaction. She +was a disappointment to her father, although he would never admit it to +himself; indeed, if he had tried to explain this displeasure, he would +have been hard put to it to give a straightforward cause for a +distressing effect. On first acquaintance, it would seem as if she were +as desirable a daughter as heart of father could want. She was tall, +good-looking, well educated; she had abundance of tact, +accomplishments, and refinement; she had never given her parents a +moment of anxiety. What, then, was wrong with her from her father's +point of view? He was well into middle age; increasing years made him +yearn for the love of which his life had been starved; this craving +would have been appeased by love for his daughter, but the truth was +that he was repelled by the girl's perfection. She had never been known +to lose her temper; not once had she shown the least preference for any +of the eligible young men of her acquaintance; although always +becomingly dressed, she was never guilty of any feminine foibles, which +would have endeared her to her father. To him, such correctness +savoured of inhumanity; much of the same feeling affected the girl's +other relatives and friends, to the ultimate detriment of their esteem. + +Hilda, Montague's second wife, was the type of woman that successful +industrialism turns out by the gross. Sincere, well-meaning, narrow, +homely, expensively but indifferently educated, her opinion on any +given subject could be predicted; her childlessness accentuated her +want of mental breadth. She read the novels of Mrs Humphry Ward; she +was vexed if she ever missed an Academy; if she wanted a change, she +frequented fashionable watering-places. She was much exercised by the +existence of the "social evil"; she belonged to and, for her, +subscribed heavily to a society professing to alleviate, if not to +cure, this distressing ailment of the body politic. She was the +honorary secretary of a vigilance committee, whose operations extended +to the neighbouring towns of Trowton and Devizeton. The good woman was +ignorant that the starvation wages which her husband's companies paid +were directly responsible for the existence of the local evil she +deplored, and which she did her best to eradicate. + +Miss Spraggs, Hilda Devitt's elder sister, lived with the family at +Melkbridge House. She was a virgin with a taste for scribbling, which +commonly took the form of lengthy letters written to those she thought +worthy of her correspondence. She had diligently read every volume of +letters, which she could lay hands on, of persons whose performance was +at all renowned in this department of literature (foreign ones in +translations), and was by way of being an agreeable rattle, albeit of a +pinchbeck, provincial genus. Miss Spraggs was much courted by her +relations, who were genuinely proud of her local literary reputation. +Also, let it be said, that she had the disposal of capital bringing in +five hundred a year. + +Montague's eldest son, Harold, was, at once, the pride and grief of the +Devitts, although custom had familiarised them with the calamity +attaching to his life. + +He had been a comely, athletic lad, with a nature far removed from that +of the other Devitts; he had seemed to be in the nature of a reversion +to the type of gentleman, who, it was said, had imprudently married an +ancestress of Montague's first wife. Whether or not this were so, in +manner, mind, and appearance Harold was generations removed from his +parents and brother. He had been the delight of his father's eye, until +an accident had put an end to the high hopes which his father had +formed of his future. A canal ran through Melkbridge; some way from the +town this narrowed its course to run beneath a footbridge, locally +known as the "Gallows" bridge. + +It was an achievement to jump this stretch of water; Harold Devitt was +renowned amongst the youth of the neighbourhood for the performance of +this feat. He constantly repeated the effort, but did it once too +often. One July morning, he miscalculated the distance and fell, to be +picked up some while after, insensible. He had injured his spine. After +many weeks of suspense suffered by his parents, these learned that +their dearly loved boy would live, although he would be a cripple for +life. Little by little, Harold recovered strength, till he was able to +get about Melkbridge on a self-propelled tricycle; any day since the +year of the accident his kindly, distinguished face might be seen in +the streets of the town, or the lanes of the adjacent country, where he +would pull up to chat with his many friends. + +His affliction had been a terrible blow to Harold; when he had first +realised the permanent nature of his injuries, he had cursed his fate; +his impotent rage had been pitiful to behold. This travail occurred in +the first year of his affliction; later, he discovered, as so many +others have done in a like extremity, that time accustoms the mind to +anything: he was now resigned to his misfortune. His sufferings had +endowed him with a great tolerance and a vast instinct of sympathy for +all living things, qualities which are nearly always lacking in young +men of his present age, which was twenty-nine. The rest of the family +stood in some awe of Harold; realising his superiority of mind, they +feared to be judged at the bar of his opinion; also, he had some +hundreds a year left him, in his own right, by his mother: it was +unthinkable that he should ever marry. Another thing that +differentiated him from his family was that he possessed a sense of +humour. + +It may be as well to state that Harold plays a considerable part in +this story, which is chiefly concerned with a young woman, of whom the +assembled Devitts were speaking in the interval between tea and dinner +on a warm July day. Before setting this down, however, it should be +said that the chief concern of the Devitts (excepting Harold) was to +escape from the social orbit of successful industrialism, in which they +moved, to the exalted spheres of county society. + +Their efforts, so far, had only taken them to certain halfway houses on +their road. The families of consequence about Melkbridge were +old-fashioned, conservative folk, who resented the intrusion in their +midst of those they considered beneath them. + +Whenever Montague, a borough magistrate, met the buffers of the great +families upon the bench, or in the hunting field, he found them civil +enough; but their young men would have little to do with Lowther, while +its womenfolk ignored the assiduities of the Devitt females. + +The drawing-room in which the conversation took place was a large, +over-furnished room, in which a conspicuous object was a picture, most +of which, the lower part, was hidden by padlocked shutters; the portion +which showed was the full face of a beautiful girl. + +The picture was an "Etty," taken in part payment of a debt by +Montague's father, but, as it portrayed a nude woman, the old Puritan +had employed a Melkbridge carpenter to conceal that portion of the +figure which the artist had omitted to drape. Montague would have had +the shutters removed, but had been prevailed upon by his wife to allow +them to remain until Victoria was married, an event which, at present, +she had no justification for anticipating. + +The late afternoon post had brought a letter for Mrs Devitt, which gave +rise to something of a discussion. + +"Actually, here is a letter from Miss Annie Mee," said Mrs Devitt. + +"Your old schoolmistress!" remarked Miss Spraggs. + +"I didn't know she was alive," went on Mrs Devitt. "She writes from +Brandenburg College, Aynhoe Road, West Kensington Park, London, asking +me to do something for her." + +"Of course!" commented the agreeable rattle. + +"How did you know?" asked Mrs Devitt, looking up from the letter she +was reading with the help of glasses. + +"Didn't you know that there are two kinds of letters: those you want +and those that want something?" asked Miss Spraggs, in a way that +showed she was conscious of saying a smart thing. + +"I can hardly believe human nature to be so depraved as you would make +it out to be, Eva," remarked Mrs Devitt, who disliked the fact of her +unmarried sister possessing sharper wits than her own. + +"Oh! I say, is that your own?" guffawed Devitt from his place on the +hearthrug. + +"Why shouldn't it be?" asked Miss Spraggs demurely. + +"Anyway," continued Mrs Devitt impatiently, "she wishes to know if I am +in want of a companion, or anything of that sort, as she has a teacher +she is unable to keep owing to her school having fallen on bad times." + +"Then she's young!" cried Lowther, who was lolling near the window. + +"'Her name is Mavis Keeves; she is the only daughter of the late +Colonel Keeves, who, I believe, before he was overtaken by misfortune, +occupied a position of some importance in the vicinity of Melkbridge,'" +read Mrs Devitt from Miss Annie Mee's letter. + +"Keeves! Keeves!" echoed her husband. + +"Do you remember him?" asked his wife. + +"Of course," he replied. "He was a M.F.H. and knew everyone" (everyone +was here synonymous with the elect the Devitts were pining to meet on +equal terms). "His was Sir Henry Ockendon's place." + +The prospects of Mavis Keeves securing employment with the Devitts had, +suddenly, increased. + +"How was it he came 'down'?" asked the agreeable rattle, keenly +interested in anything having to do with the local aristocracy, past or +present. + +"The old story: speculatin' solicitors," replied Montague, who made a +point of dropping his "g's." "One week saw him reduced from money to +nixes." + +Mrs Devitt raised her eyebrows. + +"I mean nothin'," corrected Devitt. + +"How very distressing!" remarked Victoria in her exquisitely modulated +voice. "We should try and do something for her." + +"We will," said her father. + +"We certainly owe a duty to those who were once our neighbours," +assented Miss Spraggs. + +"Do you remember her?" asked Mrs Devitt of her husband. + +"Of course I do, now I come to think of it," he replied. + +"What was she like?" + +He paused for a moment or two before replying. + +"She'd reddy sort of hair and queer eyes. She was a fine little girl, +but a fearful tomboy," said Devitt. + +"Pretty, then!" exclaimed Mrs Devitt, as she glanced apprehensively at +her step-daughter. + +"She was then. It was her hair that did it," answered her husband. + +"H'm!" came from his wife. + +"The pretty child of to-day is the plain girl of to-morrow" commented +Miss Spraggs. + +"What was her real disposition?" asked Mrs Devitt. + +"I know nothin' about that; but she was always laughin' when I saw her." + +"Frivolous!" commented Mrs Devitt. + +"Perhaps there's more about her in the letter," suggested Lowther, who +had been listening to all that had been said. + +"There is," said his step-mother; "but Miss Mee's writing is very +trying to the eyes." + +Montague took the schoolmistress's letter from his wife's hand. He read +the following in his big, blustering voice: + +"'In all matters affectin' Miss Keeves's educational qualifications, I +find her comme il faut, with the possible exception of freehand +drawing, which is not all that a fastidious taste might desire. Her +disposition is winnin' and unaffected, but I think it my duty to +mention that, on what might appear to others as slight provocation, +Miss Keeves is apt to give way to sudden fits of passion, which, +however, are of short duration. Doubtless, this is a fault of youth +which years and experience will correct.'" + +"Rebellious!" commented Mrs Devitt. + +"Spirit!" said Harold, who all this while had been reclining in his +invalid chair, apparently reading a review. + +Mrs Devitt looked up, as if surprised. + +"After all, everything depends on the point of view," remarked Miss +Spraggs. + +"Is there any more?" asked Harold. + +By way of reply, his father read from Miss Mee's letter: + +"'In conclusion, I am proud to admit that Miss Keeves has derived much +benefit from so many years' association with one who has endeavoured to +influence her curriculum with the writin's of the late Mr Ruskin, whose +acquaintance it was the writer's inestimable privilege to enjoy. With +my best wishes for your welfare, I remain, dear Madam, your obedient +servant, Annie Allpress Mee.' That's all," he added, as he tossed the +letter on to the table at his wife's side. + +"Did she know Ruskin?" asked Harold. + +"When I was at her school--it was then at Fulham--she, or her sister, +never let a day go by without making some reference to him," replied +his step-mother. + +"What are you going to do for Miss Keeves?" asked Harold. + +"It's so difficult to decide off-hand," his step-mother replied. + +"Can't you think of anything, father?" persisted Harold. + +"It's scarcely in my line," answered Montague, glancing at his wife as +he spoke. + +Harold looked inquiringly at Mrs Devitt. + +"It's so difficult to promise her anything till one has seen her," she +remarked. + +"Then why not have her down?" asked Harold. + +"Yes, why not?" echoed his brother. + +"She can get here and back again in a day," added Harold, as his eyes +sought his review. + +"Very well, then, I'll write and suggest Friday," said Mrs Devitt, not +too willingly taking up a pen. + +"You can always wire and put her off, if you want to do anything else," +remarked her sister. + +"Won't you send her her fare?" asked Harold. + +"Is that necessary?" queried Mrs Devitt. + +"Isn't it usual?" + +"I can give it to her when she comes," said Mrs Devitt, who hated +parting with money, although, when it was a question of entertaining +the elect of Melkbridge, she spent her substance lavishly. + +Thus it came about that a letter was written to Miss Annie Mee, +Brandenburg College, Aynhoe Road, West Kensington Park, London, W., +saying that Mrs Devitt would expect Miss Keeves, for an interview, by +the train that left Paddington for Melkbridge at ten on Friday next; +also, that she would defray her third-class travelling expenses. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +MAVIS KEEVES + + +The following Friday morning, Mavis Keeves sprang from bed on waking. +It was late when she had gone to sleep the previous night, for she had +been kept up by the festivities pertaining to breaking-up day at +Brandenburg College, and the inevitable "talk over" the incidents of +the event with Miss Helen and Miss Annie Mee, which conversation had +been prolonged till nearly twelve o'clock; but the excitement of +travelling to the place of her birth, and the certainty of getting an +engagement in some capacity or another (Mavis had no doubt on this +point) were more than enough to curtail her slumbers. She had fallen +asleep laughing to herself at the many things which had appealed to her +sense of humour during the day, and it was the recollection of some of +these which made her smile directly she was awake. She tubbed and +dressed quickly, although she had some bother with her hair, which, +this morning, seemed intent on defying the efforts of her fingers. +Having dressed herself to her somewhat exigent satisfaction, she went +downstairs, passing the doors of those venerable virgins, the Misses +Helen and Annie Mee, as she descended to the ground-floor, on which was +the schoolroom. This was really two rooms, but the folding doors, which +had once divided the apartment, had long since been removed from their +hinges; they were now rotting in the strip of garden behind the house. + +The appearance of Brandenburg College belied its pretentious name. Once +upon a time, its name-plate had decorated the gates of a stately old +mansion in the Fulham of many years ago; here it was that Mrs Devitt, +then Miss Hilda Spraggs, had been educated. Since those fat days, the +name-plate of Brandenburg College had suffered many migrations, always +in a materially downward direction, till now it was screwed on the +railings of a stuffy little road in Shepherd's Bush, which, as Mavis +was in the habit of declaring, was called West Kensington Park for +"short." + +The brass plate, much the worse for wear, told the neighbourhood that +Brandenburg College educated the daughters of gentlemen; perhaps it was +as well that this definition, like the plate, was fallen on hard times, +inasmuch as it was capable of such an elastic interpretation that it +enabled the Misses Mee to accept pupils whom, in their prosperous days, +they would have refused. Mavis looked round the familiar, shabby +schoolroom, with its atmosphere of ink and slate pencil, to which she +was so soon to say "good-bye." + +It looked desolate this morning, perhaps because there leapt to her +fancy the animated picture it had presented the day before, when it had +been filled by a crowd of pupils (dressed in their best), their +admiring parents and friends. + +Yesterday's programme had followed that of all other girls' school +breaking-up celebrations, with the difference that the passages +selected for recital had been wholly culled from the writings of Mr +Ruskin. Reference to the same personage had occurred in the speech to +the prize-winners (every girl in the school had won a prize of sorts) +made by Mr Smiley, the curate, who performed this office; also, the +Misses Mee, when opportunity served, had not been backward in making +copious references to the occasion on which they had drunk tea with the +deceased author. Indeed, the parents and friends had breathed such an +atmosphere of Ruskin that there were eight requests for his works at +the local free library during the following week. + +"Good old Ruskin!" laughed Mavis, as she ran downstairs to the +breakfast room, which was situated in the basement. Here, the only +preparation made for the meal was a not too clean table-cloth spread +upon the table. Mavis went into the kitchen, where she found Amelia, +the general servant, doing battle with a smoky kitchen-fire. + +"How long before breakfast is ready?" asked Mavis. + +"Is that you, miss? Oi can't see you properly," said Amelia, as she +turned her head. "This 'ere smoke had got into my best oye." + +Amelia spoke truly; there was a great difference between the seeing +capacity of her two eyes, one of these being what is known as "walled." +Amelia was an orphan; she had been dragged up by the "Metropolitan +Association for Befriending Young Servants," known to its familiars as +the "Mabys," such designation being formed by the first letter of each +word of the title. Every week, dozens of these young women issued from +the doors of the many branches of this institution, who became, to +their respective mistresses, a source of endless complaint; in times of +domestic stress, one or two of these "generals" had been known to keep +their situations for three months. Amelia was a prodigy of success, a +record in the annals of the society, inasmuch as she had been at +Brandenburg College for two years and a half. She kept her situation +because she was cheap; also, because she did her best to give +satisfaction, as she appreciated the intellectual atmosphere of the +place, which made her hope that she, too, might pick up a few +educational crumbs; moreover, she was able to boast to her intimates, +on the occasions when she visited her parent home, how her two +mistresses could speak four languages, which was certainly true. + +"Wasn't it all beautiful, miss?" asked Amelia, who had listened to +yesterday's entertainment halfway down the stairs leading to the +basement. + +"Wonderful," replied Mavis, as she tied on a kitchen apron, a +preliminary to giving Amelia a helping hand with the breakfast. + +"And the 'reverend'! He did make me laugh when he gave four prizes to +fat Miss Robson, and said she was a good all round girl." + +This joke had not been intentional on Mr Smiley's part; he had been +puzzled by the roar of laughter which had greeted his remark; when he +divined its purport, he was quite willing to take credit for having +deliberately made the sally. + +"You managed to hear that?" asked Mavis. + +"Yes, miss; an' what the 'reverend' said about dear Mr Fuskin. I 'eard +that too." + +"Ruskin," corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee. + +Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss +Keeves, who, noticing the girl's dejection, said: + +"Call him what you like, Amelia. It's only the Miss Mees who're so +particular." + +"Dear gentleman," continued Amelia. "Next to being always with you, +miss, I should like to have been with 'im." + +"I'm afraid you can't even be with me. I have to earn my own living." + +"Yes, miss; but when you marry a rich gentleman, I should like to come +with you as 'general.'" + +"Don't talk nonsense, Amelia." + +"But it ain't, miss; didn't the music master, 'im with the lovely, +long, shiny 'air, promise me a shillin' to give you a note?" + +"Did he?" laughed Mavis. "It's nearly eight: you'd better take in the +breakfast things." + +"Oh, well, if I can't be here, or with you, I'd sooner be with that +dear Mr--" + +"Ruskin, Amelia," interrupted Mavis. "Try and get it right, if only for +once." + +Amelia took no notice of the interruption, but went on, as she dusted +the cups, before putting them on the tray: + +"Dear Mr Fuskin! 'Ow I would have looked after 'im, and 'ow carefully +I'd 'ave counted 'is washing!" + +Punctually, as the clock struck eight, the two Miss Mees entered the +breakfast room; they kissed Mavis on the cheek before sitting down to +the meal. They asked each other and Mavis how they had slept, as was +their invariable custom; but the sensitive, observant girl could not +help noticing that the greetings of her employers were a trifle less +cordial than was their wont. Mavis put down this comparative coldness +to their pride at the success of yesterday's festival. + +To the indifferent observer, the Miss Mees were exactly alike, being +meagre, dilapidated, white-haired old ladies, with the same beaked +noses and receding chins; both wore rusty black frocks, each of which +was decorated with a white cameo brooch; both walked with the same +propitiatory shuffle. They were like a couple of elderly, moulting, +decorous hens who, in spite of their physical disabilities, had +something of a presence. This was obtained from the authority they had +wielded over the many pupils who had passed through their hands. + +Nearer inspection showed that Miss Annie Mee was a trifle stouter than +her sister, if this be not too robust a word to apply to such a wisp of +a woman; that her eyes were kinder and less watery than Helen's; also, +that her face was less insistently marked with lines of care. + +The Miss Mees' dispositions were much more dissimilar than their +appearance. Miss Helen, the elder, loved her home and, in her heart of +hearts, preferred the kitchen to any other part of the house. It was +she who attended to the ordering of the few wants of the humble +household; she arranged the meals, paid the bills, and generally looked +after the domestic economy of the college; she took much pride in the +orderliness of her housekeeper's cupboard, into which Amelia never +dared to pry. In the schoolroom, she received the parents, arranged the +fees and extras, and inflicted the trifling punishment she awarded to +delinquents, which latter, it must be admitted, gave her a faint +pleasure. + +Annie Mee, her sister, had a natural inclination for the flesh-pots of +life. She liked to lie abed on Sunday and holiday mornings; she spread +more butter on her breakfast toast than Helen thought justified by the +slenderness of their resources; she was indulgent to the pupils, and +seized any opportunity that offered of going out for the evening. She +frequented (and had been known to enjoy) entertainments given in +schoolrooms for church purposes she welcomed the theatre or concert +tickets which were sometimes sent her by the father of one of the +pupils (who was behind with his account), when, however paltry the +promised fare, she would be waiting at the door, clad in her faded +garments, a full hour before the public were admitted, in order not to +miss any of the fun. Mavis usually accompanied her on these excursions; +although she was soon bored by the tenth-rate singers and the poor +plays she heard and saw, she was compensated by witnessing the pleasure +Miss Annie Mee got from these sorry dissipations. + +The two sisters' dispositions were alike in one thing: the good works +they unostentatiously performed. The sacrifices entailed by these had +much contributed to their declining fortunes. This unity of purpose did +not stay them from occasionally exchanging embittered remarks when +heated by difference of opinion. + +When they sat down to breakfast, Helen poured out the coffee. + +"What day does the West London Observer come out?" asked Annie, +presently, of Mavis. + +"Friday, I believe." + +"There should be some account of yesterday's proceedings," said Miss +Helen. "The very proper references which Mr Smiley made to our +acquaintance with the late Mr Ruskin are worthy of comment." + +"I have never known the applause to be so hearty as it was yesterday," +remarked Annie, after she had eaten her first piece of toast. + +"What is the matter, Mavis?" asked Miss Helen. + +"A crumb stuck in my throat," replied Mavis, saying what was untrue, as +she bent over her plate. This action was necessary to hide the smile +that rose to her lips and eyes at the recollection of yesterday's +applause, to which Miss Annie had referred. It had amused Mavis to +notice the isolated clapping which followed the execution of an item, +in the programme by a solitary performer; this came from her friends in +the room. The conclusion of a duet would be greeted by two patches of +appreciation; whilst a pianoforte concerto, which engaged sixteen +hands, merged the eight oases of applause into a roar of approval. + +"How do you get to Paddington, Mavis?" asked Miss Helen, after she had +finished her meagre breakfast. + +"From Addison Road," replied Mavis, who was still eating. + +"Wouldn't Shepherd's Bush be better?" asked Annie, who was wondering if +she could find accommodation for a further piece of toast. + +"I always recommend parents to send their daughters from Paddington via +Addison Road," remarked Helen severely. + +"There are more trains from Shepherd's Bush," persisted Annie. + +"Maybe, dear Annie" (when relations between the sisters were strained, +they made use of endearing terms), "but more genteel people live on the +Addison Road connection." + +"But, Helen dear, the class of residence existing upon a line of +railway does not enable a traveller to reach his or her destination the +quicker." + +"I was not aware, dear Annie, that I ever advanced such a proposition." + +"Then there is no reason, dearest Helen, why Mavis shouldn't reach +Paddington by going to Shepherd's Bush." + +"None, beyond the fact that it is decided that she shall travel by way +of Addison Road. Besides, Addison Road is nearer, dear." + +"But the exercise of walking to Shepherd's Bush would do Mavis good +after the fatigues of yesterday, Helen." + +"That is altogether beside the point, dear Annie." + +"I am never listened to," complained her sister angrily. + +"You argue for the sake of talking," replied the other crossly. + +They continued in that strain for some moments, and were still at it +when Mavis went upstairs to put on her hat; here, she gave a last look +at herself in the glass. + +"I wonder if I'll do?" she thought, as she dealt with one or two +strands of tawny coloured hair, which were still inclined to be +rebellious. + +"I wonder if I'll meet anyone who remembers me?" she thought, as she +left the room. + +Downstairs, the two old ladies were awaiting her in the hall. Miss +Helen was full of good advice for the journey, whilst Miss Annie +dangled a packet of sandwiches, "In case dear Mavis should need +refreshment on the way." + +"Thanks so much," said Mavis, as she took the little packet, the +brown-paper covering of which was already grease-stained from the fat +of the sandwiches. + +"Don't fail to remember me to Mrs Devitt," urged Helen. + +"I won't forget," said Mavis. + +"I put salt and mustard in the sandwiches," remarked Annie. + +"Thanks so much," cried Mavis, as she opened the front door. + +"And don't forget to be sure and travel in a compartment reserved for +ladies," quavered Helen. + +"I won't forget; wish me luck," answered Mavis. + +"We do; good-bye," said the two old ladies together. + +Directly the door was closed, Miss Annie, followed at a distance by +Miss Helen, hurried into the schoolroom, where, pulling aside the +Venetian blind of the front window, they watched the girl's trim figure +walk down the street. The two old ladies were really very fond of her +and not a little proud of her appearance. + +"She has deportment," remarked Helen, as Mavis disappeared from their +ken. + +"Scarcely that--distinction is more the word," corrected Annie. + +"I fear for her in the great world," declared Helen with trembling +lips; "they say that good looks are a girl's worst enemy." + +"But Mavis has profited by the example of our lives, Helen." + +"There is much in that, Annie. Also, she should have derived much +benefit from being, in school hours, and often out of them, in an +atmosphere influenced by the writings of the late Mr Ruskin." + +With these consolations, the two old ladies toiled upstairs, and set +about packing for a fortnight's stay they proposed making with an old +friend at Worthing, for which place they proposed starting in two days' +time. + +Meanwhile, the subject of their thoughts was walking to Addison Road +Station, happily ignorant of the old ladies' fears concerning the +perils of her path. To look at her, she seemed the least likely girl in +London who was about to take a journey on the chance of obtaining a +much-needed engagement. Her glowing eyes, flushed cheeks, and light +step were eloquent of a joyousness not usually associated with an all +but penniless girl on the look-out for something to do. Her clothes, +also, supported the impression that she was a young woman well removed +from likelihood of want. She was obliged to be careful with the few +pounds that she earned at Brandenburg College: being of an open-handed +disposition, this necessity for economy irked her; but however much she +stinted her inclinations in other directions, she was determined, as +are so many other young women who are thrown on their own resources, to +have one good turn-out in which to make a brave show to the world. Not +that Mavis spent her money, shop-girl fashion, in buying cheap flummery +which was, at best, a poor and easily recognisable imitation of the +real thing; her purchases were of the kind that any young gentlewoman, +who was not compelled to take thought for the morrow, might becomingly +wear. As she walked, most of the men she met looked at her admiringly; +some turned to glance at her figure; one or two retraced their steps +and would have overtaken her, had she not walked purposefully forward. +She was so used to these tributes to her attractiveness, that she did +not give them heed. She could not help noticing one man; he glanced at +her and seemed as if he were about to raise his hat; when she looked at +him to see if she knew him, she saw that he was distinguished looking, +but a stranger. She hurried on; presently, she went into a draper's +shop, where she bought a pair of gloves, but, when she came out, the +good-looking stranger was staring woodenly at the window. She hastened +forward; turning a corner, she slipped into a tobacconist's and +newsagent's, where she bought a packet of her favourite cigarettes, +together with a box of matches. When she got to the door, her +good-looking admirer was entering the shop. He made way for her, and, +raising his hat, was about to speak: she walked quickly away and was +not troubled with him any more. When she got to Paddington, she +disobeyed Miss Helen's injunctions to travel in a compartment reserved +for ladies, but went into an ordinary carriage, which, by the +connivance of the guard, she had to herself. When the train left +Paddington, she put her feet on the cushions of the opposite seat, with +a fine disregard of railway bye-laws, and lit a cigarette. + +It was, perhaps, inevitable that the girl's thoughts should incline to +the time and the very different circumstances in which she had last +journeyed to Melkbridge. This was nine years ago, when she had come +home for the holidays from Eastbourne, where she had been to school. +Then, she had had but one care in the world, this on account of a +jaundiced pony to which she was immoderately attached. Then she +suffered her mind to dwell on the unrestrained grief with which she had +greeted her favourite's decease; as she did so, half-forgotten fares, +scenes, memories flitted across her mind. Foremost amongst these was +her father's face--dignified, loving, kind. Whenever she thought of +him, as now, she best remembered him as he looked when he told her how +she should try to restrain her grief at the loss of her pet, as her +distress gave him pain. She had then been a person of consequence in +her little world, she being her father's only child; she had been made +much of by friends and acquaintances, amongst whom, so far as she could +recollect, no member of the Devitt family was numbered. Perhaps, she +thought, they have lately come to Melkbridge. Then aspects of the old +home passed through her mind. The room in which she used to sleep; the +oak-panelled dining-room; the garden, which was all her very own, +passed in rapid review; then, the faces of playmates and sweethearts, +for she had had admirers at that early age. There was Charlie Perigal, +the boy with the steely blue eyes and the pretty curls, with whom she +had quarrelled on the ground that he was in the habit of catching birds +in nasty little brick traps; also, because, when taxed with this +offence, he had defended his conduct and, a few moments later, had +attempted to stone a frog in her highly indignant presence. + +Then there was Archie Windebank, whose father had the next place to +theirs; he was a fair, solemn boy, who treated her with an immense +deference; he used to blush when she asked him to join her in play. The +day before she had left for school, he had confessed his devotion in +broken accents; she had thought of him for quite a week after she had +left home. How absurd and trivial it all seemed, now that she was to +face the stern realities of life! + +The next thing she recalled was the news of her father's ruin. This +calamity was more conveyed to her by the changed look in his face, when +she next saw him, than by anything else. + +She had been, at once, taken away from the expensive school at which +she was being educated and had been sent to Brandenburg College, then +languishing in Hammersmith Terrace, while her father went to live at +Dinan, in Brittany, where he might save money in order to make some +sort of a start, which might ultimately mean a provision for his +daughter. + +Next, she remembered--this she would never forget--the terrible day on +which Miss Helen Mee had called her into the study to tell her that she +would never again see her dear father in this world. Tears came to +Mavis's eyes whenever she thought of it. Orphaned, friendless, with no +one to give her the affection for which her lonely soul craved, Mavis +had stayed on at Brandenburg College, where the little her father had +left sufficed to pay for her board and schooling. This sum lasted till +she was sixteen, when, having passed one or two trumpery examinations, +she was taken on the staff of the college. The last few months, Mavis's +eyes had been opened to the straitened circumstances in which her +employers lived; she had lately realised that she owed her bread and +butter more to the kindness of the Miss Mees, than to the fact of her +parts as a teacher being in request at the school. She informed the +kind ladies that she was going to seek her bread elsewhere; upon their +offering the mildest of protests, she had made every effort to +translate her intentions into performance. + +This was by no means an easy matter for a comparatively friendless +girl, as Mavis soon discovered. Her numerous applications had, so far, +only resulted in an expenditure of stationery and postage stamps. Then, +Miss Annie Mee kindly volunteered to write to the more prosperously +circumstanced of the few one-time pupils with whom she had kept up +something of a correspondence. Those who replied offered no suggestion +of help, with the exception of Mrs Devitt. So much for the past: the +future stretched, an unexplored country, before her, which, to one of +her sanguine disposition, seemed to offer boundless opportunities of +happiness. It appeared a strange conjunction of circumstances that she +should have been sent for by a person living in her native place. It +seemed fortuitous to Mavis that she should earn her bread in a +neighbourhood where she would be known, if only because of the high +reputation which her dear father had enjoyed. It all seemed as if it +had been arranged like something out of a book. Amelia's words, +referring to the certainty of her marrying, came into her mind; she +tried to dismiss them, but without success. Then, her thoughts flew +back to Charlie Perigal and Archie Windebank, youthful admirers, rivals +for her favours. She wondered what had become of them; if she should +see them again: a thousand things in which she allowed her imagination +to wing itself in sentimental flight. + +She was of an ardent temperament; men attracted her, although, since +she had been grown up, she had never exchanged anything that could be +construed into a love passage with a member of the opposite sex, +opportunities for meeting those whom she considered her equals being +wanting in her dull round of daily teaching. Sometimes, a face she had +seen in the street, or a character she encountered in a book attracted +her, when she would think of her hero, allowing her mind to place him +in tender situations with herself, for the few hours her infatuation +lasted, showing her to be of an impressionable and romantic +disposition. Although she often felt her loneliness, and the consequent +need of human companionship, her pride would never suffer her to take +advantage of the innumerable facilities which the streets of London +offer a comely girl to make chance friendships, facilities which, for +thousands of friendless young women in big towns, are their only chance +for meeting the male of their species. + +Mavis's pride was not of the kind with which providence endows millions +of foolish people, apparently by way of preventing them from realising +their insignificance, or, at the worst, making their smallness +tolerable. It arose from knowledge of the great and inexhaustible +treasure of love which was hers to bestow; so convinced was she of the +value of this wealth, that she guarded it jealously, not permitting it +to suffer taint or deterioration from commerce with those who, if only +from curiosity, might strive to examine her riches. + +She feared with a grave dread the giving of the contents of this +treasure house, knowing full well that, if she gave at all, she would +bestow with a lavish hand, believing the priceless riches of her love +to be but a humble offering upon the shrine of the loved one. + +For all this consciousness that she would be as wax in the hands of the +man she would some day love, she had much of a conviction that, +somehow, things would come right. + +Beyond thanking the Almighty for the beauties of nature, sunlight, and +the happiness that danced in her veins, she did not bother herself +overmuch with public religious observances. She had a fixed idea that, +if she did her duty in life, and tried to help others to the best of +her small ability, God would, in some measure, reward her very much as +her dear father would have done, if he had been spared; also, that, if +she did ill, she would offend Him and might be visited with some sign +of His displeasure, just as her own father might have done if he had +been still on earth to advise and protect her. + +Then, all such thoughts faded from her mind; she looked out of the +carriage window as the train rushed through Didcot Junction. She felt +hungry after the meagre breakfast she had made; she remembered the +sandwiches, and, untying the greasy little parcel, was glad to eat +them. When she had finished the sandwiches, she lit another cigarette; +after smoking this, she closed her eyes the better to reflect. + +Then she remembered nothing till the calling of "Melkbridge!" +"Melkbridge!" seemed to suffuse her senses. She awoke with a start, to +find that she had reached her destination. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +FRIENDS IN NEED + + +Mavis scrambled out of the train, just in time to prevent herself from +being carried on to the next stopping--place. She smoothed her ruffled +plumage and looked about her. She found the station much smaller than +she had believed it to be; she hardly remembered any of its features, +till the scent of the stocks planted in the station-master's garden +assisted her memory. She gave up her ticket, and looked about her, +thinking that very likely she would be met, if not by a member of the +Devitt family, by some conveyance; but, beyond the station 'bus and two +or three farmers' gigs, there was nothing in the nature of cart or +carriage. She asked the hobbledehoy, who took her ticket, where Mrs +Devitt lived, at which the youth looked at her in a manner that +evidently questioned her sanity at being ignorant of such an important +person's whereabouts. Mavis repeated her question more sharply than +before. The ticket-collector looked at her open--mouthed, glanced up +the road and then again to Mavis, before saying: + +"Here her be." + +"Mrs Devitt?" + +"Noa. Her." + +"The housekeeper?" + +"Noa. The trap. Mebbe your eyes hain't so 'peart' as mine." + +The grating of wheels called her attention to the fact that a smart, +yellow-wheeled dogcart had been driven into the station yard by a man +in livery. + +"Be you Miss Keeves, miss?" asked the servant. + +"Yes." + +"Then you're for Melkbridge House. Please get in, miss." + +Mavis clambered into the cart and was driven quickly from the station. +At the top of the hill, they turned sharp to the right, and rolled +along the Bathminster road. Mavis first noticed how much the town had +been added to since she had last set foot in it; then she became +conscious that distances, which in her childhood had seemed to be +considerable, were now trivial. + +The man driving her had been a gentleman's servant; seeing that Mavis +belonged to a class of life which he had been accustomed to serve, he +treated her with becoming respect. Mavis incorrectly argued from the +man's deference that it had been decided to secure her services: her +heart leapt, her colour heightened at her good fortune. + +If a few moments of pleasure are worth purchasing at a cost of many +hours of crowded disappointment, it was as well that Mavis was ignorant +of the way in which her prospects had been prejudiced by the trend of +events at Melkbridge House since Mrs Devitt had replied to Miss Mee's +letter. To begin with, Mavis's visit had been within an ace of being +indefinitely postponed; it was owing to Harold's expressed wish that +the original appointment had been allowed to stand. The reason for this +indifference to Mavis's immediate future was that, the day after the +schoolmistress had written, Harold had been seriously indisposed. His +symptoms were so alarming that his doctor had insisted on having a +further opinion; this was obtained from a Bathminster physician, who +had confirmed the local medical man's diagnosis; he had also advised +Harold a month's rest on his back, this to be followed by a nine +months' residence abroad. As if this were not enough to interfere with +Mavis's visit, Montague Devitt had met young Sir Archibald Windebank, +the bachelor owner of Haycock. Abbey, when going to discharge his +duties as borough magistrate, the performance of which he believed +might ease his mind of the pain occasioned by his son's illness. + +After he had told Windebank his bad news, and the latter had expressed +his genuine concern, Devitt had said: + +"Do you remember Keeves--Colonel Keeves?" + +"Of Melkbridge Court? Of course. Why?" + +"I heard something of his daughter the other day." + +"Little Mavis!" + +"She's big Mavis now," remarked Devitt. + +"Have you seen her?" asked Windebank eagerly. + +"Not yet, but I may very soon." + +"She promised to be an awfully pretty girl. Is she?" + +"I haven't seen her. But if she comes down you might care to call." + +"Thanks," replied Windebank. "When you see her, you might mention I +asked after her." + +"I will." + +"Although I don't suppose she'll remember me after all these years." + +Devitt had left Windebank and gone about his business. When he came out +of the court house, and was about to get into his motor, Windebank +again approached him, but in such a manner that made Devitt wonder if +he had been hanging about on purpose to speak to him. + +Windebank made one or two remarks about nothing in particular. Devitt +was about to start, when the other said: + +"By the way, when you do see Miss Keeves, you might tell her that the +mater and my sister will be down here next week and that they'll be +awfully pleased to see her, if she'd care to come and stay." + +"I won't forget," replied Devitt dryly. + +"Tell her to come for as long as she cares to, as the mater and Celia +were always fond of her. None of us could ever make out what became of +her." + +"I won't forget," said Devitt again. + +"Thanks. Good-bye." + +Montague told his wife of this; she had replied: + +"We will decide nothing till we see her," which meant that, if Mavis +had not fulfilled the promise of her childhood, and had grown up plain, +there would be some prospect of her being engaged in some capacity in +the Devitt family, as her acquaintance with the big people about +Melkbridge might result in introducing Victoria within the charmed +circle, without prejudicing the latter's chances of making a brilliant +match. Mrs Devitt's words likewise meant that, if Mavis were charming +or pretty, her prospects of securing an engagement would be of the +slenderest. + +Mavis, ignorant of these considerations, was driven to the door of +Melkbridge House. On getting out of the cart, the front door was opened +by Hayter, the fat butler, who showed her into the drawing-room. Left +to herself, Mavis looked about the expensively furnished room. Noticing +a mirror, she walked to it in order to see if hair or hat had been +disarranged by her journey and drive; as she looked at her comely +reflection, she could not help seeing with a thrill of satisfaction +that already the change of air, together with the excitement of the +occasion, had flushed her cheeks with colour; she was looking her best. +She walked to the window and looked in the direction of her old home, +which was on a slight eminence about a mile from where she stood: were +the time of year other than summer, its familiar outlines would not +have been obscured by foliage. Mavis sighed, turned her back on the +window and walked towards the fireplace; something moving in the cool, +carefully shaded room caught her eye. It was the propitiatory wagging +of a black, cocker spaniel's tail, while its eyes were looking +pleadingly up to her. Mavis loved all animals; in a moment the spaniel +was in her lap, her arms were about its neck, and she was pressing her +soft, red lips to its head. The dog received these demonstrations of +affection with delight; although it pawed and clawed the only decent +frock which Mavis possessed, she did not mind a bit. + +"I shall be here a long time and we shall always be the best of +friends," murmured Mavis, as she pressed the affectionate animal to her +heart. + +Mavis waited half an hour in the drawing-room before anyone came. + +Victoria was the first to join her; she entered the room with a frank +smile, together with an apology for having kept Mavis waiting. The +latter took to Miss Devitt at once, congratulating herself on her good +fortune at the prospect of living with such congenial companions as +Miss Devitt and the dog. Victoria explained that her brother's illness +was responsible for Mavis having been treated with apparent neglect. + +"I am so sorry," replied Mavis. "Is it serious?" + +"Not at present, but it may be." + +"How dreadful it must be for you, who love him!" + +"We are all of us used to seeing my brother more or less ill; he has +been a cripple for the last eight years." + +"How very sad! But if your brother is worse, why didn't you wire and +put me off?" + +"You would have been disappointed if we had." + +"I should have understood." + +Then, after making further sympathetic reference to Harold's condition, +Mavis said: + +"What a dear dog this is! Is he yours?" + +"It's Harold's. She's no business to be in here. She'll dirty your +dress." + +"I don't mind in the least." + +"Let me turn her out," said Victoria, as she rose from her seat. + +"Please don't. I love to have her with me," pleaded Mavis, adding, as +Victoria acceded to her request: + +"Don't you like dogs?" + +"In their proper place. Jill wouldn't be allowed in at all if Harold +didn't sometimes wish it." + +"If I had a house, it should be full of dogs," remarked Mavis. + +"I understand that you were born near here." + +"Yes, at Melkbridge Court." + +"I don't know what time you go back, but, after luncheon--of course +you'll stay--you might take the opportunity of your being down here to +have a look at the old place." + +"I--I might," faltered Mavis, who suddenly felt as if all the happiness +had been taken out of her life; for Miss Devitt's words hinted that her +family was not going to keep Mavis at Melkbridge House. + +She looked regretfully at the dog, then inquiringly at Victoria, when +Mrs Devitt came into the drawing-room. + +Her eyes at once fell on Mavis's comeliness; looking at her +step-daughter, she found herself comparing the appearance of the two +girls. Before she had offered her hand to Mavis, she had decided that, +beside her, Victoria appeared at a disadvantage. + +Although Mavis's hair and colouring might only appeal to a certain +order of taste, the girl's distinction, to which one of the Miss Mees +had alluded earlier in the day, was glaringly patent to Mrs Devitt's +sharp eyes; beside this indefinable personal quality, Mrs Devitt +observed with a shudder, Victoria seemed middle-class. Mavis's fate, as +far as the Devitts were concerned, was decided in the twinkling of an +eye. For all this decision, so suddenly arrived at, Mrs Devitt greeted +Mavis kindly; indeed, the friendliness that she displayed caused the +girl's hopes to rise. + +"Luncheon will be ready directly. We are only waiting for my husband," +said Mrs Devitt. + +"You must be hungry after your journey," added Victoria. + +"I've always a healthy appetite, whatever I do," remarked Mavis, who +was fondly regarding the black spaniel. + +Then Montague Devitt, Lowther, and Miss Spraggs entered the +drawing-room, to all of whom Mavis was introduced. + +The men were quite cordial, too cordial to a girl who, after all, was +seeking a dependant's place, thought Mrs Devitt. + +Already she envied Mavis for her family, the while she despised her for +her poverty. + +The attentions that her husband and stepson were already paying her +were a hint of what Mrs Devitt might expect where the eligible men of +her acquaintance were concerned. She felt the necessity of striking a +jarring note in the harmony of the proceedings. Jill, the spaniel, who, +at that moment, sprang upon Mavis's lap, supplied the means. + +"What is Jill doing here?" + +"I really don't mind," exclaimed Mavis. + +"She shouldn't be in the house. There's no reason for her being here at +all, now Harold is ill." + +"If you wish her to go," said Mavis ruefully. + +Jill was ordered from the room, but refused to quit her new friend's +side. Lowther approached the dog; to emphasise his wishes, he kicked +her in the side. + +Mavis looked up quickly. + +"Come along, you brute!" cried Lowther, who seized the spaniel by the +ear, and, despite its yell of agony, was carrying it by this means from +the room. + +Mavis felt the blood rush to her head. + +"Stop!" she cried. + +Lowther turned to look at her. + +"Stop--, please don't," she pleaded, as she went quickly to Jill and +caught her in her arms. + +Lowther looked down, surprised, into Mavis's pleading, yet defiant face. + +"It was all my fault: you're hurting her and she's such a dear," +continued Mavis. + +"Better let her stay," said Devitt, while Mrs Devitt, seeing the girl's +flushed face, recalled the passage in Miss Mee's letter which referred +to Mavis's sudden anger. + +Mrs Devitt hated a display of emotion; she put down Mavis's +interference with Lowther's design to bad form. She was surprised that +Lowther and her husband were so assiduous in their attentions to Mavis; +indeed, as Mrs Devitt afterwards remarked to Miss Spraggs: + +"They hardly ever took their eyes off her face." + +"Never trust a man further than you can see him," had remarked the +agreeable rattle, who had never had reason to complain of want of +respect on the part of any man with whom she may have been temporarily +isolated. + +"And did you notice how her eyes flashed when she seized Jill from +Lowther? They're usually a sort of yellow. Then, as perhaps you saw, +they seemed to burst into a fierce glare." + +"My dear Hilda, is there anything I don't notice?" Miss Spraggs had +replied, a remark which was untrue in its present application, as, at +the moment when Mavis had taken Jill's part, Eva Spraggs had been +looking out of the window, as she wondered if the peas, that were to +accompany a roast duckling at luncheon, would be as hard and as +unappetising as they had been when served two days previously. + +This was later in the day. Just now, Mavis was about to be taken down +to luncheon by Montague Devitt; she wondered if her defence of dear +Jill had prejudiced her chance of an engagement. + +"What's that picture covered with a shutter for?" asked Mavis, as her +eye fell on the padlocked "Etty." + +"Oh, well-it's an 'Etty': some people might think it's scarcely the +thing for some young people, you know," replied Devitt, as they +descended the stairs. + +"Really! Is that why it's kept like that?" asked Mavis, who could +scarcely conceal her amusement. + +Mrs Devitt, who was immediately behind, had detected the note of +merriment in Mavis's voice. "Scarcely a pure-minded girl," she said to +herself, unconscious of the fact that there is nothing so improper as +the thoughts implied by propriety. + +It was not a very pleasant time for Mavis. Although the luncheon was a +good meal, and served in a manner to which she had been unaccustomed +for many years, she did not feel at home with the Devitts. Montague, +the head of the house, she disliked least; no one could be long +insensible to his goodness of heart. Already, she could not "stand" +Lowther, for the reason that he hardly took his eyes from her face. As +for the women, she was soon conscious of the social gulf that, in +reality, lay between her and them; she was, also, aware that they were +inclined to patronise her, particularly Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs: +the high hopes with which she had commenced the day had already +suffered diminution. + +"And what are your aims in life?" Miss Spraggs asked presently; she had +found the peas to be as succulent as she had wished. + +"To earn my own living," replied Mavis, who had seen that it was she to +whom the agreeable rattle had spoken. + +"But, surely, that doesn't satisfy the young women of today!" continued +Miss Spraggs. + +"I fear it does me; but then I don't know any young women to be +influenced by," answered Mavis. + +"I thought every young woman, nowadays, was thirsting with ambition," +said Miss Spraggs. + +"I suppose everyone, who isn't an idiot, has her preferences," remarked +Mavis. + +"I don't mean that. I thought every girl was determined on living her +own life to the exclusion of everything else," continued Miss Spraggs. + +"Really!" asked Mavis in some surprise, as she believed that it was +only the plain and unattractive women who were of that complexion of +thought. + +"Despise marriage and all that," put in Lowther, his eyes on Mavis as +he tossed off a glass of wine. + +"But I don't despise marriage," protested Mavis. + +"Really!" said Mrs Devitt, whose sensibilities were a trifle shocked by +this remark. + +"If two people are in love with each other, and can afford to marry, it +seems a particularly natural proceeding," said Mavis simply. + +"One that you would welcome?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she raised her +thin eyebrows. + +"One that someone else would welcome," put in Devitt gallantly. + +But Mavis took no notice of this interruption, as she said: + +"Of course. Nothing I should wish for more." + +Miss Spraggs made two or three further efforts to take a rise out of +Mavis; in each case, such was the younger woman's naturalness and +self-possession, that it was the would--be persecutor who appeared at a +disadvantage. + +After luncheon the womenfolk moved to the drawing room; when Victoria +presently went to sit with her invalid brother, Mrs Devitt assumed a +business-like manner as she requested Mavis to sit by her. The latter +knew that her fate was about to be decided. They sat by the window +where, but for the intervening foliage, Mavis would have been able to +see her old home. + +"This is our best chance of a quiet talk, so I'll come to the point at +once," began Mrs Devitt. + +"By all means," said Mavis, as Miss Spraggs took up a book and +pretended to be interested in its contents. + +"How soon do you require a situation?" + +"At once." + +"Has Miss Mee applied to anyone else in the neighbourhood on your +account?" + +"Not that I'm aware of." + +"And you yourself, have you written to anyone here?" + +"There's no one I could write to. There's not one of my father's old +friends I've kept up. They've all forgotten my very existence, years +ago." + +"Sure?" + +"Who am I to remember?" asked Mavis simply. + +It was on Mrs Devitt's lips to give the girl Sir Archibald's message, +but the thought of her unmarried step--daughter restrained her. She +addressed Mavis rather hurriedly (she tried hard to act +conscientiously): + +"I may as well say at once that the opportunity that presented itself, +when I wrote to Miss Mee, has passed." + +The room seemed to move round Mavis. Mrs Devitt continued, as she +noticed the look of dismay on the girl's face: + +"But I need hardly tell you that I will do all I can to do something +for you." + +"Thank you," said Mavis. + +"Can't you get anything to do in London?" + +"I might." + +"Have you tried?" + +"A little." + +Mavis felt tears welling into her eyes; she would never have forgiven +herself if she had displayed the extremity of weeping before these +people, who, after all, were not of her social world. She resolved to +change the subject and keep any expression of her disappointment till +she was safe from unsympathetic eyes. + +"Did you know my father?" she asked. + +"I didn't live here, then. I married Mr--my husband six years ago." + +"I suppose he knew him?" + +"I gather so." + +Very soon after, the two men came into the drawing-room, having +considerably curtailed the time they usually devoted to their cigars. + +"We were discussing getting something to do for Miss Keeves," said Mrs +Devitt. + +"You haven't thought of anything?" asked her husband. + +"Not yet," replied his wife. + +"I suppose you wouldn't care to go into an office?" he continued. + +"A lot of girls do that kind of thing nowadays," said Mavis. + +"Or a shop?" put in Miss Spraggs. + +Mavis glanced up. + +"I mean a--flower shop," corrected Miss Spraggs, misliking the look in +Mavis's yellow eyes. + +Mavis looked towards where she could have seen her old home but for the +intervening trees. + +"I think I'd better see about my train," she said as she rose. + +"Must you, dear?" asked Mrs Devitt. + +The men pressed her to stay, particularly Lowther. + +"I think I'll go. I want to get back in good time," said Mavis. + +"I'll drive you to the station, if I may," volunteered Lowther. + +"Thank you; if it's giving you no trouble," she replied. + +Lowther left the room. Mavis said good-bye to the others, including +Victoria, who joined her for this purpose, from whom the girl learned +that Harold was asleep. + +As Devitt conducted Mavis to the door, which the fat butler held open, +she heard the snorting of a motor; the next minute, a superb car, +driven by Lowther, pulled up before the front door. Mavis had never +before been in a petrol-propelled carriage (automobiles were then +coming into use); she looked forward to her new experience. + +She got in beside Lowther, waved her hand to Devitt and was gone. She +was surprised at the swift, easy motion, but had an idea that, soon +after they left the house, Lowther Devitt was not travelling so fast as +when they set out. + +"How delightful!" she cried. + +"Eh!" + +"I've never been in a motor before." + +"What?" + +"I really haven't. Don't talk: I want to enjoy it." + +Seeing that the girl was disinclined for speech, he increased the pace. +Mavis was quite disappointed at the short time it took to reach the +station. They got out, when Mavis learned that she had twenty minutes +to wait. She was sorry, as she disliked the ardent way in which Lowther +looked at her. She answered his remarks in monosyllables. + +"I'm afraid you're no end angry with me," he said presently. + +"Why?" she said coldly. + +"Because I punished Jill for disobedience." + +"It was cruel of you." + +"I made sure she was worrying you." + +"Indeed!" + +"But it was almost worth while to upset you, you looked so fine when +you were angry." + +"Did it frighten you?" she asked half scornfully. + +"Almost. You looked just like a young tigress." + +"I've been told that before." + +"Then you often get angry?" + +"If I'm annoyed. But it's soon over." + +"I go up to town sometimes," he said presently. + +"How clever of you!" + +"I go up to my club--the Junior Constitutional. May I look you up when +I run up next?" + +"Here's the train coming in." + +"Bother! It's so nice talking to you. I'm no end of sorry the mater +isn't taking you on." + +"I am too," replied Mavis, who, at once, saw the meaning that Lowther +might misread into her words. + +"Can I look you up when next I'm in town?" he asked eagerly. + +"Oh yes, you can look me up," she replied diffidently. + +"We ought to go out to supper one evening." + +"I should be delighted." + +"You would! Really you would?" + +"If you brought your sister. I must find a seat." + +"No hurry. It always waits some time here; milk-cans and all that. By +Jove! I wish I were going up alone with you. And that's what I meant. I +thought we'd go out to supper at the Savoy or Kettner's by ourselves, +eh?" + +She looked at him coldly, critically. + +"Or say the Carlton," he added, thinking that such munificence might +dazzle her. + +"I'll get in here," she said. + +Seeing Mavis select a third-class carriage, his appreciation of her +immediately lessened. + +"Tell you what," he said to her through the window, "we won't bother +about going out to grub; we'll have a day in the country; we can enjoy +ourselves just as much there. Eh, dear? Oh, I beg your pardon, but +you're so pretty, you know, and all that." + +Mavis noticed the way in which he leered at her while he said these +words. She bit her lip in order to restrain the words that were on her +tongue; it was of no avail. + +"I'll tell you something," she cried. + +"Yes--yes; quickly, the train is just off." + +"If my father had been alive, and we'd been living here, you'd not have +dared to speak to me like that; in fact, you wouldn't have had the +chance." + +It was a crestfallen, tired, and heartsick Mavis who opened the door of +Brandenburg College with her latch-key in the evening. The only thing +that sustained her was the memory of the white look of anger which +appeared in Lowther Devitt's face when she had unmistakably resented +his insult. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +MAVIS LEAVES HER NEST + + +Mavis did not tell the whole truth to the two old ladies; they gathered +from her subdued manner that she had not been successful in her quest. + +The girl was too weary to give explanations, to talk, even to think; +the contemplation of the wreck of the castles that she had been +building in the air had tired her: she went to bed, resolving to put +off further thought for the future until the morrow. + +Several times in the night, she awoke with a start, when she was +oppressed with a great fear of the days to come; but each time she put +this concern from her, as if conscious that she required all the rest +she could get, in order to make up her mind to the course of action +which she should pursue on the morrow. + +When she definitely awoke, she determined on one thing, that, unless +pressed by circumstances, she would not ask the Devitts for help. + +The old ladies were already down when she went in to breakfast. Miss +Annie, directly she saw Mavis, took up a letter that she had laid +beside her plate. + +"I've heard from Mrs Devitt, dear," she said, after she had asked +Mavis, according to custom, how she had slept. + +"What does she say?" asked Mavis indifferently. + +"That she regrets she is unable to offer you anything at present, but +if, at any time, you would take a clerkship in one of the companies in +which her husband is interested, they might be able to provide you with +a berth," replied Annie. + +"Oh!" said Mavis shortly. + +"She has also sent me a postal order for your fare," continued Annie. + +Mavis made no reply. + +The two old maids glanced significantly at one another; presently, +Annie Mee was emboldened to ask: + +"Do you think you would like to earn your living in the manner +indicated?" + +"I have decided not to," replied Mavis shortly. + +"Of course, if you would prefer to stay with us," began Miss Helen. + +"If you have no objection, I will leave for good tomorrow morning," +said Mavis. + +"Leave for good!" cried the two old ladies together, who, now that they +believed Mavis to be going, were dismayed at the prospect of living +without her. + +"It will be better for all of us," remarked Mavis. + +"But have you anything in view, dear?" asked Miss Annie. + +"Nothing very definite. But I've every hope of being settled in a day +or two." + +The two old ladies heaved a sigh of relief; for all their affection for +the girl, they found that her healthy appetite made serious inroads +into the meager profits of the college. After breakfast, Mavis went +upstairs for her hat. She opened the drawers at the base of her +old-fashioned looking-glass and counted up her possessions. These +amounted to seven pounds, thirteen shillings and sevenpence halfpenny; +in addition to which, there was a quarter's salary of four pounds ten +shillings due to her; also, there was her fare which Mrs. Devitt had +sent, a sum which she was undecided whether or not to accept. At any +other time, Mavis would have thought that this money would have been +ample provision with which to start life; but her one time ignorance on +this matter had been rudely dissipated by her fruitless search after +employment, when she had first decided to leave Brandenburg College. +Beyond her little store of ready money, she owned a few trinkets which, +at the worst, she could sell for a little; but this was a contingency +on which she would not allow her mind to dwell just now. One or two +things she was determined not to part with; these were her mother's +wedding ring, a locket containing a piece of her father's hair, and a +bracelet which he had given her. The two old ladies would be leaving +for Worthing on the morrow; Amelia was going to Southend-on-Sea for a +fortnight. As Mavis had resolved to sever her long connection with the +college, it was necessary for her to seek lodging elsewhere. + +A few minutes later, she set out upon this wearisome quest: she had +never looked for London lodgings before. Although nearly every window +in the less frequented streets displayed a card announcing that +apartments were to let, she soon discovered how difficult it was to get +anything remotely approaching her simple needs. She required a small +bedroom in a house where there was a bathroom; also, if possible, she +wanted the use of a sitting-room with a passable piano on which she +sought permission to give lessons to any pupils whom she might be +successful in getting. + +Most of the doors she knocked at were answered by dirty children or by +dirtier women; these, instinctively, told Mavis that she would get +neither cleanliness nor comfort in a house frequented by such folk. +When confronted with these, she would make some excuse for knocking at +the door, and, after walking on a few yards, would attack the knocker +of another house, when, more likely than not, the door would be opened +by an even more slatternly person than before. Now and again she would +light upon a likely place, but it soon appeared to Mavis that good +landladies knew their value and made charges which were prohibitive to +the girl's slender resources. + +Tired with running up and down so many steps and stairs, Mavis turned +into a milk-shop to buy a bun and a glass of milk. She asked the +kindly-faced woman who served her if she happened to know of anyone who +let clean rooms at moderate charges. The woman wrote down two +addresses, said that she would be comfortable at either of these, and +told her the quickest way of getting to them. The first name was a Mrs +Ellis, who lived at 20 Kiva Gardens. This address proved to be a neat, +two-storied house, by the side of which was a road leading to stables +and a yard. Mrs Ellis opened the door. Mavis, with a sense of elation, +saw that she was a trim, elderly, kindly-looking body. + +The girl explained what she wanted. She learned that there was a small +bedroom at the back to let; also, that she could have the use of the +downstairs sitting-room, in which was a piano. + +"Would you very much mind if I had one or two pupils?" asked Mavis. + +"Not a bit, miss. I like young people myself, and look on music as +company." + +"I'd like to see the bedroom." + +Mrs Ellis took Mavis upstairs, where the girl was delighted to find +that the room was pleasant-looking and scrupulously clean. + +"It's only a question of terms," said Mavis hesitatingly. + +"You'd better see the sitting-room and try the piano, miss, before you +decide," remarked Mrs Ellis. + +They went downstairs to another room at the back of the house; this was +adequate, although Mavis noticed that it was stuffy. Perhaps the +landlady suspected the girl's thoughts on the matter, for she said: + +"I have the window shut to keep out dust and smell from the yard, miss." + +Mavis, satisfied with this explanation, looked through the window, and +saw that the yard was much bigger than she had believed it to be. Three +or four men in corduroys were lounging about and chaffing each other. + +"You try the piano, miss; I shan't keep you a moment," said Mrs Ellis, +who, also, had looked out of the window. + +Mavis, left to herself, did as she was bid. She found the piano, +although well past its prime, to be better than the generality of those +that she had already tried. She got up and again looked out of the +window, when she saw that the men, whom she had previously seen idling +in the yard, were now hard at work. + +The next moment, Mrs Ellis, looking rather hot, re-entered the room. + +"I've had to talk to my men," she said. + +"You employ them?" asked Mavis. + +"Yes, the lazy rascals. It was my husband's business, but since he died +I've kept it on." + +"You must be very clever." + +"It wants managing. You didn't open the window, miss?" This question +was asked anxiously. + +"No." + +"How much did you wish to pay, miss?" + +Mavis explained that she didn't wish to pay more than five shillings a +week for a bedroom, but after some discussion it was agreed that she +should pay six shillings a week, which would include the use of the +sitting-room, together with a morning bath, bathrooms not having been +supplied to Mrs Ellis's house. + +"I'm letting it go reasonable to you, miss, because you're a real young +lady and not like most who thinks they are." + +"Here's my first week's rent in advance. I can't say how long I shall +stay, because I may get a place where they may want me to live in the +house," said Mavis. + +"It isn't the money I want so much as the company. And if you'd like me +to supply the meals, we shan't quarrel over L. s. d." + +"I'm sure we shan't. I shall come in without fail tomorrow morning." + +Mavis then took a bus to Kensington Church; here she got out and walked +the few yards necessary to take her to the Kensington Free Library, +where she put down the addresses of those advertising situations likely +to suit her. This task completed, she walked to Brandenburg College. +When dinner was over--the Misses Mee dined midday--Mavis wrote replies +to the advertisements. After parting with the precious pennies, which +bought the necessary stamps at the post-office, she came home to pack +her things. This took her some time, there being so many odds and ends +which had accumulated during her many years' association with the +college. As it was getting dark, she slipped out to tell the nearest +local agent for Carter Paterson to have her boxes removed the first +thing in the morning. + +Hurrying back, she ran into Bella Goss, a pupil at the college, and her +father. Mr. Goss was the person who was behindhand with his account; he +supplied Miss Annie Mee with the theatre and concert tickets which were +the joy of her life. + +"There's Miss Keeves!" cried Bella, at which her father raised his hat. + +Bella, looking as if she wished to speak to Mavis, the latter stopped; +she shook hands with the child and bowed to Mr. Goss. + +"You're leaving the college, aren't you, Miss Keeves?" asked Bella. + +"Yes, dear," replied Mavis. + +"Going to be married?" asked Mr. Goss, who secretly admired Mavis. + +"I'm going to earn my living; at least, I hope so," said Mavis. + +"Haven't you anything to do, then?" he asked. + +"Nothing settled," Mavis answered evasively. + +"I suppose you wouldn't care for anything in the theatrical line?" + +Mavis did not think that she would. + +"Or, if you want anything very badly, I might get you into a house of +business." + +"Do you mean a shop?" asked Mavis. + +"A big one where they employ hundreds," said Goss apologetically. + +"It's awfully kind of you. I'll come to you if I really want anything +badly." + +"Thank you, Miss Keeves. Good night." + +"Good night. Good night, Bella." + +Mavis hurried home and to bed, to be kept awake for quite two hours by +fears of the unknown perils which might menace the independent course +which she was about to travel. + +Breakfast the next morning was a dismal meal. Mavis was genuinely sorry +to leave the old ladies, who had, in a large measure, taken the place +of the parents she had lost. + +They, on their part, were conscious of the break that Mavis's departure +would make in their lives. All three women strove to conceal their +distress by an affectation of cheerfulness and appetite. But little was +eaten or drunk. Miss Annie Mee was so absent-minded that she forgot to +spread any butter upon her toast. The old ladies were leaving for +Worthing soon after eleven. Mavis purposed taking leave of them and +Brandenburg College as soon after breakfast as she could get away. When +she rose from the table, Miss Helen Mee said: + +"I should like to see you in my study in five minutes from now." + +The study was a small-sized room, which was reached by descending two +steps at the end of the hall further from the front door. Mavis +presented herself here at the expiration of the allotted time, where +she found Miss Helen and Miss Annie solemnly seated behind the +book-littered table, which stood in the middle of the room. + +"Pray close the door," said Helen. + +"Please take a seat," added Annie, when Mavis had obeyed the elder Miss +Mee's behest. + +The girl sat down and wondered what was coming. It was some moments +before Helen spoke; she believed that delay would enhance the +impressiveness of the occasion. + +"Dear Mavis," she presently began, "before I say a few parting words, +in which my sister most heartily joins, words which are not without a +few hints of kindly admonishment, that may help you along the path you +have--er--elected--yes, elected to pursue, I should like to press on +you parting gifts from my sister and myself." + +Here she handed Mavis her treasured copy of The Stones of Venice, which +contained the great Mr Ruskin's autograph, together with a handsomely +bound Bible; this latter was open at the fly-leaf. + +"Read," said Helen, as she looked at Mavis over her spectacles. + +Mavis read as follows: + +"TO DEAR MAVIS, FROM HER FRIEND, HELEN ALLPRESS MEE. + +"ARE NOT TWO SPARROWS SOLD FOR A FARTHING? AND ONE OF THEM SHALL NOT +FALL ON THE GROUND WITHOUT YOUR FATHER. + +"FEAR YE NOT THEREFORE, YE ARE OF MORE VALUE THAN MANY SPARROWS.--St +Matthew x. 29, 31." + +Mavis thanked Miss Mee and was about to press on her the trinket that +she had previously purchased as a parting gift for her old friend; but +Helen checked the girl with a gesture signifying that her sister was +about to speak. + +Mis Annie was less prosy than her sister. + +"Take this, dear, and God bless you." + +Here she handed Mavis her much-prized copy of Sesame and Lilies, +likewise containing the autograph of the great Mr. Ruskin; at the same +time, she presented Mavis with a box of gloves. + +Mavis thanked the generous old ladies and gave them the little presents +she had bought for this purpose. To Miss Helen she handed a quaint old +workbox she had picked up in the shop of a dealer in antiquities; to +Miss Annie she gave her A three-quarter-length photograph in a silver +frame. + +The two old ladies' hands shook a little when they took these +offerings; they both thanked her, after which Miss Helen rose to take +formal farewell of Mavis. + +She spoke the words that she always made use of when taking final leave +of a pupil; usually, they came trippingly to her tongue, without the +least effort of memory; but this morning they halted; she found herself +wondering if her dignity were being compromised in Mavis's eyes. + +"Dear Mavis," she said, "in--in issuing from the doors--er--portals of +Brandenburg College to the new er--er--world that awaits you beyond, +you--you may rest assured that you carry--" + +The old lady stopped; she did not say any more; she sat down and seemed +to be carefully wiping her spectacles. Mavis rose to go, girl-like; she +hated anything in the nature of a scene, especially when made over such +an insignificant person as herself. At the same time, her farewell of +the two old ladies, with whom she had lived for so long, affected her +far more than she would ever have thought possible. Halfway to the +door, she hesitated; the noise made by Miss Annie blowing her nose +decided her. In a moment, she had placed her arms about Miss Helen and +Miss Annie, and all three women were weeping to their hearts' content. + +Some seventy minutes later, it was two very forlorn-looking old ladies +who stumbled into the train that was to take them to Worthing. +Meanwhile, Mavis had packed her few remaining things and had gone down +to the kitchen to say good-bye to Amelia. + +Directly Amelia caught sight of her and she burst into tears. Mavis, +somewhat disconcerted by this evidence of esteem, gave Amelia five +shillings, at which the servant wept the more. + +"Oh, miss! what shall I do without you?" + +"You'll get on all right. Besides, you're going for a holiday to +Southend." + +"Moind you let me come to you when you're married," sobbed Amelia. + +"I shouldn't count on that if I were you." + +"Do 'ave me, miss. I'll always troi and 'and things so no one sees my +bad oye." + +"It isn't that I don't want you; but it's so unlikely that I shall ever +have a home." + +Mavis offered her hand. Amelia wiped her wet hand (she had been washing +up) upon her apron before taking it. + +"Oh, miss, you are good to me, and you a reel lydy." + +"Be a good girl and look after your mistresses." + +"That I will, miss. Whatever should I sy to that there Mr. Fuskin, when +I meet 'im in 'eaven, if I didn't?" + +"Good-bye, Amelia." + +"There! I forgot," cried Amelia. She went to the drawer of the dresser +and brought out something wrapped in tissue paper. + +Mavis undid this, to find Amelia's offering to consist of a silver +brooch forming the word "May." + +"It's the nearest I could get to your nime, miss," she explained. + +"Thank you so much." + +"It ain't good enough for you: nothin' ain't good enough for you. +Wasn't you loved by the music master, 'im who was so lovely and dark?" +wept Amelia. + +It was with a heavy heart that Mavis left Brandenburg College, the +walls of which had sheltered her for so long: she did her best to be +self-possessed as she kissed the Misses Mee and walked to her new +address, to which her two boxes had been taken the first thing by the +carriers. + +The rest of the morning, and after the simple meal which Mrs Ellis +provided, Mavis unpacked her things and made her room as homelike as +possible. While she was doing this, she would now and again stop to +wonder if she had heard the postman's knock; although she could hear +him banging at doors up and down the street, he neglected to call at +No. 20, a fact which told Mavis that so far no one had troubled to +seriously consider her applications for employment. A cup of tea with +Mrs Ellis put a cheerful complexion upon matters; she spent the next +few hours in finishing her little arrangements. These completed to her +satisfaction, she leaned against the window and looked hungrily towards +the heavens. It was a blue, summer evening; there was not a cloud in +the sky. + +Although the raucous voices of children playing in the streets assailed +her ears, she was scarcely conscious of these, her thoughts being far +away. She was always a lover of nature; wildflowers, especially +cowslips, affected her more than she would care to own; the scent of +hay brought a longing to her heart; the sight of a roadside stream +fascinated her. Now, she was longing with a passionate desire for the +peace of the country. Upon this July evening, the corn must now be all +but ripe for the sickle, making the fields a glory of gold. She +pictured herself wandering alone in a vast expanse of these; gold, +gold, everywhere; a lark singing overhead. Then, in imagination, she +found her way to a nook by the Avon at Melkbridge, a spot endeared to +her heart by memories that she would never forget. As a child, she +loved to steal there with her picture book; later, as a little girl, +she would go there all alone, and, lying on her back, would dream, +while her eyes followed the sun. Her fondness for this place was the +only thing which she had kept from her father's knowledge. She wondered +if this hiding place, where she had loved to take her thoughts, were +the same. She could shut her eyes and recall it: the pollard willows, +the brown river banks, the swift, running river in which the +forget-me-nots (so it appeared to her) never seemed to tire in the +effort to see their reflection. + +Darkness came out of the east. Mavis's heart went out to the summer +night. Then, she was aware of a feeling of physical discomfort. The +effort of imagination had exhausted her. She became wearily conscious +of the immediate present. The last post, this time, knocked at the door +of Mrs Ellis', but it brought no letter for Mavis. It seemed that the +world had no need of her; that no one cared what became of her. She was +disinclined to go out, consequently, the limitations of her +surroundings made her quickly surrender to the feeling of desolation +which attacked her. She wondered how many girls in London were, at the +present moment, isolated from all congenial human companionship as she +was. She declined the landlady's kindly offer to partake of cold boiled +beef and spring onions in the status of guest; the girl seemed to get +satisfaction from her morbid indulgence in self-pity. + +As she was about to undress, her eye fell on the Bible which Helen Mee +had given her earlier in the day. Mavis remembered something had been +written on the fly-leaf: more from idle curiosity than from any other +motive, she opened the cover of the book, to read in the old lady's +meager, pointed hand: + +"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not +fall on the ground without your Father. + +"Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows."--St +Matthew x. 29, 31. + +Mavis's heart was filled with contrition. She was not forgotten; there +was Someone who cared what became of her. Although she was now as one +of the sparrows, which are never certain of their daily food, she could +not fall without the knowledge of One who cared, and He--- + +Mavis knelt: she implored forgiveness for having believed herself to be +utterly forgotten: she thanked Him for caring that a poor, friendless +girl, such as she, should not fall. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +BARREN WAYS + + +There followed for Mavis many, many anxious days, spent from the first +thing in the morning till late at night in a fruitless search for work. +Her experiences were much the same as those of any attractive, +friendless girl seeking to earn her livelihood in London. To begin +with, she found that the summer was a time of year in which the +openings she sought were all obstinately closed, the heads of firms, or +those responsible for engaging additional assistance, being either away +on holidays, or back from these in no mood to consider Mavis' +application. + +Another thing that struck her was that, whenever she went to interview +men, she was always treated civilly, cordially, or familiarly; but the +womenfolk she saw were invariably rude, directly they set eyes upon her +comeliness. Once or twice, she was offered employment by men; it was +only their free and easy behaviour which prevented her accepting it. +Mavis, as yet, was ignorant of the conditions on which some employers +of female labour engage girls seeking work; but she had a sensible head +screwed on her pretty shoulders; she argued that if a man were inclined +to be familiar after three minutes' acquaintance, what would he be when +she was dependent upon him for a weekly wage? It was not compatible +with her vast self-respect to lay herself open to risk of insult, +suggested by a scarcely veiled admiration for her person after a few +moments' acquaintance. It was not as if she had any qualification of +marketable value; she knew neither shorthand nor typewriting; she could +merely write a decent hand, was on very fair terms with French, on +nodding acquaintance with German, and had a sound knowledge of +arithmetic. + +On the face of it, her best course was to get a situation as governess; +but Mavis, after a week's trial, gave up the endeavour. The mothers of +possible pupils, with whom the girl's credentials from the college +secured an interview, were scarcely civil to the handsome, +distinguished-looking girl; they were sure that such looks, seeking for +employment, boded ill for anyone indulgent enough to engage her. Mavis +could not understand such behaviour; she had read in books how people +were invariably kind and sympathetic, women particularly so, to girls +in want of work; surely she furnished opportunity for her own sex to +show consideration to one of the less fortunate of their kind. + +Mavis next advertised in local papers for pupils to whom she would +teach music. Receiving no replies, she attempted to get employment in a +house of business; this effort resulted in her obtaining work as a +canvasser, remuneration being made by results. This meant tramping the +pavement in all weathers, going up and coming down countless flights of +stairs, swallowing all kinds of humiliating rebuffs in the effort to +sell some encyclopedia or somebody's set of novels, which no one +wanted. She always met with disappointment and, in time, became used to +it; but there were occasions when a purchaser seemed likely, when hope +would beat high, only to give place to sickening despair when her offer +was finally rejected. On the whole, she met with civility and +consideration from the young men (mostly clerks in offices) whom she +interviewed; but there was a type of person whose loud-voiced brutality +cut her to the quick. This was the West-end tradesman. She would walk +into a shop in Bond Street or thereabouts, when the proprietor, taking +her for a customer, would advance with cringing mien, wringing his +hands the while. No sooner did he learn that the girl wanted him to buy +something, than his manner immediately changed. Usually, in coarse and +brutal voice, he would order her from the shop; sometimes, if he were +in a facetious mood, and if he had the time to spare, he would make fun +of her and mock her before a crowd of grinning underlings. To this day, +the sight of a West-end tradesman fills Mavis with unspeakable +loathing; nothing would ever mitigate the horror which their treatment +of her inspired at this period of her life. + +Then Mavis, in reply to one of her many answers to advertisements, +received a letter asking her to call at an office in Eastcheap, at a +certain time. Arrived there, she learned how she could earn a pound a +week by canvassing, together with commission, if her sales were +successful. She had eagerly accepted the offer, when she learned that +she was to make house-to-house calls in certain London suburbs (she was +to commence at Peckham), armed with a bottle of pickles and a bottle of +sauce. She was furnished with a Peckham local directory and was +instructed to make calls at every house in her district, when she was +to ask for the mistress by name, in order to disarm suspicion on the +part of whoever might open the door. When she was asked inside, she was +to do her utmost to get orders for the pickles and the sauce, supplies +of which were sent beforehand to a grocer in the neighbourhood. Mavis +did not relish the job, but was driven by the goad of necessity. On her +way home to tell Mrs. Ellis that she would be leaving immediately to +live in Peckham, she slipped on a piece of banana skin and twisted her +ankle, an accident which kept her indoors for the best part of a week. +When she had written to Eastcheap to say that she was well enough to +commence work, she had received a letter which informed her that her +place had been filled. + +Now, she was sitting in her little bedroom in Kiva Street, a prey to +despair; she had no one to comfort her, not even Mrs. Ellis, this +person having gone out on a rare visit to an aunt. + +Her little stock of money had sadly dwindled; eighteen shillings and +her trinkets stood between her and want. She had fought and had been +vanquished; there was nothing left for her to do but to write to Mrs +Devitt and ask if the offer, that had been mentioned in her last letter +to Miss Mee, still held good. During all these weeks of weary effort, +Mavis had been largely kept up by the thought that she was a sparrow, +who could not fall to the ground without the knowledge of the Most +High. Now, it seemed to her that she could sustain her flight but a +little while longer; yet, so far as she could see, there was no one to +whom her extremity seemed to matter in the least. + +Apart from her desire to earn a living, the girl had struggled +resolutely in order that she should not seek work of the Devitts. She +disliked the family; she had resolved to apply to them only as a last +resource. + +She had gone one day to Brandenburg College to call on her old +employers, but she found that the name-plate had been removed, and that +the house was to let. She had made inquiries, to learn that her old +friend Miss Annie Mee had died suddenly at Worthing, and also that Miss +Helen had sold the school for what it would fetch, and no one knew what +had become of her. Mavis grieved at the loss of her friend, but not so +deeply, or for so long, as she would if she had not been consumed with +anxiety on her own account. She had not forgotten Mr Goss's offer of +help: she had called at his house twice, to learn on each occasion that +he was out of town. Presently, Mrs Ellis came in; finding Mavis moping, +she asked her to the downstairs sitting-room for a cup of tea. The girl +gladly went: she sat by the window watching the men working in the yard +behind, while Mrs Ellis made tea in the kitchen. Mavis, wanting air, +opened the window, although she remembered her landlady's liking for +having this particular one shut. No sooner had she done so, than she +heard a woman's voice raised in raucous anger, the while it made use of +much bad language. It abused certain people for not having done their +work. The bad language getting more forceful than before, Mavis moved +from the window. Presently, the voice stopped. Soon after, Mrs Ellis, +looking red and flustered, came into the room. When she saw that Mavis +had opened the window, she became redder in the face, as she said: + +"I'm sorry, miss; I couldn't help it." + +"Help what?" asked Mavis. + +"Talking to the men as I did. I always wanted the window down, so you +shouldn't hear." + +"It was you, then?" + +"Didn't you know, miss?" + +"Not altogether. It was something like your voice." + +"If I were to talk to them ordinary, they wouldn't listen; so I've to +talk to them in my 'usband's language, which is all they understand," +said Mrs Ellis apologetically. + +The contrast between Mrs Ellis's neat, unassuming respectability and +her language to the men made Mavis smile. + +"I'm glad you've taken it sensible," remarked her landlady. "Many's the +good lodger I've lost through that there window being open." + +Tea put fresh heart into Mavis. It was ten days since she had last +called on Mr Goss: she resolved to make a further attempt. He was in, +she learned from the maid-of-all-work, who opened the door of Mr Goss's +house. + +On asking to see him, she was shown into a double drawing-room, the +front part of which was tolerably furnished; but Mavis could not help +noticing that the back was quite shabby; unframed coloured prints, +taken from Christmas numbers of periodicals, were fastened to the walls +with tin tacks. + +Mr Goss came into the room wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. +Mavis feared that she had interrupted a meal. Whether she had or not, +he was glad to see her and asked if he could help her. Mavis told him +how she was situated. In reply, he said that he had a friend who was a +man of some importance in a West-end emporium. He asked her if she +would like a letter of introduction to this person. Mavis jumped at the +offer. When he had written the letter, Mavis asked after his daughter, +to learn that she was staying at Margate with her mother. When Mavis +thanked and said good-bye to Mr Goss, he warmly pressed the hand that +she offered. + +The next day, she presented herself at the great house of business +where Mr Goss's friend was to be found. His name was Evans. It was only +after delay that she was able to see him. He was a grave, +kindly-looking man, who scanned Mavis with interest before he read Mr +Goss's letter. Mavis could almost hear the beating of her heart while +she waited to see if he could offer her anything. + +"I'm sorry," he said, as he folded up the letter. + +Mavis could not trust herself to speak. + +"Very sorry I can't oblige you or Mr Goss," continued the man. "All our +vacancies were filled last week. I've nothing at present." + +Mavis turned to go. + +"You want something to do at once?" said Mr Evans, as he noticed the +girl's dismay. + +Mavis nodded. The man went on: + +"They'd probably take you at Dawes'." + +"Dawes'!" echoed Mavis hopefully. + +"Do you know anything of Dawes'?" + +"Everyone knows Dawes'," smiled Mavis. + +"But do you know anything of the place, as it affects girls who live +there?" + +"No," answered Mavis, who scarcely heeded what Mr Evans was saying; all +her thoughts were filled by a great joy at a prospect of getting work. + +She was conscious of the man saying something about her consulting Mrs +Goss before thinking of going there; but she did not give this aspect +of the matter another moment's thought. + +"What name shall I ask for?" asked Mavis. + +"Mr Orgles, if you go." + +"Thank you so much. May I mention your name?" + +"If you decide to go there, certainly." + +Mavis thanked him and was gone. She, at once, made for Dawes'. The girl +knew exactly where it was, its name and situation being a household +word to women living in London. Arrived there, she glanced appealingly +at the splendid plate-glass windows, as if beseeching them to mitigate +some of their aloofness. She approached one of the glass doors, which +was opened by a gorgeously attired official. When inside, she looked +about her curiously, fearfully. She was in a long room, down either +side of which ran a counter, behind which were stationed young women, +who bore themselves with a self-conscious, would-be queenly mien. The +space between the counters, to which the public was admitted, was +promenaded by frock-coated men, who piloted inexperienced customers to +where they might satisfy their respective wants. One of these +shop-walkers approached Mavis. + +"Where can I direct you, madam?" + +"I want to see Mr Orgles." + +The man looked at her attentively. + +"I've come from Mr Evans at Poole and Palfrey's," murmured Mavis. + +The man left her and spoke to one of the regal young women, who stood +behind the counter as if trying to make believe that they were there, +not from necessity, but from choice. + +The man returned to Mavis and told her to wait. As she stood in the +shop, she saw the young woman whom the man had spoken to mouth +something in a speaking tube; this person then whispered to two or +three other girls who stood behind the counter, causing them to stare +continuously at Mavis. Presently, the speaking tube whistled, when a +message came to say that if Miss Keeves would walk upstairs, Mr Orgles +would see her. The shop-walker walked before Mavis to show her the way. +She could not help noticing that the man's demeanour had changed: he +had approached her, when he first saw her, with the servility peculiar +to his occupation; now, having fathomed her errand, he marched before +her with elbows stuck out and head erect, as if to convey what an +important personage he was. + +She was shown into a plainly furnished office, where she was told to +wait. She wondered if, at last, she would have any luck. She sat there +for about ten minutes, when a man came into the room, shutting the door +after him. He was about sixty-five, and walked with a stoop. His face +reminded Mavis of a camel. He had large bulging eyes, which seemed to +gaze at objects sideways. He looked like the deacon at a house of +dissenting worship, which, indeed, he was. Mavis rightly concluded this +person to be Mr Orgles. + +"You wished to see me?" he asked. + +"Mr Orgles?" + +"That's my name." + +Mavis explained why she had called: it was as much as she could do to +hide her anxiety. Mr Orgles not making any reply, she went on speaking, +saying how she would do her utmost to give satisfaction in the event of +her being engaged. + +While she was pleading, she was conscious that the man was looking in +his sideways fashion at her figure. He approached her. Mavis suddenly +felt an instinct of repugnance for the man. She said all she could +think of, but Mr Orgles remained silent; she anxiously scanned his face +in the hope of getting some encouragement from its expression, but she +might as well have stared at a brick wall for all the enlightenment she +got. Then followed a few moments' pause, during which her eyes were +riveted on Mr Orgles's nostrils: these were prominent, large, dilating; +they fascinated her. As he still remained silent, she presently found +courage to ask: + +"Will you take me?" + +He turned his face so that one of his eyes could look into hers, +fiercely as she thought. He shook his head. Mavis uttered a little cry; +she rose to go. + +"Don't go," said a voice beside her. + +Mr Orgles was standing quite near. + +"Do you badly want a place?" + +"Very badly." + +"H'm!" + +His big nostrils were dilating more than ever; he turned his head so +that one of his eyes again looked into hers. + +"Something might be got you," continued the man. + +"It all depends on influence." + +Mavis looked up quickly. + +"I was wondering if you'd like me to do my best for you?" + +"Oh, of course I would." + +"Excuse me," said Mr Orgles, as he took what seemed to be a tiny piece +of fluff from the skirt of her coat. "You must have got it coming +upstairs." + +"Do you think you would speak for me?" Mavis found words to ask. + +Mr Orgles's eyes again rested on Mavis, as he said: + +"It depends on you." + +"On me?" + +"You say you have never been out in the world before?" + +"Not really in the world." + +"I am sorry." + +"Sorry!" echoed Mavis. + +"Because you haven't lived; you don't know what life can be--is," cried +Mr Orgles, who now waved his arms and moved jerkily about the girl. + +She looked at him in astonishment. + +"Excuse me; a further bit of fluff," said Mr Orgles. + +This time he placed his hand upon the breast of her coat and seemed in +no hurry to remove it. + +Mavis flushed and moved away; at any other time she would have hotly +resented his conduct, but today she was desperately anxious to get +employment, Mr Orgles took courage from her half-heartedness. + +"Let me show you," he cried. + +"Show me what?" she asked, perplexed. + +"How to live: how to enjoy life: how to be happy. The rest is easy: you +will be employed here; you will rise to great things; and it will all +be owing to me." + +Mavis looked at the excited, gesticulating old man in surprise; she +wondered if he were right in his senses. Suddenly, his gyrations +ceased; he glanced at the door and then moved his head in order to dart +a horrid glance at the girl. He then approached her with arms +outstretched. + +Mavis intuitively knew what he meant. Her body quivered with rage; the +fingers of her right hand clenched. Perhaps the man saw the anger in +her eyes, because he stopped; but he was near enough for Mavis to feel +his hot breath upon her cheek. + +Thus they stood for a moment, he undecided, she on the defensive, when +the door opened and a man came into the room. Mr Orgles, with an +unpleasant look on his face, turned to see who the intruder might be. + +"I've been looking for you, Orgles," said the man. + +"Indeed, sir! Very sorry, sir," remarked Mr Orgles, who wore such an +attitude of servility to the newcomer that Mavis could hardly believe +him to be the same man. + +"I see you're busy," continued the intruder. "Engaging someone in Miss +Jackson's place?" + +"I was thinking about doing so, sir." + +"Why hesitate?" + +Here the man--he was tall, dark, and fresh-coloured--looked kindly at +Mavis; although not a gentleman, he had an unmistakable air of +authority. + +"There's no reason why I shouldn't, sir, only--" + +"Only what?" + +"She's had no experience, sir." + +The man turned to Mavis and said: + +"If your references are satisfactory, you can consider yourself as +engaged from next week." + +"Oh, thank you," said Mavis, trying to voice her gratitude. + +"Call to-morrow with your references at eleven and ask for Mr +Skeffington Dawes," said the stranger. + +A great gladness and a great reproach came to the girl's heart: a great +gladness at having secured work; a great reproach at having believed +that there was no one who cared if a human sparrow, such as she, should +fall. + +She bowed her thanks to Mr Skeffington Dawes and left the room, all +unconscious of the malignant glance that Mr Orgles shot at her, after +turning his head to bring the girl within his range of vision. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +"DAWES" + + +After securing a place in "Dawes'," which Mavis did at her interview +with Mr Skeffington Dawes (one of the directors of the firm), her first +sensation was one of disappointment, perhaps consequent upon reaction +from the tension in her mind until she was sure of employment. + +Now, she was resentful at having to earn her bread as a shop-girl, not +only on account of its being a means of livelihood which she had always +looked down upon, but also, because it exposed her to the insults of +such creatures as Orgles. She sat in Mrs Ellis' back sitting-room three +days before she was to commence her duties at "Dawes'"; she was moody +and depressed; on the least provocation, or none at all, she would weep +bitter tears for ten minutes at a time. + +This physical lowness brought home to her the fear of possibly losing +her hitherto perfect health. The prospect of being overtaken by such a +calamity opened up a vista of terrifying possibilities which would not +bear thinking about. + +Now, she was to earn fifteen pounds a year and "live in," a term +meaning that "Dawes'" would provide her with board and lodging; she +might, also, add to her salary by commissions on sales. The effort of +packing her belongings took her mind from brooding over troubles, real +or imaginary, and served to heighten her spirits. Mrs Ellis' words, +also, put heart into her. + +"People will take to a nice-mannered, well-spoken, fine-looking young +lady like you, miss," she said to Mavis. + +"Nonsense!" replied Mavis. + +"It ain't, miss. I've kep my eyes open, and I see how young ladies, +such as you, either go 'up' or go 'down.' You're one of the 'go +uppers,' and now you've a chance, why, you might, one day, have a +business of your own." + +"Mind you come and deal with me if I do. You shall always have 'tick' +for as much as you like." + +"Thank you very much, miss; but I couldn't enjoy wearing a thing if I +didn't know it was paid for. I should think everyone was looking at it." + +"Time to talk about that when I get my own business." + +"And if things go wrong, which God forbid, you've always a home here!" + +"Mrs Ellis!" + +"I'm not so young as I was, and that yard gets me in the throat crool +in the cold weather. You'd be useful there too, miss, if you wouldn't +mind learning a few swear words." + +"Oh, Mrs Ellis!" laughed Mavis. + +"It's difficult at first, miss; but it's wonderful how soon you drop +into it if you give your mind to it," declared the landlady solemnly. + +Four evenings later, Mavis arrived at "Dawes'," having sent her boxes +earlier in the day. She was to commence work on the morrow, and had +been advised by the firm that it would be as well to take up her abode +in her future quarters the night before. + +Nine o'clock found her on the pavement before the firm's great windows, +now securely shuttered; she wondered how she should find her way +inside, there being no door in the spread of shutters by which she +could gain admittance. Noticing that one or two men were dogging her +footsteps, she asked a policeman how she could get into "Dawes'." + +"A new hand, miss?" asked the policeman. + +"Yes." + +"I thought so. First to the right and first to the right again, where +you'll see two or three open doors belonging to the firm," the +policeman informed her. He had directed many fresh, comely young women, +who had arrived from the country, to the "young ladies'" entrance; +later, he had seen the same girls, when it was often with an effort +that he could believe them to have been what they once were. + +Mavis followed his directions and nearly missed the first on the right, +this being a narrow turning. Many-storied buildings, looking like +warehouses, were on either side of this; their height was such that the +merest strip of sky could be seen when Mavis looked up. She then came +to an open door. Above this was a fanlight, which fitfully lighted a +passage terminating in a flight of uncarpeted stone steps. It was all +very uninviting. The girl looked about for someone of whom to make +further inquiries. No one came in or went out; all that Mavis could see +was one or two over-dressed men, who were prowling about on the further +side of the way. A little distance up the turning was another open door +lit in the same way as the first. This also admitted to a similar +passage, which, also, terminated in a flight of bare stone steps. Just +as she got there, two young women flaunted out; they were in evening +dress, but Mavis thought the petticoats that they aggressively +displayed were cheap, torn, and soiled. They pushed past Mavis, to be +joined by two of the prowlers in the street. Mavis walked inside, where +she waited for some time without seeing anyone; then, an odd-looking, +malformed creature came up, seemingly from a hole at the end of the +passage. She had scarcely any nose; she wore spectacles and the uniform +of a servant. Before she disappeared up the stairs, Mavis saw that she +carried blankets in one hand, a housemaid's pail in the other. She +breathed noisily through her nostrils. When she was well out of sight, +Mavis thought that she might have got the information she wanted from +this person. Presently, the clattering of a pail was heard, a sound +which gradually came nearer. In due course, the malformed creature +appeared at the foot of the stairs. + +"I've come," said Mavis to this person. + +"'Ave yer?" + +The person vanished, seemingly through the floor. + +Mavis was taken aback by the woman's rudeness; even to this creature, +shop-girls were, apparently, of small account. By and by, Mavis heard +her clumping up from below. When she appeared, Mavis put authority into +her voice as she said: + +"Can I see anyone here?" + +"If you've any eyes in your 'ead," snorted the servant, as she +disappeared from view. + +Still no one came. Mavis was making up her mind to explore the +downstair regions when the footfalls of the rude person were heard +coming down. + +"I've been waiting quite ten minutes," Mavis began angrily, as the +person came in view. + +"'Ave yer?" + +"Look here, I'm not used to be answered like that," Mavis began; but +she was wasting her breath; the servant went on her way in complete +disregard of Mavis's wrath. + +Mavis thought of trying another entrance, when a young woman came +downstairs. She had a pasty face, with a turned-up nose and large, +romantic eyes. She carried a book under her arm. When she saw Mavis, +she stopped to look curiously at her. + +"I've come here to start work tomorrow. Can you tell me where I'm to +go?" asked Mavis. + +"I'm in a great hurry. I've a Browning--" + +"If you'll only tell me where to go," interrupted Mavis. + +"It's this way," cried the girl, as she led the way up the stairs. +"I've a Browning to return to--" + +"If you'll only tell me where I'm to go--" + +"You'd never find it. I'd have shown you round, but I've to return a +Browning to a gentleman." + +"It's very kind of you," remarked Mavis, who was wondering how much +further she had to climb. + +"Do you love Browning?" asked the girl with the big eyes. + +"I can't say I do." + +"You--don't--love--Browning?" asked the other in astonishment. + +"I'm sorry, but I don't." + +"I couldn't live without Browning. Here's your room: you'll probably +find someone inside. My name's Miss Meakin." + +"Mine is Mavis Keeves. Thanks so much." + +Mavis opened the door of a not over-large room, which was lit by a +single gas burner. Mavis looked at the four small beds, the four chests +of drawers, the four washing stands, the four cane chairs, and the four +framed bits of looking glass, which made up the furniture of the room. +Upon three of the beds were tumbled articles of feminine attire; others +had slipped on the not over-clean floor. Then Mavis noticed the back of +a girl who was craning her neck out of the one window at the further +end of the room. The atmosphere of the apartment next compelled +attention; it was a combination of gas (the burner leaked), stale body +linen, cheap scents and soapsuds; it stuck in her throat and made her +cough. + +"Is that Pongo?" asked the girl, who was still staring out of the +window. + +"It's me," said Mavis. + +"Eh!" + +The girl brought her body into the room. Mavis saw a girl who would +have had a fine figure if she had been two or three inches taller. She +was swarthy, with red lips and fine eyes; she was dressed in showy but +cheap evening finery. + +"Common and vulgar-minded," was Mavis's mental comment as she looked at +this person. + +"Are you the new girl?" the stranger asked. + +"Yes." + +"I took you for Bella, the slavey. Sorry! Pleased to meet you." + +"Thank you." + +"Have you just come in from outside?" + +"Yes." + +"You didn't see anything of a gentleman in a big motor car?" + +"No." + +"I'm expecting my boy in one. He promised to call for me in his motor +car to-night and take me out to dinner and supper," continued the girl. + +"I'm rather hungry too," remarked Mavis. + +"Are you going out to dinner and supper?" + +"Don't they give supper here?" + +"They do," answered the girl, emphasising the last word, as if to +disparage the meal supplied to their young ladies by "Dawes'." + +"It will have to be good enough for me," said Mavis, who resented the +patronising manner of the other. + +"Excuse me," remarked the dark girl suddenly, as she again craned out +of the window. + +"Certainly," said Mavis dryly, as she wondered what had happened to the +boxes she had had sent on earlier in the day. + +"No sign of him yet. I'm afraid he's had a breakdown," exclaimed the +girl, after looking down the street for some time, a remark to which +Mavis paid no attention. The girl went on: + +"You were speaking of the supper 'Dawes'' supply. I couldn't eat it +myself. I simply lode their food." + +"What?" asked Mavis, whose ears had caught the mispronunciation. + +"Yes, I simply lode the food they give for supper, the same as Miss +Potter and Miss Allen, the other young ladies who sleep in this room. +Indeed, we can only eat restaurant food in the evenings." + +"What's wrong with the supper here?" asked Mavis, nervously thinking of +her hearty appetite and the few shillings that remained after settling +up with Mrs Ellis. + +"Taste and try: you've only to go right to the bottom of the 'ouse. +Excuse me." + +Here the swarthy young woman leaned so far out of the window that Mavis +feared she would lose her balance and fall into the street. Then Mavis +heard footsteps and the clatter of a pail in the passage. The door +opened, and the misshapen person who had been rude to her when she was +waiting downstairs appeared. + +"Here she is," called this person, at which two men entered with +Mavis's trunks; these they dumped on the floor. + +"Thank you," said Mavis. + +"Heavy work, miss," remarked one of the men. + +"Be off with you," cried the servant. + +"Now then, beauty," laughed the other of the men. + +"Be off with you; none of your cadging here." + +"But they're heavy, and if--" began Mavis. + +"It's what they're paid for. Be off with you," snorted the servant. + +"There he is!" cried the girl who had been leaning out of the window. + +"Motor and all?" asked Mavis. + +"Eh! Oh, he hasn't brought the motor; we'll 'ave to take a 'an'som. +Good-bye for the present. My name's Impett--Rose Impett." + +"Mine's Keeves," said Mavis, thinking she may as well be agreeable to +those she had to live with. She then went to her boxes and saw that the +odd-looking servant had uncorded them. + +"Thank you," said Mavis. + +"I dessay it's more than you deserve," remarked the servant. + +"I daresay," assented Mavis. + +"Let's have a look at you." + +"What?" + +"You needn't be jealous of me; let's have a look." + +The servant urged Mavis to stand by the flaring gas, where she looked +her up and down, Mavis thought maliciously. + +"H'm! Wonder how long it'll be before I have to pray for you?" + +"Eh!" + +"Same as I has to for the others." + +"I don't understand." + +"Look on the bed; see 'ow they leave their clothes, and such clothes. +That's what their souls is like." + +"Indeed!" said Mavis, scarcely knowing what to say. + +"All the same, I prays for them, though what God A'mighty thinks o' me +for all the sinners I pray for, I can't think. Supper's downstairs, if +you can eat it; and my name's Bella." + +Bella left the room. Mavis thought that she rather liked her than +otherwise, despite her rudeness earlier in the evening. Mavis unpacked +her more immediate requirements before seeking supper in the basement. +She descended to the floor on which was the passage communicating with +the street, but the staircase leading to the supper-room was unlit, +therefore she was compelled to grope her way down; as she did so, she +became aware of a disgusting smell which reminded Mavis of a time at +Brandenburg College when the drains went wrong and had to be put right. +She then found herself in a carpetless passage lit by gas flaming in a +wire cage; here, the smell of drains was even more offensive than +before. There was a half-open door on the right, from which came the +clatter of knives and plates. Mavis, believing that this was the +supper-room, went in. + +She found herself in a large, low room, the walls of which were built +with glazed brick. Upon the left, the further wall receded as it +approached the ceiling, to admit, in daytime, the light that straggled +from the thick glass let into the pavement, on which the footsteps of +the passers-by were ceaselessly heard. The room was filled by a long +table covered by a scanty cloth, at which several pasty-faced, +unwholesome-looking young women were eating bread and cheese, the while +they talked in whispers or read from journals, books, or novelettes. At +the head of the table sat a dark, elderly little woman, who seemed to +be all nose and fuzzy hair: this person was not eating. Several of the +girls looked with weary curiosity at Mavis, while they mentally totted +up the price she had paid for her clothes; when they reached their +respective totals, they resumed their meal. + +"Miss Keeth?" said the dark little woman at the head of the table, who +spoke with a lisp. + +"Yes," replied Mavis. + +"If you want thupper, you'll find a theat." + +"Thank you." + +Mavis sank wearily in the first empty chair. "Dawes'" had already got +on her nerves. She was sick at heart with all she had gone through; +from the depths of her being she resented being considered on an +equality with the two young women she had met and those she saw about +her. She closed her eyes as she tried to take herself, for a brief +moment, from her surroundings. She was recalled to the present by a +plate, on which was a hunk of bread and a piece of cheese, being thrust +beneath her nose. She was hungry when she came downstairs; now, +appetite had left her. Her gorge rose at the pasty-faced girls, the +brick-walled cellar, the unwholesome air, and the beady-eyed little +woman seated at the head of the table. She thought it better, if only +for her health's sake, to try and swallow something. She put a piece of +cheese in her mouth. Mavis, by now, was an authority on cheap cheese; +she knew all the varieties of flavour to be found in the lesser-priced +cheeses. Ordinarily, she had been enabled to make them palatable with +the help of vinegar, mustard, or even with an onion; but tonight none +of these resources were at hand with which to make appetising the soapy +compound on her plate. Miss Striem, the dark little woman at the head +of the table, noted her disinclination to tackle the cheese. + +"You can have anything exthra if you care to pay for it," she remarked. + +"What have you?" asked Mavis. + +"Ham, bloater, or chicken pathte, and an exthellent brand of thardines." + +"I'll try the ham paste," said Mavis. + +An opened tin of ham paste was put before her. Mavis noticed that the +other girls were looking at her out of the corners of their eyes. + +She put some of the paste on to her plate; it looked unusual, even for +potted meat; but ascribing its appearance to the effect of the light, +Mavis spread some on a bit of bread and put this in her mouth. Only for +a moment; the next, she had removed it with her handkerchief. One of +the girls tittered. Miss Striem looked sharply in this person's +direction. + +"I can't eat this: it's bad!" cried Mavis. + +"Perhaps you would prefer a thardine." + +"Anything, so long as it's fit to eat." + +Some of the girls raised their eyebrows at this remark. All of them +were more or less frightened of Miss Striem, the housekeeper. + +An opened tin of sardines was set before Mavis. She had only to glance +inside to see that its contents were mildewed. + +"Thanks," she said, pushing the tin away. + +"I beg your pardon," remarked Miss Striem severely. + +"They're bad too. I'm not going to eat them." + +"You'll have to pay for them juth the thame." + +"What?" cried Mavis. + +"If you order, you pay. Ith a rule in the houth," said Miss Striem, as +if the matter were forthwith dismissed from her mind. + +"To sell girls bad food?" asked Mavis. + +"I cannot discuth the matter; the thum due will be deducted from your +wageth." + +Mavis's blood was up. Her wage was small enough without having anything +deducted for food she could not eat. + +"I shall go to the management," she remarked. + +"You'll what?" + +"Go to the management. I'm not going to be cheated like that." + +"You call me a cheat?" screamed the little woman, as she rose to her +feet. + +Mavis was, for the moment, taken aback by Miss Striem's vehemence. The +girl next to her whispered, "Go it," under her breath. + +"You call me a cheat?" repeated Miss Striem. + +"I shall say what I have to say to the management," replied Mavis +coolly. + +"And I'll thay what I have to thay; and you'll find out who is believed +in a way you won't like." + +"I shall prove my case," retorted Mavis, as she grabbed the ham paste +and the tin of sardines. + +Miss Striem sat down. A giggle ran round the table. + +"Can you tell me where the sitting-room is, please?" Mavis asked of the +girl next to her. + +"What?" replied the girl whom she had spoked to. + +Mavis repeated her question. + +"There's no such thing; there's only this place open at meal times and +your bedroom." + +"Thanks; I'll go there. Good night." + +Mavis, carrying her ham paste and sardines, walked the evil-smelling +passage and up the stairs to her room. Once outside the supper-room, +she repented of having had words with Miss Striem, who was, doubtless, +a person of authority; but it was done now, and Mavis reflected how she +had justice and evidence on her side. The bedroom was empty. Mavis +placed the ham paste and sardines on her washing-stand; she then took +advantage of the absence of the other girls to undress and get into +bed. She fell into a heavy slumber, which gave place to a state of +dreamy wakefulness, during which she became conscious of others being +in the room; of hearing herself discussed; of a sudden commotion in the +apartment. A sequence of curious noises thoroughly awoke her. The +unaccustomed sight of three other girls in the room in which she slept +caused her to sit bolt upright. The girl, Miss Impett, to whom she had +already spoken, was sitting on her bed, yawning as she pulled off her +stockings. Another, a fine, queenly-looking girl, in evening dress, was +sitting on a chair with her hands pressed to her stomach; her eyes were +rolling as if she were in pain. The third girl, also in evening dress, +but not so handsome as the sufferer, was whispering consoling words. + +"Is she ill?" asked Mavis. + +"It's the indigestion," replied the last girl Mavis had noticed. + +"Can I do anything?" asked Mavis. + +"She always has it dreadful when she goes out to supper; now she's +paying for it and--" She got no further; her friend was seized with +another attack; all her attention was devoted to rubbing the patient's +stomach, the while the latter groaned loudly. It was a similar noise +which had awakened Mavis. + +"I suppose we shan't get to sleep for an hour," yawned Miss Impett, as +she struggled into a not too clean nightdress. + +"Oh, you cat, you!" gasped the sufferer. + +"It's your own fault," retorted Miss Impett. "You always over-eat +yourself and drink such a lot of that filthy creme de menthe." + +"Don't you wish you had the chance?" snapped the girl who was attending +her friend. + +"I always drink Kummel; it's much more ladylike," remarked Miss Impett. + +"You'd drink anything you can bally well get," the sufferer cried at a +moment when she was free of pain. + +"I am a lady. I know how to be'ave when a gentleman offers me a drink," +retorted Miss Impett. + +"You a lady--you--!" began the sufferer's ministering angel. She got no +further, being checked by her friend casting a significant glance in +Mavis's direction. + +Half an hour later, Mavis fell asleep. It was a strange experience +when, the next morning, she had to wash and dress with three other +girls doing the same thing in the little space at their disposal. + +She had asked if there were any chance of getting a bath, to be +surprised at the astonished looks on the faces of the others. At a +quarter to eight, they scurried down to breakfast, at which meal Miss +Striem presided, as at supper. + +Breakfast consisted of thick bread, salt butter, and the cheapest of +cheap tea. It was as much as Mavis could do to get any of it down, +although she was hungry. She could not help noticing that she was the +object of much remark to the other girls present, her words with Miss +Striem on the previous evening having attracted much attention. After +breakfast, Mavis was taken upstairs to the department in which she was +to work. It was on the roomy ground floor, for which she was thankful; +she was also pleased that the girl selected to instruct her in her +duties was her Browning friend of last night. Her work was not arduous, +and Mavis enjoyed the handling of dainty things; but she soon became +tired of standing, at which she sat on one of the seats provided by Act +of Parliament to rest the limbs of weary shop assistants. + +"You mustn't do that!" urged Miss Meakin. + +"Why not?" + +"You'll get yourself disliked if you do." + +"What are they here for, if not to sit on?" + +"They have to be there; but you won't be here long if you're seen using +them, 'cept when the Government inspector is about." + +"It's cruel, unfair," began Mavis, but her friend merely shrugged her +shoulders as she moved away to wait on a customer. + +Mavis was disposed to rebel against the unwritten rule that seats are +not to be made use of, but a moment's reflection convinced her of the +unwisdom of such a proceeding. + +Later on in the morning, Miss Meakin said to Mavis: + +"I hear you had a dust up with old Striem last night." + +Mavis told her the circumstances. + +"She's an awful beast and makes no end of money out of the catering. +But no one dare say anything, as she's a relation of one of the +directors. All the young ladies are talking of your standing up to her." + +"I suppose she'll report me," remarked Mavis. + +"She daren't; she's too keen on a good thing; but I'll bet she has her +knife into you if she gets a chance." + +Presently, Miss Meakin got confidential; she told Mavis how she was +engaged to be married; also, that she met her "boy" by chance at a +public library, where they both asked the librarian for Browning at the +same time, and that this had brought them together. + +The girls went down to dinner in two batches. When it was time for +Mavis to go (she was in the second lot), she was weary with exhaustion; +the continued standing, the absence of fresh air, her poor breakfast, +all conspired to cause her mental and physical distress. + +The contaminated air of the passage leading to the eating-room brought +on a feeling of nausea. Miss Meakin, noticing Mavis change colour, +remarked: + +"We're all like that at first: you'll soon get used to it." + +If the atmosphere of the downstair regions discouraged appetite, the +air in the glazed bricked dining-room was enough to take it away; it +was heavy with the reek arising from cooked joints and vegetables. +Mavis took her place, when a plate heaped up with meat and vegetables +was passed to her. One look was enough: the meat was cag mag, and +scarcely warm at that; the potatoes looked uninvitingly soapy; the +cabbage was coarse and stringy; all this mess was seemingly frozen in +the white fat of what had once been gravy. Mavis sickened and turned +away her head; she noticed that the food affected many of the girls in +a like manner. + +"No wonder," she thought, "that so many of them are pasty-faced and +unwholesome-looking." + +She realised the necessity of providing the human machine with fuel; +she made an effort to disguise the scant flavour of the best-looking +bits she could pick out by eating plenty of bread. She had swallowed +one or two mouthfuls and already felt better for the nourishment, when +her eye fell on a girl seated nearly opposite to her, whom she had not +noticed before. This creature was of an abnormal stoutness; her face +was covered with pimples and the rims of her eyes were red; but it was +not these physical defects which compelled Mavis's attention. The girl +kept her lips open as she ate, displaying bloodless gums in which were +stuck irregular decayed teeth; she exhibited the varying processes of +mastication, the while her boiled eyes stared vacantly before her. She +compelled Mavis's attention, with the result that the latter had no +further use for the food on her plate. She even refused rice pudding, +which, although burned, might otherwise have attracted her. + +The air of the shop upstairs was agreeably refreshing after the +vitiated atmosphere of the dining-room; it saved her from faintness. +Happily, she was sent down to tea at a quarter to four, to find that +this, by a lucky accident, was stronger and warmer than the tepid stuff +with which she had been served at breakfast. As the hours wore on, +Mavis noticed that most of the girls seemed to put some heart into +their work; she supposed that this elation was caused by the rapidly +approaching hour of liberty. When this at last arrived, there was a +rush to the bedrooms. Mavis, who was now suffering tortures from a +racking headache, went listlessly upstairs; she wondered if she would +be allowed to go straight to bed. When she got into the room, she found +everything in confusion. Miss Potter, Miss Allen, and Miss Impett were +frantically exchanging their working clothes for evening attire. Mavis +was surprised to see the three girls painting their cheeks and eyebrows +in complete indifference to her presence. They took small notice of +her; they were too busy discussing the expensive eating-houses at which +they were to dine and sup. Miss Potter, in struggling into her evening +bodice, tore it behind. Mavis, seeing that Miss Allen was all behind +with her dressing, offered to sew it. + +"Thank you," remarked Miss Potter, in the manner of one bestowing a +favour. Mavis mended the rent quickly and skilfully. Perhaps her ready +needle softened the haughty Miss Potter's heart towards her, for the +beauty said: + +"Where are you off to to-night?" + +"Nowhere," answered Mavis. + +"Nowhere!" echoed Miss Potter disdainfully, while the other occupants +of the room ejaculated "My!" + +"Haven't you a 'boy'?" asked Miss Potter. + +"A what?" + +"A young man then," said Miss Potter, as she made a deft line beneath +her left eye with an eye pencil. + +"I don't know any young men," remarked Mavis. + +"Hadn't you better be quick and pick up one?" asked Miss Impett. + +"I don't care to make chance acquaintances," answered Mavis. + +To her surprise, her remark aroused the other girls' ire; they looked +at Mavis and then at one another in astonishment. + +"I defy anyone to prove that I'm not a lady," cried Miss Impett, as she +bounced out of the room. + +"I'm as good as you any day," declared Miss Potter, as she went to the +door. + +"Yes, that we are," cried Miss Allen defiantly, as she joined her +friend. + +Mavis sat wearily on her bed. Her head ached; her body seemed incapable +of further effort; worst of all, her soul was steeped in despair. + +"What have I done, oh, what have I done to deserve this misery?" she +cried out. + +This outburst strengthened her: needs cried for satisfaction in her +body, the chief of these being movement and air. She walked to the +window and looked out on the cloudless September night; there was a +chill in the air, imparting to its sweetness a touch of austerity. +Mavis wondered from what peaceful scenes it came, to what untroubled +places it was going. The thought that she was remote from the stillness +for which her heart hungered exasperated her; she closed the window in +order to spare herself being tortured by the longing which the night +air awoke in her being. The atmosphere of the room was foul when +compared with the air she had just breathed; it seemed to get her by +the throat, to be on the point of stifling her. The next moment she had +pinned on her hat, caught up her gloves, and scurried into the street. +Two minutes later she was in Oxford Street, where she was at once +merged into a stream of girls, a stream almost as wide as the pavement, +which was sluggishly moving in the direction of the Park. This flow was +composed of every variety of girl: tall, stumpy, medium, dark, fair, +auburn, with dispositions as varied as their appearances. Many were +aglow with hope and youthful ardour; others were well over their first +fine frenzy of young blood. There were wise virgins, foolish virgins, +vain girls, clever girls, elderly girls, dull girls, laughing girls, +amorous girls, spiteful girls, girls with the toothache, girls +radiantly happy in the possession of some new, cheap finery: all +wending their way towards the Marble Arch. Most walked in twos and +threes, a few singly; some of these latter were hurrying and darting +amongst the listless walk of the others in their eagerness to keep +appointments with men. Whatever their age, disposition, or condition, +they were all moved by a common desire--to enjoy a crowded hour of +liberty after the toil and fret of the day. As Mavis moved with the +flow of this current, she noticed how it was constantly swollen by the +addition of tributaries, which trickled from nearly every door in +Oxford Street, till at last the stream overflowed the broad pavement +and became so swollen that it seemed to carry everything before it. +Here were gathered girls from nearly every district in the United +Kingdom. The broken home, stepmothers, too many in family, the +fascination which London exercises for the country-grown girl--all and +each of these reasons were responsible for all this womanhood of a +certain type pouring down Oxford Street at eight o'clock in the +evening. Each of them was the centre of her little universe, and, on +the whole, they were mostly happy, their gladness being largely +ignorance of more fortunate conditions of life. Ill-fed, under-paid, +they were insignificant parts of the great industrial machine which had +got them in its grip, so that their function was to make rich men +richer, or to pay 10 per cent, dividends to shareholders who were +careless how these were earned. Nightly, this river of girls flows down +Oxford Street, to return in an hour or two, when the human tide can be +seen flowing in the contrary direction. Meantime, men of all ages and +conditions were skilfully tacking upon this river, itching to quench +the thirst from which they suffered. It needed all the efforts of the +guardian angels, in whose existence Mavis had been taught to believe, +to guide the component parts of this stream from the oozy marshland, +murky ways, and bottomless quicksands which beset its course. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +WIDER HORIZONS + + +Seven weeks passed quickly for Mavis, during which her horizon sensibly +widened. She learned many things, the existence of which she would +never have thought possible till the knowledge stared her in the face. +To begin with, she believed that the shabby treatment, in the way of +food and accommodation, that the girls suffered at "Dawes'" would bind +them in bonds of sympathy: the contrary was the case. The young women +in other departments looked down on and would have nothing to do with +girls, such as she, who worked in the shop. These other departments had +their rivalries and emulation for social precedence, leading to feuds, +of which the course of action consisted of the two opposing parties +sulking and refusing to speak to each other, unless compelled in the +course of business. The young women in the showroom were selected for +their figures and general appearance; these, by common consent, were +the aristocracy of the establishment. After a time, Mavis found that +there was another broad divergence between her fellow-workers, which +was quite irrespective of the department in which they were. There was +a type of girl, nearly always the best-looking, which seemed to have an +understanding and freemasonry of its own, together with secrets, +confidences, and conversations, which were never for the ears of those +who were outsiders--in the sense of their not being members of this +sisterhood. Miss Potter, Miss Allen, and Miss Impett all belonged to +this set, which nearly always went out after shop hours in evening +dress, which never seemed to want for ready money or pretty clothes, +and which often went away for the weekend ("Dawes'" closed at two on +Saturdays). When Mavis had first been introduced to the three girls +with whom she shared her bedroom, she had intuitively felt that there +was a broad, invisible gulf which lay between her and them; as time +went on, this division widened, so far as Miss Impett and Miss Potter +were concerned, to whom Mavis rarely spoke. Miss Allen, who, in all +other respects, toadied to and imitated Miss Potter, was disposed to be +friendly to Mavis. Miss Impett, who on occasion swore like any street +loafer, Mavis despised as a common, ignorant girl. Miss Potter she knew +to be fast; but Miss Allen, when alone with Mavis, went out of her way +to be civil to her; the fact of the matter being that she was a weak, +easily led girl, whose character was dominated by any stronger nature +with which she came in contact. + +Another thing which much surprised Mavis was the heartless cruelty the +girls displayed to any of their number who suffered from any physical +defect. Many times in the day would the afflicted one be reminded of +her infirmity; the consequent tears incited the tormentors to a further +display of malignity. + +Bella, the servant, was an object of their attentions; her gait and +manner of breathing would be imitated when she was by. She was always +known by the name of "Pongo," till one of the "young ladies" had +witnessed The Tempest from the upper boxes of His Majesty's Theatre; +from this time, it was thought to be a mark of culture on the part of +many of the girls at "Dawes'" to call her "Caliban." Mavis sympathised +with the afflicted woman's loneliness; she made one or two efforts to +be friendly with her, but each time was repulsed. + +One day, however, Mavis succeeded in penetrating the atmosphere of +ill-natured reserve with which "Pongo" surrounded herself. The servant +was staggering upstairs with two big canfuls of water; the task was +beyond her strength. + +"Let me help you," said Mavis, who was coming up behind her. + +"Shan't," snorted Bella. + +"I shall do as I please," remarked Mavis, as she caught hold of one of +the cans. + +"Leave 'old!" cried Bella; but Mavis only grasped the can tighter. + +"Go on now; don't you try and get round me and then turn an' laugh at +me." + +"I never laugh at you, and I only want to help you up with the water." + +"Straight?" + +"What else should I want?" + +"Don't be kind to me," cried Bella, suddenly breaking down. + +"Bella!" gasped Mavis in astonishment. + +"Don't you start being kind to me. I ain't used to it," wept Bella. + +"Don't be a fool, Bella!" + +"I ain't a fool. I'm onny ugly and lopsided, and everyone laughs at me +'ceptin' you, and I've no one or--or nothin' to care for." + +Mavis thought it advisable to take Bella into her room, which happened +to be empty; here, she thought, Bella would be free from eyes that +would only find food for mirth in her tears. + +"I've never had a young man," sobbed Bella. "An' that's why I turned to +Gawd and looked down on the young ladies here, as 'as as many young men +as they want; too many sometimes. An' speaking of Gawd, it's nice to +'ave Someone yer know as cares for you, though you can't never see 'Im +or walk out with 'Im." + +From this time, she tried to do Bella many little kindnesses, but, +saving this one instance, the servant was always on her guard and never +again opened her heart to Mavis. + +Miss Striem did not carry out her threat of charging Mavis for the +extras she refused to eat. In time, Mavis got used to the food supplied +by "Dawes'"; she did not swallow everything that was put upon her +plate, indeed, she did not eat with good appetite at three consecutive +meals; but she could sit at the table in the feeding-room without +overwhelming feelings of repulsion, and, by shutting her eyes to the +unconcealed mastication of the girl opposite, could often pick enough +to satisfy her immediate needs. The evening was the time when she was +most hungry; after the walk which she made a point of taking in all +weathers, she would get quite famished, when the morsel of Canadian +cheese and sour bread supplied for supper was wholly insufficient. At +first, she was tempted to enter the cheaper restaurants with which the +streets about Oxford Street abound; but these extravagances made +serious inroads on her scanty capital and had to be given up, +especially as she was saving up to buy new boots, of which she was in +need. + +She confided in Miss Meakin, who was now looking better and plumper, +since nearly every evening she had taken to supping with her "boy's" +mother, who owned a stationery business in the Holloway Road. + +"I know, it's dreadful. I used to be like that before I met Sylvester," +Miss Meakin answered to Mavis's complaint. + +"But what am I to do?" asked Mavis. + +"Have you ever tried brisket?" + +"What's that?" + +"Beef!" + +"Beef?" + +"You get it at the ham and beef shop. You get quite a lot for five +pence, and when they get to know you they give you good weight." + +"But you must have something with it," remarked Mavis. + +"Then you go to a baker's and buy a penn'orth of bread." + +"But where am I to eat it?" asked Mavis. + +"In some quiet street," replied Miss Meakin. "Why not?" + +"With one's fingers?" + +"There's no one to see you." + +Mavis looked dubious. + +"It's either that or picking up 'boys,'" remarked Miss Meakin. + +"Picking up boys!" echoed Mavis, with a note of indignation in her +voice. + +"It's what the girls do here if they don't want to go hungry." + +"But I don't quite understand." + +"Didn't you come here through old Orgles's influence?" asked Miss +Meakin guardedly. + +"Nothing of the kind; one of the partners got me in." + +"Sorry! I heard it was that beast Orgles. But most of the 'boys' who +try and speak to you in the street are only too glad to stand a girl a +feed." + +"But why should they?" + +"Don't you know?" + +"It would put me under an obligation to the man," remarked Mavis. + +"Of course; that's what the gentlemen want." + +"But it might lead silly girls into all sorts of trouble." + +"I think most of us know how to behave like ladies and drop the +gentleman when he wants to go too far." + +"Good heavens!" cried Mavis, who was taken aback by the vulgarity of +Miss Meakin's point of view. + +Perhaps the latter resented the moral superiority contained in her +friend's exclamation, for she said with aggrieved voice: + +"There's Miss Searle and Miss Bone, who're taken everywhere by a REEL +swell; they even went to Paris with him at Easter; and no matter what +he wants, I'm sure no one can say they're not ladies." + +Mavis thought for a moment before saying: + +"Is that quite fair to the man?" + +"That's his look-out," came the swift retort. + +"I don't fancy the brisket and I don't fancy picking up men. Can't one +get on and get in the showroom and earn more money?" asked Mavis. + +"One can," replied Miss Meakin, much emphasising the "can." + +"How is it done?" + +"You ask your friend Miss Allen; she'll tell you all about it." + +"She's no friend of mine. Can't you tell me?" + +"I could, but don't want to; you look at things so funny. But, then, +you don't like Browning," replied Miss Meakin. + +Mavis was filled with blind rage at the indifference of "Dawes'" to the +necessities of those they engaged; as long as the firm's big dividend +was made, they were careless to what questionable shifts and expedients +their staff was reduced in order to have sufficient strength to bring +to the daily task of profit-earning. She pondered on the cruelty and +injustice of it all in odd moments; she could not give much thought to +the matter, as Christmas was approaching, which meant that "Dawes'" +would be hard at work to cope with the rush of custom every minute of +the working day, and for some time after the doors were closed to the +public. The class of customer had, also, changed. When Mavis first went +to "Dawes'," the people whom she served were mostly visitors to London +who were easily and quickly satisfied; then had followed the rough and +tumble of a remnant sale. But now, London was filling with those women +to whom shopping is at once an art, a fetish, and a burden. Mavis found +it a trying matter to satisfy the exigent demands of the experienced +shopper. She was now well accustomed to the rudeness of women to those +of their own sex who were less happily placed; but she was not a little +surprised at a type of customer whom she was now frequently called upon +to serve. This was of the male sex; sometimes young; usually, about +forty; often, quite old; it was a smart, well-dressed type, with +insinuating manners and a quiet, deferential air that did not seem to +know what it came to buy or cared what it purchased so long as it could +engage Mavis in a few moments' conversation. She soon got to know this +type at a glance, and gave it short shrift. Others at "Dawes'" were not +so coy. Many of the customers she got to know by sight, owing to their +repeated visits. One of these she disliked from the first; later +experience of her only intensified this impression. She was a tall, +fine woman, well, if a trifle over-dressed; her complexion was a little +more aggressive than most of the females who shopped at "Dawes'." Her +name was Mrs Stanley; she appeared well known to the girls for whom +Bella the servant declared she was in the habit of praying. From the +first, Mrs Stanley was attracted by Mavis, into whose past life she +made sympathetic and tactful inquiries. Directly she learned that Mavis +was an orphan, Mrs Stanley redoubled her efforts to win the girl's +confidence. But it was all of no use; Mavis turned a deaf ear to all +Mrs Stanley's insinuations that a girl of her striking appearance was +thrown away in a shop: it was as much as Mavis could do to be coldly +civil to her. Even when Mrs Stanley gave up the girl as a bad job, the +latter was always possessed by an uneasy sensation whenever she was +near, although Mavis might not have set eyes on her. + +Another customer who attracted much attention was the Marquis de +Raffini; he was old, distinguished-looking, and the last survivor of an +illustrious French family. + +Mavis saw him come into "Dawes'" soon after she had commenced work, +when he was accompanied by a showy, over-dressed girl, whom he referred +to as Madame the Marquise, and for whom he ordered a costly and +elaborate trousseau. He seemed well known to the girls, who told Mavis +that he appeared every few months with a different young woman; also, +that when, in the ordinary course of nature, the condition of the +temporary Madame the Marquise could no longer be concealed, the Marquis +was in the habit of providing a lump sum of some hundreds of pounds as +dowry in order to induce someone (usually a working man) to marry his +mistress. Mavis was shocked at what she heard; it seemed strange to her +that such things should exist and be discussed as if they were the most +everyday occurrences. + +Often, while busily engaged in serving customers or in hearing and +seeing things which, before she came to "Dawes'," she would never have +believed to be possible, she had a strong suspicion that old Orgles was +watching her from the top of a flight of stairs or the tiny window in +his room; it seemed that he was a wary old spider, she a fly, and that +he was biding his time. This impression saddened her; it also made her +attend carefully to her duties, it being his place to deal with those +of the staff who were remiss in their work. It was only of an evening, +when she was free of the shop, that she could be said to be anything +like her old, light-hearted self. She would wash, change her clothes, +and scurry off to a ham and beef warehouse she had discovered in a +turning off Oxford Street, where she would get her supper. The shop was +kept by a man named Siggers. He was an affected little man, who wore +his hair long; he minced about his shop and sliced his ham and beef +with elaborate wavings of his carving knife and fork. Mavis proving a +regular customer, he let her eat her supper in the shop, providing her +with knife, fork, tablecloth, and mustard. Although married and +henpecked, he affected to admire Mavis; while she ate her humble meal, +he would forlornly look in her direction, sigh, and wearily support his +shaggy head with his forefinger; but she could not help noticing that, +when afflicted with this mood, he would often glance at himself in a +large looking glass which faced him as he sat. His demonstrations of +regard never became more pronounced. It was as much as Mavis could do +to stop herself from laughing outright when she paid him, it being a +signal mark of his confidence that he did not exact payment from her +"on delivery of goods in order to prevent regrettable mistakes," as +printed cards, conspicuously placed in the shop, informed customers--or +clients, as Mr Siggers preferred to call them. + +One night, Mavis, by the merest chance, made a discovery that gladdened +her heart: she lighted upon Soho. She had read and loved her Fielding +and Smollett when at Brandenburg College; the sight of the stately old +houses at once awoke memories of Tom Jones, Parson Adams, Roderick +Random, and Lady Bellaston, She did not immediately remember that those +walls had sheltered the originals of these creations; when she realised +this fact she got from the nearest lending library her old favourites +and carefully re-read them. She, also, remembered her dear father +telling her that an ancestor of his, who had lived in Soho, had been +killed in the thirties of the eighteenth century when fighting a famous +duel; this, and the sorry dignity of the Soho houses, was enough to +stir her imagination. Night after night, she would elude the men who +mostly followed her and walk along the less frequented of the sombre +streets. These she would people with the reckless beaux, the headstrong +ladies of that bygone time; she would imagine the fierce loves, the +daring play, the burning jealousies of which the dark old rooms, of +which she sometimes caught a glimpse, could tell if they had a mind. +Sometimes she would close her eyes, when the street would be again +filled with a jostling crowd of sedan chairmen, footmen, and linkboys; +she could almost smell the torches and hear the cries of their bearers. +It gave her much of a shock to realise how beauties, lovers, linkboys, +and all had disappeared from the face of the earth, as if they had +never been. She wondered why Londoners were so indifferent to the +stones Soho had to tell. Then she fell to speculating upon which the +house might be where her blood-thirsty ancestor had lived; also, if it +had ever occurred to him that one of his descendants, a girl, would be +wandering about Soho with scarce enough for her daily needs. In time, +she grew to love the old houses, which seemed ever to mourn their +long-lost grandeur, which still seemed full of echoes of long-dead +voices, which were ill-reconciled to the base uses to which they were +now put. Perhaps she, also, loved them because she grew to compare +their fallen state with that of her own family; it seemed that she and +they had much in common; and shared misfortunes beget sympathy. + +Thus Mavis worked and dreamed. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +SPIDER AND FLY + + +One night, Mavis went back to "Dawes'" earlier than usual. She was +wearing the boots bought with her carefully saved pence; these pinched +her feet, making her weary and irritable. She wondered if she would +have the bedroom to herself while she undressed. Of late, the queenly +Miss Potter had given up going out for the evening and returning at all +hours in the morning. Her usual robust health had deserted her; she was +constantly swallowing drugs; she would go out for long walks after shop +hours, to return about eleven, completely exhausted, when she would +hold long, whispered conversations with her friend Miss Allen. + +Mavis was delighted to find the room vacant. The odour of drugs mingled +with the other smells of the chamber, which she mitigated, in some +measure, by opening the window as far as she was able. She pulled off +her tight boots, enjoying for some moments a pleasurable sense of +relief; then she tumbled into bed, soon to fall asleep. She was +awakened by the noise of voices raised in altercation. Miss Potter and +Miss Impett were having words. The girls were in bed, although no one +had troubled to turn off the flaring jet. As they became more and more +possessed with the passion for effective retort, Mavis saw vile looks +appearing on their faces: these obliterated all traces of youth and +comeliness, substituting in their stead a livid commonness. + +"We know all about you!" cried loud-voiced Miss Impett. + +"Happily, that's not a privilege desired in your case," retorted Miss +Potter. + +"And why not?" Miss Impett demanded to know. + +"We might learn too much." + +"What does anyone know of me that I'm ashamed of?" roared Miss Impett. + +"That's just it." + +"Just what?" + +"Some people have no shame." + +"Do try and remember you're ladies," put in Miss Allen, in an effort to +still the storm. + +"Well, she shouldn't say I ought to wash my hands before getting into +bed," remarked Miss Impett. + +"I didn't say you should," said Miss Potter. + +"What did you say?" + +"What I said was that anyone with any pretension to the name of lady +would wash her hands before getting into bed," corrected Miss Potter. + +"I know you don't think me a lady," broke out Miss Impett. "But ma was +quite a lady till she started to let her lodgings in single rooms." + +"Don't say any more and let's all go to sleep," urged pacific Miss +Allen, who was all the time keeping an anxious eye on her friend Miss +Potter. + +Miss Impett, perhaps fired by her family reminiscence, was not so +easily mollified. + +"Of course, if certain people, who're nobodies, try to be'ave as +somebodies, one naturally wants to know where they've learned their +classy manners," she remarked. + +"Was you referring to me?" asked Miss Potter. + +"I wasn't speaking to you," replied Miss Impett. + +"But I was speaking to you. Was you referring to me?" + +"Never mind who I was referring to." + +"Whatever I've done," said Miss Potter pointedly, "whatever I've done, +I've never made myself cheap with a something in the City." + +"No. 'E wouldn't be rich enough for you." + +"You say that I take money from gentlemen," cried Miss Potter. + +"If they're fools enough to give it to you." + +"Ladies! ladies!" pleaded Miss Allen, but all in vain. + +"I've never done the things you've done," screamed Miss Potter. + +"I've done? I've done? I 'ave my faults same as others, but I can say, +I can that--that I've never let a gentleman make love to me unless I've +been properly introduced to him," remarked her opponent virtuously. + +"For shame! For shame!" cried Miss Potter and Miss Allen together, as +if the proprieties that they held most sacred had been ruthlessly and +unnecessarily violated. + +"No, that I h'ain't," continued irate Miss Impett. "I've watched you +when you didn't know I was by and seen the way you've made eyes at +gentlemen in evening dress." + +Much as Mavis was shocked at all she had heard, she was little prepared +for what followed. The next moment Miss Potter had sprung out of bed; +with clenched fists, and features distorted by rage, she sprang to Miss +Impett's bedside. + +"Say that again!" she screamed. + +"I shan't." + +"You daren't!" + +"I daren't?" + +"No, you daren't." + +"What would you do if I did?" + +"Say it and see." + +"You dare me to?" + +"Yes, you damn beast, to say I'm no better than a street-walker!" + +"Don't you call me names." + +"I shall call you what I please, you dirty upstart, to put yourself on +a level with ladies like us! We always said you was common." + +"What--what's it you dared me to say?" asked Miss Impett breathlessly, +as her face went livid. + +"Don't--don't say it," pleaded Miss Allen; but her interference was +ineffectual. + +"That I picked up gentlemen in evening dress," bawled Miss Potter. "Say +it: say it: say it! I dare you!" + +"I do say it. I'll tell everyone. I've watched you pick up gentlemen +in--" + +She got no further. Miss Potter struck her in the mouth. + +"You beast!" cried Miss Impett. + +Miss Potter struck her again. + +"You beast: you coward!" yelled Miss Impett. + +"It's you who's the coward, 'cause you don't hit me. Take that and +that," screamed Miss Potter, as she hit the other again and again. "And +if you say any more, I'll pull your hair out." + +"I'm not a coward; I'm not a coward!" wept Miss Impett. "And you know +it." + +"I know it!" + +"If anything, it's you who's the coward." + +"Say it again," threatened Miss Potter, as she raised her fist, while +hate gleamed in her eyes. + +"Yes, I do say it again. You are a coward; you hit me, and you know I +can't hit you back because you're going to have a baby." + +There was a pause. Miss Potter's face went white; she raised her hand +as if to strike Miss Impett, but as the latter stared her in the eyes, +the other girl flinched. Then, tears came into Miss Potter's eyes as +she faltered: + +"Oh! Oh, you story!" + +"Story! story!" began Miss Impett, but was at once interrupted by +pacific Miss Allen. + +"Ssh! ssh!" she cried fearfully. + +"I shan't," answered Miss Impett. + +"You must," commanded Miss Allen under her breath. "Keeves might hear." + +"What if she does! As likely as not she herself's in the way," said +Miss Potter. + +Mavis, who had been trying not to listen to the previous conversation, +felt both hot and cold at the same time. The blood rushed to her head. +The next moment she sprang out of bed. + +"How dare you, how dare you say that?" she cried, her eyes all ablaze. + +"Say what?" asked Miss Potter innocently. + +"That. I won't foul my lips by repeating it. How dare you say it? How +dare you say that you didn't say it?" + +"Well, you shouldn't listen," remarked Miss Potter sullenly. + +Mavis advanced menacingly to the side of the girl's bed. + +"If you think you can insult me like that, you're mistaken," said +Mavis, with icy calmness, the while she trembled in every limb. + +"Haven't you been through Orgles's hands?" asked Miss Potter. + +"No, I have not. I say again, how dare you accuse me of that?" + +"She didn't mean it, dear," said Miss Allen appeasingly; "she's always +said you're the only pretty girl who's straight in 'Dawes'.'" + +"Will you answer my question?" asked Mavis, with quiet persistence. +Then, as the girl made no reply, "Please yourself. I shall raise the +whole question to-morrow, and I'll ask to be moved from this room. Then +perhaps you'll learn not to class me with common, low girls like +yourself." + +It might be thought that Mavis's aspersions might have provoked a +storm: it produced an altogether contrary effect. + +"Don't be down on me. I don't know what's to become of me," whimpered +Miss Potter. + +The next moment, the three girls, other than Mavis, were clinging +together, the while they wept tears of contrition and sympathy. + +Mavis, although her pride had been cruelly wounded by Miss Potter's +careless but base accusation, was touched at the girl's distress; the +abasement of the once proud young beauty, the nature of its cause, +together with the realisation of the poor girl's desperate case, moved +her deeply: she stood irresolute in the middle of the room. The three +weeping girls were wondering when Mavis was going to recommence her +attack; they little knew that her keen imagination was already dwelling +with infinite compassion on the dismal conditions in which the promised +new life would come into the world. Her heart went out to the extremity +of mother and unborn little one; had not her pride forbade her, she +would have comforted Miss Potter with brave words. Presently, when Miss +Potter whimpered something about "some people being so straitlaced," +Mavis found words to say: + +"I'm not a bit straitlaced. I'm really very sorry for you, and I can't +see you're much to blame, as the life we lead here is enough to drive +girls to anything. If I'm any different, it's because I'm not built +that way." + +Mavis was the only girl in the room who got next to no sleep. Long +after the other girls had found repose, she lay awake, wide-eyed; her +sudden gust of rage had exhausted her; all the same, her body quivered +with passion whenever she remembered Miss Potter's insult. But it was +the shock of the discovery of the girl's condition which mostly kept +her awake; hitherto, she had been dimly conscious that such things +were; now that they had been forced upon her attention, she was dazed +at their presence in the person of one with whom she was daily +associated. Then she fell to wondering what mysterious ends of +Providence Miss Potter's visitation would serve. The problem made her +head ache. She took refuge in the thought that Miss Potter was a +sparrow, such as she--a sparrow with gaudier and, at the same time, +more bedraggled plumage, but one who, for all this detriment, could not +utterly fall without the knowledge of One who cared. This thought +comforted Mavis and brought her what little sleep she got. + +The next morning, Mavis was sent to a City warehouse in order to match +some material that "Dawes'" had not in stock. When she took her seat on +the 'bus, a familiar voice cried: + +"There's 'B. C.'" + +"Miss Allen." + +"That's what we all call you, 'cos you're so innocent. If you're off to +the warehouse, it's where I'm bound." + +"We can go together," remarked Mavis. + +"I say, you were a brick last night," said Miss Allen, after the two +girls had each paid for their tickets. + +"I'm only sorry for her." + +"She'll be all right." + +"Will he marry her, then?" asked Mavis. + +"Good old 'B. C.'! Don't be a juggins; her boy's married already." + +"Married!" gasped Mavis. + +"Yes!" laughed Miss Allen. "And with a family." + +When Mavis got over her astonishment at this last bit of information, +she remarked: + +"But you said she would be all right." + +"So she will be, with luck," declared Miss Allen. + +"What--what on earth do you mean?" + +"What I say. Why, if every girl who got into trouble didn't get out of +it, I don't know what would happen." + +Mavis wondered what the other meant. Miss Allen continued: + +"It's all a question of money and knowing where to go." + +"Where to go?" echoed Mavis, who was more amazed than before. + +"Of course, there's always a risk. That's how a young lady at 'Dawes'' +died last year. But the nursing home she was in managed to hush it up." + +Mavis showed her perplexity in her face. + +Miss Allen, unaccustomed to such a fallow ear, could not resist giving +further information of a like nature. + +"You are green, 'B. C.' I suppose you'll be saying next you don't know +what Mrs Stanley is." + +"I don't." + +"Go on!" + +"What is she?" + +"She's awfully well known; she gets hold of pretty young girls new to +London for rich men: that's why she was so keen on you." + +As Mavis still did not understand, Miss Allen explained the nature of +the lucrative and time immemorial profession to which Mrs Stanley +belonged. + +For the rest of the way, Mavis was so astonished at all she had heard, +that she did not say any more; she scarcely listened to Miss Allen, who +jabbered away at her side. + +On the way back, she spoke to Miss Allen upon a more personal matter. + +"What did your friend mean last night by saying I'd been through +Orgles's hands?" + +"She thought he introduced you here?" + +"What's that to do with it?" + +"He sees all the young ladies who want rises and most of the young +ladies who want work at 'Dawes'.' If he doesn't fancy them, and they +want 'rises,' he tells them they have their latch-keys; if he fancies +them, he asks what they're prepared to pay for his influence." + +"Money?" asked Mavis. + +"Money, no," replied Miss Allen scornfully. + +"You mean--?" asked Mavis, flushing. + +"Of course. He's sent dozens of girls 'on the game.'" + +"On the game?" + +"On the streets, then." + +Mavis's body glowed with the hot blood of righteous anger. + +"It can't be," she urged. + +"Can't be?" + +"It isn't right." + +"What's that to do with it?" + +"It wouldn't be allowed." + +"Who's to stop it?" + +"But if it's wrong, it simply can't go on." + +"Whose to stop it, I say?" + +It was on the tip of Mavis's tongue to urge how He might interfere to +prevent His sparrows being devoured by hawks; but this was not a +subject which she cared to discuss with Miss Allen. This young person, +taking Mavis's silence for the acquiescence of defeat, went on: + +"Of course, on the stage or in books something always happens just in +the nick of time to put things right; but that ain't life, or nothing +like it." + +"What is life, then?" asked Mavis, curious to hear what the other would +say. + +"Money: earning enough to live on and for a bit of a fling now and +then." + +"What about love?" + +"That's a luxury. If the stage and books was what life really is, we +shop-girls wouldn't like 'em so much." + +Mavis relapsed into silence, at which Miss Allen said: + +"Of course, in my heart, dear, I think just as you do and would like to +have no 'truck' with Ada Potter or Rose Impett; but one has to know +which side one's bread is buttered. See?" + +Later, when talking over Mavis with the girls she had disparaged, Miss +Allen was equally emphatic in her condemnation of "that stuck-up 'B. +C.,'" as she called the one-time teacher of Brandenburg College. + +Mavis's anger, once urged to boiling point by what she had learned of +old Orgles's practices, did not easily cool; it remained at a high +temperature, and called into being all the feeling of revolt, of which +she was capable, against the hideous injustice and the infamous wrongs +to which girls were exposed who sought employment at "Dawes'," or who, +having got this, wished for promotion. Luckily, or unluckily for her, +the course of this story will tell which, the Marquis de Raffini, +accompanied by a new "Madame the Marquise," came into the shop directly +she came up from dinner on the same day, and made for where she was +standing. Two or three of the "young ladies" pressed forward, but the +Marquis was attracted by Mavis; he showed in an unmistakable manner +that he preferred her services. + +He wanted a trousseau for "Madame the Marquise." He--ahem!--she was +very particular, very, very particular about her lingerie; would Mavis +show "Madame" "Dawes'" most dainty and elaborate specimens? + +Mavis was no prude; but this request, coming on top of all she had +learned from Miss Allen, fanned the embers of resentment against the +conditions under which girls, helpless as she, worked. The Marquis's +demand, the circumstances in which it was made, seemed part and parcel +of a system of oppression, of which old Orgles's sending dozens of +girls "on the game," who might otherwise have kept straight, was +another portion. The realisation of this fact awoke in Mavis a burning +sense of injustice; it only needed a spark to cause an explosion. This +was not long in coming. The Marquis examined the things that she set +before him with critical eye; his eagerness to handle them did not +prevent his often looking admiringly at Mavis, a proceeding that did +not please "Madame the Marquise," who felt resentful against Mavis for +marring her transient triumph. "Madame the Marquise" pouted and +fretted, but without effect; when her "husband" presently put his mouth +distressingly near Mavis's ear, "Madame's" feelings got the better of +her; she put her foot, with some violence, upon the Marquis's most +sensitive corn, at which it was as much as Mavis could do to stop +herself from laughing. All might then have been well, had not the +Marquis presently asked Mavis to put her bare arm into one of the open +worked garments in order that he might critically examine the effect. +In a moment, Mavis was ablaze with indignation; her lips tightened. The +man repeated his request, but he may as well have talked to the moon so +far as Mavis was concerned. The girl felt that, if only she resisted +this unreasonable demand, it would be an act of rebellion against the +conditions of the girls' lives at "Dawes'"; she was sure that only good +would come of her action, and that He, who would not see a sparrow fall +to the ground without caring, would aid her in her single-handed +struggle against infamous oppression. + +"I am sorry, sir; but I cannot." + +"Cannot?" + +"No, sir." + +"Anything wrong with your plump, pretty arm?" + +"No, sir." + +"Then why not do as I wish?" + +"Because--because it isn't right, sir." + +"Eh!" + +The man stared at Mavis, who looked him steadfastly in the eyes. In his +heart of hearts, he respected her scruples; he also admired her spirit. +But for "Madame the Marquise," nothing more would have been said, but +this young person was destined to be an instrument of the fates that +ruled Mavis's life. This chit was already resentful against the +strangely beautiful, self-possessed shop-girl; Mavis's objection to the +Marquis's request was in the nature of a reflection on "Madame the +Marquise's" mode of life. She took her lover aside and urged him to +report to the management Mavis's obstinacy; he resisted, wavered, +surrendered. Mavis saw the Marquis speak to a shopman, of whom he +seemed to be asking her name; he was then conducted upstairs to Mr +Orgles's office, from which he issued, a few minutes later, to be bowed +obsequiously downstairs by the man he had been to see. The Marquis +joined "Madame the Marquise" (who, while waiting, had looked +consciously self-possessed), completed his purchases, and left the shop. + +Mavis waited in suspense, expecting every minute to be summoned to +Orgles's presence. She did not regret what she had done, but, as the +hours passed and she was not sent for, she more and more feared the +consequences of her behaviour. + +When she came upstairs from tea, she received a message saying that Mr +Orgles wished to see her. Nerving herself for the interview, she walked +up the circular stairs leading to his office, conscious that the eyes +of the "young ladies" in the downstair shop were fixed upon her. As she +went into the manager's room, she purposely left the door open. She +found Orgles writing at a table; at his side were teacups, a teapot, +some thinly cut bread and butter and a plate of iced cake. Mavis +watched him as he worked. As her eyes fell on his stooping shoulders, +camel-like face and protruding eyes, her heart was filled with loathing +of this bestial old man, who made the satisfaction of his lusts the +condition of needy girls' securing work, all the while careless that he +was conducting them along the first stage of a downward journey, which +might lead to unsuspected depths of degradation. She itched to pluck +him by the beard, to tell him what she thought of him. + +"Miss Keeves!" said Mr Orgles presently. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Don't say 'sir.'" + +Mavis started in surprise. Mr Orgles put down his pen. + +"We're going to have a friendly little chat," said the man. "Let me +offer you some tea." + +"No, thank you." + +"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!" + +Mr Orgles poured out the tea; as he did so, he turned his head so that +his glance could fall on Mavis. + +"Bread and butter, or cake?" + +"Neither, thank you." + +"Then drink this tea." + +Mr Orgles brought a cup of tea to where Mavis was standing. On his way, +he closed the door that she had left open. He placed the tea on a table +beside her and took up a piece of bread and butter. + +"No, thank you," said Mavis again. + +"What?" + +He had taken a large bite out of his piece of bread and butter. He +stared at the girl in open-mouthed surprise. + +Mavis was fascinated by the bite of food in his mouth and the +tooth-marks in the piece of bread and butter from which it had been +torn. + +"Now we'll have a cosy little chat about this most unfortunate +business." + +Here Mr Orgles noisily sucked up a mouthful of tea. Mavis shivered with +disgust as she watched him churn the mixture of food and drink in his +mouth. + +"Won't you sit down?" he asked presently. + +"I prefer to stand." + +"Now then!" Here he joyously rubbed his hands. "Two months ago, when we +had a little talk, you were a foolish, ignorant little girl. Perhaps +we've learned sense since then, eh?" + +Mavis did not reply. The man went on: + +"Although a proud little girl, I don't mind telling you I've had my eye +on you, that I've watched you often and that I've great hopes of +advancing you in life. Eh!" + +Here he turned his head so that his eyes leered at her. Mavis repressed +an inclination to throw the teapot at his head. He went on: + +"To-day, we made a mistake; we offended a rich and important customer. +That would be a serious matter for you if I reported it, but, as I +gather, you're now a sensible little girl, you may make it worth my +while to save you." + +Mavis bit her lip. + +"What if you're still a little fool? You will get the sack; and girls +from 'Dawes'' always find it hard to get another job. You will wear +yourself out trapesing about after a 'shop,' and by and by you will +starve and rot and die." + +Mavis trembled with anger. The man went on talking. His words were no +longer coherent, but the phrases "make you manageress"--"four pounds a +week"--"share the expenses of a little flat together," fell on her ear. + +"Say no more," Mavis was able to cry at last. + +The next moment, Mavis felt the man's arms about her, his hot, gasping +breath on her cheek, his beard brushing against her mouth, in his +efforts to kiss her. The attack took her by surprise. Directly she was +able to recover herself, she clawed the fingers of her left hand into +his face and forced his head away from her till she held it at arm's +length. Orgles's head was now upon one side, so that one of his eyes +was able to glare hungrily at her; his big nostrils were dilating with +the violence of his passion. Mavis trembled with a fierce, resentful +rage. + +"Your answer: your answer: your answer?" gasped the man huskily. + +"This: this: this!" cried Mavis, punctuating each word with a blow from +her right hand upon Orgles's face. "This: this: this! It's men like you +who drag poor girls down. It's men like you who bring them to horrible +things, which they'd never have dreamed of, if it hadn't been for you. +It's men like you who make wickedness. You're the worst man I ever met, +and I'd rather die in the gutter than be fouled by the touch of a +horrible old beast like you." + +Her anger blazed up into a final flame. This gave her strength to throw +the old man from her; he crashed into the grate; she heard his head +strike against the coal-box. Mavis cast one look upon the shapeless and +bleeding heap of humanity and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +AWING + + +Mavis was again workless, this time with a capital of fifteen shillings +and sixpence halfpenny. + +Immediately after her interview with Orgles, she had gone to her room +to change into her out-of-door clothes. + +She disregarded the many questions that several of the girls came +upstairs to ask her. She packed up her things as a preliminary to +leaving "Dawes'" for good. For many hours she paced the streets, +heedless of where her steps led her, her heart seemingly breaking with +rage and shame at the insults to which she had been subjected. + +About eight, she felt utterly exhausted, and turned into the first shop +where she could get refreshment. + +This was a confectioner's. The tea and dry biscuits she ordered enabled +her to marshal her distracted thoughts into something approaching +coherence; she realised that, as she was not going back to "Dawes'," +she must find a roof for the night. + +She had several times called on her old friend Mrs Ellis; she decided +to make for her house. She asked her way to the nearest station, which +was Notting Hill; here she took a ticket to Hammersmith and then walked +to Kiva Street, where she knocked at the familiar door. A +powerful-looking man in corduroy trousers and shirt sleeves opened it. + +"Mrs Ellis?" asked Mavis. + +"'Orspital." + +"I'm very sorry. What's the matter with her?" + +"Werry bad." + +"I wanted rooms. I used to lodge here." + +At this piece of information the man made as if he would close the door. + +"Can you tell me where I can get a room for the night?" asked Mavis. + +The man by way of reply muttered something about the lady at the end of +the row wanting a lodger. + +"Which hospital is Mrs Ellis at?" asked Mavis. + +By way of reply, the door was slammed in her face. Mavis dragged her +weary limbs to the end house in the row, where, in reply to her knock, +a tall, pasty-faced, crossed-eyed woman, who carried an empty jug, +answered the door. + +"I thought you was Mrs Bonus," remarked the woman. + +"I want a room for the night. I used to lodge with Mrs Ellis at number +20." + +"Did yer? There! I do know yer face. Come inside." + +Mavis followed the landlady into a faded and formal little +sitting-room, where the latter sat wearily in a chair, still clasping +her jug. + +"Can I have a room?" asked Mavis. + +"I think so. My name's Bilkins." + +"Mine is Keeves." + +"That's a funny name. I 'ope you ain't married." + +"No." + +"It's only fools who get married. You jest hear what Mrs Bonus says." + +"I'm very tired," said Mavis. "Can you give me anything to eat?" + +"I've nothing in the 'ouse, but I'll get you something when I go out. +And, if Mrs Bonus comes, ask her to wait, an' say I've jes gone out to +get a little Jacky." + +Mavis waited in the dark room of the deserted house. Had she not been +tired and heartsick, she would have been amused at this strange +experience. A quarter of an hour passed without anyone calling, when +she heard the sound of a key in the latch, and Mrs Bilkins returned. + +"No Mrs Bonus?" + +"No one's been." + +"It isn't her washing day neither, though it would be late for a lady +like 'er to be out all alone. Drink this." + +"But it's stout," said Mavis, as Mrs Bilkins lit the gas. + +"I call it jacky. A glass will do you good." + +Mavis drank some of the liquor and certainly felt the better for it. + +"I bought you a quarter of German," declared Mrs Bilkins, as she +enrolled a paper parcel. + +"You mean German sausage," said Mavis, as she caught sight of the +mottled meat, a commodity which her old friend Mr Siggers sold. + +"I always call it German," remarked Mrs Bilkins, a trifle huffily. + +"But what am I to eat it on?" + +"That is funny. I'm always forgetting," said Mrs Bilkins, as she faded +from the room. + +After some time, she came back with a coarse cloth, a thick plate, a +wooden-handled knife, together with a fork made of some pliant +material; these she put before Mavis. + +The coarse food and more of the stout put fresh heart into the girl. +She got a room from Mrs Bilkins for six shillings a week, on the +understanding that she did not give much trouble. + +"There's only one thing. I suppose you have a bath of some sort?" said +Mavis. + +"That is funny," said Mrs Bilkins. "I've never been asked such a thing +in my life." + +"Don't you wash?" + +"In penny pieces; a bit at a time." + +"But never all over, properly?" + +"You are funny. Why, three years ago, I had the rheumatics; then I was +covered all over with flannel. Now I don't know which is flannel and +which is skin." + +It was arranged, however, that, if Mrs Bilkins could not borrow a bath +from a neighbour in the morning, she would bring Mavis her washing-tin, +which would answer the same purpose. Mavis slept soundly in a fairly +clean room, her wanderings after leaving "Dawes'" having tired her out. + +The next morning she came down to a breakfast of which the tea was +smoked and her solitary egg was scarcely warm; when she opened this +latter, the yolk successfully eluded the efforts of her spoon to get it +out. It may be said at once that this meal was a piece with the entire +conduct of Mrs Bilkins's house, she being a unit in the vast army of +incapable, stupid women who, sooner or later, drift into the letting of +lodgings as a means of livelihood. After breakfast, Mavis wrote to +"Dawes'," requesting that her boxes might be sent to her present +address. Now that the sun of cold reason, which reaches its zenith in +the early morning, illumined the crowded events of yesterday, Mavis was +concerned for the consequences of the violence she had offered Orgles. +Her faith in human justice had been much disturbed; she feared that +Orgles, moved with a desire for vengeance, would represent her as the +aggressor, himself as the victim of an unprovoked assault: any moment +she feared to find herself in the clutches of the law. She was too +dispirited to look for work; to ease the tension in her mind, she tried +to discover what had become of Mrs Ellis, but without success. + +About five, two letters came for her, one of these being, as the +envelope told her, from "Dawes'." She fearfully opened it. To her great +surprise, the letter regretted the firm's inability to continue her +temporary engagement; it enclosed a month's salary in place of the +usual notice, together with the money due to her for her present +month's services; it concluded by stating that her conduct had given +great satisfaction to the firm, and that it would gladly give her +further testimonials should she be in want of these to secure another +place. + +Mavis could hardly believe her good fortune; she read and re-read the +letter; she gratefully scanned the writing on the cheque. The other +letter attracted her attention, which proved to be from Miss Meakin. +This told her that, if Mavis could play the piano and wanted temporary +work, she could get this by at once applying at "Poulter's" Dancing +Academy in Devonport Road, Shepherd's Bush, which Miss Meakin attended; +it also said that the writer would be at the academy soon after nine, +when she would tell Mavis how she had found her address. Mavis put on +her hat and cloak with a light heart. The fact of escaping from the +debasing drudgery of "Dawes'," of being the possessor of a cheque for +L2. 12S., the prospect of securing work, if only of a temporary nature, +made her forget her loneliness and her previous struggles to wrest a +pittance from a world indifferent to her needs. After all, there was +One who cared: the contents of the two letters which she had just +received proved that; the cheque and promise of employment were in the +nature of compensation for the hurt to her pride which she had suffered +yesterday at Orgles's hands. She thought her sudden good fortune +justified a trifling extravagance; she had no fancy for Mrs Bilkins's +smoked tea, so she turned into the first teashop she came to, where she +revelled in scrambled eggs, strong tea, bread, butter, and jam. She ate +these unaccustomed delicacies slowly, deliberately, hugely enjoying the +savour of each mouthful. She then walked in the direction of Shepherd's +Bush. + +The garish vulgarity of the Goldhawk Road, along which a procession of +electric trams rushed and whizzed, took away her breath. Devonport +Road, in which she was to find the academy, was such a quiet, retiring +little turning that Mavis could hardly believe it joined a noisy +thoroughfare like the Goldhawk Road. "Poulter's" Dancing Academy took +some finding; she had no number to guide her, so she asked the two or +three people she met if they could direct her to this institution, but +not one of them appeared to know anything about it. She walked along +the road, keeping a sharp look-out on either side for door plate or +lamp, which she believed was commonly the out-ward and visible sign of +the establishment she sought. A semicircle of brightly illuminated +coloured glass, placed above an entrance gate, attracted her, but +nearer inspection proved this to be an advertisement of "painless +dentistry." + +Further down the road, a gaily coloured lamp caught her eye, the +lettering on which read "Gellybrand's Select Dancing Academy. Terms to +suit all pockets. Inquire within." Mavis was certain that the name of +which she was in search was none other than Poulter: she looked about +her and wondered if it were possible for such a down-at-heel +neighbourhood to support more than one dancing academy. The glow of a +light in an open doorway on the other side of the way next attracted +her. She crossed, to find this light came from a lamp which was held +aloft by a draped female statue standing just inside the door: beyond +the statue was another door, the upper part of which was of glass, the +lower of wood. Written upon the glass in staring gilt letters was the +name "Poulter's." + +Mavis walked up the steps to the front door. Her heart sank as she +noticed that the plaster had worn away and was broken from various +parts of the house, which had a shabby and dilapidated appearance. +Mavis set going a bell, which could be heard faint-heartedly tinkling +in the distance; she employed the time that she was kept waiting in +examining the statue. This was as depressing as the house: its smile +was cracked in the middle; a rude boy had reddened the lady's nose; its +dress cried aloud for some kindly disposed person to give it a fresh +coat of paint. Presently, a drab of a little servant opened the inner +door. + +"'Pectus?" said the girl, directly she caught sight of Mavis. + +"I want to see Mr Poulter." + +"Not a 'pectus?" + +Mavis repeated her request. + +"Come insoide. 'E's 'avin' 'is tea." + +Mavis followed the drab along a passage: at the end of this was a door, +above which was inscribed "Ladies' Cloak Room." + +Opening this, the drab said mechanically: + +"Walk insoide. What nime?" + +"Miss Keeves. I've come from Miss Meakin." + +Mavis walked inside, to find herself in a smallish room, the walls of +which were decorated with rows of hooks, beneath each of which was a +number printed in large type. There were a cracked toilette glass, a +few rickety chairs, a heavy smell of stale toilet powder, and little +else. A few moments later, a little, shrivelled-up, elderly woman +walked into the room with a slight hobble. Mavis noticed her narrow, +stooping shoulders, which, although the weather was warm, were covered +by a shawl; her long upper lip; her snub nose; also that she wore her +right arm in a sling. + +"Was you waiting to see Mr Poulter particular?" she asked. + +"I was rather." + +"'E's 'avin' 'is tea, and--and you know what these artists are at +meal-time," said the little woman confidentially. + +"I'm in no hurry. I can easily wait," said Mavis. + +"Was you come about 'privates'?" asked the little woman wistfully. + +"Privates?" + +"I mean private lessons. 'Poulter's' always calls 'em 'privates.'" + +"I heard you were in want of an accompanist. I came to offer my +services." + +"It won't be for long; my fingers is nearly healed of the chilblains." + +"Anything is better than nothing," remarked Mavis. + +"Would you mind if I heard you play?" + +"Not at all." + +"My word might go some way with Mr Poulter. See?" said the little woman +confidentially. + +"It's very good of you," remarked Mavis, who was beginning to like the +little, shrivelled-up old thing. + +The woman with the chilblains led the way to a door in a corner of the +cloak-room, which Mavis had not noticed before. Mavis followed her down +an inclined, boarded-in gangway, decorated with coloured presentation +plates from long forgotten Christmas numbers of popular weeklies, to +the ballroom, which was a portable iron building erected in the back +garden of the academy. At the further end was a platform, which +supported a forlorn-looking piano. + +"Be careful not to slip," said Mavis's conductor. + +"Thank you, I won't," replied Mavis, who was not in the least danger of +losing her foothold. + +"'E invented it." + +"Invented what?" + +"This floor wax. It's Poulter's patent," the little woman reverently +informed Mavis. + +"He must be rather clever!" + +"Rather clever! It's plain you've never met 'im." + +Mavis sat down to the piano, but did not do herself justice over the +first waltz she played, owing to the faultiness of the instrument. As +with many other old pianos, the keys were small; also, the treble was +weak and three notes were broken in the bass. + +"Try again!" said the little woman dubiously. + +By this time, Mavis had mastered the piano's peculiarities; she played +her second waltz resonantly, rhythmically. + +"I think you're up to 'Poulter's,'" said the little woman critically, +when Mavis had finished. "And what about terms?" + +"What about them?" asked Mavis pleasantly. + +"It's a great honour being connected with 'Poulter's,'" the little +woman hazarded. + +"No doubt." + +"And what with the undercutting and all, on the part of those who ought +to know better, it makes it 'ard to make both ends meet." + +"I'm sure it does." + +"But there! We'll leave it to Mr Poulter." + +"That's the best thing to do." + +"I'll see if Mr Poulter's finished 'is tea." + +Mavis followed the woman across the ballroom, and back to the +cloak-room, where she was left alone for quite five minutes. Then the +little woman put her head into the room to say: + +"Mr Poulter won't be many minutes now. 'E's come to the cake," at which +Mavis smiled as she said: + +"I can wait any time." + +Mavis already quite liked the odd little woman. She waited some minutes +longer, till at last her friend excitedly re-entered to say, in the +manner of one conveying information of much moment: + +"Mr Poulter is reelly coming on purpose to see you." + +Mavis nerved herself for the ordeal of meeting the dancing-master. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +"POULTER'S" + + +When, a few moments later, Mr Poulter came into the room, his +appearance surprised Mavis. She expected and braced herself to +interview a person with greasy, flowing locks and theatrical manners; +instead, she saw a well-preserved old man with one of the finest faces +she had ever seen. He had a ruddy complexion, soft, kindly blue eyes, +and a noble head covered with snow-white hair. His presence seemed to +infect the coarsely scented air of the room with an atmosphere of +refinement and unaffected kindliness. He was shabbily dressed. Directly +Mavis saw him, she longed to throw her arms about his neck, to kiss him +on the forehead. + +He bowed to Mavis before saying: + +"Have you 'ad your tea?" + +"Yes, thank you," she replied. + +"Miss Nippett has told me of your errand." + +"She has also heard me play." + +"It is now only a question of terms," said Mr Poulter gently. + +"Quite so." + +"The last wish of 'Poulter's' is to appear ungenerous, but, with +remorseless competition in the Bush," here Mr Poulter's kindly face +hardened, "everyone suffers." + +"The Bush?" queried Mavis. + +"Shepherd's Bush," explained Poulter. "Many of 'Poulter's' clients, who +are behindhand with their cheques for family tuition, have made payment +with the commodities which they happen to retail," remarked Poulter. +"Assuming that you were willing, you might care to take whole or part +payment in some of these." + +Mavis was sorry, but money was a necessity to her. + +"I quite understand," said Poulter sympathetically. "On 'Ordinary +Days,' 'Poulter's' would require you from eleven in the morning till--" +Here he turned inquiringly to Miss Nippett. + +"Carriages at ten thirty," put in Miss Nippett promptly. + +"Yes, carriages at ten thirty," repeated Mr Poulter, who took a simple +enjoyment in the reference to the association of vehicles, however +imaginary, with the academy. + +"And on 'Third Saturdays'?" said Poulter, as he again turned to Miss +Nippett, as if seeking information. + +"Special and Select Assembly at the Athenaeum, including the Godolphin +String Band and light refreshments," declared Miss Nippett. + +"Ah! carriages at twelve," said Mr Poulter with relish. "That means +your getting home very late." + +"I don't mind. I don't live far from here. I can walk." + +It was ultimately arranged that Mavis should be supplied with dinner, +tea, and supper, and receive a shilling a day for five days of the +week; on Saturdays, in consideration of her staying late, she was to +get an extra shilling. + +Mention was made with some pride of infrequent "Long Nights," which +were also held at the Athenaeum, when dancing was kept up till three in +the morning; but, as Miss Nippett's chilblains would probably be cured +long before the date fixed for the next Terpsichorean Festival, as +these special dances were called, no arrangement was made in respect of +these. + +"It is usual for 'Poulter's' to ask for references," declared Mr +Poulter. "But needless to say that one who has pioneered 'Poulter's' +into the forefront of such institutions can read character at a glance." + +Mavis thanked him for his confidence, but said that she could supply +him with testimonials from her last two employers. Mr Poulter would not +dream of troubling her, and asked Mavis if she could commence her +duties on that evening. Upon Mavis saying that she could, Mr Poulter +looked at his watch and said: + +"It still wants an hour till 'Poulter's' evening classes commence. As +you've joined 'Poulter's' staff, it might be as well if you shared one +of the privileges of your position." + +This particular privilege consisted of Mavis's being taken downstairs +to Mr Poulter's private sitting-room. This was a homely apartment +furnished with much-worn horsehair furniture, together with many framed +and unframed flashlight photographs of various "Terpsichorean +Festivals," in all of which, conspicuous in the foreground, was Mr +Poulter, wearing a big white rosette on the lapel of his evening coat. + +"Smoke if you want to, won't you?" said Mavis. + +"Thank you," replied Mr Poulter, "but I only smoke after 'Poulter's' is +closed. It might give 'Poulter's' a bad reputation if the young lady +pupils went 'ome smelling of smoke." + +"'E thinks of everything," declared Miss Nippett admiringly. + +"'Poulter's' is not deficient in worldly wisdom," remarked the +dancing-master with subdued pride. + +"I'm sure of that," said Mavis hypocritically, as she looked at the +simple face of the kindly old man. + +"Suppose we have a game of cards," suggested Mr Poulter presently. + +"Promise you won't cheat," said Mavis. + +Mr Poulter laughed uneasily before saying: + +"'Poulter's' would not occupy its present position if it were not for +its straightforward dealing. What shall we play?" + +Mavis, feeling light-hearted, was on the point of saying "Snap," but +feared that the fact of her suggesting such a frivolous game might set +her down as an improper person in the eyes of "Poulter's." + +"Do you know 'Casino'?" asked Mr Poulter. + +"I'm afraid I don't," replied Mavis. + +"A grand old game; we must teach you another time. What do you say to +'Old Maid'?" + +They played "Old Maid" deliberately, solemnly. After a time, Mavis had +a strong suspicion that Miss Nippett was cheating in order that Mr +Poulter might win; also, that Mr Poulter was manoeuvring the cards so +that Mavis might not be declared "old maid." + +This belief was strengthened when Mavis heard Miss Nippett say to Mr +Poulter, at the close of the game: + +"She ought to 'ave been 'old maid.'" + +"I know, I know," replied Mr Poulter. "But I want her first evening at +'Poulter's' to be quite 'appy and 'omelike." + +"Did you easily find 'Poulter's'?" asked Mr Poulter presently of Mavis. + +"I had no number, so I had to ask," she replied. + +"Then, of course, you were directed at once," suggested Mr Poulter +eagerly. + +Mavis's consideration for the old man's feelings was such that she +thought a fib was justified. + +"Yes," she said. + +Mr Poulter's eyes lit with happiness. + +"That's the advantage of being connected with 'Poulter's,'" he said. +"You'll find it a great help to you as you make your way in the world." + +"I'm sure of it," remarked Mavis, with all the conviction she could +muster. After a few moments' silence, she said: + +"There's another dancing academy on the other side of the road." + +Mavis was surprised to see Mr Poulter's gentle expression at once +change to a look of intense anger. + +"Gellybrand's! Gellybrand's! The scoundrel!" cried Mr Poulter, as he +thumped his fist upon the table. + +"I'm sorry. I didn't know," said Mavis. + +"What? You haven't heard of the rivalry between mushroom Gellybrand's +and old-established 'Poulter's'?" exclaimed Mr Poulter. + +Mavis did not know what to say. + +"Some people is ignorant!" commented Miss Nippett at her silence. + +"Gellybrand is the greatest scoundrel and blackleg in the history of +dancing," continued Poulter. Then, as if to clinch the matter, he +added, "Poulter's 'Special and Select' is two shillings, with carriages +at eleven. Gellybrand's is one and six, with carriages at eleven +thirty." + +"Disgraceful!" commented Mavis, who was anxious to soothe Poulter's +ruffled sensibilities. + +"That is not all. Poulter's oranges, when light refreshments are +supplied, are cut in eights; Gellybrand's"--here the old man's voice +quivered with indignation--"oranges are cut in sixes." + +"An unfair advantage," remarked Mavis. + +"That's not all. Gellybrand once declared that I had actually stooped +so low as to kiss a married pupil." + +"Disgraceful!" said Mavis gravely. + +"Of course, the statement carried its own refutation, as no gentleman +could ever demean himself so much as to kiss another gentleman's wife." + +"That's what I say," cried Miss Nippett. + +"But Gellybrand foully libelled me," cried Mr Poulter, with another +outburst of anger, "when he stated that I only paid one and fourpence a +pound for my tea." + +This last recollection so troubled Mr Poulter that Miss Nippett +suggested that it was time for him to go and dress. As he left the +room, he said to Mavis: + +"Pray never mention Gellybrand's name in my presence. If I weren't an +artiste, I wouldn't mind; as it is, I'm all of a tremble." + +Mavis promised that she would not, at which the old man's face wore its +usual kindly expression. When he was gone, Miss Nippett exclaimed: + +"Oh, why ever did you?" + +"How was I to know?" Mavis asked. + +"I thought everyone knew. Don't, whatever you do, don't again. It makes +him angrier than he was when once the band eat up all the light +refreshments." + +"He's a very charming man," remarked Mavis. + +"But his brains! It's his brains that fetches me." + +"Really!" + +"In addition to 'Poulter's Patent Floor Wax,' he's invented the +'Clacton Schottische,' the 'Ramsgate Galop,' and the 'Coronation +Quadrilles.'" + +"He must be clever." + +"Of course; he's on the grand council of the 'B.A.T.D.'" + +"What is that?" + +"What? You don't know what 'B.A.T.D.' is?" cried Miss Nippett in +astonishment. + +"I'm afraid I don't," replied Mavis. + +"You'll be saying you don't know the Old Bailey next." + +"I don't. But I know a lot of people who should." + +"Don't send 'em to 'Poulter's,'" said Miss Nippett. "There's enough +already who're be'ind with their accounts." + +A few minutes later, Mr Poulter entered the room, wearing evening +dress, dancing pumps, and a tawdry-looking insignia in his coat. + +"That's the 'B.A.T.D.,' Grand Council Badge," Miss Nippett informed +Mavis. + +"Wonderful!" exclaimed Mavis, who felt that her hypocrisy was justified +by the pleasure it gave kindly Mr Poulter. + +"Say we enjoy a whiff of fresh air before commencing our labours," +suggested Mr Poulter. + +Upon Mavis and Miss Nippett rising as if to fall in with his +suggestion, Mr Poulter went before them, up the stairs, past the +"Ladies' Cloak Room," along the passage to the front door. + +As Miss Nippett and Mavis followed the dancing-master, the former said, +referring to Mr Poulter: + +"'E once took the 'Olborn Town 'all for an 'All Night,' didn't you, Mr +Poulter?" + +"The night the 'Clacton Schottische' was danced for the first time," +replied Poulter. + +"And what do you think the refreshments was contracted at a 'ead?" +asked Miss Nippett. + +"Give it up," replied Mavis. + +"Why, no less than three shillin's, wasn't it, Mr Poulter?" + +"True enough," replied Mr Poulter. "But I must admit the attendants did +look 'old-fashioned' at you, if you 'ad two glasses of claret-cup +running." + +By this time, they were outside of the front door, where Mr Poulter +paused, as if designing not to go any further into the night air, +which, for the time of year, was close and warm. + +"I don't want to give the 'Bush' the chance of saying Poulter never +shows himself outside the walls of the academy," remarked the +dancing-master complacently. + +"There's so much jealousy of fame in the 'Bush,'" added Miss Nippett. + +As they stood on the steps, Mavis could not help noticing that whereas +Miss Nippett had only eyes for Mr Poulter, the latter's attention was +fixed on the plaster figure of "Turpsichor" to the exclusion of +everything else. + +"A classic figure"--(he pronounced it "clarsic")--"gives a distinction +to an academy, which is denied to mongrel and mushroom imitations," he +presently remarked. + +"Quite so," assented Mavis. + +"She has been with 'Poulter's' fifteen years." + +"Almost as long as I have," put in Miss Nippett. + +"The figure?" asked Mavis. + +"The statue 'Turpsichor,'" corrected Mr Poulter. + +"Turpsichor," in common with other down-at-heel people, had something +of a history. She was originally the plaster cast model of a marble +statue ordered by a sorrowing widow to grace the last resting-place of +the dear departed, a widow, whose first transports of grief were as +extravagant as the order she gave to the monumental mason. But when the +time came for the statue to be carved, and a further deposit to be +paid, the widow had been fascinated by a man whom she had met in a +'bus, when on her way to visit the cemetery where her husband was +interred. She was now loth to bear the cost of the statue and, as she +had changed her address, she took no notice of the mason's repeated +applications. "Turpsichor" had then been sold cheap to a man who had +started a tea-garden, in the vain hope of reviving the glories of those +forgotten institutions; when he had drifted into bankruptcy, she had +been knocked down for a song to a second-hand shop, where she had been +bought for next to nothing by Mr Poulter as "the very thing." Now she +stood in the entrance hall of the academy, where, it can truthfully be +said, that no heathen goddess received so much adoration and admiration +as was bestowed on "Turpsichor" by Mr Poulter and Miss Nippett. To +these simple souls, it was the finest work of art to be found anywhere +in the world, while the younger amongst the pupils regarded the forlorn +statue with considerable awe. + +When a move was made to the ballroom, Miss Nippett whispered to Mavis: + +"If Mr Poulter wins the great cotillion prize competition 'e's goin' in +for, I 'ope to stand 'Turpsichor' a clean, and a new coat of paint." + +When all three had waited in the ballroom some minutes, the pupils for +the night classes straggled in, the "gentlemen" bringing their dancing +shoes in their overcoat pockets, the "ladies" theirs, either in +net-bags or wrapped in odd pieces of brown paper. These "ladies" were +much of a type, being either shop-girls or lady clerks, with a +sprinkling of maid-servants and board school teachers. They were +pale-faced, hard-working, over-dressed young women who read Marie +Corelli, and considered her "deep"; who had one adjective with which to +express appreciation of things, this "artistic"; anything they +condemned was spoken of as "awful"; one and all liked to be considered +what they called "up-to-date." Marriage they desired more than anything +else in the world, not so much that they wished to live in an +atmosphere of affection, but because they believed that state promised +something of a respite from their never-ending, poorly recompensed +toil. The "gentlemen" were mostly shopmen or weekly paid clerks with +social aspirations; they carried silver cigarette cases, which they +exhibited on the least provocation. + +Mavis played, whilst Mr Poulter put the pupils through their steps. She +had no eyes for the dancers, these not interesting her; her attention, +of which she had plenty to spare, was fixed upon the kindly, beaming +face and the agile limbs of Mr Poulter. It was a pleasure to watch him, +he so thoroughly enjoyed his work; he could not take enough pains to +instruct his pupils in the steps that they should take. Miss Nippett +sat beside Mavis. Presently, in a few minutes' interval between the +dances, the former said: + +"Don't you ever be a fool an' teach dancing." + +"Why 'a fool'?" asked Mavis. + +"Look at me an' the way I 'obble; it's all the fault of teaching the +'gentlemen.'" + +"Indeed!" + +"The 'gentlemen' is such clumsy fellers; they always tread on my right +foot. I tried wearing flannel, but they come down on it jess the same, +'arder if anything." + +Soon after nine, Miss Meakin came in, having travelled from "Dawes'" +with all dispatch by the "Tube." She warmly greeted Mavis, +congratulated her on getting employment at "Poulter's," and told her +that, after she (Mavis) had left "Dawes'," the partners had made every +inquiry into her habit of life. Miss Meakin had been summoned to one of +the partner's rooms to say what she knew of the subject, and had sat +near a table on which was lying Mavis's letter; she had made a note of +the address, to write to her directly she was able to do so. + +"We must have a long talk, dear; but not to-night." + +"Why not to-night?" + +"Mr Napper, my 'boy,' will be waiting for me outside." + +"Bring him in and introduce me." + +"He'd never forgive me if I did. He's all brains, dear, and would never +overlook it, if I insisted on his entering a dancing academy." + +"What is he?" + +"He's a lawyer. But his cleverness is altogether outside of that." + +"A barrister?" + +"Scarcely." + +"A solicitor?" + +"Not yet. He works for one." + +After the pupils had gone, Mavis, pressed by Mr Poulter, stayed to a +supper that consisted of bread, cheese, and cocoa. + +When this was over, Mr Poulter said: + +"I don't know of what religious persuasion you may be, but would you be +offended if I asked you to stay for family prayers?" + +"I like you for asking me," declared Mavis. + +"I am overjoyed at a real young lady like you caring to stay," replied +Poulter. + +Mr Poulter read a chapter from the Bible. He then offered up a brief +extempore prayer. He prayed for Miss Nippett, for Mavis, for past and +present pupils, the world at large. The Lord's Prayer, in which the two +women joined, ended the devotions. + +When Miss Nippett had put on her goloshes, bonnet, and cloak, and Mavis +her things, Mr Poulter accompanied them to the door. + +"I live in the 'Bush': where do you?" asked Miss Nippett of Mavis. + +"Kiva Road, Hammersmith." + +"Then we go different ways. Good night, Mr Poulter; good night, Miss +Keeves." + +Mavis wished her and Mr Poulter good night. The two women walked +together to the gate, when Miss Nippett hobbled off to the left. + +As Mavis turned to the right, she glanced at Mr Poulter, who was still +standing on the steps; he was gazing raptly at "Turpsichor." A few +minutes later, when she encountered the insolent glances of the painted +foreign women who flock in the Goldhawk Road, Mavis found it hard to +believe that they and Mr Poulter inhabited the same world. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +MAVIS'S PRAYER + + +The next morning, Mavis was awakened by Mrs Bilkins bringing her a cup +of tea. + +"Bless my soul!" cried Mrs Bilkins, almost spilling the tea in her +agitation. + +"What's the matter?" + +"You've got your window open. It's a wonder you're alive." + +"I always sleep with it open." + +"Well, you are funny. What will you do next?" + +Mrs Bilkins sat on the bed, seemingly inclined to gossip. Mavis did not +discourage her; for some reason, the landlady was looking different +from when she had seen her the day before. Curious to discover the +cause, she let the woman ramble on unchecked about the way in which +"her son, a Bilkins," had "demeaned himself" by marrying a servant. + +Then it occurred to Mavis that the way in which Mrs Bilkins had done +her hair was the reason for her changed appearance: she had arranged it +in imitation of the manner in which Mavis wore hers. + +Presently, Mavis told the woman how she had got temporary employment, +and added: + +"But it's work I'm quite unaccustomed to." + +To her surprise, Mrs Bilkins bridled up. + +"Just like me. I ain't used to letting lodgin's; far from it." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis. + +"Oh, well, if you don't believe me, ask Mrs Bonus." + +When Mavis came downstairs, she found Mrs Bilkins busy trimming a hat. +The next day, the landlady wore it about the house, when Mavis was +surprised and amused to see that it was a shabby imitation of her own. +At first, she could scarcely believe such emulation to be possible, but +when, after buying a necessary pair of gloves, she found that her +landlady had got a new pair for herself, she saw that Mrs Bilkins was +possessed by jealousy of her lodger. This belief was strengthened by +the fact of Mrs Bilkins making copious reference to past prosperity +directly Mavis made innocent mention of former events in her life which +pointed to her having been better off than she was at present. It was +fourteen days before Miss Nippett's chilblains were sufficiently healed +to allow her to take her place at "Poulter's" piano. During this time, +Mavis became on friendly terms with the dancing-master; the more she +saw of him, the more he became endeared to the lonely girl. Apart from +his vanity where the academy was concerned (a harmless enough foible, +which saddened quite as much as it amused Mavis), he was the simplest, +the kindliest of men. He was very poor; although his poverty largely +arose from the advantage which pupils and parents took of his boundless +good nature, Mavis did not hear him utter a complaining word of a +living soul, always excepting Gellybrand. + +She learned how Mr Poulter had been happily married, although +childless; also, that his wife had died of a chill caught by walking +home, insufficiently clad, from an "All Night" in bleak weather. For +all the pain that her absence caused in his life, he looked bravely, +confidently forward (sometimes with tears in his eyes) to when they +should meet again, this time never to part. When the evenings were +fine, Mr Poulter would take Miss Nippett and Mavis for a ride on a tram +car, returning in time for the night classes. Upon one of these +excursions, someone in the tram car pointed out Mr Poulter to a friend +in the hearing of the dancing-master; this was enough to make Mr +Poulter radiantly happy for the best part of two days, much to Mavis's +delight. + +Another human trait in the proprietor of "Poulter's" was that he was +insensible to Miss Nippett's loyalty to the academy, he taking her +devotion as a matter of course. + +Miss Nippett and Mavis, also, became friends; the latter was moved by +the touching faith which the shrivelled-up little accompanist had in +the academy, its future, and, above all, its proprietor. If the rivalry +between "Poulter's" and "Gellybrand's" could have been decided by an +appeal to force, Miss Nippett would have been found in the van of +"Poulter's" adherents, firmly imbued with the righteousness of her +cause. She lived in Blomfield Road, Shepherd's Bush, a depressing, +blind little street, at the end of which was a hoarding; this latter +shut off a view of a seemingly boundless brickfield. Miss Nippett +rented a top back room at number 19, where, on one Sunday afternoon, +Mavis, being previously invited, went to tea. The little room was neat +and clean; tea, a substantial meal, was served on the big black box +which stood at the foot of Miss Nippett's bed. After tea, Miss Nippett +showed, with much pride, her little treasures, which were chiefly +pitiful odds and ends picked up upon infrequent excursions to Isle of +Thanet watering-places. Her devotion to these brought a lump to Mavis's +throat. After the girl had inspected and admired these household gods, +she was taken to the window, in order to see the view, now lit by a +brilliant full moon. Mavis looked over a desert of waste land and +brickfield to a hideous, forbidding-looking structure in the distance. + +"Ain't it beautiful?" asked Miss Nippett. + +"Y--yes," assented Mavis. + +"Almost as good as reel country." + +"Almost." + +"Why, I declare, you can see the 'Scrubbs': you are in luck to-day." + +"What's the 'Scrubbs'?" + +"The 'Scrubbs' prison. Oh, I say, you are ignorant!" + +"I'm afraid I am," sighed Mavis. + +"It ain't often you can see the 'Scrubbs' at this time of year 'cause +of the fog," remarked Miss Nippett, whose eyes were still glued to the +window. + +Presently, when she drew the curtains, she looked contentedly round the +little room before saying: + +"I often think that, after all, there's no place like a good 'ome." + +"If you're lucky enough to have one," assented Mavis heartfully. + +"Sometimes I like it even better than 'Poulter's'; you know, when +you've got a waltz in your 'ead, and 'ate it, and 'ave to play it over +and over again. But every bit of this here furniture is mine and paid +for." + +"Really?" asked Mavis, feigning surprise to please her friend. + +"I can show you the receipts if you don't b'lieve me." + +"But I do." + +"Being at the academy makes me business-like. But there! if I haven't +forgotten something; reelly I 'ave." + +"What?" + +"One moment: let me bring the light." + +Miss Nippett led the way to the landing immediately outside her door, +where she unlocked a roomy cupboard, crammed to its utmost capacity +with odds and ends of cheap feminine adornment. Mangy evening boas, +flimsy wraps, down-at-heel dancing shoes, handkerchiefs, gloves, powder +puffs, and odd bits of ribbon were jumbled together in heaped disorder. + +"D'ye know what they is?" asked Miss Nippett. + +"Give it up," replied Mavis. + +"They're the 'overs.'" + +"What on earth's that?" + +"Oh, I say, you are ignorant; reelly you are. 'Overs' is what's left +and unclaimed at 'Poulter's.'" + +"Really?" + +"They're my 'perk,'" which last word Mavis took to be an abbreviation +of perquisite. + +Mavis looked curiously at the heap of forgotten finery: had she lately +lived among more prosperous surroundings, she might have glanced +contemptuously at this collection of tawdry flummery; but, if her +sordid struggles to make both ends meet had taught her nothing else, +they had given her a keen sympathy for all forms of endeavour, however +humble, to escape, if only for a crowded hour, from the debasing round +of uncongenial toil. Consequently, she looked with soft eyes at the +pile of unclaimed "overs." None knew better than she of the sacrifices +that the purchase of the cheapest of these entailed; her observation +had told her with what pride they were worn, the infinite pleasure +which their possession bestowed on their owner. The cupboard's contents +seemed to Mavis to be eloquent of pinched meals, walks in bad weather +to save 'bus fares, mean economies bravely borne; to cry aloud of +pitiful efforts made by young hearts to secure a brief taste of their +rightful heritage of joy, of which they had been dispossessed. + +Mavis turned away with a sigh. + +Presently, in the cosiness of the bed-sitting room, Miss Nippett became +confidential. + +"Are you ambitious?" she asked. + +"I don't know," replied Mavis. + +"I mean REELLY ambitious." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Well, like I am. I'm reelly ambitious." + +"Indeed!" + +"I want to be a partner in 'Poulter's.' Not for the money, you +understand, but for the honour. If I was made a partner, I'd die 'appy. +See?" + +"I don't see why you shouldn't be some day. Mr Poulter might reward you +that way for your years of faithful service." + +As Mavis walked back to Kiva Street, she asked herself the question +that Miss Nippett had asked her, "Was she ambitious?" + +Now, her chief concern was to earn her daily bread. It was not so very +long ago that her ambition was in some way bound up with the romantic +fancies which she was then so fond of weaving. Now, the prospect of +again having to fight for the privilege of bread-winning drove all +thought from her mind beyond this one desire--to keep afloat without +exhibiting signals of distress to the Devitts. + +Three days before Mavis left "Poulter's," she assisted at a Third +Saturday Night which was held, as usual, on that Saturday of the month +at the Athenaeum, Shepherd's Bush. + +Mavis, dressed in her one evening frock and wearing her few trinkets, +went to the Athenaeum an hour before the public was expected, in order +to rehearse with the "Godolphin Band," which was always engaged for +these occasions. She was in some trepidation at having to accompany +professional musicians on the piano; she hoped that they would not find +fault with her playing. When she got to the hall, she found Mr Poulter +already there in evening dress, vainly striving to conceal his +excitement. + +"Aren't you nervous?" he asked. + +"I am rather," she replied, as she took off her coat. + +"Oh, my dear, may an old man say how beautiful you look?" + +"Why not?" asked Mavis, whose eyes were shining at the unexpectedness +of the compliment. + +Mr Poulter looked at her intently for a few moments before saying: + +"Haven't you a father or mother?" + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Neither kith nor kin?" + +"I'm all alone in the world," she replied sadly. + +A sorrowful expression came over the old man's face as he said with +much fervour: + +"God bless you, my dear. May He keep you from pain and all harm." + +Mavis was seized with a sudden impulse. She took the white head in her +warm arms and kissed him fondly on the forehead. + +Mr Poulter turned away and pretended to have trouble with one of his +dancing pumps. + +A minute or two later, three grimy, uncouth-looking men came into the +hall, whom Mavis took to be gasmen. + +"Here's the 'Godolphin Band,'" said Mr Poulter, as he caught sight of +them. + +"All except Baffy: 'e's always late," remarked one of the men. + +Mavis was introduced to the three members of the band, all of whom +seemed to be somewhat abashed by her striking appearance. + +"What about evening dress?" asked Mr Poulter of the trio. + +Two of the men coughed and hesitated before saying: + +"Very sorry, Mr Poulter, but Christmas coming and all that, sir--" + +"I understand," sighed the dancing-master sympathetically; he then +turned to the tallest of the three to ask: + +"And you, Mr Cheadle?" + +"What a question to ask a cornet-player!" replied Mr Cheadle, as he +undid his overcoat to reveal a much worn evening suit, together with a +frayed, soiled shirt. + +"Excellent! excellent!" cried Mr Poulter on seeing the cornet-player's +garb. + +"One 'ud think I played outside pubs," grumbled Mr Cheadle. + +"Now, if only Mr Baffy would come, you artistes could get to work," +remarked Mr Poulter pleasantly. + +"Let's start without him," suggested Cheadle, who seemed pleased at +being referred to as an artiste. + +A move was made to the platform at the further end of the hall; when +this was reached, a little old man staggered into the hall, bearing on +his shoulders a bass viol. + +"Here's Baffy!" cried the three musicians together. + +When the man disentangled himself from his burden, Mavis saw that the +bass viol player was short, unkempt, greyhaired and bearded; he stared +straight before him with vacant, watery eyes; his mouth was always +agape; he neither greeted nor spoke to anyone present. + +In obedience to Mr Poulter's instructions, two of the band brought a +big screen from a side-room; this was set up by the piano, at which +instrument Mavis took her seat. The screen was arranged so that she and +Cheadle, the cornet-player, would be in full sight of the dancers; the +three musicians not in evening dress were hidden behind the screen. +They commenced a waltz. Mr Baffy did not start with the others; he was +set going by a kick from Mr Cheadle. He played without music, seemingly +at random, vilely, unconcernedly. Mr Baffy seemed to be ignorant of +when a figure was ended, as he went on scraping after the others had +ceased, and only stopped after receiving a further kick from Cheadle; +he then stared feebly before him, till again set going by a forcible +hint from the cornet-player. + +Mavis acquitted herself to the grudging satisfaction of Cheadle. A few +minutes before the doors were open, Miss Nippett approached her, +wearing, besides her usual shawl, a coquettish cap and apron. + +"Have you come to the dance?" asked Mavis. + +"I'm 'ladies cloak-room' to-night? What do you think of Baffy?" + +"I don't know what to think." + +"No class, is 'e?" + +"Do you know anything about him?" + +"I don't 'old with the feller. 'Is presence is a disgrace to the +academy," replied the "ladies' cloak-room." + +A few minutes later, the first of Mr Poulter's patrons self-consciously +entered the room; soon after, dancing commenced. + +As if to give Mavis heart for her unaccustomed task, Mr Poulter kept an +eye upon her; he encouraged her with smiles whenever she looked in his +direction. Mavis's playing was much jeopardised by the conduct of the +other musicians; they did not give the least attention to what they +were at, but performed as if their efforts were second nature. Soon +after the dancing started, Mr Cheadle brought from a pocket a greasy +pack of cards, at which he and the two musicians who had arrived with +him began to play at farthing "Nap," a game which the most difficult +passages of their performance did not interrupt, each card-player +somehow contriving to play almost directly it came to his turn. Mr +Cheadle, playing the cornet, had one hand always free; he shuffled the +cards, dealt them, and put down the winnings. When Mavis became more +used to the vagaries of their instrumental playing, she was amused at +the way in which they combined business with diversion. Mr Baffy, also, +interested her; he still continued to stare before him, as he played +with watery, purposeless eyes, and with mouth agape. + +Halfway through the programme, there was an interval for refreshments. +Mavis was conducted by Mr Poulter to a table set apart for the artistes +in the room in which the lightest of light refreshments were served to +his patrons. + +Mavis sat down to a plateful of what looked uncommonly like her old +friend, brisket of beef; she was now so hungry that she was glad to get +anything so substantial. + +"'Ow are you gettin' on?" asked a familiar voice over her shoulder. + +Mavis looked up, to see Miss Nippett, who had discarded her cap and +apron; she was now in her usual rusty frock, with her shawl upon her +narrow, stooping shoulders. + +"All right, thank you. Why don't you have some?" + +"No, thank you. I can't spare the time. I'm 'light refreshments.'" + +"But they're all eaten!" remarked Mavis, as her eye ranged along a +length of table-cloth innocent of food or decoration. + +"'Poulter's' ain't such a fool as to stick nothink out; it would all be +'wolfed' in a second. Let 'em ask." + +"Some people mightn't like to." + +"That's their look-out," snapped Miss Nippett, who had a heart of stone +where the interests of anything antagonistic to "Poulter's" were +concerned. + +At the conclusion of the evening, the band was paid. + +Mr Baffy got a shilling for his services, which he held in his hand and +looked stupidly before him, till he got a cut with a bow from the +second violinist, at which he put the money in his pocket. He then +shouldered his bass viol and plunged out into the darkness. + +Mavis's heart went out to Mr Baffy. She wondered where and how he +lived; how he passed his time; what had reduced him to his present +condition. + +She spoke of him to Mr Poulter, who looked perplexed before replying: + +"Ah, my dear young lady, it's as well for such as you not to inquire +too closely into the lives of we who are artistes." + +When Mavis had put on her hat and cloak, and was leaving the Athenaeum, +Miss Nippett called out: + +"It's all right; you can sleep sound; 'e's pleased with you." + +"Who?" asked Mavis. + +"Mr Poulter. Who else d'ye think I meant?" + +Three days later, Mavis severed her connection with "Poulter's." Upon +her going, Mr Poulter presented her with a signed photograph of himself +in full war-paint, an eulogistically worded testimonial, also, an +honorarium (this was his word) of five shillings. Mavis was loth to +take it; but seeing the dancing-master's distress at her hesitation, +she reluctantly pocketed the money. + +Miss Nippett also gave her a specially taken photograph of herself. + +"Where's your shawl?" asked Mavis, who missed this familiar adjunct +from the photograph. + +"I took it off to show off me figure. See?" replied Miss Nippett +confidentially. + +Mr Poulter asked Mavis if she had further employment in view. She knew +how poor he was; also, that if she told him she was workless, he would +probably insist on retaining her services, although he could not afford +to do so. Mavis fibbed to Mr Poulter; she hoped that her consideration +for his poverty would atone for the lie. + +For five weeks Mavis vainly tried to get work. She soon discovered how, +when possible employers considered her application, the mere mention of +her being at "Dawes'" was enough to spoil her chances of securing an +engagement. + +She had spent all her money; she was now living on the sum she had +received from a pawnbroker in exchange for two of her least prized +trinkets. Going out in all weathers to look for employment had not +improved her clothes; her best pair of boots let in water; she was +jaded, heartsick, dispirited. As with others in a like plight, she +dared not look into the immediate future, this holding only terrifying +probabilities of disaster; the present moment was all sufficient; +little else mattered, and, although to-morrow promised actual want, +there was yet hope that a sudden turn of fortune's wheel would remove +the dread menace of impending ruin. One evening, Mavis, dazed with +disappointment at failing to secure an all but promised berth, wandered +aimlessly from the city in a westerly direction. She scarcely knew +where she was going or what quarter of London she had reached. She was +only aware that she was surrounded by every evidence of well-being and +riches. The pallid, worried faces of the frequenters of the city were +now succeeded by the well-fed, contented looks of those who appeared as +if they did not know the meaning of the word care. Splendid carriages, +costly motor cars passed in never-ending procession. As Mavis glanced +at the expensive dresses of the women, the wind-tanned faces of the +men, she thought how, but for a wholly unlooked-for reverse of fortune, +these would be the people with whom she would be associating on equal +terms. The thought embittered her; she quickened her steps in order to +leave behind her the opulent surroundings so different from her own, A +little crowd, consisting of those entering and waiting about the door +of a tea-shop, obstructed her. An idea suddenly possessed her. +Confronted with want, she wondered if she had enough money to snatch a +brief half-hour's respite from her troubles. She looked in her purse, +to find it contained three shillings. The next moment, she was moving +in the direction of the tea-room, her habitual husbandry making a poor +fight against the over-mastering desire possessing her. + +She walked up a steep, narrow flight of carpeted stairs; this +terminated in a long, low room, the walls of which were of black oak, +and which was nearly filled with a gaily dressed crowd of men and +women. The sensuous music of a string band fell on her ear; the smell +of tea and the indefinable odour of women were borne to her nostrils. A +card was put in her hand, telling her that a palmist could be consulted +on the next floor. In and out among the tables, attendants, clad in the +garb of sixteenth century Flemish peasant women, moved noiselessly. + +Mavis got a table to herself in a corner by a window which overlooked +the street. She ordered tea and toast. When it was brought, she did her +best to put her extremity out of sight; she tried hard to believe that +she, too, led a happy, butterfly existence, without anxious thought for +the morrow, without a care in the world. The effort was scarcely a +success, but was, perhaps, worth the making. As she sat, she noticed a +kindly-looking old gentlewoman who was pointing her out to a companion; +for all the old woman's somewhat dowdy garb, she had rich woman stamped +all over her. The old lady kept on looking at Mavis; once or twice, +when the latter caught her eye, the elder woman smiled. When she rose +to go, she came over to Mavis and said: + +"Forgive me, my dear, but your hair looks wonderful against that +imitation oak." + +"Does it? But it isn't imitation too," replied Mavis. + +"Forgive me, won't you?" + +"Of course." + +"May I ask your name?" + +"Keeves. Mavis Keeves." + +"A good name," muttered the old lady. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye." + +Mavis saw her move towards the door; when she reached it, she turned to +smile again to Mavis before going out. + +"What a fool I am!" thought Mavis. "If I'd only told her I wanted work, +she'd have helped me to something. What a fool I am!" + +Mavis rose as if to follow the kindly old soul; but she was too late. +As she got up, she saw her step into a fine carriage, which, after the +footman had closed the door and mounted the box, had driven away. Mavis +sat helplessly. It seemed as if she were as a drowning person who had +been offered the chance of clutching a straw, but had refused to take +it. There was little likelihood of her getting a second chance. She +must resign herself to the worst. She had forgotten; one hope was still +left, one she had, hitherto, lost sight of: this to pray to her +Heavenly Father, to remind Him that she, as a human sparrow, was in +danger of falling; to implore succour. Although she had knelt morning +and evening at her bedside, it had lately been more from force of habit +than anything else; her heart had not inspired her lips. There had been +some reason for this: every morning she had been devoured by eagerness +to get work; at night, she had been too weary and dispirited to pray +earnestly. Mavis covered her eyes with her hands; she prayed heartfully +and long for help. Words welled from her being; their burden was: + +"I am young; I love life; help me to live, if only for a little while, +in this glorious, wonderful world of Thy making. I only ask for bread, +for which I am eager to work. Help me! Help me! Help me!" + +Mavis uncovered her eyes. The tea-shop, the music, the indefinable +odour of women all seemed bizarre after her communion with the Most +High. She made ready to go. + +"Are you in trouble?" said a voice at her elbow. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"I must help you," said the voice. + +Mavis saw a richly dressed, bejewelled, comfortable-looking woman at +her side. + +She was not in the least surprised; a friend had been sent in answer to +her prayer. + +"Is it over money?" asked the instrument. + +Mavis nodded. + +"I thought as much. I saw you outside the tea-shop and followed you in. +Is your time your own?" + +"Absolutely." + +"No parents or anyone?" + +"I haven't a friend or relation in the world." + +"Ah! I must really help you. Come with me. Let me pay for your tea." + +Mavis, before she went, found time to offer up brief, heartfelt thanks +for having speedily received an answer to her prayer. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +MRS HAMILTON'S + + +Mavis followed her new friend past the pay box, down the carpeted +stairs, into the street. She could not help seeing how bedraggled a +sparrow she appeared when contrasted with the brilliant plumage of the +woman at her side. A superb motor drew up to the pavement, from which a +man got down to open the door. + +"Get inside, dear," said the woman. + +Mavis did as she was bid, hardly realising the good fortune which had +so unexpectedly overtaken her. + +"Telegraph office, then home," said the woman, who had, also, got into +the car. + +The man touched his hat and they were off. The woman did not speak at +first, being seemingly absorbed in anxious thought. Mavis became +conscious of a vague feeling of discomfort like to when--when--she +tried to remember when this uneasy feeling had before possessed her. +She glanced at her companion; she noticed that the woman's eyes were +hard and cold; it was difficult to reconcile their expression with the +sentiments she had professed. Then the woman turned to her. + +"What is your name?" + +"Mavis Weston Keeves." + +"My name's Hamilton; it's really West-Hamilton, but I'm known as Mrs +Hamilton. How old are you?" + +"Eighteen. I'm nineteen in three months." + +"Tell me more of yourself." + +Mavis briefly told her story; as she finished, the car drew up at a +post-office. Mrs Hamilton scanned Mavis's face closely before getting +out. + +"I shan't be a moment; it's only to someone who's coming to dinner." + +Mavis, left alone in the motor, wondered at the strangeness of the +adventure. She knew that Mrs Hamilton was scarcely a gentlewoman--even +in the broad interpretation nowadays given to the word. But it was not +this so much as the fact of her having such hard eyes which perplexed +the girl. She had little time to dwell on this matter, as, in a very +few moments, Mrs Hamilton was again beside Mavis, and they were +speeding up Oxford Street. + +"The fact is I live alone," said Mrs Hamilton. "I am in need of a +companion, young and nice-looking, like yourself. I wonder if you'd +care for the job." + +"I wonder if you'd care to have me." + +"I entertain a good deal, mostly gentlemen; two gentlemen are coming to +dinner to-night." + +"But you don't expect me--?" + +"Why not?" + +"But my clothes." + +"Is that all? I've some things that will suit you down to the ground." + +"You're very kind," said Mavis, as the motor, having turned into Regent +Street, whizzed past the Langham Hotel. + +"You play and sing?" asked Mrs Hamilton. + +"A little." + +"That always helps. And as to terms, if we get along well together, +you'll be grateful to me till the day of your death." + +Although the words were spoken without a suspicion of feeling, Mavis +replied: + +"I'm sure I shall." + +"Here we are!" said Mrs Hamilton. + +Mavis was much surprised that no word had been said about references. + +A man-servant opened the door. Mavis passed in with Mrs Hamilton, for +whom a telegram was waiting. + +"Dinner at eight to-night, Jarvis; an hour earlier than usual. Lay for +four," said Jarvis's mistress, after opening the telegram. + +"Yes, ma'am," replied Jarvis, as Mrs Hamilton walked upstairs to the +drawing-room, followed by Mavis. + +Accustomed as Mavis had been of late to bed-sitting rooms or shabby +lodging-house parlours, her first glimpse of Mrs Hamilton's +richly-furnished drawing-room almost took away her breath. It was not +so much the richness of the furniture which astonished her, as the +daring scheme of decoration and the profusion of expensive nicknacks +scattered about the room; these last were eloquent of Mrs Hamilton's +ability to satisfy any whim, however costly it might be. The walls were +panelled in white; white curtains were drawn across the windows; black +bearskins covered the floor; the furniture was dark, formal, much of it +carved; here and there on the white panelling of the walls were black +Wedgwood plaques; black Wedgwood china stood audaciously upon and +inside cabinets. A large grand piano and the cheerful blaze of a wood +fire mitigated the severity of the room. + +"How beautiful!" exclaimed Mavis. + +"You like it?" + +"It's the loveliest room I've ever been in." + +"It's your home if we hit it off." + +"Do you think we shall?" + +"Up to now I don't see any reason why we shouldn't." + +Mavis again breathed thanks to Heaven for having so generously answered +her prayer. She felt how she would like to tell of her experience to +any who denied the efficacy of personal supplication to God. + +"Shall I play to you?" asked Mavis, after they had talked for some +minutes. + +"I don't like music," replied Mrs Hamilton. + +"Not?" + +"I don't understand it. Let's go upstairs to my room." + +If she did not care for music, Mavis wondered why she had made a point +of asking if she (Mavis) could play. + +Mrs Hamilton's bedroom was a further revelation to the girl; she looked +wide-eyed at the Louis Seize gilt furniture, the tapestry, the +gilt-edged screens, the plated bath in a corner of the room, the superb +dressing-table bestrewed with gold toilet nicknacks. + +"Do you like my bed?" asked Mrs Hamilton, who was watching the girl's +undisguised wonder. + +"I haven't had time to take in the other things." + +Mavis looked at the bed; it stood in an alcove on the side of the room +furthest from where she was. It was long, low, and gilded; +plum-coloured curtains rose in voluptuous folds till they were joined +near the ceiling by a pair of big silver doves. + +"Do you like it?" asked Mrs Hamilton. + +"Like is scarcely the word. I've never imagined anything like it in my +life." + +"It belonged to Madame du Barri, the mistress of a French king." + +"I've read something about her." + +"He always wished to give her a toilette set of pure gold, but could +never quite afford it. I hope to get one next year if things go well." + +Mavis stared at Mrs Hamilton in wide-eyed amazement. The rich woman +appeared to take no notice of the girl's surprise, and said: + +"Sit by the fire with me a moment. It will soon be time for you to +dress." + +"Dress! I've only what I've got on with me. My one poor evening dress +would look absurd in this house." + +"I told you I'd see to that," replied Mrs Hamilton. "I've had a young +friend staying with me who was just about your build. She left one or +two of her evening dresses behind her. If they don't quite fit, my maid +will take them in." + +"You are good to me," said Mavis. + +"If you like it, I'll give you one." + +"How can I ever thank you?" + +"You can to-night." + +"To-night?" + +"Listen. I've two old friends coming to dinner. One is a Mr--Mr Ellis, +but he won't interest you a bit." + +"Why not?" + +"He's old and is already infatuated." + +"Isn't the other, then?" asked Mavis lightly. + +"Mr--Mr Williams! No. I wonder if you'd interest him." + +"I don't suppose so for one moment," remarked Mavis. + +"You're too modest. Mr Williams is young, good-looking, rich." + +"Money doesn't interest me." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Really, it doesn't." + +"Not after your wanting work for so long?" + +"Not a bit." + +"Not when you see it can buy things like mine?" + +"Of course money is wonderful, but it isn't everything." + +"You say that because you don't know. Money is power, happiness, +contentment, life. And you know it in your heart of hearts. Every +woman, who is anything at all, knows it. Surely, after all you've gone +through, it appeals to you?" + +Mrs Hamilton anxiously watched Mavis's face. + +"Not a bit like it seems to--to some people," replied Mavis. + +Mrs Hamilton's face fell. She was lost in anxious thought for some +moments. + +"Do you mind?" asked Mavis. + +"Of course not. But we'll talk it over after you've seen Mr Williams." + +"But is it so necessary for his happiness that he should be infatuated +with anyone?" + +"It might keep him from worse things. He's very impulsive and romantic. +I've quite a motherly interest in the boy. You might assist me to +reclaim him." + +[Footnote: ]Although Mrs Hamilton spoke such maternal sentiments, Mavis +looked in vain for the motherly expression upon her face, which she +felt should inevitably accompany such words. Mrs Hamilton's face was +hard, expressionless, cold. Presently she said: + +"If you would care to go to your room, it's on the next floor, and the +second door you come to on the right. If it isn't good enough, let me +know." + +"It's sure to be," remarked Mavis. + +"Parkins, my maid, will come to you in ten minutes. Rest till then, as +to-night I want you to look your best." + +Mavis thanked and left Mrs Hamilton. She then found her way to her +chamber. She was as surprised and delighted with this as she had been +with the other two rooms, perhaps more so, because she reflected, with +an immense satisfaction, that it might be her very own. The room was +furnished throughout with satinwood; blue china bowls decorated the +tops of cabinets; a painted satinwood spinet stood in a corner; the +hearth was open and tiled throughout with blue Dutch tiles; the fire +burned in a brass brazier which was suspended from the chimney. + +Thought Mavis, as she looked rapturously about her: + +"Just the room I should love to have had for always, if--if things had +been different." + +A door on the right of the fireplace attracted her. She turned the +handle of this, to find it opened on to a luxuriously fitted bathroom, +in a corner of which a fire was burning. Mavis returned to the bedroom, +still wondering at the sudden change in her fortunes; even now, with +all these tangible evidences of the alteration in her condition, she +could scarcely believe it to be true: it all seemed like something out +of a book or on the stage, two forms of distraction which, according to +Miss Allen, did anything but represent life as it really was. She was +still mentally agape at her novel surroundings when Parkins, Mrs +Hamilton's maid, entered the room to dress Mavis. + +Parkins's appearance surprised her; she was wholly unlike her +conception of what a lady's-maid should be. Instead of being +unassumingly dressed, quiet, self-effacing, Parkins was a bold, buxom +wench, with large blue eyes and a profusion of fair hair. She wore +white lace underskirts, openwork silk stockings, and showy shoes. Her +manner was that of scarcely veiled familiarity. She carried upon her +arm a gorgeous evening gown. + +Mavis made an elaborate toilette. She bathed, presently to clothe +herself in the many delicate garments which Mrs Hamilton had provided. +Her hair was dressed by Parkins; later, when she put on the evening +frock, she hardly knew herself. The gown was of grey chiffon, +embroidered upon the bodice and skirt with silver roses; grey silk +stockings, grey silver embroidered shoes completed the toilette. + +"Madam sent you these," said Parkins, returning to the room after a +short absence. + +"Those!" cried Mavis, as her eyes were attracted by the pearl necklaces +and other costly jewels which the maid had brought. + +"Madam entertains very rich gentlemen; she likes everyone about her to +look their best." + +Mavis, with faint reluctance, let Parkins do as she would with her. The +pearl necklaces were roped about her neck; gold bracelets were put upon +her arms; a thin platinum circlet, which supported a large emerald, was +clasped about her head. + +Mavis stood to look at herself in the glass. She could scarcely believe +that the tall, queenly, ardent-looking girl was the same tired, +dispirited creature who had listlessly pinned on her hat of a morning +before tramping out, in all weathers, to search for work. She gazed at +herself for quite two minutes; whatever happened, the memory of how she +looked in all this rich finery was something to remember. + +"Will I do?" she asked of Mrs Hamilton, when that person, very richly +garbed, came into the room. + +Mrs Hamilton looked her all over before replying: + +"Yes, you'll do." + +"I'm glad." + +"I never make a mistake. You can go, Parkins." + +When the maid had left the room, Mrs Hamilton said: + +"I'm going to introduce you to my friends as Miss Devereux." + +"But--" + +"I wish it." + +"But--" + +Mavis did not at all like this resolve. + +"It was the name of my last companion, and I've got used to it. +Besides, I wish it." + +Mavis resented Mrs Hamilton's sudden assumption of authority; it +quickened the vague feelings of dislike which she had felt in her +presence, the vague feelings of dislike which reminded her of--of--ah! +She remembered now. It was the same uncomfortable sensation which she +had always experienced when Mrs Stanley stood by her in "Dawes'." + +This discovery of the identity of the two emotions set Mavis wondering +if either had anything to do with the character of the two women who +had inspired them, and, if so, whether Mrs Hamilton followed the same +loathsome calling as Mrs Stanley. Mavis comforted her mind's disquiet +by reflecting how Miss Allen had, most likely, not told the truth about +Mrs Stanley's occupation; also, by remembering how her present +situation was the result of a direct, personal appeal to the Almighty, +which precluded the remotest possibility of her being exposed to risk +of insult or harm. She had little time for thinking on the matter, for +Mrs Hamilton said: + +"Mr Ellis has already come. Mr Williams will be here any moment. We'd +better go down." + +Mavis followed Mrs Hamilton to the drawing-room, where a man rose at +their entrance, to whom Mavis was introduced as Miss Devereux. + +He scarcely glanced at Mavis, gave her the most formal of bows, and, as +the few remarks he made were directed to Mrs Hamilton, the girl had +plenty of time in which to observe him. He was elderly, tall, +distinguished-looking. He had the indefinable air of being, not only a +man of wealth, but a "somebody." She was chiefly attracted by his grey +eyes, which seemed dead and lifeless. The underlids of these were +pencilled with countless small lines, which, with the weary, dull eyes, +seemed quite out of keeping with the otherwise keenly intellectual face. + +Mavis secretly resented the man's indifference to her comeliness. A few +minutes later, the servant opened the door to announce Mr Williams, +whereupon a tall, sun-bronzed, smart-looking man sauntered into the +room. Something in his carriage and face suggested soldier to Mavis's +mind. He was by no means handsome, but what might have been a somewhat +plain face was made pleasant-looking by the deep sunburn and the +kindliness of his expression. + +Williams shook hands with Mrs Hamilton, nodded to Ellis, and then +turned to Mavis. Directly he saw her, a look of surprise came into his +face; the girl could not help seeing how greatly he was struck by her +appearance. Mrs Hamilton introduced them, when he at once came to her +side. + +"Just think of it," he said, "I was in no hurry to get here. If I had +only known!" + +"Known what?" asked Mavis. + +"That's asking something. In return I'm going to ask you a question." + +"Well?" + +"What is it like to be so charming?" + +The same question asked by another man might have offended her. There +was such a note of sincere, boyish admiration in the man's voice, that +she had said, almost before she was aware of it: + +"Rather nice." + +He said more in the same strain. Mavis found herself greatly enjoying +the thinly veiled compliments which he paid her. It was the first time +since she had grown up that she had spoken to a smart man, who was +obviously a gentleman. If this were not enough to thaw her habitual +reserve, there was something strangely familiar in the young man's face +and manner; it almost seemed to Mavis as if she were talking with a +very old friend or acquaintance, which was enough to justify the +unusual levity of her behaviour. + +Once or twice, she caught Mrs Hamilton's eye, when she could not help +seeing how her friend was much pleased at the way in which she +attracted Mr Williams. + +When he was taking the girl down to dinner, he murmured: + +"May I call here often?" + +"There's no charge for admission," replied Mavis. + +"It wouldn't make any difference to me if there were." + +"How nice to be so reckless!" + +"I'm a lot in town for the next three months. I want to get as much out +of life as I can." + +"From school?" + +"Aldershot." + +"Are you in the service?" + +"Eh!" + +"If you are, haven't you any rank at your age?" asked Mavis. + +"How do you know I'm not a Tommy?" he asked. + +"That's what I thought you were," she retorted. + +Mavis and Mrs Hamilton faced each other at table; Williams sat on her +right, Ellis on her left. The conversation at the dinner-table was, +almost exclusively, between the soldier and Mavis. Ellis scarcely spoke +to his hostess, and then only when compelled. + +"What will you drink?" asked Mrs Hamilton of Mavis. + +"Water, please." + +"Water?" echoed Mrs Hamilton. + +Mr Ellis looked keenly at Mavis. + +"Have some champagne," continued Mrs Hamilton. + +"I'd fall under the table if I did. I'll have water. I never drink +anything else," said Mavis. + +"I never drink anything else except champagne," retorted Mrs Hamilton. +"Look here, if Miss Devereux drinks water I shall," declared Williams. + +"Do. The change will do you good," replied Mavis. + +"See what I've let myself in for," said Williams, as he kept his word. + +As the servant was about to pour out champagne for Mr Ellis, Mrs +Hamilton said: + +"Stop! I've something special for you." + +She then whispered to the servant, who left the room to bring back a +curious, old bottle. When this was opened, a golden wine poured into Mr +Ellis's glass, where it bubbled joyously, as if rejoicing at being set +free from its long imprisonment. + +As the wine was poured out, Mavis noticed how Mr Ellis's eye caught Mrs +Hamilton's. + +The meal was long, elaborate, sumptuous. Mavis wondered when the +procession of toothsome delicacies would stop. She enjoyed herself +immensely; her unaccustomed personal adornment, the cosy room, the +shaded lights, the lace table-cloth, the manner in which the food was +served, above all, the manly, admiring personality of Mr Williams, all +irresistibly appealed to her, largely because the many joyous instincts +of her being had been starved for so long. + +She surrendered herself body and soul to the exhilaration of the +moment, as if conscious that it was all too good to be true; that her +surroundings might any moment fade; that her gay clothes would +disappear, and that she would again find herself, heartsick and weary, +in her comfortless little combined room at Mrs Bilkins's. At the same +time, her natural alertness took in everything going on about her. + +As the dinner progressed, she could not help seeing how Mr Ellis's eyes +seemed to awaken from their torpor; but the life that came into them +was such that Mavis much preferred them as they originally were. They +sparkled hungrily; it seemed to the girl as if they had a fearful, +hunted, and, at the same time, eager, unholy look, as if they sought +refuge in some deadly sin in order to escape a far worse fate. Mavis's +and Williams's gaiety was infectious. Ellis frequently joined in the +raillery proceeding between the pair; it was as if Mavis's youth, +comeliness, and charm compelled homage from the pleasure-worn man of +the world. Mrs Hamilton, all this while, said little; she left the +entertaining to Mavis, who was more than equal to the effort; it seemed +to the joy-intoxicated girl as if she were the bountiful hostess, Mrs +Hamilton a chance guest at her table. The appearance of strawberries at +dessert (it was January) made a lull in Mavis's enjoyment: the +out-of-season fruit reminded her of the misery which could be +alleviated with the expenditure of its cost. She was silent for a few +moments, which caused Ellis to ask: + +"I say, Windebank, what have you said to our friend?" + +Mavis looked up quickly, to see a look of annoyance on Mrs Hamilton's +face. + +"Williams, I should have said," corrected Ellis. "I muddled the two +names. What have you said to our friend that she should be so quiet all +at once?" + +"Give it up," replied Williams. "Perhaps she's offended at our +childishness." + +The men talked. Mrs Hamilton, with something of an effort, joined in +the conversation. Mavis was silent; she wondered how Mr Ellis came to +address Mr Williams as "Windebank," which was also the name of the +friend of the far-away days when her father was alive. She reflected +how Archie Windebank would be now twenty-eight, an age that might well +apply to Mr Williams. Associated with these thoughts was an uneasy +feeling, which had been once or twice in her mind, that the two men at +table were far too distinguished-looking to bear such commonplace names +as Ellis and Williams. The others rallied her on her depression. +Striving to believe that she must be mistaken in her suspicions, she +made an effort to end the perplexities that were beginning to confront +her. + +"Are you at Aldershot for long?" asked Mavis of Mr Williams. + +"I scarcely know: one never does know these things." + +"Do you come up often?" + +"I shall now." + +"To see your people?" + +"They live in the west of England." + +"Wiltshire?" + +"How did you know?" + +"I didn't; I guessed." + +"Wherever they are, I don't see so much of them as I should." + +"How considerate of you!" + +"Isn't it? But they're a bit too formidable even for one of my sober +tastes." + +"I see. They're interesting and clever." + +"If Low Church and frumpy clothes are cleverness, they're geniuses," he +remarked. + +"Of course, you prefer High Church and low bodices," retorted Mavis. + +Soon after, Mrs Hamilton and Mavis left the men and went upstairs to +the drawing-room. The girl was uneasy in her mind as to how Mrs +Hamilton would take the fact of her having considerably eclipsed her +employer at table; now that they were alone together, she feared some +token of Mrs Hamilton's displeasure. + +To her surprise and delight, this person said: + +"You're an absolute treasure." + +"You think so?" + +"I don't think; I know. But then, I never make a mistake." + +"I'm glad you're pleased." + +"I'm not pleased; delighted is more the word. You're worth your weight +in gold." + +"I wish I were." + +"But you will be, if you follow my advice. At first, I thought you a +bit of a mug. I don't mind telling you, now I see how smart you are." + +Mavis looked puzzled; the extravagant eulogy of her conduct seemed +scarcely to be justified. + +"You can see Williams is head over ears in love with you. So far, he's +been beastly stand-offish to anyone I put him on to," continued Mrs +Hamilton. + +"Indeed!" said Mavis coldly. She disliked Mrs Hamilton's coarse manner +of expressing herself. + +Mrs Hamilton did not notice the frown on the girl's forehead, but went +on: + +"As for that idea of drinking water, it was a stroke of genius." + +"What?" + +"My heart went out to you when you insisted on having it, although I +pretended to mind." + +Mavis was about to protest her absolute sincerity in the matter, when +Parkins, the maid who had dressed her, came into the room. She +whispered to her mistress, at which Mrs Hamilton rose hurriedly and +said: + +"I must leave you for a little time on important business." + +"What would you like me to do?" asked Mavis. + +"Particularly one thing: don't leave this room." + +"Why should I?" + +"Quite so. But I want someone here when Mr Williams comes upstairs." + +"I'll stick at my post," laughed Mavis, at which Mrs Hamilton and the +comely-looking maid left the room. + +Left alone, Mavis surrendered herself to the feeling of uneasiness +which had been called into being, not only by her employer's strange +words, but, also, by the fact of Mr Williams having been addressed by +the other man as Windebank. The more she thought of it, the more +convinced was she that Mr Ellis had not made a mistake in calling the +other man by a different name to the one by which she had been +introduced to him. The fact of his having admitted that his home was in +Wiltshire, together with the sense of familiarity in his company, +seemingly begotten of old acquaintance, tended to strengthen this +conviction. On the other hand, if he were indeed the old friend of her +childhood, there seemed a purposed coincidence in the fact of their +having met again. She did not forget how her presence in Mrs Hamilton's +house was the result of an appeal to her Heavenly Father, who, she +firmly believed, would not let a human sparrow such as she fall to the +ground. She was curious to discover the result of this seemingly +preordained meeting. The sentimental speculation engendered a dreamy +languor which was suddenly interrupted by a sense of acute disquiet. +She was always a girl of abnormal susceptibility to what was going on +about her; to such an extent was this sensibility developed, that she +had learned to put implicit faith in the intuitions that possessed her. +Now, she was certain that something was going on in the house, +something that was hideous, unnatural, unholy, the conviction of which +seemed to freeze her soul. She had not the slightest doubt on the +matter: she felt it in the marrow of her bones. + +She placed her hand on her eyes, as if to shut out the horrid +certainty; the temporary deprivation of sight but increased the +acuteness of her impression, consequently, her uneasiness. She felt the +need of space, of good, clean air. The fine drawing-room seemed to +confine her being; she hurried to the door in order to escape. Directly +she opened it, she found Parkins, the over-dressed maid, outside, who, +directly she saw Mavis, barred her further progress. + +"What is it, miss?" she asked. + +"Mrs Hamilton! I must see her." + +"You can't, miss." + +"I must. I must. There's something going on. I must see her." + +A fearsome expression came over the maid's face as she said: + +"I was coming to remind you from madam of your promise to her not to +leave the drawing-room." + +"I must. I must." + +"If I may say so, miss, it will be as much as your place is worth to +disobey madam." + +These words brought a cold shock of reason to Mavis's fevered +excitement. + +She looked blankly at the servant for a moment or two, before saying: + +"Thank you, Parkins; I will wait inside." + +If her many weeks of looking for employment had taught her nothing +else, they now told her how worse than foolish it would be to shatter +at one blow Mrs Hamilton's good opinion of her. In compliance with her +employer's request, she returned to the drawing-room, her nerves all on +edge. + +Although more convinced than before of the presence of some +abomination, she made a supreme effort to divert her thoughts into +channels promising relief from her present tension of mind. + +She caught up and eagerly examined the first thing that came to hand. +It was a large, morocco-bound, gold-edged photograph album; almost +before she was aware of it, she was engrossed in its contents. It was +full from cover to cover of coloured photographs of women. There were +dark girls, fair girls, auburn girls, every type of womanhood to be met +with under Northern skies; they ranged from slim girls in their teens +to over-ripe beauties, whose principal attraction was the redundance of +their figures. For all the immense profusion of varied beauty which the +women displayed, they had certainly two qualities in common--they all +wore elaborate evening dress; they were all photographed to display to +the utmost advantage their physical attractions. Otherwise, thought +Mavis, there was surely nothing to differentiate them from the usual +run of comely womanhood. Always a lover of beauty, Mavis eagerly +scanned the photographs in the book. To her tense imagination, it was +like wandering in a highly cultivated garden, where there were flowers +of every hue, from the timid shrinking violet and the rosebud, to the +over-blown peony, to greet the senses. It was as if she wandered from +one to the next, admiring and drinking in the distinctive beauty of +each. There were supple, fair-petalled daffodils, white-robed daisies, +scarlet-lipped poppies, and black pansies, instinct with passion, all +waiting to be culled. It seemed as if a paradise of glad loveliness had +been gathered for her delight. They were all dew-bespangled, +sun-worshipping, wind-free, as if their only purpose was to languish +for some thirsty bee to come and sip greedily of their sweetness. As +Mavis looked, another quality, which had previously eluded her, seemed +to attach itself to each and all of the flowers, a quality that their +calculated shyness now made only the more apparent. It was as if at +some time in their lives their petals had been one and all ravaged by +some relentless wind; as if, in consequence, they had all dedicated +themselves to decorate the altars raised to the honour and glory of +love. + +Mavis, also, noticed that beneath each photograph was written a number +in big figures. Then the book repelled her. She put it down, not before +she noticed that, scattered about the room, were other albums filled +presumably in the same way as was the other. She had no mind to look at +these, being already surfeited with beauty; also, she was more than +ever aware of the sense of disquiet which had troubled her before. To +escape once more from this, she walked to the piano, opened it, and let +her fingers stray over the keys. She had not touched a piano for many +weeks, consequently her fingers were stiff and awkward; but in a few +minutes they got back something of their old proficiency: almost +unconsciously, she strayed into an Andante of Chopin's. + +The strange, appealing, almost unearthly beauty of the movement soothed +her jangled nerves; before she was aware of it, she was enrapt with the +morbid majesty of the music. Although she was dimly conscious that +someone had come into the room, she went on playing. + +The next definite thing that she knew was that two strong arms were +placed about her body, that she was being kissed hotly and passionately +upon eyes and lips. + +"You darling; you darling; you perfect darling!" cried a voice. + +Mavis was too overcome by the suddenness of the assault to know what to +be at; her first instinct was to deliver herself from the defiling +touch of her assailant. She freed herself with an effort, to see that +it was Mr Williams who had so grossly insulted her. Blind rage, shame, +outraged pride all struggled for expression; blind rage predominated. + +"Oh, you beast!" she cried. + +"Eh!" + +"You beast! You beast! To do a thing like that!" Then, as she became on +better terms with the nature of the vulgar insult to which she had been +subjected, her anger blazed out. + +"How dare you insult a defenceless girl?" + +"But--" the man stammered. + +"What have I ever done but try and work to keep away from such things, +and now you come and--Oh, you beast--you cruel beast! You'll never know +what you have done." + +A sense of shame possessed her. She turned away to drop scalding tears. +Anger quickly succeeded this brief fit of dejection. It caused her +inexpressible pain to think that she, a daughter of a proud family, the +girl with the aloof soul, should have been treated in the same way as +any fast London shop-girl. She was consumed with passion; she feared +what form her rage might take. At least she was determined to have the +man turned out of the house. She moved towards the bell. + +"If I've made a mistake," began the man, who all this time had been +fearfully watching her. + +"If you've made a mistake!" she echoed scornfully. + +"The best of us do sometimes, you know," he continued. + +"Why to me--to me? What have I said or done to encourage you? Why to +me?" she cried. + +"If I've made a mistake, I'm more sorry than I can say, more sorry than +you can guess." + +"What's the use of that to me? You touched my lips. Oh, I could tear +them!" she cried desperately. + +"Will you hear my excuse?" + +"There's no excuse. Nothing--nothing will ever make me forget it. Oh, +the shame of it!" + +Here bitter tears again welled to her eyes. + +The man was moved by her extremity. + +"I am so very sorry. I wouldn't have had it happen for anything. I +didn't know you were in the least like this." + +"Why not? If you had met me as I was before I came here there might +have been the shadow of an excuse. Do you usually behave to girls you +meet at friends' houses like you did to me?" + +"In friends' houses?" he asked, emphasising the word "friends." + +"You heard what I said?" + +"This is scarcely a friend's house." + +"Why not?" + +"Eh?" + +"Why not? Why not? Can't you tell me?" + +"But--" + +"Why not? Why not? Answer!" + +"Is it possible?" + +"Is what possible?" + +"You don't know the house you're in?" + +"What house?" she asked wildly. + +The look of terror, of fear, which accompanied this question was enough +to dissipate any doubts of the girl's honesty which may have lingered +in the man's mind. + +"How long have you been here?" + +"Three hours." + +"And you don't know what Mrs Hamilton is?" + +"No." + +"What?" he cried excitedly. + +"Tell me! Tell me!" + +"Just tell me how you met her." + +She told him in short words; she was reluctant to make a confidant of +the man who had ravished her lips; she was dimly conscious that he may +have had a remote excuse for his behaviour. When she had done, he said: + +"Mrs Hamilton is one of the worst women in London. She'd have been 'run +in' long ago if she weren't so rich and if her clients weren't so +influential." + +Mavis looked at him wide-eyed. + +"That chap at dinner, didn't, you know he was Lord Kegworth? If you +don't, you must have heard of the rotten life he's led." + +"But--" stammered Mavis. + +"Have you seen any photographs since you've been here?" + +"Just now--these." + +"She's their agent, go between. Here! What am I telling you? You can +thank your stars you've met me." + +Mavis's frightened eyes looked into his. + +"I'm going to get you out of it." + +"You?" + +"There's not a moment to lose. Get on your things and clear out." + +"But Mrs Hamilton--" + +"She's busy for a moment. Slip on something over your dress and join me +outside the drawing-room. If anyone interferes with you, shout." + +"But--" + +"Do as I tell you. Hang it! I must do something to try and make up for +my blackguard behaviour." + +Mavis went from the room, her heart beating with fear of discovery. For +the time being, she had forgotten the insult offered her by the man she +had left: her one thought was to put as great a space as possible +between this accursed house and herself in the least imaginable time. +She scarcely knew what she did. She tore off the pearls, the head +circlet with its shining emerald, bracelets and other costly gee-gaws, +and threw them on the table; she was glad to be rid of them; their +touch meant defilement. She kicked off the grey slippers, tore off the +silk stockings, and substituted for these her worn, down-at-heel shoes +and stockings. There was no time to change her frock, so she pulled the +cloak over her evening clothes; she meant to return these latter to +their owner the first thing in the morning. She turned her back on the +room, that such a short while back she had looked upon as her own, ran +down the stairs and joined the man, who was impatiently waiting for her +on the landing. Without exchanging a word, they descended to the ground +floor. The front door was in sight and Mavis's heart was beating high +with hope, when Mrs Hamilton, who looked tired and heated, stood in the +passage. + +"Where are you going?" she asked. + +"Out for the evening," replied Williams. + +"What time shall I expect you back?" she asked of Mavis. + +"I'm not coming back," replied Mavis. "I wish I'd never come." + +"Then--?" + +"Yes," interrupted Williams, anticipating Mrs Hamilton's question. + +"You believe and trust a notorious seducer like this man?" asked Mrs +Hamilton of Mavis. + +"Whatever I am, I ain't that," cried Williams. + +"To a man who has ruined more girls than anyone else in London?" +continued Mrs Hamilton. "I solemnly warn you that if you go with that +man it means your ruin--ruin body and soul." + +Mrs Hamilton spoke in such a low, earnest voice, that Mavis, who now +recollected Mr Williams's previous behaviour to her, was inclined to +waver. + +Mrs Hamilton saw her advantage and said: + +"Since you disbelieve in me, the least you can do is to go upstairs and +take off my clothes." + +"She'll do nothing of the kind," cried out the man. + +"He doesn't want to lose his prey," Mrs Hamilton remarked to Mavis, who +was inclined to falter a little more. + +Perhaps Williams saw the weakening of the girl's resolution, for he +made a last desperate effort on her behalf. + +"Look here," he said, "I'm not a sneak, but, if you don't own up and +let Miss Devereux go, I'll fetch in the police." + +"You'll what?" cried Mrs Hamilton. + +"Fetch in the police. Not to Mrs Hamilton, but to Mrs Bridgeman, Mrs +Knight, or Mrs Davis." + +Mrs Hamilton's face went white; she looked intently at the man to see +if he were in earnest. His resolute eyes convinced her that he was. + +The next moment, a torrent of foul words fell from her lips. She abused +Mavis; she reviled the man; she accused the two of sin, the while she +made use of obscene, filthy phrases, which caused Mavis to put her +hands to her ears. + +Mavis no longer wavered. She put her hand on the man's arm; the next +minute they were out in the street. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +MAVIS GOES OUT TO SUPPER + + +"Where now?" asked the man, as the two stood outside in the street. + +"Good night," replied Mavis. + +"Good night?" + +"Good-bye, then." + +"Oh no." + +"I'm grateful to you for getting me out of that place, but I can never +see you or speak to you again." + +"But--" + +"We needn't go into it. I want to try to forget it, although I never +shall. Good-bye." + +"I can't let you go like this. Let me drive you home." + +"Home!" laughed Mavis scornfully. "I've no home." + +"Really no home?" + +"I haven't a soul in the world who cares what becomes of me: not a +friend in the world. And all I valued you've soiled. It made me hate +you, and nothing will ever alter it. Good-bye." + +She turned away. The man followed. + +"Look here, I'll tell you all about myself, which shows my intentions +are straight." + +"It wouldn't interest me." + +"Why not? You liked me before--before that happened, and, when you've +forgiven me, there's no reason why you shouldn't like me again." + +"There's every reason." + +"My name's Windebank--Archibald Windebank. I'm in the service, and my +home is Haycock Abbey, near Melkbridge--" + +"You gave me your wrong name!" cried Mavis, who, now that she knew that +the man was the friend of her early days, seized on any excuse to get +away from him. + +"But--" + +"Don't follow me. Good-bye." + +She crossed the road. He came after her and seized her arm. + +"Don't be a fool!" he cried. + +"You've hurt me. You're capable of anything," she cried. + +"Rot!" + +"Oh, you brute, to hurt a girl!" + +"I've done nothing of the kind. It would almost have served you right +if I had, for being such a little fool. Listen to me--you shall +listen," he added, as Mavis strove to leave him. + +His voice compelled submission. She looked at him, to see that his face +was tense with anger. She found that she did not hate him so much, +although she said, as if to satisfy her conscience for listening to him: + +"Do you want to insult me again?" + +"I want to tell you what a fool you are, in chucking away a chance of +lifelong happiness, because you're upset at what I did, when, finding +you in that house, I'd every excuse for doing." + +"Lifelong happiness?" cried Mavis scornfully. + +"You're a woman I could devote my life to. I want to know all about +you. Oh, don't be a damn little fool!" + +"You're somebody: I'm a nobody. Much better let me go." + +"Of course if you want to--" + +"Of course I do." + +"Then let me see you into a cab." + +"A cab! I always go by 'bus, when I can afford it." + +"Good heavens! Here, let me drive you home." + +"I shouldn't have said that. I'm overwrought to-night. When I'm in +work, I'm ever so rich. I know you mean kindly. Let me go." + +"I'll do nothing of the kind. It's all very important to me. I'm going +to drive you home." + +He caught hold of her arm, the while he hailed a passing hansom. When +this drew up to the pavement, he said: + +"Get in, please." + +"But--" + +"Get in," he commanded. + +The girl obeyed him: something in the man's voice compelled obedience. + +He sat beside her. + +"Now, tell me your address." + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Tell me your address." + +"Nothing on earth will make me." + +"The man's waiting." + +"Let him." + +"Drive anywhere. I'll tell you where to go later," Windebank called to +the cabman. + +The cab started. The man and the girl sat silent. Mavis was not +reproaching herself for having got into the cab with Windebank; her +mind was full of the strange trick which fate had played her in +throwing herself and her old-time playmate together. There seemed +design in the action. Perhaps, after all, their meeting was the reply +to her prayer in the tea-shop. + +The cab drove along the almost deserted thoroughfare. It was now +between ten and eleven, a time when the flame of the day seems to die +down before bursting out into a last brilliance, when the houses of +entertainment are emptied into the streets. + +Mavis stole a glance at the man beside her. Her eye fell on his opera +hat, the rich fur lining of his overcoat; lastly, on his face. His +whole atmosphere suggested ample means, self-confidence, easy content +with life. Then she looked at her cloak, the condition of which was now +little removed from shabbiness. The pressure of her feet on the floor +of the cab reminded her how sadly her shoes were down at heel. The +contrast between their two states irked Mavis: she was resentful at the +fact of his possessing all the advantages in life of which she had been +deprived. If he had been visited with the misfortune that had assailed +her, and if she had been left scathless, it would not have been so bad: +he was a man, who could have fought for his own hand, without being +hindered by the obstacles which weigh so heavily on those of her own +sex, who seek to win for themselves a foothold on the slippery inclines +of life. She found herself hating him more for his prosperity than for +the way in which he had insulted her. + +"Have you changed your mind?" asked Windebank presently. + +"No." + +"Likely to?" + +"No." + +"We can't talk here, and a fog's coming up. Wouldn't you like something +to eat?" + +"I'm not hungry--now." + +"Where do you usually feed?" + +"At an Express Dairy." + +"Eh!" + +"You get a large cup of tea for tuppence there." + +"A tea-shop! But it wouldn't be open so late." + +"Lockhart's is." + +"Lockhart's?" + +"The Cocoa Rooms. In the 'First Class' you find quite a collection of +shabby gentility. And you'd never believe what a lot you can get there +for tuppence." + +"Eh!" + +"I'll tell you, you might find it useful some day; one never knows. You +can get a huge cup of tea or coffee--a bit stewed--but, at least, it's +warm; also, four huge pieces of bread and butter, and a good, long, +lovely rest." + +"Good God!" + +"For tuppence more you can get sausages; sixpence provides a meal; a +shilling a banquet. Can't we find a 'Lockhart'?" + +The man said nothing. The cab drove onward. Mavis, now that her +resentment against Windebank's prosperity had found relief in words, +was sorry that she had spoken as she had. After all, the man's +well-being was entirely his own affair; it was not remotely associated +with the decline in the fortunes of her family. She would like to say +or do something to atone for her bitter words. + +"Poor little girl! Poor little girl!" + +This was said by Windebank feelingly, pityingly; he seemed unconscious +that they had been overheard by Mavis. She was firmly, yes, quite +firmly, resolved to hate him, whatever he might do to efface her +animosity. + +Meanwhile, the cab had fetched something of a compass, and had now +turned into Regent Street. + +"Here we are: this'll do," suddenly cried Windebank. + +"What for?" + +"Grub. Hi, stop!" + +Obedient to his summons, the cabman stopped. Mavis got out on the +pavement, where she stood irresolute. + +"You'll come in?" + +Mavis did not reply. + +"We must have a talk. Please, please don't refuse me this." + +"I shan't eat anything." + +"If you don't, I shan't." + +"I won't--I swear I won't accept the least favour from you." + +She looked at him resentfully: she would go any lengths to conceal her +lessening dislike for him. + +"You'd better wait," he called to the cabman, as he led the way to a +restaurant. + +Two attendants, in gold-laced coats, opened double folding doors at the +approach of the man and the girl. + +Mavis found herself in a large hall, elaborately decorated with red and +gold, upon the floor of which were many tables, that just now were +sparsely occupied. + +Windebank looked from table to table, as if in search of something. His +eye, presently, rested on one, at which an elderly matron was supping +with a parson, presumably her husband. + +"Good luck!" Windebank murmured, adding to the girl, "This way." + +Mavis followed him up the hall to the table next the one where the +elderly couple were sitting. + +"This is about our mark," he said. + +"Why specially here?" she asked. + +"Those elderly geesers are a sort of chaperone for unprotected +innocence; a parson and all that," he remarked. + +She could hardly forbear smiling at his conception of protection. + +A waiter assisted her with her cloak. When she took a seat opposite to +Windebank, he said: + +"I like this place; there's no confounded music to interfere with what +one's got to say." + +"I like music," Mavis remarked. + +"Then let's go where they have it," he suggested, half rising. + +"I want to go straight home, if you'll let me." + +"Then we'll stay here. What are you going to eat?" + +"Nothing." + +"Rot! Here's the waiter chaps. Tell 'em what you want." + +Two waiters approached the table, one with a list of food, the other +with like information concerning wines, which, at a nod from Windebank, +they put before Mavis. + +She glanced over these; beyond noticing the high prices charged, she +gave no attention to the lists' contents. + +"Well?" said Windebank. + +"I'm not hungry and I'm not thirsty," remarked Mavis. + +"You heard what I said, and I'm awfully hungry!" + +"That's your affair." + +"If you won't decide, I'll decide for you." + +The waiters handed him the menus, from which, after much thought, he +ordered an elaborate meal. When the waiters hastened to execute his +orders, he found Mavis staring at him wide-eyed. + +"Are you entertaining your regiment?" she asked. + +"You," he replied. + +"But--" + +"It isn't much, but it's the best they've got. Whatever it is, it's in +honour of our first meeting." + +"I shan't eat a thing," urged Mavis. + +"You won't sit there and see me starve?" + +"There won't be time. I have to get back." + +"But, however much you hate me, you surely haven't the heart to send me +supperless to bed?" + +"You shouldn't make silly resolutions." + +As Windebank did not speak for some moments, Mavis looked at her +surroundings. Men and women in evening dress were beginning to trickle +in from theatres, concerts, and music hall. She noticed how they all +wore a bored expression, as if it were with much of an effort that they +had gone out to supper. + +"Don't move! Keep looking like that," cried Windebank suddenly. + +"Why?" she asked, quickly turning to him. + +"Now you've spoiled it," he complained. + +"Spoiled what?" + +"Your expression. Good heavens!" + +The exclamation was a signal for retrospection on Windebank's part. +When he next spoke, he said: + +"Is your name, by any wonderful chance, Mavis Keeves?" + +"What?" + +"Answer my question. Is your name Mavis Keeves: Mavis Weston Keeves in +full?" + +"You know it isn't. That woman told you what it was." + +"She didn't tell you my name, and I thought she might have done the +same by you. And when I saw that expression in your face--" + +"Who is Mavis Keeves?" + +"A little girl I knew when I was a kid. She'd hair and eyes like yours, +and when I saw you then--but you haven't answered my question. Is your +name Mavis Weston Keeves?" + +Mavis had decided what to reply if further directly questioned. + +"No, it isn't," she answered. + +"Confound! I might have known. It's much too good to be true." + +While Mavis was tortured with self-reproach at having told a lie, soup, +in gilt cups, was set before Windebank and Mavis, the latter of whom +was more than ever resolved to accept no hospitality from the man who +appeared sincerely anxious to befriend her. The fact of her having told +him a lie seemed, in the eyes of her morbidly active conscience, to put +her under an obligation to him, an indebtedness that she was in no mind +to increase. She folded her hands on the napkin, and again looked about +her. + +"Don't you want that stuff?" Windebank asked. + +"No, thank you." + +"Neither do I. Take it away!" + +The waiters removed the soup, to substitute, almost immediately, an +appetising preparation of fish. At the same time an elderly, +important-mannered man poured out wine with every conceivable +elaboration of his office. + +"Don't refuse this. The place is famous for it," urged Windebank. + +"You know what I said. I mean it more than ever." + +"Don't you know that obstinacy is one of the seven deadly sins?" + +"Is it?" + +"If it isn't, it ought to be. Do change your mind." + +"Nothing will make me," she replied icily. + +He signalled to the waiters to remove the food. + +"What a jolly night we're having!" he genially remarked, when the men +were well out of hearing. + +"I'm afraid I've spoiled your evening." + +"Not at all. I like a good feed. It does one good." + +Mavis would have been hard put to it to repress a smile at this remark, +had she not suddenly remembered how she had left her purse in the +pocket of the frock that she had left behind her at Mrs Hamilton's; she +realised that she would have to walk to Mrs Bilkins's. The fact of +having no money to pay a 'bus fare reminded her how the cab was waiting +outside. + +"You've forgotten your cab," she remarked. + +"What cab?" + +"The one you told to wait outside." + +"What of it?" + +"Won't he charge?" + +"Of course. What of it?" + +"What an extravagance!" she commented. + +She could say no more; a procession of dishes commenced: meats, ices, +sweetmeats, fruit, wines, coffee, liqueurs; all of which were refused, +first by Mavis, then by Windebank. + +Mavis, who had been accustomed to consider carefully the spending of a +penny, was appalled at the waste. She had hoped that Windebank, after +seeing how she was resolved to keep her word, would have countermanded +the expensive supper he had ordered; failing this, that the management +of the restaurant would not charge for the unconsumed meats and wine. +Windebank would have been flattered could he have known of Mavis's +consideration for his pocket. + +He and the girl talked when the attendants were out of the way, to stop +conversing when they were immediately about them; the two would resume +where they had left off, directly they were sure of not being overheard. + +"Just imagine, if you were little Mavis Keeves grown up," began +Windebank. + +"Never mind about her," replied Mavis uneasily. + +"But I do. I loved her, the cheeky little wretch." + +"Was she?" + +"A little flirt, too." + +"Oh no." + +"Fact. I think it made me love her all the more." + +"Are you trying to make me jealous?" she asked, making a sad little +effort to be light-hearted. + +"I wish I could. There was a chap named Perigal, whom the little flirt +preferred to me." + +"Perigal?" + +"Charlie Perigal. We were laughing about it only the week before last." + +"He loved her too?" + +"Rather. I remember we both subscribed to buy her a birthday present. +Anyway, the week before last, we both asked each other what had become +of her, and promised to let each other know if we heard anything of +her." + +"If I were Mavis Keeves, would you let him know?" + +"No fear." + +Mavis smiled at the reply. + +"Then we come to to-day," continued Windebank. + +"The least said of to-day the better." + +"I'm not so sure; it may have the happiest results." + +"Don't talk nonsense." + +"Do let me go on. Assuming you were little Mavis, where do I find +her--eh?" + +Here Windebank's face hardened. + +"That woman ought to be shot," he cried. "As it is, I've a jolly good +mind to show her up. And to think she got you there!" + +"Ssh!" + +"You've no idea what a house it is. It's quite the worst thing of its +kind in London." + +"Then what were you doing there?" + +"Eh!" + +"What were you doing there?" + +"I'm not a plaster saint," he replied. + +"Who said you were?" + +"And I'm interested in life: curious to see all sides of it. She's +often asked me, but to-night, when she wired to say she'd a paragon +coming to dinner, I went." + +"She wired?" + +"To-night. It all but missed me. I'm no end of glad it didn't." + +"I suppose I ought to be glad too," remarked Mavis. + +"I know you think me a bad egg, but I'm not; I'm not really," he went +on, to add, after a moment's pause, "I believe at heart I'm a +sentimentalist." + +"What's that?" + +"A bit of a bally fool where the heart is concerned. What?" + +"I think all nice people are that," she murmured. + +"Thanks." + +"I wasn't including you," she remarked. + +"Eat that ice." + +"Wild horses wouldn't make me." + +"You'd eat it if you knew what pleasure it would give me." + +"You want me to break my word?" she said, with a note of defiance in +her voice. + +"Have your own way." + +"I mean to," + +The ices were taken away. Windebank went on talking. + +"You've no idea how careful a chap with domestic instincts, who isn't +altogether a pauper, has to be. Women make a dead set at him." + +"Poor dear!" commented Mavis. + +"Fact. You mayn't believe it, but every woman--nearly every woman he +meets--goes out of her way to have a go at him." + +"Nonsense!" + +Windebank did not heed the interruption; he went on: + +"Old Perigal, Charlie Perigal's father, is a rum old chap; lives alone +and never sees anyone and all that. One day he asked me to call, and +what d'ye think he said?" + +"Give it up." + +"Boy! you're commencing life, and you should know this: always bear in +mind the value of money and the worthlessness of most women. Good-bye." + +"What a horrid old man!" + +"Yes, that's what he said." + +"And do you bear it in mind?" + +"Money I don't worry about. I've more than I know what to do with. As +to women, I'm jolly well on my guard." + +"You're as bad as old Perigal, every bit." + +"But one has to be. Have some of these strawberries?" + +"No, thank you." + +"You ate 'em fast enough at Mrs What's-her-name's." + +"It was different then." + +"Yes, wasn't it? Take 'em away." + +These last words were spoken to the waiters, who were now accustomed to +removing the untasted dishes almost as soon as they were put upon the +table. + +"Have the coffee when it comes. It'll warm you for the fog outside." + +"Thanks, I'm not used to coddling." + +"Then you ought to be. But about what we were saying: then, I quite +thought old Perigal a pig for saying that about women; now, I know he's +absolutely right." + +"Absolutely wrong." + +"Eh!" + +"Absolutely wrong. It's the other way about. It's men who're worthless, +not poor women; and they don't care what they drag us down to so long +as they get their own ends," cried Mavis. + +"Nonsense!" he commented. + +"I've been out in the world and have seen what goes on," retorted Mavis. + +"It isn't my experience." + +"Men are always in the right. No coffee, thank you." + +"Sure?" + +"Quite." + +"No; it is not my experience," he went on. "Take the case of all the +chaps I know who've married women who played up to them. Without +exception they curse in their hearts the day they met them." + +"If anything's wrong, it's owing to the husband's selfishness." + +"Little Mavis--I'm going to call you that--you don't know what rot +you're talking." + +"Rot is often the inconvenient common sense of other people," commented +Mavis. + +"It isn't as if marriage were for a day," he went on, "or for a week, +or two years. Then, it wouldn't matter very much whom one married. But +it's for a lifetime, whether it turns out all right or whether it +don't. What?" + +"I see; you'd have men choose wives as you would a house or an +umbrella," she suggested. + +"People would be a jolly sight happier if they did," he replied, to +add, after looking intently at Mavis: "Though, after all, I believe I'm +talking rot. When one's love time comes, nothing else in the world +matters; every other consideration goes phut, as it should." + +"Goes what?" + +"Goes to blazes, then, as it should." + +"As it should," echoed Mavis. + +"Dear little Mavis!" smiled Windebank, "But it's big Mavis now." + +He called the waiter, to give him a note with which to pay the bill. + +"What wicked waste!" remarked Mavis in an undertone. + +"When it's been time spent with you?" + +When the bill and the change were brought, Windebank would not look at +either. + +"How can you be so extravagant?" she murmured. + +"When one's with you, it's a crime to think of anything else." + +"What a good thing I'm leaving you!" she laughed. + +He insisted on getting and helping her into her coat. As she put her +arms into the sleeves, he murmured: + +"Where did you get your hair?" + +"Do try and talk sense," she pleaded, not insensible to the man's +ardent admiration. + +Then, with something like a sigh, she left the warmth and comfort of +the restaurant for the bleakness of the street, on which a thick fog +had descended. + +This enveloped the man and the woman. As they stood on the pavement, it +seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +THE SEQUEL + + +"Will you let me drive you home?" + +"No, thank you." + +"Then you must let me walk with you." + +"There's no necessity." + +"I insist. London, at this time of night, isn't the place for a plain +little girl like Mavis." + +"Now you're talking sense." + +"I wish I thought it," he remarked bitterly. + +He paid the cabman and piloted Mavis through the fog to the other side +of Regent Street; they then made for Piccadilly. + +"Am I going right?" he asked. + +"At present," she replied, to ask, after a moment or two, "Why are you +so extravagant?" + +"I'm not." + +"That supper and keeping that cab waiting! It must have run into +pounds." + +"Eh! What if it did?" + +"It's wicked. Just think of the good you could have done with it." + +"Good? Who to?" he asked blankly. + +"You've only to look about you. Don't you know of all the misery there +is in the world?" + +"To tell you the truth, I've never thought very much about it." + +"Then you ought to." + +"You think so?" + +"Most certainly." + +"Then I'll have to." + +They were now in Piccadilly. The pavement on which they walked was +crowded with women of all ages; some walked in pairs, others, singly. +Whatever their age and appearance, all these women had two qualities in +common--artificial complexions and bold, inviting eyes. It was the +nightly market of the women of the town. This mart has much in common +with any other market existing for the buying or selling of staple +commodities. Amongst this assembly of women of all ages and conditions +(many of whom were married), there were regular frequenters, who had +been there almost from time immemorial; occasional dabblers; chance +hucksterers: most were there compelled by the supreme necessity of +earning a living; others displayed their wares in order to provide +luxuries; whilst a few were present merely for the fun of an infrequent +bargain. As at other marts, there were those who represented the +interests of sellers, and extracted a commission for their pains on all +sales effected by their principals. Also, most of the chaffering was +negotiated over drink, to obtain which adjournment was made to the +handiest bar. + +This exchange was as subject to economic laws as ruthlessly as are all +other markets. There were fat times, when money was plentiful; lean +nights, when buyers were scarce or sellers suffered from over-supply. +To complete the resemblance, this mart was sensibly affected by world +events, political happenings, the robustness or weakness of other +markets of industry. + +Men of all ages swarmed on the pavement; some were buyers, others were +attracted by the fun of the fair. The family parties which were +occasionally to be met with, as they scurried home to remote suburbs, +seemed sadly out of place in this seething collection of vicious men +and women. + +An over-dressed black woman was there, as if to prove, if proof were +needed, the universality of sin. + +As the procession of painted faces loomed out of the fog, it seemed to +Mavis as if they were lost souls in the spume of the pit. + +She drew closer to the man at her side. London, life itself, seemed to +the girl's jangled nerves to be a concentrated horror, from which, so +it now appeared, the man beside her was her only safeguard. He had +certainly insulted her, she reflected; but his conduct was, perhaps, +excusable under the circumstances in which he had found her. Directly +he had learned his mistake, he had rescued her from further contact +with infamy, and had been gentle with her. In return, she had been +scarcely civil to him, and had told him a lie when he had asked her if +she were his old playmate. + +As she walked with him, she bitterly reproached herself for her +falsehood; she also tried to hide from herself that her rudeness had +been largely assumed in order to conceal her growing regard for him. It +would seem another world when he was not at her side to protect her +from possible harm. + +As they passed Burlington House, a beggar whined his tale of woe in +their ears. Mavis saw Windebank give the man something, the +handsomeness of which made the recipient open his eyes. A +flower-seller, who had witnessed the generous act, immediately pestered +Windebank to buy of her wares, an example at once followed by others of +her calling. He gave them all money, at which some of them forced their +wired flowers upon him, whilst others overwhelmed him with thanks. + +"Don't thank me," he protested, as he glanced towards Mavis, who was +the recipient of countless blessings, mechanically uttered. + +Beggars and loafers, with their keen scent for prey, were about him in +less time than it takes to tell. He gave largely, generously; he was +soon the centre of a struggling, unsavoury crowd, which was growing +larger every minute. + +"Whatever are you doing?" protested Mavis. + +"Wasn't it your wish?" he asked. + +"Not this. Please, please get me out and away." + +The next moment, Windebank, dragging Mavis after him, was vigorously +making a passage through those who surrounded them. Once he saw his way +clear, he ran forward, still keeping hold of her, and dragged her up +Bond Street. They were still followed by the more persistent of the +loafers, but a friendly policeman came to their aid, enabling them to +pursue their unmolested way down Piccadilly. + +"It is good of you to let me stay with you all this time," he said +presently. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +"I'll see. Why, I've lost my watch!" + +"Not really?" + +"I suppose it was stolen just now." + +"Stolen?" + +"Yes, you can see where the chain is snapped." + +"Can't we do something?" + +"What's the use?" + +"But it must be got back. If it isn't, I shall feel it's all my doing." + +"How can that be? Don't talk rot." + +"I talked you into giving money away, and--" + +"If you say any more, I'll be very angry," he interrupted. "What's a +watch!" + +Although she made no further reference to the matter, she thought the +more of the loss he had sustained, which was owing to the +representations she had made upon his duty to the needy. His +indifference to the theft of his property the more inclined her in his +favour. + +As they walked, he was full of kindly anxiety for her present and +future welfare. His ardent sincerity filled her with self-reproaches, +the while he continued to express concern for her well-being. +Presently, when they were passing St George's Hospital, she said: + +"I wish you wouldn't talk so much about myself." + +"It's so interesting," he pleaded. + +"Why not talk more about yourself?" + +"Never mind me." + +"But I do. What on earth time will you get to bed?" + +"Any time. It doesn't matter." + +"Won't you be tired in the morning?" + +"I shouldn't notice. I should be thinking of you." + +"Nonsense; you'll be thinking about breakfast. Where do you sleep?" + +"When I'm up like this, at a hotel in Jermyn Street." + +"Are you comfortable there?" + +"I only sleep there. I breakfast at the club." + +"Where's that?" + +"We passed it on the way down." + +"How you must have wanted to get away! Your coat's undone." + +"What of it?" + +"Do it up." + +"But--" + +"You'll take cold. Do it up or I'll leave you at once." + +"Don't be so considerate," he said, as he obeyed her behest. "It isn't +kind." + +"Why not?" + +"It makes me fonder--I mean like you ever so much." + +When they reached Sloane Street, he remarked: + +"Do let me drive you. It's a shame to make you walk. You must be quite +tired out." + +"I'll leave you and get a 'bus," she replied. + +"And you won't give me your address?" + +"No." + +Although heavily laden 'buses were constantly passing, she made no +pretence of stopping one; not because she had no money: she had +forgotten for the time being that she was penniless. Her mind was a +welter of emotion. She regretted her sudden tenderness in the matter of +his unbuttoned overcoat; she reproached herself for not leaving him +directly she had got away from Mrs Hamilton's; she knew she would never +forgive him for having insulted her; the fact of his having kissed her +lips seemed in some mysterious way to bind them together; she hated +herself for having denied that she was Mavis Keeves. The many leanings +of her mind struggled for precedence; very soon, concern for the lie +that she had told the man, who it was now evident wished her well, +possessed her to the exclusion of all else. She suffered tortures of +self-reproach, which became all but unendurable. + +Windebank, who had been walking between her and the curb, suddenly +moved so that she was on the outside. + +"Why did you do that?" she asked. + +"The wind. Little Mavis might take cold." + +She could bear it no longer. + +"Stop!" she cried. + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"I've something to tell you. I can't go on like this." + +"What is it?" he asked, all concern. + +"When you know, you'll never forgive me. I lied to you." + +"Lied?" + +"Yes, lied, lied, lied. But I can't let it go on. I hate myself for +doing it. Why was I so wicked?" + +"Give it up." + +"My name. I told you a lie about it." + +"Is that all?" + +"Isn't that enough? I am Mavis Keeves. I am--" + +"What?" he interrupted. + +"I didn't like to confess it before. Don't, please don't think very +badly of me." + +"YOU--little Mavis after all?" + +"Yes," she answered softly. + +"What wonderful, wonderful luck! I can't believe it even now. You +little Mavis! How did it all come about?" + +"It's simple enough." + +"Simple!" He laughed excitedly. "You call it simple?" + +"Let me tell you. I was very miserable to-day and I prayed and--and--" + +She could say no more; her overcharged feelings were such that they got +the better of her self-control. Careless of what he might think, she +leaned against him, as if for protection--leaned against him to weep +bitter-sweet, unrestrained tears upon his shoulder. + +"Poor little girl! Poor little Mavis!" he murmured. + +The remark reinforced her tears. + +The fog again enveloped them and seemed to cut them off from the +observation of passers-by. It was as if their tenderness for each other +had found an oasis in the wilderness of London's heartlessness. + +Mavis wept unrestrainedly, contentedly, as if secure or sympathetic +understanding. Although he spoke, she gave small heed to his words. She +revelled in the unaccustomed luxury of friendship expressed by a man +for whom she, already, had something in the nature of an affectionate +regard. + +Presently, when she became calmer, she gave more attention to what he +was saying. + +"You must give me your address and I'll write to my people at once," he +said. "The mater will be no end of glad to see you again, and you must +come down. I'll be down often and--and--Oh, little Mavis, won't it be +wonderful, if all our lives we were to bless the day we met again?" + +Although her sobs had ceased, she did not reply. + +Two obsessions occupied her thoughts: one was an instinct of abasement +before the man who had such a tender concern for her future; the other, +a fierce pride, which revolted at the thought of her being under a +possibly lifelong obligation to the man with whom, in the far-off days +of her childhood, she had been on terms of economic equality. He +produced his handkerchief and gently wiped her eyes. She did not know +whether to be grateful for, or enraged at, this attention. The two +conflicting emotions surged within her; their impulsion was a cause +which threatened to exert a common effect, inasmuch as they urged her +to leave Windebank. + +This sentiment was strengthened by the reflection that she was unworthy +of his regard. She had, of set purpose, lied to him, denied that she +was the friend of his early youth. True, he had previously insulted +her, but, considering the circumstances, he had every excuse for his +behaviour. He certainly led a fast life, but, if anything, Mavis the +more admired him for this symptom of virility; she also dimly believed +that such conduct qualified him to win a wife who, in every respect, +was above reproach. She was poor and friendless, she again reflected. +Above all, she had lied to him. She was hopelessly unworthy of one who, +in obedience to the sentimental whim she had inspired, seemed +contemptuous of his future. She would be worse than she already was, if +she countenanced a course of action full of such baleful possibilities +for himself. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she kissed him +lightly on the cheek, and snatched the violets he was wearing in his +coat, before slipping away, to lose herself in the fog. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +A GOOD SAMARITAN + + +Mavis heard him calling her name, first one way, then another; once, he +approached and came quite near her, but he changed his direction, to +pass immediately out of her ken. + +She then hurried in the direction of what she believed to be +Hammersmith; she could not know for certain, as the fog increased in +intensity every minute. Her mind was too confused to ask anyone if she +were going the right way, even if she had cared to know, which, at +present, she did not. She was seized with a passion for movement, +anything to distract her mind from the emotions possessing it. One +moment, she blamed herself for having left Windebank as she had done; +the next, she told herself and tried hard to believe that she had done +the best conceivable thing under the circumstances. + +She walked quickly, careless to where her footsteps led her, as if +hurrying from, or to Windebank's side; she was not certain which she +desired. She had walked for quite twenty minutes when she was brought +up short by a blow on the forehead. Light flashed in her eyes; she put +out her arms to save herself from a fall. She had walked into a tree, +contact with which had bruised her face and torn skin from her +forehead. Pain and dizziness brought her to the realisation of the fact +that it was late, and that she was penniless; also, that she was +unaware of her whereabouts. She resolved to get back to her lodging +with as little delay as possible. She groped about, hoping to find +someone who would tell her where she was and direct her to Kiva Street. +After some minutes, she all but walked into a policeman, who told her +how she was near the King's Road, Chelsea, also how to get to her +destination. She hastened on, doing her utmost to follow his +directions. This was not easy, the fog and the pain in her head both +confusing her steps. Once or twice, she was almost overcome by +faintness; then, she was compelled to cling to railings for support +until she had strength to continue her way. + +There came a time when her legs refused to carry her further; her head +throbbed violently; a dark veil seemed to gradually blot out things as +she knew them. She remembered no more. + +When next she became dimly conscious, she seemed to be in a recumbent +position in a strange room, where she was watching the doings of a +woman who was unknown to her. + +When Mavis first set eyes on this person, she appeared to be a decent, +comely, fair-haired, youngish woman, who was dressed in the becoming +black of one who had recently emerged from the mourning of widowhood. +But as Mavis watched the woman, a startling transformation took place +before her eyes. The woman began by removing her gloves and bonnet +before a dressing glass, which was kept in position by a mangy hair +brush thrust between the frame and its supports. Then, to the girl's +wondering astonishment, the woman unpinned and took off her fair curls, +revealing a mop of tangled, frowsy, colourless hair, which the wig had +concealed. Next, she removed her sober, well-cut costume, also, her +silk underskirt, to put on a much worn, greasy dressing-gown. Then, she +pulled off her pretty shoes and silk stockings, to thrust her feet into +worn slippers, through which her naked toes showed in more than one +place. + +Mavis rubbed her eyes; she expected every moment to find herself again +in the street, clinging to the railings for support, at which moment of +returning sense she would know that what she was now witnessing would +prove to be an effect of her disordered imagination. + +If what she saw were the result of a sick brain, it was a convincing, +consistent picture which fascinated her attention. + +The woman had taken up a not over-clean towel, to dip a corner of it in +a jug upon the washstand before applying it to one side of her face. +Mavis suffered her eyes to leave the woman in order to wander round the +room. She was lying on a sofa at the foot of an iron bed. That part of +the wall nearest to her was filled by the fireplace, in which a +cheerful fire was burning; it looked as if it had recently been made +up. Upon the mantelshelf were faded photographs of common, +self-conscious people, the tops of which all but touched a framed print +of the late Mr Gladstone. In the complementary recess to the one in +which the washstand stood, was a table littered with odds and ends of +food, some of which were still wrapped in the paper in which they had +come from the shop. A smoking oil lamp, of which the glass shade had +disappeared, and which was now shaded with the lid of a cardboard shoe +box, cast elongated shadows of the occupier of the room on walls and +ceiling as she moved. The atmosphere of the room was heavy with the +mingled smell of paraffin oil and fugginess. + +"Where--where am I?" asked Mavis. + +"You've come round, then?" said the woman, who had just cleansed one +side of her face of artificial complexion. + +"How did I get here?" + +"I found you outside as I came 'ome. I couldn't very well leave you +like that." + +"You're very kind." + +"'Elp that you may be 'elped is my motto. An' then you didn't smell of +drink. I wouldn't 'ave took you in if you had. Girls who're 'on the +game' who drink ought to know better, and don't deserve sympathy." + +Mavis stared at her wide-eyed, striving to recalled where she had heard +that expression before, also what it meant. + +"You sit quiet, dear; you'll be better directly," said the woman. "I've +got to wash this stuff off. Beastly nuisance, but, if you don't, it +stains the sheets and pillers, as I daresay you know." + +Had Mavis possessed sufficient strength she would have combated this +suggestion; it was as much as she could do to concentrate her wandering +attention on the doings of the woman who had played good Samaritan in +her extremity. + +Mavis saw her cleanse the other side of her face and remove two false +teeth from her mouth, actions which completed the transformation from +that of a comely, interesting-looking, youngish woman to that of an +elderly, extremely commonplace person with foxy, shifty eyes. + +"Now I'm 'done.' I never feel reely at home till I get into my shirt +sleeves, as you might say," remarked the woman. + +Mavis sat up. + +"'Ave a drink?" asked her benefactor. + +"No, thank you." + +"I don't mind a drop out of business hours, when I feel I've earned it, +as you might say. I've got a quartern in a bottle. If I'd expected +visitors, I'd have got more, but I'll go 'alves." + +"No, thank you," repeated Mavis. + +"Ah! Don't mind if I do?" said the woman, in the manner of one relieved +of the possibility of parting with something that she would prefer to +keep. + +"Not at all." + +The woman heated some water in a tin kettle, before mixing herself hot +gin and water in a tooth glass, the edge of which was smudged with +tooth powder. + +"Smoke?" + +"I do, sometimes," replied Mavis. + +"Have a fag? A gentleman brought me these to-night." + +Mavis somewhat reluctantly took and lit a cigarette. The woman did +likewise, sipped her grog, and then brought a chair in order that she +might sit by Mavis. + +"What might your name be?" + +"Keeves," answered Mavis shortly. + +"Mine's Ewer--'Tilda Ewer. Miss, thank Gawd." + +"You wear a wedding ring." + +"Eh! That's business. And 'ow did you come to be overtook outside this +'ouse?" + +"I walked far and was very tired." + +"Rats!" + +"I beg your pardon." + +"Don't tell me. 'Ad a row with your boy, an' 'e biffed you on the 'ead. +That's nearer the truth. And that's the worst of gentlemen in drink; +but then, at other times, they're generous enough when they're in +liquor, and don't mind if you help yourself to any spare cash they may +'appen to 'ave about them. It's as long as it's broad." + +"You're quite wrong in thinking--" began Mavis. + +"Don't come the toff with me," interrupted the woman. "If you was a +reel young lady, you wouldn't be out on such a night, and alone. So +don't tell me. I ain't lived forty--twenty-six years for nothink." + +Mavis did not think it worth while to argue the point. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +"'Alf-past two. I suppose I shall 'ave to keep you till the morning." + +"I'll go directly. I can knock my landlady up." + +"She's one of the right sort, eh? Ask no questions, but stick it on the +rent!" + +"If my head wasn't so bad, I'd go at once," remarked Mavis, who liked +Miss Ewer less and less. + +The woman took no notice of Mavis' ungracious speech: she was staring +hard at Mavis' shoes. + +"Fancy wearin' that lovely dress with them tuppenny shoes!" cried Miss +Ewer suddenly. + +"They are rather worn." + +"Oh, you young fool! Beginner, I s'pose." + +"I beg your pardon." + +"Must be. No one else could be such a fool. Don't you know the +gentlemen is most particular about underclothes, stockings and shoes?" + +"It's a matter of utter indifference to me what the 'gentlemen' think," +said Mavis with conviction. + +"Go on!" + +"Very well, if you don't believe me, you needn't." + +"Here, I say, what are you?" asked Miss Ewer. "Tell me, and then we'll +know where we stand." + +"Tell you what?" + +"Are you a naughty girl or a straight girl?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Straight girls is them as only takes presents like silk stockings an' +gloves from the gentlemen, like them girls in 'Dawes'." + +"Girls in 'Dawes'!" echoed Mavis. + +"They do a lot of 'arm; but yet you can't blame 'em: gentlemen will pay +for anything rather than plank money down to them naughty girls as live +by it." + +"While I'm here, do you mind talking about something else?" asked Mavis +angrily. + +"I 'ave it. I 'ave it," cried Miss Ewer triumphantly. "You're one of +the lucky ones. You're kep'." + +"I beg your pardon." + +"And good luck to you. Don't drink, keep him loving and generous, and +put by for a rainy day, my dear: an' good luck to you." + +"I'm well enough to go now," said Mavis, as she rose with something of +an effort. + +"Eh!" + +"Thank you very much. Would you kindly show me the way out?" + +"You've forgotten something, ain't yer?" + +"What?" + +"A little present for me." + +"I've no money on me: really I haven't." + +"Go on!" + +"See!" cried Mavis, as she turned out the pockets of her cloak. + +To her great surprise, many gold coins rolled on to the floor. + +"Gawd in 'Eaven!" cried Miss Ewer, as she stooped to pick them up. + +Mavis wondered how they had got there, till it occurred to her how +Windebank, pitying her poverty, must have taken the opportunity of +putting the money in her pocket when he insisted upon getting and +helping her into her coat at the restaurant. + +She at once told herself that she could not touch a penny piece of it, +indeed the touch of it would seem as if it burnt her fingers. Her +present concern was to get away as far from the money as possible. + +"'Ow much can I 'ave?" cried Miss Ewer, who was on her knees greedily +picking up the coins. + +"All." + +"All? Gawd's trewth!" + +"Every bit. Only let me go; at once." + +"'Ere, if you're so generous, ain't you got no more?" said Miss Ewer, +the while her eyes shone greedily. + +"I'll see," said Mavis, as she thoroughly turned out her pockets. + +Another gold piece fell out; also, a bunch of violets. + +"Vilets!" laughed Miss Ewer. + +"Don't touch those. No one else shall have them," cried Mavis, as she +wildly snatched them. + +"You're welcome to that rubbage, and as you've given me all this, in +return I'll give you a tip as is worth a king's money box." + +"You needn't bother." + +"You shall 'ave it. I've never told a soul. It's 'ow you can earn a +living on the streets like me, and keep, like me, as good a maid as any +lady married at St George's, 'Anover Square." + +"Thank you, but--". + +"Listen; listen; listen! It's dress quiet, pick up soft-looking gents, +refuse drink, and pitch 'em a Sunday school yarn," said Miss Ewer +impressively. + +"But--". + +"It's four pound a week I'm giving away. Tell 'em it's the first time +you're going wrong; talk about your dead 'usband in 'is grave, an' the +innocent little lovely baby girl in 'er cot (the gentlemen like baby +girls better'n boys), as prayed for 'er mummy before she went to sleep. +Then, squeeze a tear an' see if that don't touch their 'earts an' their +pockets." + +"Let me go! Let me go!" cried Mavis, horrified at the woman's +communication. + +"I thought I'd astonish you," said Miss Ewer complacently. + +"Let me go. This way?" + +"Too grateful to thenk me! Never mind; leave it till nex' time we meet. +You can thenk me then. I thought I'd take your breath away." + +"Let me out! Let me out!" cried Mavis, as she fumbled at the chain of +the front door. + +"Lemme. Good night, and Gawd bless yer," said Miss Ewer, furtively +counting the gold pieces in her pocket. + +Mavis did not reply. + +"Thought I'd astonish yer. Fer Gawd's sake, don't whisper what I told +you to a livin' soul. An' work 'ard and keep virtuous like me. Before +Gawd, I'm as good a maid--" + +These were the last words Mavis heard as she hurried away from Miss +Ewer. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +SURRENDER + + +Four weeks later, Mavis got out of the train at Melkbridge. She +breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched the platform; her one +regret was that she was not leaving London further away than the +hundred miles which separated Melkbridge from the metropolis. It seemed +to her as if the great city were exclusively peopled with Mr. Orgles', +Mrs Hamiltons, Miss Ewers, and their like. Ignorant of London's +kindness, she had only thought for its wickedness. With the exception +of one incident, she had resolved to forget as much as possible of her +existence since she had left Brandenburg College; also, to see what +happiness she could wrest from life in the capacity of clerk in the +Melkbridge boot manufactory, a position she owed to her long delayed +appeal to Mr Devitt for employment. The one incident that she cared to +dwell upon was her meeting with Windebank and the kindly concern he had +exhibited in her welfare. The morning following upon her encounter with +him, she had long debated, without arriving at any conclusion, whether +she had done well, or otherwise, in leaving him as she had done. As the +days passed, if things seemed inclined to go happily with her, she was +glad that she had put an end to their budding friendship, to regret her +behaviour when vexed by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. + + + +Her few hours' acquaintance with Windebank had ruffled the surface of +the deep, unexplored waters of the girl's passion, which, rightly or +wrongly, caused her to surrender her personal preferences and to regard +the matter entirely from the man's point of view. This self-abasement +was, largely, the result of the girl's natural instincts where her +affections were concerned; these had been reinforced by the sentimental +pabulum which enters so much into the fiction that is devoured by girls +of Mavis' age and habit of thought. She argued how it would be +criminally selfish of her to presume on his boyish attachment of the +old days, which might lead him to believe that it was a duty for him to +extend to his old-time playmate the lifelong protection of marriage. + +Her lack of personal vanity was such that it never once occurred to her +that she was eminently desirable in his eyes; that he wished for +nothing better than for her to bestow herself, together with her +affections, upon him for lifelong appreciation. She resolved to stifle +her inclinations in order that the man's career should not suffer from +legal companionship with a portionless, friendless girl. + +Her unselfish resolutions faltered somewhat when, in resuming the weary +search for chances of employment in the advertising columns of the +newspapers, she came across the following, which was every day repeated +for the remainder of the week:-- + +"To M...s, who foolishly lost herself in the fog on the night of last +Thursday. She is earnestly urged to write to me, care of Taylor & +Wintle, 43 Lincoln's Inn Fields. Do not let foolish scruples delay you +from letting me hear from you." + +She had got as far as writing a reply, but could never quite bring +herself to post it. + +A miserable Sunday had urged her to send it to its destination; the +chance purchase of a Sunday paper decided the letter's, and, +incidentally, her own fate. In it she read how, owing to threatened +disturbance on the Indian frontier, Sir Archibald Windebank, D.S.O., +would shortly leave Aldershot by S.S. Arabia with a reinforcing draft +of the Rifle Brigade. + +Mavis tore up her letter, to write another, which she addressed to the +steamer which was to carry him the greater part of his long journey. +She did not give her address; she told him how she believed it would be +for his advantage not to encumber his noble career with concern for +her. She had added that, if it were destined for them to meet, nothing +would give her greater pleasure than to see him again. She ended by +wishing him God-speed, a safe return, a successful and happy life. As +the days passed, with all the indignities and anxieties attending the +quest for employment, the girl's thoughts more and more inclined to +Melkbridge. She longed to breathe its air, tread its familiar ways, +steep herself in the scarcely awakened spirit of the place. She +constantly debated in her mind whether or not she should write to Mr. +Devitt to ask for employment. She told herself how, in doing what she +had resolved upon doing only in the last extremity, she was giving no +more hurt to her pride than it received, several times daily, in her +hopeless search for work. A startling occurrence had put the fear of +London into her heart and decided her to write to Melkbridge. She had +been walking down Victoria Street, raging with anger at the insult that +a rich photographer had offered her, to whom, in reply to an +advertisement, she had applied for work, when her attention was +attracted by a knot of people gathered about a hospital nurse, a girl, +and a policeman. + +The nurse, a harsh, forbidding-looking woman, was endeavouring to coax +the girl into a waiting cab. The girl was excitedly appealing for +release to the policeman, to the knot of spectators, to passers-by. +When anyone displayed a sign of active interest in the matter, the +nurse had put her finger to her forehead to signify that her charge was +insane. + +Mavis was about to avoid the gathering by crossing the road, when she +caught a glimpse of the girl's face, to recognise it as belonging to +Miss Meakin. Wondering what it could mean, she hastened to her old +acquaintance, who, despite her protests, was being urged towards the +cab. + +"It's all a mistake. Let me go! Oh! won't anyone help?" Miss Meakin had +cried as Mavis reached her side. + +"What is it? What has happened?" asked Mavis. + +"It's you: it's you! Thank Heaven!" cried Miss Meakin. + +"What has happened? I insist on knowing," Mavis had asked, as she +glanced defiantly at the forbidding-looking nurse. + +"It's not a nurse. It's a man. I know he is. He's followed me, and now +he's trying to get me away," sobbed the girl. + +Mavis turned to the nurse, who put her finger to her forehead, as if to +insist that Miss Meakin's mind was unhinged. + +Mavis had appealed to the policeman, to declare there must be some +mistake, as she knew Miss Meakin to be of sound mind; but this man had +replied that it was not his place to interfere. Mavis, feeling anxious +for her friend, was debating in her mind whether she should get into +the cab with the girl and the nurse, when a keen-faced-looking man, who +had listened to all that had been said, came forward to tell the +policeman that if he did not interfere, his remissness, together with +his number, would be reported to Scotland Yard. + +The policeman, stirred to action, stepped forward, at which the nurse +had sprung into the cab, to be driven away, when Miss Meakin had gone +into hysterics upon Mavis' shoulder. + +Later, after she had come to herself in a chemist's shop, she had told +Mavis that she had left "Dawes'," and was now keeping house for an aunt +who was reduced to taking in paying guests somewhere in North +Kensington. She had been to Vincent Square to look up a late paying +guest of her aunt's, who had taken with her some of the household linen +by mistake. Upon her setting out for home, she had met with the uncanny +adventure from which Mavis' timely arrival had released her. + +Directly Mavis reached home, she had written to Mr Devitt. Four days +passed, during which she heard nothing in reply. The suspense filled +her soul with a sickening dread. Work at Melkbridge now promised +alluring possibilities, qualities that had never presented themselves +to her mind in the days when she believed that a letter from her would +secure from Mr Devitt what she desired. To her surprised delight, the +fifth morning's post had brought her a letter from Mr Devitt, which +told her that, if she would start at once for Melkbridge, she could +earn a pound a week in the office of a boot manufactory, of which he +was managing director; the letter had also contained postal orders for +three pounds to pay the expenses of her moving from London to +Wiltshire. Mavis could hardly believe her eyes. She had already pawned +most of her trinkets, till now there alone remained her father's gifts, +from which she was exceedingly loath to part. The three pounds, in +relieving her of this necessity, was in the nature of a godsend. + +Now she stood on the platform at Melkbridge. Her luggage had been put +out of the train, which had steamed away. Mavis thought that she would +ask the station-master if he knew of a suitable lodging. The man whom +she judged to be this person was, at present, engaged with the porters. +While she waited till he should be at liberty, her mind went back to +the time when she had last stood on the same platform. It had been on +the day when she had come down to Melkbridge fully confident of +securing work with the Devitt family. This had only been a few months +ago, but to Mavis it seemed long years: she had experienced so much in +the time. Then it occurred to her how often Archie Windebank had walked +on the same platform--Archie Windebank, who was now on the sea so many +hundreds of miles from where she stood. She wondered if he ever found +time to think of her. She sighed. + +Seeing that the station-master was disengaged, she approached the +spectacled, dapper little man and told him of her wants. + +"Would it be for long?" he asked. + +"Possibly for years. I'm coming to work here." + +"Work!" + +"In the office of one of Mr Devitt's companies." + +The man assumed an air of some deference. + +"Mr Devitt! Our leading inhabitant--sings baritone," remarked the +station-master. + +"Indeed!" + +"A fair voice, but a little undisciplined in the lower register. This +is quite between ourselves." + +"Of course. Do you think you can help me to find rooms?" + +"I wish I could. Let me think." + +Mr Medlicott, as he was called, put the tips of his fingers together, +while he reflected. Mavis watched his face for something in the nature +of encouragement. + +"Dear! dear! dear! dear!" he complained. + +"Don't bother. It's good of you to think of it at all," said Mavis. + +"Stay! I have it. Why didn't I think of it before? Mrs Farthing: the +very thing." + +"Where does she live?" + +"The Pennington side of Melkbridge--over a mile from here; but I know +you'd find there everything that you desire." + +"Thanks. I'll leave my boxes here and walk there." + +"I can save you the trouble. Her husband is guard on the 4.52. If you +can fill up the time till then, it will save you walking all that way, +perhaps, for no purpose." + +Mavis thanked the station-master, left her luggage in his care and +walked to the town, where the unmistakable London cut of her well-worn +clothes attracted the attention of the female portion of the +population. She had a cup of tea in a confectioner's, and felt better +for it. She then set out to walk to her old favourite nook on the banks +of the river, a spot rich with associations of her childhood. Her +nearest way was to walk across the churchyard to the meadows, the third +of which bordered the Avon. It only needed a quarter of an hour's walk +along its banks to find the place she wanted. Unconsciously, her steps +led her in a contrary direction from that in which she had purposed +going. Almost before she knew what she had done, she had taken the road +to Haycock Abbey, which was Windebank's Wiltshire home. It required +something of an effort to enable her to retrace her steps. She reached +and crossed the churchyard, where long forgotten memories crowded upon +her; it was with heavy heart that she struck across the meadows. + +When she reached the Avon, she found the river to be swollen with the +winter's rain. The water, seamed with dark streaks, flowed turbulently, +menacingly, past her feet. She walked along the river's deserted bank +to the place that she had learned to look upon as her own. Its +discovery gave her much of a shock. She had always pictured it in her +mind as when she had last seen it. Then, it had been in early July. The +river had lazily flowed past banks gaily decorated with timid +forget-me-nots and purple veitch; the ragged robin had looked roguishly +from the hedge. Such was the heat, that the trees of her nook had +looked longingly towards the cool of the water, while the scent of +lately mown hay seemed to pervade the world. That was then. + +Now, a desolation had invaded the spot. In place of summer gaiety there +was only dreariness. The flowers had gone; a raw wind soughed along the +river's banks; instead of the scent of the hay there was only the smell +of damp earth, as if to proclaim to the girl that such desolation was +the certain heritage of all living things. + +Mavis could not get rid of the impression that the contrast between the +place as she remembered it and as it was now resembled her own life. +She made her way, with all dispatch, to the station. Here she learned +that Mrs Farthing could not take her in until the following day, as her +present "visitors" were not leaving till then. Mavis pricked up her +ears at the mention of visitors; she did not think such polite +euphemisms had penetrated so far afield. + +She had little thought to give the matter, as she was concerned to know +where she was going to spend the night. Mr Medlicott solved her +perplexity; he insisted upon Mavis seeing Mrs Medlicott, who proved to +be a simple, kindly countrywoman, who dropped an old-fashioned curtsey +directly she set eyes on the girl. The station-master's wife showed +Mavis a little room and told her that she was welcome to the use of it +for the night, if she were not afraid of being kept awake by the +passing and shunting of trains. Mavis jumped at the offer, whereat Mrs +Medlicott insisted on her sitting down to a solid, homely tea, a meal +which was often interrupted by Mr Medlicott getting up to attend to his +duties upon the platform. When tea was over, there was yet another +hour's daylight. Mrs Medlicott suggested to Mavis that it might be as +well for her to call on Mrs Farthing, to see if she liked her; she +mentioned that Mr Farthing was a very nice man, but that his wife was +not a person everyone could get on with. + +Mavis set out for the Pennington end of Melkbridge, where, after some +inquiry, she found that Mrs Farthing lived in an old-world cottage, +which was situated next door to a farm. + +The girl's knock brought Mrs. Farthing, first to the window, then to +the door, whereupon Mavis explained her errand, not forgetting to +mention who had recommended her to come. + +"Please to come inside," said Mrs. Farthing. + +Mavis followed the woman, who was little and sharp-eyed, into a clean, +orderly living room, where she was asked to take a seat. She was +surprised to see her prospective landlady also sit, for all the world +as if she were entertaining a guest. + +"Did you say you were taking up church work?" asked Mrs Farthing. + +"No, I did not." + +"I thought you did," said Mrs Farthing, as her face fell. + +"You see, my father was a sea captain, so I have to be so careful to +whom I let my rooms." + +"If I thought they weren't respectable, I shouldn't have come here," +retorted Mavis. + +Mrs Farthing winced, but recovered herself. + +"Since I have been resident at Pennington Cottage, one colonel, three +doctors, two lawyers, seven reverends, and one banker have visited +here." + +"I'm glad to see others appreciate you," remarked Mavis. + +"Professional gentlemen and their ladies take to me at once. Did you +tell me your uncle was a reverend?" + +"No, I did not," replied Mavis, who was beginning to lose patience. + +"You see, my father being a sea captain--" + +"I can't see how that's anything to do with letting lodgings," said +Mavis. + +"Pardon me, it raises the question of references." + +"Of course, I must have yours. I have only your word for the sort of +people you've had here." + +Mrs Farthing looked at Mavis in astonishment; she was unaccustomed to +being tackled in this fashion. + +"Perhaps, perhaps you'd like to see the sitting-room?" she faltered. + +"I should," said Mavis. + +Mrs Farthing led the way to a quaint little room, the window of which +overlooked the neighbouring farmyard. + +Mavis, although she took a fancy to it at once, was sufficiently +diplomatic to say: + +"It might, perhaps, suit me." + +Mrs. Farthing pointed out the beauty of the view, a recommendation to +which Mavis subscribed. + +The girl's acquiescence emboldened Mrs Farthing to say: + +"Did you say that your mother would sometimes visit you?" + +Mavis trembled with indignation. + +"I did nothing of the kind, and you know it," she cried. "If you wish +to know, I'm employed by Mr Devitt, and should probably have stayed +here for years. If you can't see at a glance what I am, all I can say +is that you've been used to a tenth-rate lot of lodgers." + +Mrs. Farthing capitulated. + +"Wouldn't you like to see the bedroom?" + +"If you don't ask any more silly questions." + +"It's hard to forget my father was a sea captain," explained Mrs +Farthing. + +A door in the passage opened on to winding stairs, up which vanquished +and victor walked. + +From the first floor, a sort of gangway led to the door of a room that +was raised some three feet from the level of where the two women stood. + +"Now we ascend the Kyber Pass," cried Mrs Farthing gaily, as she set +foot on the gangway. + +As Mavis followed, it occurred to her how this remark might be +invariably retailed to prospective lodgers by Mrs Farthing. + +The bedroom's neat appointments made it even more attractive in Mavis' +eyes than the sitting-room. + +Mrs. Farthing wanted eight shillings a week for a permanency, but Mavis +stuck out for seven. The issue was presently compromised by the +landlady's agreeing to accept seven and sixpence. + +"There's only one thing," said Mrs Farthing, as she sat on the bed; +"and that's my husband." + +"What about him?" asked Mavis, who had believed that everything was +settled. + +"He simply can't abide my letting rooms; he's on to me about it +morning, noon, and night." + +"I'm sorry." + +"To think," as he says, "the daughter of a sea captain--" Here Mrs +Farthing caught Mavis' eye, to substitute for what she was about to +say: "But there," he says, "work your fingers to the bone; go and +commit suicide by overdoing it; kill yourself outright with making +other people comfortable, so long as you get your own way." + +"Really!" + +"That's what he says every minute of the time that he's at home." + +When Mavis left Mrs Farthing to walk to the station, she could not help +noticing how the rough and tumble of her experiences had had a +hardening effect upon her once soft heart. It was not so long ago that, +although presumption on a landlady's part would have goaded Mavis into +making an apposite retort, she would have bitterly regretted the pain +that her words may have inflicted. Now, she was indifferent to any +annoyance that she may have caused Mrs Farthing. If anything, she was +rather pleased with herself for having shown the woman her place. + +It was something of an experience for Mavis to spend the evening in the +sitting-room of a country railway station. Stillness violently +alternated with the roar and rush of the trains. Mr Medlicott spent his +spare time in the sitting-room, where his eyes never deserted the +faded, uncanny-looking cabinet piano, which spread its expanse of faded +green silk at one end of the room. + +Mavis noticed his preoccupation. + +"I wonder if you would do me a favour?" she asked. + +"And what might that be?" + +"If you would sing?" + +"Delighted!" he cried, as he excitedly sprang to his feet. + +"How nice of you!" + +"Stay! What about the accompaniment?" + +"I can manage that." + +"At sight?" + +"I think so." + +"You're an acquisition to Melkbridge. There's one other thing." + +"I knew you'd disappoint me. What is it?" + +"The 7.53," replied the station-master, looking at his watch. "It's +almost due." + +"We can make a start," suggested Mavis. + +Mr Medlicott quickly produced a collection of old-fashioned ballads, +the covers of many of which were decorated with strange, pictorial +devices. + +"Stay! What say to 'Primrose Farm'?" + +"Anything, so long as you sing," replied Mavis. + +Mr Medlicott delightedly cleared his throat. It did not take Mavis long +to discover that the station-master had little ear for music; he sang +flat, although Mavis did her best to assist him by including in her +accompaniment the notes of the vocal score. The song was no sooner +concluded than the station-master caught up his braided cap and ran +downstairs to meet the 7.53. Upon his return, he sang many songs. No +sooner was one ended than he commenced another; they were only +interrupted by the arrival of trains. + +The room became insupportably hot. During one of Mr Medlicott's +absences, Mavis asked his wife if she might open the window that +overlooked the platform. Where Mavis sat by it, she could see Mr +Medlicott performing his duties below. Once or twice, she fancied her +ear caught strange sounds, which could be heard above the shouts of the +porters and the noises of escaping steam; they proceeded from where Mr +Medlicott stood. The noises became more insistent, when it occurred to +Mavis that the station-master was taking advantage of the din to +practise the more uncertain of his notes. + +The next morning, when Mavis wanted to pay Mrs Medlicott, the +station-master's wife would not hear of it. She declared that she was +amply repaid by Mavis' accompanying her husband's songs, which was +enough to make him happy for many weeks to come. Mrs Medlicott also +observed that her husband would like to take singing lessons from +Mavis, if the latter cared to teach him. + +Mavis walked the good mile necessary to take her to the Melkbridge boot +manufactory with a light heart. She reached it at nine, to find a +square, unlovely building, enclosed by a high stone wall of the usual +Wiltshire type, broken slabs of oolitic formation loosely thrown +together. She explained her errand to the first person she met inside +the gate, and was told to await the arrival of Mr Gaby, the manager, +who was due in half an hour, the time, she afterwards learned, at which +the lady clerks were expected. When Mr Gaby came, she found him to be a +nervous, sandy-haired man, who blushed like any school-girl when he +addressed Mavis. A few minutes later, two colleagues arrived, to whom +she was formally introduced. The elder of these was Miss Toombs, a +snub-nosed, short, flat-chested, unhealthy-looking woman, who was well +into the thirties. She took Mavis' proffered hand limply, to drop it +quickly and set about commencing her work. Her conduct was in some +contrast to the other girl's, who was introduced to Mavis as Miss +Hunter. She was tallish, dark, good-looking, with a self-possessed +manner. The first two things Mavis noticed about her were that she was +neatly and becomingly dressed, also that her eyebrows met above her +nose. She looked at Mavis critically for a few moments, and gave the +latter the impression that she had taken a dislike to her. Then Miss +Hunter advanced to Mavis with outstretched hand to say: + +"I hope we shall all be great friends and work together comfortably." + +"Thank you," replied Mavis, at which Miss Hunter proceeded to instruct +her in her duties. These were of the kind usually allotted to clerical +beginners, and consisted of the registering, indexing, and sorting of +all letters received in the course of the day. + +Mavis worked with a will; her bold, unaffected handwriting emphasised +the niggling scrawliness of Miss Hunter's previous entries in the book. + +"Don't work so fast," said Miss Hunter presently, at which Mavis looked +up in surprise. + +"If you do, you won't have anything to go on with," continued Miss +Hunter. + +About eleven, Mavis learned from Mr Gaby that Mr. Devitt would like to +see her. The manager conducted Mavis to the board room, where she found +Mr Devitt standing before the fire. Directly he saw her, he came +forward with outstretched hand. + +"Good morning, Miss Keeves. Why--" He paused, to look at her with some +concern. + +"What's the matter?" she asked. + +"You're different. If I may say so, you look so much more grown up." + +"I've had rather a rough time since I last saw you." + +"I can well believe it to look at you. Why didn't you write?" + +"I didn't like to. It's good of you to do what you've done." + +Mr Devitt appeared to think for a few moments before saying: + +"I'm sorry I can't do more; but one isn't always in a position to do +exactly what one would like." + +"Quite so," assented the girl. + +More was said to the same effect, although Mavis could not rid herself +of the impression that he was patronising her. A further thing that +prejudiced her against Devitt was his absence of self-possession. While +speaking, he gesticulated, moved his limbs, and seemed incapable of +keeping still. + +"I'll pay you back the three pounds you so kindly sent me, gradually," +said Mavis presently. + +"Wouldn't hear of it; nothin' to me; only too happy to oblige you," +declared Devitt, showing by his manner that he considered the interview +at an end. + +As she walked towards the door, he said: + +"By the way, where are you stayin'?" + +"At Mrs Farthing's; it's quite near here." + +"Quite two miles from us," remarked Devitt, as if more pleased than +otherwise at the information. + +"Quite," answered Mavis. + +"Well, good-bye! Let me know if I can ever do any-thin' for you," he +cried from the fireplace. + +Mavis went back to her work. She had an hour's liberty at one, which +she spent at Mrs Farthing's, who provided an appetising meal of stewed +steak and jam roly-poly pudding. + +About three, Miss Toombs made tea on the office fire; she asked Mavis +if she would like to join the tea club. + +"What's that?" asked Mavis. + +"You pay fourpence a week for tea and biscuits. We take it in turn to +make the tea and wash up: profits equally divided at Christmas." + +"I shall be delighted," said Mavis, as she produced her purse. + +"Not till tomorrow. Today you're a guest," remarked Miss Toombs +listlessly. + +About four, there was so little to do that Miss Toombs produced a book, +whilst Miss Hunter rather ostentatiously opened the Church Times. Mavis +scribbled on her blotting paper till Miss Toombs brought out a +brown-paper-covered book from her desk, which she handed to Mavis. + +"It's 'Richard Feverel'; if you haven't read it, you can take it home." + +"Thanks. I'll take great care of it. I haven't read it." + +"Not read Richard Feverel?" asked Miss Toombs, as she raised her +eyebrows, but did not look at Mavis. + +"Is it always easy like this?" Mavis asked of Miss Hunter, as they were +putting on their things at half-past four. + +"You call it easy?" + +"Very. Is it always like this?" + +"Always, except just before Christmas, when there's a bit of a rush, +worse luck," replied Miss Hunter, to add after a moment: "It interferes +with one's social engagements." + +Mavis walked to her rooms with a light heart. It was good to tread the +hard, firm roads, with their foundation of rock, to meet and be greeted +by the ruddy-faced, solidly built Wiltshire men and women, many of whom +stopped to stare after the comely, graceful girl with the lithe stride. + +When Mavis had had tea and had settled herself comfortably by the fire +with her book, she felt wholly contented and happy. Now and again, she +put down Richard Feverel to look about her, and, with an immense +satisfaction, to contrast the homely cleanliness of her surroundings +with the dingy squalor of Mrs Bilkins's second floor back. It was one +of the happiest evenings she ever spent. She often looked back to it +with longing in her later stressful days. + +About seven, she heard a knock at her door. She called out "Come in," +at which, after much fumbling at the door handle, a big fair man, with +wide-open blue eyes, stood in the doorway. He looked like a huge, +even-tempered child; he carried two paper-covered books in his hand. + +"I'm Farthing, miss," the man informed her. + +"Good evening," said Mavis, who would scarcely have been surprised if +Farthing had brought out a handful of marbles and started playing with +them. + +"The driver's out, miss, so--" + +"The driver?" interrupted Mavis. + +"Mrs Farthing, miss. I be only fireman when her be about," he humbly +informed her. + +"Won't you sit down?" + +"I? No, thankee, miss. I thought you might want summat to read, so I +brought you these." + +Here Mr Farthing handed Mavis a Great Western Railway time table, +together with "Places of Interest on the Great Western Railway." + +"How kind of you! I shall be delighted to read them," declared Mavis +untruthfully. + +Then, as Mr Farthing was about to leave the room, she said: + +"I'm afraid I'm in your bad books." + +"Bad what, Miss?" he asked, perplexed. + +"Books--that you're offended with me." + +"I, miss?" + +"For coming here as your lodger?" + +Mr Farthing stared at her in round-eyed amazement. + +"I understood from Mrs Farthing that you object to her taking lodgers," +explained Mavis. + +Mr Farthing's jaw dropped; he seemed dumbfounded. + +"That you're complaining about Mrs Farthing overworking herself every +minute you're at home," continued Mavis. + +Mr Farthing backed to the door. + +"And you tell her she's only killing herself by doing it." + +Hopelessly bewildered, Mr Farthing clumped downstairs. + +Mavis laughed long and softly at this refutation of Mrs Farthing's +pretensions. Before she again settled down to the enjoyment of her +book, she looked once more about the cleanly, comfortable room, which +had an indefinable atmosphere of home. + +"Yes, yes," thought Mavis, "it is--it is good to be alive." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +SPRINGTIME + + +Days passed swiftly for Mavis; weeks glided into months, months into +seasons. When the anniversary of the day on which she had commenced +work at the boot factory came round, she could not believe that she had +been at Melkbridge a year. When she had padded the streets of London in +quest of work, she had many times told herself that she had only to +secure a weekly wage in order to be happy. Now this desire was +attained, she found (as who has not?) that satisfaction in one +direction breeds hunger in another. Although her twenty shillings a +week had been increased to twenty-five, and she considerably augmented +this sum by teaching music to pupils to whom Mr Medlicott recommended +her, Mavis was by no means content. Her regular hours, the nature of +her employment, the absence of friendship in the warm-hearted girl's +life, all irked her; she fearfully wondered if she were doomed to spend +her remaining days in commencing work at nine-thirty and leaving off at +half-past four upon five days of the week, and one on Saturdays. If the +fifty-two weeks spent in Melkbridge had not brought contentment to her +mind, the good air of the place, together with Mrs Farthing's wholesome +food, had wrought a wondrous change in her appearance. The tired girl +with the hunted look in her eyes had developed into an amazingly +attractive young woman. Her fair skin had taken on a dazzling +whiteness; her hair was richer and more luxuriant than of yore; but it +was her eyes in which the chief alteration had occurred. These now held +an unfathomable depth of tenderness, together with a roguish fear that +the former alluring quality might be discovered. If her figure were not +as unduly stout as the skinny virgins of Melkbridge declared it to be, +there was no denying the rude health apparent in the girl's face and +carriage. + +So far as her colleagues at the boot factory were concerned, Miss +Toombs hardly took any notice of her, whilst Miss Hunter gave her the +impression of being extremely insincere, all her words and actions +being the result of pose rather than of conviction. + +The only people Mavis was at all friendly with were Mr and Mrs +Medlicott, whom she often visited on Sunday evenings, when they would +all sing Moody and Sankey's hymns to the accompaniment of the cabinet +piano. + +When she had been some months at Melkbridge, a new interest had come +into her life. One day, Mr Devitt, who, with his family, had showed no +disposition to cultivate Mavis's acquaintance, sent for her and asked +her if she would like to have a dog. + +"Nothing I should like better," she replied. + +"There's only one objection." + +"One can't look gift dogs in the mouth." + +"It's a she, a lady dog: there's risk of an occasional family." + +"I'll gladly take that." + +"She's rather a dear, but she's lately had pups, and some people might +object to her appearance." + +"I know I should love her." + +"She's a cocker spaniel--her name's Jill. She belongs to my boy, +Harold. But as he's away--" + +"Then we've already met. I saw her the day I came down to see you from +London. You're right--she is a dear." + +"My boy, who is still away for his health--" + +"I am sorry," Mavis interrupted. + +"Thanks. He wrote to say that, as we--some of us--appeared to find her +a nuisance, we'd better try and find her a happy home." + +"I'm sure she'd be happy with me." + +"What about your landlady?" + +"I'd forgotten her. I must ask." + +"If she doesn't mind, Jill's licence is paid till the end of the year." + +"I do hope Mrs Farthing won't mind," declared Mavis hopefully. + +Rather to her surprise, Mrs Farthing made little objection to Jill's +coming to live with Mavis, her surrender being partly due to the fact +of the girl's winsome presence having softened the elder woman's heart, +but largely because it had got about Melkbridge that Mavis came of a +local county family. + +Mr Devitt, being told of this decision, sent Jill up in charge of a +maid, who asked that its collar and chain might be returned to +Melkbridge House. + +Mavis took Jill in her arms, when it would seem by the dog's +demonstrations of delight as if it had long been a stranger to +affectionate regard. + +"Be you agoing to keep un?" asked the maid. + +"Why not?" + +"I shouldn't. Hev a good look at un." + +Mavis looked, to see that Jill's comparatively recent litter had been +responsible for the temporary abnormal development of the parts of her +body by which she had nourished her young. + +"It's why Mrs Devitt wouldn't have un in the house. I don't blame her. +I call it disgusting," continued this chip of Puritanical stock. + +"I see nothing to object to. It's nature," retorted Mavis, who inwardly +smiled to see how the Puritanical-minded young woman, who had looked +askance at Jill's appearance, did not hesitate to grab the girl's +proffered shilling. + +Jill and Mavis were at once fast friends. The dog accompanied her +mistress in all her rambles, where its presence routed the forces of +loneliness which were beginning to lay siege to the girl's peace of +mind. Jill slept on Mavis's bed, pined when she left her in the +morning, madly rejoiced at her mistress' return from work, when the +vigorous wagging of Jill's tail, together with the barks of delight +which greeted Mavis, gave her a suggestion of home which she had never +experienced since the days of Brandenburg College. + +This year, spring came early, like a beautiful mistress who joins an +enraptured lover before he dares to hope for her coming. With the +lengthening days Mavis knew an increasing distress of mind. She became +unsettled: outbreaks of violent energy alternated with spells of +laziness, which, more often than not, were accompanied by headaches. +Books of historical memoirs, hitherto an unfailing solace, failed to +interest her. Love stories she would avoid for weeks on end, as if they +were the plague, suddenly to fall to and devour them with avidity, when +the inclination seized her. + +It was not yet warm enough for her to sit in her nook; it was doubtful +if she would have done so if the weather had been sufficiently +propitious. The reason for her present indifference to the spot, which +she had always loved, was that it bordered the Avon, and just now the +river was swollen and turbulent with spring rains. Her soul ached for +companionship with something stable, soothing, still. Perhaps this was +why she preferred to walk by the canal that touched Melkbridge in its +quiet and lonely course. The canal had a beauty of its own in Mavis' +eyes: its red-brick, ivy-grown bridges, its wooden drawbridges, deep +locks, and deserted grass-grown tow-paths were all eloquent of the +waterways having arrived at a certain philosophic repose, which was in +striking contrast to the girl's unquiet thoughts. Soon, as if in +celebration of spring, both banks were gay with borders of great yellow +butter-cups. It seemed to Mavis as if they decorated the tables of a +feast to which she had not been asked. The great awakening in the heart +of life proceeded exquisitely, inevitably. Mavis believed that, as the +sun's rays had no real meaning for her, it was only by some cruel +mischance that she was enabled to bear witness to their daily +increasing warmth. She would tell the troubles of her disturbed mind to +Jill, who tried to show her sympathy by licking her face. At night, she +would often waken out of a deep sleep with a start, when her eagerly +outstretched arms would grasp a vast emptiness. The sight of lovers +walking together would bring hot blood to her head; the proximity of a +young man would make her heart beat strangely. + +She frequently found herself wondering why intercourse between man and +woman was hedged about by innumerable restrictions. It seemed to her +that what people called the conventionalities were a device of the +far-seeing eye of the Most High to regulate the relations of His +children. If any of these appeared to escape the ends for which they +were made, she put down the failure to the imperfect construction of +the human organism, the constant aberrations of which necessitated the +restraints imposed by religion and morality. + +Mavis soon descended from the general to the particular. Her mind +continually dwelt on every incident of her brief acquaintance with +Windebank: she found that it was as much as she could do to justify the +exigent scruples which had made her repel the man's approaches. One +day, the scales fell from her eyes. She had deserted the canal and was +sitting in a field, some two miles from the town, where the few trees +it contained were disposed as if they were continually setting to +partners, in some arboreous quadrille. The surrounding fields were +tipped at all angles, as if in petulant discontent of one-time +flatness. With an effort she could discern, Jill's tail wagging +delightedly from a hole in a ditch, where she was hunting a rabbit. The +voice, the sights, the sounds of nature, all served to obliterate the +effect of life, as she had, hitherto, regarded it, upon her processes +of thought. Archie Windebank's wealth, social position and career were +as nought to her; he appealed to her only as a man, and her conceivable +relationship to him was but as female to male. + +All other considerations, which she had before believed of importance, +now seemed trivial and inept. She wondered how she could have been +blinded for so long. She bitterly reproached herself for her high-flown +scruples, which now savoured of unwholesome affectation; but for these, +she might not only have been a happy wife, but she might, also, have +proved the means of conferring happiness upon another, and he a dearly +loved one. + +She called to Jill and sorrowfully went home. Three weeks later was +Whit Monday, a day which, being a holiday, she was able to devote to +her own uses. She had planned to walk to the village of Preen, an +ancient hamlet set upon a hill that overlooked Salisbury Plain, which +was distant some five miles from Melkbridge; but, at the last moment, +her distress of mind was such that she abandoned the excursion. +Lethargy had succeeded to her disturbed thoughts--lethargy that made +her look on life through grey spectacles. Instead of setting out for +Preen, she walked aimlessly about the town, accompanied by Jill. +Presently she went up Church Walk, at the top of which she saw that the +church door was open. She had a fancy for walking by the grave-stones, +so Mavis tied Jill up to the gate of the churchyard with the lead which +she usually carried. + +As Mavis wandered among the moss-grown stones, which bore almost +undecipherable inscriptions, she wondered if those they covered had led +happy, contented lives, or if they were afflicted with unquiet +thoughts, unsatisfied longings, and dull despair, as she was. The +church was empty and cool; she walked inside, to sit in the first pew +she chanced upon. It was the first time that she had sat all alone in +the church; its venerable appearance now cried aloud for recognition +and appreciation. As if to accentuate its antiquity, some of the aisles +and walls bore the disfiguring evidences of an unfinished electric +light and electric organ-blowing installation, which was in the process +of being made, despite the protests of the more conservative among the +worshippers. She did not know whether to stay or to go; she seemed +incapable of making up her mind. Then, almost before she was aware of +it, the organ commenced to play softly, appealingly; very soon, the +fane was filled with majestic notes. Mavis was always acutely sensitive +to music. In a moment, her troubles were forgotten; she listened enrapt +to the soaring melody. The player was not the humdrum organist of the +church, neither did his music savour of the ecclesiastical inspiration +which makes its conventional appeal on Sundays and holy days. Instead, +it spoke to Mavis of the travail, the joy of being, the night, +sunlight, sea, air, the gay and grey pageant of life: the player +appeared to be moved by all these influences. Not only was he eloquent +of life, but he seemed to read and understand Mavis' soul and the +perplexities with which it was confronted. Her heart went out to this +sympathetic and intimate understanding of her needs; body and soul, she +surrendered herself to the musician's mood. Very soon, he was playing +upon her being as if she were but another instrument, of which he had +acquired the mastery. Her imagination, stirred to its depths, took +instant wing. It seemed as if the hand of time were put back for many +hundreds of years to a day in a remote century. The building, bare of +memorial inscriptions, was crowded with ecclesiastics, monks, nobles +and simple; she could see the gorgeous ceremonial incidental to the +occasion; the chanting of monks filled her ears; the rich scent of +incense lay heavy on the air; lights flickered on the altar. Night +came, when silence seemed to have forever enshrouded the world; many +nights, till one on which the moonlight shone upon the figure of a +young man keeping his vigil beside his armour and arms. Then, in a +moment, the church was filled with sunlight, and gay with garlands and +bright frocks. The knight and his bride stood before the altar, while +the world seemed to laugh for very joy. As the newly-made man and wife +left the church, old-world wedding music sounded strangely in Mavis' +ears. The best part of a year passed. A little group stood about the +font, where the life, that love had called into being, was purged of +taint of sin by holy church. + +Next, martial music rent the air; a venerable ecclesiastic blessed the +arms and aims of a goodly company of stout-hearted men. When the echoes +of the martial music had died away, the fane was deserted, save for one +lone woman, who offered up continual supplication for her absent lord. + +Cries and lamentations fell on Mavis' ears: to the music of a military +march, the brave young knight was borne to burial. Soon, the moonlight +fell upon the church's first monument, beside which the tearless and +kneeling figure of a woman often prayed. It was not so very long before +the widow was carried to rest beside her husband; it seemed but little +longer when the offspring of her love stood before the altar with the +bride of his choice. + +The foregoing scenes were many times repeated, as, thus, life moved +down the centuries, differing not at all but for changes in personality +and dress. The church looked on, unmoved, unaltered, save for signs of +age and an increasing number of memorials raised to the dead. The +procession of life began by fascinating and ended by paining Mavis. + +It was as if she were the spectator of a crowd in which her heart ached +to mix, despite the distressing penalties of pain to which those she +envied were, at all times, subject. It was as if she were forever cut +off from the pleasures of her kind, to gain which the risk of mental +and physical torments was well worth the running. It seemed as if her +youth, sweetness, and immense capacity for loving, were doomed to +wither unsought, unappreciated in the desert of her destiny. As if to +save herself from such an unkind fate, she involuntarily fell on her +knees; but she did not pray, indeed, she made no attempt to formulate +prayer in her heart. Perhaps she thought that her dumb, bruised +loneliness was more eloquent than words. She remained on her knees for +quite a long time. When she got up, the music stopped. The contrast +between the sound and the succeeding silence was such that the latter +seemed to be more emphatic than the melody. + +When she, presently, rose to go, she saw a man standing just behind her +in the aisle; he was elderly and homely-looking, with soft, far-away +eyes. + +"Good morning, miss," said the man. + +"Good morning," replied Mavis, wondering who he could be. + +"I hoped--you zeemed to like my playing." + +"Was it you who played so beautifully?" + +"I was up there practising just now." + +"Do you often practise like that?" + +"It isn't often I get the chance; I'm mostly busy varming." + +"Farming?" + +"That's it. And what with bad times, one doesn't get much time for the +organ. And when one does, one's vingers run away with one." + +"You a farmer?" + +"At Pennington Varm. My name's Trivett, miss. If ever you would come in +to tea, Mrs Trivett would be proud to welcome 'ee." + +"I should be delighted. Perhaps, if you would like to teach me, I'd +have organ lessons." + +"I get so little time, miss. What day will 'ee come to the varm?" + +"Next Saturday, if I may," + +"That's zettled. I'm glad you be coming zoon; the colour of the young +grass be wonderful." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, as she looked at him, surprised. + +"That's the advantage of varming," continued Trivett: "you zee natur in +zo many colours and zo many moods." + +Thus talking, they reached the churchyard gates, where Mavis released +Jill, who was delighted at being set at liberty. + +Mavis said goodbye to Trivett and recrossed the churchyard on her way +to the river. As she walked, she wondered at Trivett's strange +conjunction of pursuits; also, if he were as good a farmer as he was a +musician. + +She found the part of the river nearest to the church crowded with +holiday bathers, so turned aside in the direction of her nook, where +she was tolerably certain of getting quiet. Arrived there, she found +her expectation was not belied. She felt dazed and tired with the +emotions she had experienced; she reclined on the ground to look lazily +at the beauty spread so bountifully about her. + +Nature was now at her best. She was like a fair young mother radiant +with the joys attaching to the birth of her firstborn. The striking of +the quarter on the church clock was borne to her on the light wind; she +heard a rumble and caught a glimpse through the young foliage of the +white panelled carriages of a train speeding to Weymouth. + +She settled herself for a repose of suspended thought, thankful that +there was no prospect of her peace being interfered with. She had not +lain long when she was disturbed by a plashing of water, at which Jill +was vigorously barking. + +She raised her head to see a man swimming; her eyes were fascinated by +the whiteness of the man's flesh. After a while, he returned, to pass +and repass her two or three times. Then, to her consternation, he +approached the bank near to where she lay. She sat up; a few moments +later, the man's head and shoulders appeared among the grasses upon the +river bank. + +"Good morning," said the man. + +Mavis took no notice, but called to Jill. + +"Good morning," repeated the man, who was young and pleasant-looking. + +Mavis did not reply. + +"Would little Mavis mind moving a little further up the bank?" +continued the man. + +Mavis looked at him in astonished anger. + +"Because I can't get to my clothes until you do." + +Mavis got up, called to Jill, and turned her back on the nook, +wondering how on earth the man could have known her name; also, why he +had the impertinence to address her so familiarly. + +She did not get very far, because, call as she might to Jill, the +spoiled dog took no notice of her summons, but remained about the place +that her mistress had left. + +Mavis called vainly for some minutes, till, at last, Jill appeared, +carrying the man's collar in her mouth. Mavis tried to induce the dog +to come to her, but, instead, Jill raced madly round and round, +delighted with her find. + +Very soon the man appeared, now dressed in a flannel suit, but +collarless; a bath towel was thrown over his shoulder. He advanced to +Mavis in leisurely fashion. + +"Bother the man!" she thought. + +"May I introduce myself?" he asked, as he lifted his hat. + +"No, thank you," she replied coldly. + +"There's no occasion. We've already met," he continued. + +"I'm sure we haven't, and I haven't the least wish to know you." + +"Rot! I'm Charlie Perigal." + +"Charlie Perigal!" + +"Yes. And how is little Mavis after all these years? But there's little +need to ask." + +Here he stared at her with an immense admiration in his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + +CHARLIE PERIGAL + + +Mavis looked at the friend of her youth. As she saw him now, he was, in +appearance, but a grown-up replica of the boy she remembered. There +were the same steely blue eyes, curly hair, and thin, almost bloodless +lips. With years and inches, the man had acquired a certain defiant +self-possession which was not without a touch of recklessness; this +last rather appealed to Mavis; she soon forgot the resentment which his +earlier familiarity had excited. + +"You haven't altered a bit!" she declared. + +"But you have." + +"I know. I'm quite an old woman." + +"That's what I was going to say." + +"Thanks." + +"I knew you'd be pleased. May I have my collar?" + +"It's that naughty Jill. I am so sorry." + +Mavis rescued the collar from the dog's unwilling mouth. + +"How did you know it was me?" + +"I guessed." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Why nonsense?" + +"You aren't clever enough." + +"Quite right. The pater told me you were to be found in Melkbridge." + +"Your father! How did he know?" + +"He knows everything that goes on here, although he never goes +anywhere. And then, when I asked one or two people about you, they said +you were always about with a black cocker." + +"Is this the first time you've seen me?" + +"Why shouldn't it be?" + +"I've been here fifteen months." + +"Working for old Devitt. I've only been back a week." + +"From where?" + +"Riga." + +"In Russia! How interesting!" + +"Don't you believe it. Beastly hole." + +"It's abroad." + +"Any place is beastly when one has to be there. And you've been here a +whole fifteen months. Think what I've missed!" + +Mavis had, by now, got over her first excitement at meeting her old +friend: her habitual prudence essayed to work--essayed, because its +customary vigour was just now somewhat impaired. + +"I'm glad to have met you again. Good-bye," she said. + +"Eh!" + +"It's time I got back." + +The man stared at her in some astonishment. + +"Perhaps you're right," he remarked presently. + +"Right!" she echoed, faintly surprised. + +"I'm only a waster. Nobody wants anything to do with me." + +Something in the tone of the man's voice stirred her heart to pity. + +"I'm not a bit like that," she said. + +"Rot! All women are alike. When a chap's down, they jump on him. After +all, you can't blame 'em." + +Mavis stood irresolute. + +"Good-bye," said Perigal. + +"One moment!" + +"I can't wait. I must be off too." + +"I want to ask you something." + +"What is it? Remember, I didn't ask you to wait." + +"Who has given you a bad name, and why?" + +"Most people who know me." + +"I read the other day that majorities are always wrong," she remarked. + +"Majorities are always right, just the same as minorities and everybody +else." + +"Everybody right!" + +"According to their lights. We are as we are made, and, whatever some +people say, we can never be anything else. And that's the devil of it. +It's all so unfair." + +"Why unfair?" + +"It's just one's confounded luck what temperament one's inflicted with. +I should think you were to be congratulated. You look as if you could +be infernally happy." + +"Aren't you?" + +"Who is?" + +"Loads of people," she declared emphatically. + +"The very vain and the very stupid. Who else?" + +Mavis was beginning to be interested. It amused and, at the same time, +touched her to notice the difference between the dreary nature of the +sentiments and the youthful, comely face of the speaker. + +"I'm going now," she said. + +"Frightened of being seen with me?" he asked. + +"When I've Jill for a chaperone?" + +"Why don't you come as far as Broughton with me?" + +"Across the river?" + +"I've a punt moored not far from here." + +"But I've got to get back to a meal." + +"We can get something to eat there." + +"I don't think I will." + +"Is it too far?" + +"I can walk any distance." + +"Someone was asking about you the other day." + +"Who?" + +"Archie Windebank. He wrote from India." + +"What did he say?" asked Mavis, striving to conceal the interest she +felt. + +"I forget, for the moment, what it was. If I remember, I'll tell you." + +"Don't forget." + +"He's rather keen on you, isn't he?" + +"How should I know?" + +"He's a fool if he isn't." + +"What makes you think he is?" + +"I'd only an idea. Are you coming to Broughton?" + +"I'll compromise. I'll come as far as your punt." + +"Spoken like a good little Mavis." + +They followed the course of the river. The stream's windings were so +vigorous that, when they had walked for some way, they had made small +progress in the direction in which Perigal was going. + +Mavis was strangely happy. With the exception of her brief acquaintance +with Windebank, she had never before enjoyed the society of a man, who +was a gentleman, on equal terms. And Windebank was coming home unharmed +from the operations in which he had won distinction; she had read of +his brave doings from time to time in the papers: she rejoiced to learn +that he had not forgotten her. + +"Thinking of Windebank?" asked Perigal, noticing her silence. + +"Yes." + +"Lucky chap! But he's an awfully good sort, straight-forward and all +that." + +Mavis again assented. + +"A bit obvious, though." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Eh! Oh, well, you always know what his opinions are going to be on any +given subject." + +"I think he's delightful." + +"So do I," assented Perigal, to add, as a qualifying afterthought, "A +bit tiring to live with." + +"I'm sorry, but I can't speak from experience," retorted Mavis, who +disliked Perigal to criticise her friend. + +They had now reached the spot where the punt was moored. It was a frail +craft; the bows seemed disposed to let in water. + +"Is it goodbye?" asked Perigal. + +"Of course," replied Mavis irresolutely. + +"Then it isn't good-bye," smiled Perigal. + +"Why?" + +"Because you're going to do what I wish." + +Mavis was sure that she was going to do nothing of the kind, but as +Perigal looked at her and smiled she became conscious of a weakening in +her resolution: it was as if he had fascinated her; as if, for his +present purpose, she were helpless in his hands. Consequently, she said: + +"To disappoint you, I'll come as far as the other side of the river." + +"What did I tell you? But it's only fair to let you know the river runs +a bit just here, and it's too deep to pole, so you have to hit the +opposite bank when you can." + +"Is there any danger?" + +"Nothing to speak of." + +"I'd love to cross." + +"Jump in, then." + +"You don't mind if I leave you on the other side?" + +"Yes, I do. You hang on to Jill." + +Mavis enticed Jill into the punt, where the dog sat in the stern in her +usual self-possessed manner. Perigal struggled with the rope by which +the punt was moored to the stump of a tree. Very soon, they were all +adrift on the stream. They made little progress at first, merely +scraping along the overhanging branches of pollard willows; now and +again, the punt would disturb long-forgotten night lines, which, more +often than not, had hooked eels that had been dead for many days. Mavis +began to wonder if they would ever get across. + +"Stand by!" cried Perigal suddenly, at which Mavis gripped both sides +of the punt. + +It was well she did so, for the next moment the punt swerved violently, +to blunder quickly down stream as it felt the strength of the current. + +"Are you frightened?" asked Perigal. + +"Not a bit." + +"Hold tight to the bank if your end strikes first." + +"Right you are." + +Perigal did his best to steer the punt, but without much success. +Presently, the bows hit the side, at which Perigal clutched at the +growth on the bank. + +"Step ashore quickly," he cried. "It's beginning to let in water." + +"How exciting!" remarked Mavis, as she stepped on to the bank. + +"Just wait till I tie her up." + +"Where's Jill?" asked Mavis suddenly. + +"Isn't she with you?" + +"See if she's in the river." + +"If she is, the punt striking the bank must have knocked her overboard." + +They looked, but no sign could be seen of the dog. Mavis called her +name loudly, frantically, but no Jill appeared. + +"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" she cried helplessly. + +"Look!" cried Perigal suddenly. "Look, those weeds!" + +Mavis looked in the direction indicated. About six feet from the bank +was a growth of menacing-looking weeds under the water, which just now +were violently agitated. + +"I'll bet anything it's Jill. She's caught in the weeds," said Perigal. + +"Let me come. Let me come," cried Mavis. + +"It's ten feet deep. You're surely not going in?" + +"I can't let her drown." + +"Let me--" + +"But--" + +"I'm going in. I can swim." + +Perigal had thrown off his coat, kicked off his boots. + +The next moment, he had dived in the direction in which he believed +Jill to be. + +Mavis was all concern for her pet. Although she knew that, more likely +than not, she would never see her alive again, she scarcely suffered +pain at all. Although incapable of feeling, her mind noted trivial +things with photographic accuracy--a bit of straw on a bush, a white +cloud near the sun, the lonely appearance of an isolated pollard +willow. Meantime, Perigal had unsuccessfully dived once; the second +time, he was under the water for such a long time that Mavis was +tempted to cover her eyes with her hands. Then, to her unspeakable +relief, he reappeared, much exhausted, but holding out of the water a +bedraggled and all but drowned Jill. + +"Bravo! bravo!" cried Mavis. + +"Give me a hand, or have Jill!" gasped Perigal. + +Mavis put one foot in the punt in order to take Jill. She held her +beloved friend for a moment against her heart, to put her on the floor +of the punt and extend a helping hand to Perigal. + +"How can I ever thank you?" she asked, as he stood upon the bank with +the water dripping from his clothes. + +"Easily." + +"How?" + +"By coming with me to Broughton." + +"But Jill!" + +"She'll be all right. See, she's better already." + +He spoke truly. Jill was alternately licking her paws and feebly +shaking herself. + +"But what about you? You ought to go home at once and run all the way." + +"I shall be all right. Are you going to Broughton?" + +"On one condition." + +"And what might that be--that I don't go with you?" + +"That you run all the way and, when you get there, you borrow a change +of clothes." + +"Then you'll really come?" + +"Since you wish it. I couldn't do less." + +"What did I tell you? But there's an inn on the left, the first one you +come to. Wait for me there; if they can't lend me a change I'll have to +get one somewhere else and come back there." + +"Only if you go at once. You've waited too long already." + +Perigal started, carrying his dry boots and coat. + +"Faster! faster!" cried Mavis, seeing that he was inclined to linger. + +She followed behind; she did not move with her customary swinging +stride, Jill's extremity having sapped her strength. Directly Perigal +was out of sight, she caught Jill in her arms, to smother her wet head +and body with kisses. + +"Oh, my darling! my darling!" she murmured. "To think how nearly we +were parted forever!" + +It was with something of an effort that she pursued her way to +Broughton. Her steps dragged; her mind was filled with a picture of her +dearly loved Jill, cold, lifeless, unresponsive to her caress. + +When she reached the inn, she learned that Perigal was upstairs +changing into the landlord's clothes. When he came down, clad in +corduroys, with a silk handkerchief about his throat, she was surprised +to see how handsome he looked. + +"So you've got here!" he remarked, as he saw Mavis. + +"Didn't I say I was coming?" she asked, as she sank on a seat in the +tiny sitting-room. + +"You look bad. You must have something." + +"I'd like a little milk, please." + +"Rot! You must have brandy." + +"I'd prefer milk." + +"You do as you're told," replied Perigal. + +Fortunately, the inn had a spirit licence, so Mavis sipped the stuff +that Perigal brought her, to feel better at once. She then soaked a +piece of biscuit in the remainder of the brandy, to force it down +Jill's throat. Next, she turned to Perigal. + +"Have you had any?" she asked. + +"What do you think?" + +"I don't know how to thank you for saving Jill's life." + +"Rot!" + +"If you won't let me thank you, perhaps you'll let Jill." + +Mavis held Jill in Perigal's face, when, to the girl's surprise, Jill +growled angrily. + +"What wicked ingratitude!" cried Mavis. "Oh, you naughty Jill!" + +"Perhaps she's sorry I didn't let her drown," remarked Perigal. + +"What!" cried Mavis. + +"She may have wanted to commit suicide." + +"Jill want to leave me?" + +"She felt unworthy of you. I suppose she growls because she sees right +through me." + +"Don't be so fond of disparaging yourself. It was very brave of you to +dive in as you did." + +"I'm going to ask you to do something really brave." + +"What's that?" + +"Tackle eggs and bacon for lunch. It's all they've got." + +"I'll be very brave. I'm hungry." + +A red-cheeked, bright-eyed young woman laid a coarse cloth, and, upon +this, black-handled knives and forks. + +"What will you have to drink?" asked Perigal. + +"Milk." + +"Have some wine." + +"I always drink milk." + +"Not in honour of our meeting?" + +"You seem to forget I've got to walk home." + +"Perhaps you're right. Goodness knows what they'd give you here. Not +like the Carlton or the Savoy." + +"I've never been to such places." + +"Not?" he asked, in some surprise, to remain silent till the fried eggs +and bacon were brought in. + +"You ought to drink something warm," said Mavis, as he piled food on +her plate. + +"I've ordered ginger brandy. It's the safest thing they've got." + +The food enabled Mavis to recover her spirits. It appeared to have a +contrary effect on Perigal; the little he ate seemed to incline him to +gloomy thoughts. + +"I'm afraid you're going to be ill," she remarked. + +"I'm all right. Don't worry about me." + +"I won't. I'll worry the eggs and bacon instead." + +Presently, he raised the glass of ginger brandy in his hands. + +"Here's to the unattainable!" he said. + +"And that?" + +"Happiness." + +"Nonsense! Everyone can be happy if they like." + +"Little Mavis, let me tell you something." + +"Something dismal?" + +"No one ever was, is, or can be really happy: it's a law of nature." + +"I've come across people who're absolutely happy." + +"Listen. Nature, for her own ends, the survival of the fittest, has +arranged matters so that we're always, always striving. We think that a +certain end will bring happiness, and struggle like blazes to get it, +to find that satisfaction is a myth; to discover that, no sooner do we +possess a thing than we weary of what was once so ardently desired, and +immediately crave for something else which, if obtained, gives no more +satisfaction than the last thing hungered for." + +"I don't believe it for a moment. Besides, why should it be?" + +"Because it's necessary to keep the species going. By constantly +fighting with others for some goal, it sharpens our faculties and makes +us more fitted to hold our own; if it weren't for this struggle, we +should stagnate and very soon go under." + +"Even if some of what you say is true, there's the pleasure of getting." + +"At first. But if one 'spots' this clever trick of nature and one is +convinced that nothing, nothing on earth is worth struggling for--what +then?" + +"That it's a very foolish state of mind to get into, and the sooner you +get out of it the better." + +"You said just now there was the pleasure of getting. I know something +better." + +"And that?" + +"The pleasure of forgetting." + +He glanced meaningly at her. + +"Are you forgetting now?" she asked. + +"Can you ask?" + +Mavis blushed; she bent down to pat Jill in order to conceal the +pleasure his words gave her. + +"Tell me what Archie Windebank said about me," she presently said. + +"Blow Windebank!" + +"I want to know." + +"Then I suppose I must tell you." + +"Of course: out with it and get it over." + +"You met him once in town, didn't you?" + +"Only once." + +"Where?" + +"Quite casually. Tell me what he said." + +"He wanted to know if I'd ever run across you, and, if I did, I was at +once to wire to him and let him know." + +"Are you going to?" + +"No fear," replied Perigal emphatically. + +"Aren't men very selfish?" she asked. + +"They are where those women they admire are concerned." + +At the conclusion of the meal, they sat in the inn garden. They spoke +of old times, old associations. Mavis gave Perigal an abridged account +of her doings since she had last seen him, omitting to mention her +experience with Mr Orgles, Mrs Hamilton, and Miss Ewer. + +"I suppose you've run across a lot of chaps in London?" he presently +remarked. + +"No, I haven't run against any 'chaps', as you call them." + +"Rot!" + +"It's a fact." + +"Do you mean to say you've never yet had a love affair?" + +"That's a business that requires two, isn't it?" + +"Usually." + +"Well, I've always made a point of standing out." + +"Eh!" + +"I suppose it's vanity--call it that if you like--but I think too much +of myself to be a party to a mere love affair, as you would call it." + +Perigal glanced at her as if to see if she were speaking seriously. +Then he was lost in thought for some minutes, during which he often +looked in her direction. + +"What are you thinking of?" she asked. + +"That, to a decent chap, little Mavis would be something of a find, as +women go." + +"You don't think much of women, then?" + +"What's it my pater's always saying?" + +"I can tell you: Always learn the value of money and the worthlessness +of most women." + +"Eh!" + +"Don't look so astonished. It's the advice he gave to Archie Windebank." + +"I see: and he told you. But the pater's right over that." + +"How do you know?" + +"That's telling." + +Later in the afternoon, at tea, Mavis learned from Perigal much of his +life since they had last met. It appeared that he had been to Oxford, +to be sent down during his first term; that he had tried (and failed) +for Sandhurst; also a variety of occupations, all apparently without +success, until his father, angered at some scrape he had got into, had +packed him off to Riga, where he had secured some sort of a billet for +his son. Finally, in defiance of parental orders, he had left that +"beastly hole" and was living at home until his father should turn him +out. + +"Isn't it all rather a pity?" Mavis asked. + +"All what?" + +"Your wasted life? And you've had so many good chances." + +"I've had some fun out of it all. And, after all, what's the use of +trying?" + +"Just think of the thousands who would give their eyes for your +chances," she urged. + +"If their fathers had plenty of money like mine, they'd probably do as +I." + +"Your father wants to see you worthy of it." + +"I am. I've all sorts of expensive tastes." + +Later, when they walked in the direction of Melkbridge, it seemed to +Mavis as if she were talking to a friend of many years; he seemed to +comprehend her so intimately that she felt wholly at home with him. He +had changed into his flannel suit, which had been dried before the inn +kitchen fire. He walked with his careless stride, his cap thrust into +his pocket. Now and again, Mavis found herself glancing at his fair +young face, his steely blue eyes, the wind-disturbed curls upon his +head. Their way led them past a field carpeted with cowslips. + +"Oh, look!" she cried, delightedly. + +"Cowslips! Are you keen on wildflowers?" + +"They're the only ones I care for." + +"I only care for artificial ones. Shall I get you some cowslips?" + +"If you wouldn't mind. We'll both go." + +They gathered between them a big bunch. Now and again they would race +like children for a promising clump. + +"This bores you awfully," she remarked presently. + +"I don't believe I've ever been so happy in my life," he replied +seriously. + +"Nonsense!" + +"A fact. Am I not with you?" + +Mavis did not reply. + +"And, again, it's all so natural, you and I being here alone with +nature; it's all so wonderful; one can forget the beastly worries of +life." + +He spoke truly. Although it was getting late, the light persisted, as +if reluctant to leave the gladness of newborn things. All about her, +Mavis could see the trees were decked in fresh green foliage, virginal, +unsoiled; everywhere she saw a modest pride in unaffected beauty. Human +interests and emulations seemed to have no lot in this serenity: no +habitation was in sight; it was hard for Mavis to believe how near she +was to a thriving country town. Strange unmorality, with which +immersion in nature affects ardent spirits, influenced Mavis; nothing +seemed to matter beyond present happiness. She made Perigal carry the +cowslips, the while she frolicked with Jill. He watched her coolly, +critically, appraisingly; she had no conception how desirable she +appeared in his eyes. Lengthening shadows told them that it was time to +go home. They left the cowslip field regretfully to walk the remaining +two miles to Melkbridge. + +"I want you to promise me something," she said, after some moments of +silence. + +"What?" + +"To promise me to do something with your life." + +"Why should you wish that?" + +"You saved Jill's life. If you hadn't, I should now be miserable and +heart-broken, whereas--Will you promise me what I ask?" + +He did not speak immediately; she put her hand on his arm. + +"I was wondering if it were any use promising," he said, "I've had so +many tries." + +"Will you promise you'll try once more?" + +"Yes." + +"Thank you." + +"I promise I'll try, for your sake." + +They talked till they were within half a mile of the town. Then he said: + +"I'm going to leave you here." + +"Ashamed of being seen with me?" + +"Why should I be ashamed?" he asked. + +"I'm only a clerk in a boot factory." + +"You needn't rub it in. No, I was thinking how people in Melkbridge +would talk if they saw you with me or any other chap." + +"People aren't quite so bad as that," she urged. + +"No woman would ever forgive you for your looks." + +"Well, goodbye; thank you for saving Jill's life, and thank you for a +very happy day." + +"Rot! It's I who should be thankful. You've taken me out of myself." + +Neither of them made any move. Mavis caught hold of Jill and held her +towards Perigal as she said: + +"Thank him for saving your life, you ungrateful girl." + +Jill growled at Perigal even more angrily than before. + +"Oh, you naughty Jill!" cried Mavis. + +"Not a bit of it; she's cleverer than you; she's a reader of +character," said Perigal. + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + +THE MOON GODDESS + + +"Do you know anything of Mr. Charlie Perigal?" asked Mavis of Miss +Toombs and Miss Hunter the following day, as they were sipping their +afternoon tea. + +"Why?" asked Miss Hunter. + +"I met him yesterday," replied Mavis. + +"Do you mean that you were introduced to him?" asked Miss Hunter calmly. + +"There was no occasion. I knew him when I was a girl." + +"I can't say I knew him when I was a girl," retorted Miss Hunter. "But +I know this much: he never goes to church." + +"What of that?" snapped Miss Toombs. + +Miss Hunter looked at the eldest present, astonished. + +"Is that you talking?" she asked. + +"Why, what did I say?" + +"You spoke as if it were a matter of no consequence, a man not going to +church." + +"I can't have been thinking what I said," remarked Miss Toombs, as she +put aside her teacup to go on with her work. + +"I thought not," retorted Miss Hunter. + +"You haven't told me very much about him," said Mavis. + +"I've never heard much good of him," declared Miss Hunter. + +"Men are scarcely expected to be paragons," said Mavis. + +"When he was last at home, he was often about with Sir Archibald +Windebank." + +"I know him too," declared Mavis. + +"Nonsense!" + +"Why shouldn't I? His father was my father's oldest friend." + +Miss Hunter winced; she stared fixedly at Mavis, with eyes in which +admiration and envy were expressed. Later, when Mavis was leaving for +the day, Miss Hunter fussed about her with many assurances of regard. + +To Mavis's surprise, Miss Toombs joined her outside the +factory--surprise, because the elder woman rarely spoke to her, seeming +to avoid rather than cultivate her acquaintance. + +"I can say here what I can't say before that little cat," remarked Miss +Toombs. + +Mavis stared at the plainly clad, stumpy little figure in astonishment. + +"I mean it," continued Miss Toombs. "She's a designing little +hypocrite. I know you're too good a sort to give me away." + +"I didn't know you liked me well enough to confide in me," remarked +Mavis. + +"I don't like you." + +"Why not?" asked Mavis, surprised at the other woman's candour. + +"Look at you!" cried Miss Toombs savagely, as she turned away from +Mavis. "But what I was also going to say was this: don't have too much +to do with young Perigal." + +"I'm not likely to." + +"Don't, all the same. You're much too good for him." + +"Why? Is he fast?" asked Mavis. + +"It wouldn't matter if he were. But he is what some people call a +'waster.'" + +"He admits that himself." + +"He's a pretty boy. But I don't think he's the man to make a woman +happy, unless--" + +"Unless what?" + +"She despised him or knocked him about." + +"I won't forget," laughed Mavis. + +"Good day." + +"Won't you come home to tea?" + +"No, thanks," said Miss Toombs, as she made off, to leave Mavis gazing +at the ill-dressed, squat figure hurrying along the road. + +As might be expected, Miss Hunter's and Miss Toombs' disparagement of +Charlie Perigal but served to incline Mavis in his favour. She thought +of him all the way home, and wondered how soon she would see him again. +When she opened the door of her room, an overpowering scent of violets +assailed her nostrils; she found it came from a square cardboard box +which lay upon the table, having come by post addressed to her. The box +was full of violets, upon the top of which was a card. + +She snatched this up, to see if it would tell her who had sent the +flowers. It merely read, "With love to Jill." + +Her heart glowed with happiness to think that a man had gone to the +trouble and expense of sending her violets. Before sitting down to her +meal, she picked out a few of the finest to pin them in her frock; the +others she placed in water in different parts of the room. If Mavis +were inclined to forget Perigal, which she was not, the scent of the +violets was enough to keep him in her mind until they withered. + +She did not write to acknowledge the gift; she reserved her thanks till +their next meeting, which she believed would not long be delayed. The +following Saturday (she had seen nothing of Perigal in the meantime) +she called on Mrs. Trivett at Pennington Farm. The farmyard, with its +poultry, the old-world garden in which the house was situated, the +discordant shrieks which the geese raised at her coming, took the +girl's fancy. While waiting for the door to be opened, she was much +amused at the inquisitive way in which the geese craned their heads +through the palings in order to satisfy their curiosity. + +The door was opened by a homely, elderly woman, who dropped a curtsey +directly when she saw Mavis, who explained who she was. + +"You're kindly welcome, miss, if you'll kindly walk inside. Trivett +will be in soon." + +Mavis followed the woman to the parlour, where her hostess dusted the +chair before she was allowed to sit. + +"Do please sit down," urged Mavis, as Mrs Trivett continued to stand. + +"Thank you, miss. It isn't often we have such a winsome young lady like +you to visit us," said Mrs Trivett, as she sat forward on her chair +with her hands clasped on the side nearest to Mavis, a manner peculiar +to country women. + +"I can't get over your husband being a farmer as well as a musician," +remarked Mavis. + +Mrs Trivett shook her head sadly. + +"It's a sad pity, miss; because his love of music makes him forget his +farm." + +"Indeed!" + +"And since you praised his playing in church, he's spent the best part +of the week at the piano." + +"I am sorry." + +"At least, he's been happy, although the cows did get into the hay and +tread it down." + +Mavis expressed regret. + +"You'll stay to tea and supper, miss?" + +"Do you know what you're asking?" laughed Mavis. + +"It's the anniversary of the day on which I first met Trivett, and I've +made a moorhen and rabbit-pie to celebrate it," declared Mrs Trivett. + +Mavis was a little surprised at this piece of information, but she very +soon learned that Mrs Trivett's life was chiefly occupied with the +recollection and celebration of anniversaries of any and every event +which had occurred in her life. Custom had cultivated her memory, till +now, when nearly every day was the anniversary of something or other, +she lived almost wholly in the past, each year being the epitome of her +long life. When Trivett shortly came in from his work, he greeted Mavis +with respectful warmth; then, he conducted his guest over the farm. +Under his guidance, she inspected the horses, sheep, pigs and cows, to +perceive that her conductor was much more interested in their physical +attributes than in their contributive value to the upkeep of the farm. + +"Do 'ee look at the roof of that cow barton," said Trivett presently. + +"It is a fine red," declared Mavis. + +"A little Red Riding Hood red, isn't it? But it's nothing to the roof +of the granary. May I ask you to direct your attention to that?" + +Mavis walked towards the granary, to see that thatch had been +superimposed upon the tiles; this was worn away in places, revealing a +roof of every variety of colour. She looked at it for quite a long time. + +"Zomething of an artist, miss?" said Trivett. + +"Quite uncreative," laughed Mavis. + +"Then you're very lucky. You're spared the pain artists feel when their +work doesn't meet with zuccess." + +They returned to the kitchen, where Mavis feasted on newly-baked bread +smoking hot from the oven, soaked in butter, home-made jam, and cake. + +"I've eaten so much, you'll never ask me again," remarked Mavis. + +"I'm glad you've a good appetite; it shows you make yourself at home," +replied Mrs Trivett. + +After tea, they went into the parlour, where it needed no second +request on Mavis' part to persuade Mr Trivett to play. He extemporised +on the piano for the best part of two hours, during which Mavis +listened and dreamed, while Mrs Trivett undisguisedly went to sleep, a +proceeding that excited no surprise on the musician's part. Supper was +served in the kitchen, where Mavis partook of a rabbit and moorhen pie +with new potatoes and young mangels mashed. She had never eaten the +latter before; she was surprised to find how palatable the dish was. Mr +and Mrs Trivett drank small beer, but their guest was regaled with +cowslip wine, which she drank out of deference to the wishes of her +kind host and hostess. + +After supper, Mr Trivett solemnly produced a well-thumbed "Book of +Jokes," from which he read pages of venerable stories. Although Mrs +Trivett had heard them a hundred times before, she laughed consumedly +at each, as if they were all new to her. Her appreciation delighted her +husband. When Mavis rose to take her leave, Trivett, despite her +protest, insisted upon accompanying her part of the way to Melkbridge. +She bade a warm goodbye to kindly Mrs Trivett, who pressed her to come +again and as often as she could spare the time. + +"It do Trivett so much good to see a new face. It help him with his +music," she explained. + +"We might walk back by the canal," suggested Trivett. "It look zo +zolemn by moonlight." + +Upon Mavis' assenting, they joined the canal where the tow-path is at +one with the road by the railway bridge. + +"How long have you been in Pennington?" asked Mavis presently. + +"A matter o' ten years. We come from North Petherton, near Tarnton." + +"Then you didn't know my father?" + +"No, miss, though I've heard tark of him in Melkbridge." + +"Do you know anything of Mr Perigal?" she asked presently. + +"Which one: the old or the young un?" + +"Th--the old one." + +"A queer old stick, they zay, though I've never set eyes on un. He +don't hit it off with his zon, neither." + +"Whose fault is that?" + +"Both. Do 'ee know young Mr Charles?" + +"I've met him." + +"H'm!" + +"What's the matter with him?" + +Mr Trivett solemnly shook his head. + +"What does that mean?" + +"It's hard to zay. But from what I zee an' from what I hear tell, he be +a deal too clever." + +"Isn't that an advantage nowadays?" + +"Often. But he's quarrelled with his feyther and zoon gets tired of +everything he takes up." + +Trivett's remarks increased Mavis' sympathy for Perigal. The more he +had against him, the more necessary it was for those who liked him to +make allowance for flaws in his disposition. Kindly encouragement might +do much where censure had failed. + +Days passed without Mavis seeing more of Perigal. His indifference to +her existence hurt the little vanity that she possessed. At the same +time, she wondered if the fact of her not having written to thank him +for the violets had anything to do with his making no effort to seek +her out. Her perplexities on the matter made her think of him far more +than she might have done had she met him again. If Perigal had wished +to figure conspicuously in the girl's thoughts, he could not have +chosen a better way to achieve that result. + +Some three weeks after her meeting with him, she was sitting in her +nook reading, when she was conscious of a feeling of helplessness +stealing over her. Then a shadow darkened the page. She looked up, to +see Perigal standing behind her. + +"Interesting?" he asked. + +"Very." + +"Sorry." + +He moved away. Mavis tried to go on with her book, but could not fix +her attention upon what she read. Her heart was beating rapidly. She +followed the man's retreating figure with her eyes; it expressed a +dejection that moved her pity. Although she felt that she was behaving +in a manner foreign to her usual reserve, she closed her book, got up +and walked after Perigal. + +He heard her approaching and turned round. + +"There's no occasion to follow me," he said. + +"I won't if you don't wish it." + +"I said that for your sake. You surely know that I didn't for mine." + +"Why for my sake?" + +"I've a beastly 'pip.' It's catching." + +"Where did you catch it?" + +"I've always got it more or less." + +"I'm sorry. I've to thank you for those violets." + +"Rot!" + +"I was glad to get them." + +"Really, really glad?" he asked, his face lightening. + +"Of course. I love flowers." + +"I see," he said coldly. + +She made as if she would leave him, but, as before, felt a certain +inertness in his presence which she was in no mood to combat; instead +of going, she turned to him to ask: + +"Anything happened to you since I last saw you?" + +"The usual." + +"What?" + +"Depression and rows with my father." + +"I thought you'd forget your promise." + +"On the contrary, that's what all the row was about." + +"How was that?" + +"First of all, I told him that I had met you and all you told me about +yourself." + +"That made him angry?" + +"And when I told him I wanted to have another shot at something, a +jolly good shot this time, he said, 'I suppose that means you want +money?'" + +"What did you say?" + +"One can't make money without. That's what all the row's been about. +He's a fearful old screw." + +"As well as I remember, my father always liked him." + +"That was before I grew up to sour his life." + +"Did you tell him how you saved Jill's life?" asked Mavis. + +"I'd forgotten that, and I'm also forgetting my fishing." + +"May I come too?" + +"I've a spare rod if you care about having a go." + +"I should love to. I've often thought I'd go in for it. It would be +something to do in the evenings." + +She walked with him a hundred yards further, where he had left two rods +on the bank with the lines in the water; these had been carried by the +current as far as the lengths of gut would permit. + +"Haul up that one. I'll try this," said Perigal. + +Mavis did as she was told, to find there was something sufficiently +heavy at the end of her line to bend the top joint of her rod. + +"I've got a fish!" she cried. + +"Pull up carefully." + +She pulled the line from the water, to find that she had hooked an old +boot. + +Perigal laughed at her discomfiture. + +"It is funny, but you needn't laugh at me," she said, slightly +emphasising the "you." + +"Never mind. I'll bait your hook, and you must have another shot." + +Her newly baited line had scarcely been thrown in the water when she +caught a fine roach. + +"You'd better have it stuffed," he remarked, as he took it off the hook. + +"It's going to stuff me. I'll have it tomorrow for breakfast." + +In the next hour, she caught six perch of various sizes, four roach, +and a gudgeon. Perigal caught nothing, a fact that caused Mavis to +sympathise with his bad luck. + +"Next time you'll do all the catching," she said. + +"You mean you'll fish with me again?" + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"Really, with me?" + +"I like fish for breakfast," she said, as she turned from the ardour of +his glance. + +Presently, when they had "jacked up," as he called it, and walked +together across the meadows in the direction of the town, she said +little; she replied to his questions in monosyllables. She was +wondering at and a little afraid of the accentuated feeling of +helplessness in his presence which had taken possession of her. It was +as if she had no mind of her own, but must submit her will to the +wishes of the man at her side. They paused at the entrance to the +churchyard, where he asked: + +"And what have you been doing all this time?" + +She told him of her visit to the Trivetts. + +His face clouded as he said: + +"Fancy you hobnobbing with those common people!" + +"But I like them--the Trivetts, I mean. Whoever I knew, I should go and +see them if I liked them," she declared, her old spirit asserting +itself. + +He looked at her in surprise, to say: + +"I like to see you angry; you look awfully fine when that light comes +into your eyes." + +"And I don't like you at all when you say I shouldn't know homely, +kindly people like the Trivetts." + +"May I conclude, apart from that, you like me?" he asked. "Answer me; +answer me!" + +"I don't dislike you," she replied helplessly. + +"That's something to go on with. But if I'd known you were going to +throw yourself away on farmers, I'd have hung after you myself. Even I +am better than that." + +"Thanks. I can do without your assistance," she remarked. + +"You think I didn't come near you all this time because I didn't care?" + +"I don't think I thought at all about it." + +"If you didn't, I did. I was longing, I dare not say how much, to see +you again." + +"Why didn't you?" she asked. + +"For once in my life, I've tried to go straight." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You're the sort of girl to get into a man's blood; to make him mad, +reckless, head over ears--" + +"Hadn't we better go on?" she asked. + +"Why--why?" + +She had not thought him capable of such earnestness. + +"Because I wish it, and because this churchyard is enough to give one +the blues." + +"I love it, now I'm talking to you." + +"Love it?" she echoed. + +"First of all, you in your youth, and--and your attractiveness--are +such a contrast to everything about us. It emphasises you and--and--it +tells me to snatch all the happiness one can, before the very little +while when we are as they." + +Here he pointed to the crowded graves. + +"I'm going home," declared Mavis. + +"May I come as far as your door?" + +"Aren't you ashamed of being seen with me?" + +"I'm very, very proud, little Mavis, and, if only my circumstances were +different, I should say much more to you." + +His vehemence surprised Mavis into silence; it also awoke a strange joy +in her heart; she seemed to walk on air as they went towards her +lodging. + +"What are you thinking of?" he asked presently. + +"You." + +"Really?" + +"I was wondering why you went out of your way to give people a bad +opinion of you." + +"I wasn't aware I was especially anxious to do that." + +"You don't go to church." + +"Are you like that?" + +"Not particularly; but other people are, and that's what they say." + +"Church is too amusing nowadays." + +"I'm afraid my sense of humour isn't sufficiently developed." + +"It's the parsons I'm thinking of. Once upon a time, when people went +in for deadly sins, it gave 'em something to preach about. Now we all +lead proper, discreet lives, they have to justify their existence by +inventing tiny sins for their present congregations." + +"What sins?" asked Mavis. + +"Sins of omission: any trifles they can think of that a more robust +race of soul-savers would have laughed at. No. It's the parsons who +empty the churches." + +"I don't like you to talk like that." + +"Why? Are you that way?" + +"Sometimes more than others." + +"I congratulate you." + +She looked at him, surprised. + +"I mean it," he went on. "People are much the happier for believing. +The great art of life is to be happy, and, if one is, nothing else +matters." + +"Then why don't you believe?" + +"Supposing one can't." + +"Can't?" + +"It isn't given to everyone, you know." + +"Then you think we're just like poor animals--" + +"Don't say 'poor' animals," he interrupted. "They're ever so much +happier than we." + +"Nonsense! They don't know." + +"To be ignorant is to be happy. When will you understand that?" + +"Never." + +"I know what you're thinking of--all the so-called mental development +of mankind--love, memory, imagination, sympathy--all the finer +susceptibilities of our nature. Is it that what you were thinking of?" + +"Vaguely. But I couldn't find the words so nicely as you do." + +"Perhaps I read 'em and got 'em by heart. But don't you see that all +the fine things I mentioned have to be paid for by increased liability +to mental distress, to forms of pain to which coarse natures are, +happily, strangers?" + +"You talk like an unpleasant book," she laughed. + +"And you look like a radiant picture," he retorted. + +"Ssh! Here we are." + +"The moon's rising: it's full tonight. Think of me if you happen to be +watching it," he said. + +"I shall be fast asleep." + +"And looking more charming than ever, if that be possible. I shall be +having a row with my father." + +"I daresay you can hold your own." + +"That's what makes him so angry." + +Mrs. Farthing, upon opening the door, was surprised to see Mavis +standing beside young Mr Perigal. + +"I think you can get home safely now," he remarked, as he raised his +straw hat. + +"Thanks for seeing me home." + +"Don't forget your fish. Good night." + +Mavis thought it well not to enter into any explanation of Perigal's +presence to her landlady. She asked if supper were ready, to sit down +to it directly she learned that it was. But she did not eat; whether or +not her two hours spent in Perigal's company were responsible for the +result, it did not alter the fact that her mind was distracted by +tumult. The divers perplexities and questionings that had troubled her +with the oncoming of the year now assailed her with increased force. +She tried to repress them, but, finding the effort unavailing, +attempted to fathom their significance, with the result of increasing +her distress. The only tangible fact she could seize from the welter in +her mind was a sense of enforced isolation from the joys and sorrow of +everyday humanity. More than this she could not understand. + +She picked her food, well knowing that, if she left it untouched, Mrs +Farthing would associate her loss of appetite with the fact of her +being seen in the company of a man, and would lead the landlady to make +ridiculously sentimental deductions, which would be embarrassing to +Mavis. + +When she went upstairs, she did not undress. She felt that it would be +useless to seek sleep at present. Instead, she stood by the open window +of her room, and, after lighting a cigarette and blowing out the +candle, looked out into the night. + +It was just another such an evening that she had looked into the sky +from the window of Mrs Ellis' on the first day of her stay on Kiva +Street. Then, beyond sighing for the peace of the country, she had +believed that she had only to secure a means of winning her daily bread +in order to be happy. Now, although she had obtained the two desires of +her heart, she was not even content. Perigal's words awoke in her +memory: + +"No sooner was a desire satisfied, than one was at once eager for +something else." + +It would almost seem as if he had spoken the truth--"almost," because +she was hard put to it to define what it was for which her being +starved. + +Mavis looked out of the window. The moon had not yet emerged from a +bank of clouds in the east; as if in honour of her coming, the edge of +these sycophants was touched with silver light. The stars were growing +wan, as if sulkily retiring before the approach of an overwhelming +resplendence. Mavis's cigarette went out, but she did not bother to +relight it; she was wondering how she was to obtain the happiness for +which her heart ached: the problem was still complicated by the fact of +her being ignorant in which direction lay the promised land. + +Her windows looked over the garden, beyond which fields of long grasses +stretched away as far as she could see. A profound peace possessed +these, which sharply contrasted with the disquiet in her mind. + +Soon, hitherto invisible hedges and trees took dim, mysterious shape; +the edge of the moon peeped with glorious inquisitiveness over the +clouds. Calmly, royally the moon rose. So deliberately was she +unveiled, that it seemed as if she were revealing her beauty to the +world for the first time, like a proud, adored mistress unrobing before +an impatient lover, whose eyes ached for what he now beheld. + +Mystery awoke in the night. Things before unseen or barely visible were +now distinct, as if eager for a smile from the aloof loveliness soaring +majestically overhead. + +Mavis stood in the flood of silver light. For the moment her distress +of soul was forgotten. She gazed with wondering awe at the goddess of +the night. The moon's coldness presently repelled her: to the girl's +ardent imaginings, it seemed to speak of calm contemplation, +death--things which youth, allied to warm flesh and blood, abhorred. + +Then she fell to thinking of all the strange scenes in the life history +of the world on which the moon had looked--stricken fields, barbaric +rites, unrecorded crimes, sacked and burning cities, the blackened +remains of martyrs at the stake, enslaved nations sleeping fitfully +after the day's travail, wrecks on uncharted seas, forgotten +superstitions, pagan saturnalias--all the thousand and one phases of +life as it has been and is lived. + +Although Mavis' tolerable knowledge of history told her how countless +must be the sights of horror on which the moon had gazed, as +indifferently as it had looked on her, she recalled, as if to leaven +the memory of those atrocities (which were often of such a nature that +they seemed to give the lie to the existence of a beneficent Deity), +that there was ever interwoven with the web of life an eternal tale of +love--love to inspire great deeds and noble aims; love to enchain the +beast in woman and man; love, whose constant expression was the +sacrifice of self upon the altar of the loved one. + +Then her mind recalled individual lovers, famous in history and +romance, who were set as beacon lights in the wastes of oppression and +wrong-doing. These lovers were of all kinds. There were those who +deemed the world well lost for a kiss of the loved one's lips; lovers +who loved vainly; those who wearied of the loved one. + +Mavis wondered, if love were laid at her feet, how it would find her. + +She had always known that she was well able to care deeply if her heart +were once bestowed. She had, also, kept this capacity for loving +unsullied from what she believed to be the defilement of flirtation. +Now were revealed the depths of love and tenderness of which she was +possessed. They seemed fathomless, boundless, immeasurable. + +The knowledge made her sick and giddy. She clung to the window sill for +support. It pained her to think that such a treasure above price was +destined to remain unsought, unbestowed. She suffered, the while the +moon soared, indifferent to her pain. + +Suffering awoke wisdom: in the twinkling of an eye, she learned that +for which her being starved. The awakening caused tremors of joy to +pass over her body, which were succeeded by despondency at realising +that it is one thing to want, another to be stayed. Then she was +consumed by the hunger of which she was now conscious. + +She seemed to be so undesirable, unlovable in her own eyes, that she +was moved in her passionate extremity to call on any power that might +offer succour. + +For the moment, she had forgotten the Source to which in times of +stress she looked for help. Instead, she lifted her voice to the moon, +the cold wisdom of which seemed to betoken strength, which seemed +enthroned in the infinite in order to listen to and to satisfy +yearnings, such as hers. + +"It's love I want--love, love. I did not know before; now I know. Give +me--give me love." + +Then she cried aloud in her extremity. She was so moved by her emotions +that she was not in the least surprised at the sound of her voice. +After she had spoken, she waited long for a sign; but none came. Mavis +looked again on the night. Everything was white, cold, silent. + +It was as if the world were at one with the deathlike stillness of the +moon. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + +THE WAY OF ALL FLESH + + +Mavis invested a fraction of her savings in the purchase of rod, +fishing tackle, landing net, and bait can; she also bought a yearly +ticket from the Avon Conservancy Board, entitling her to fish with one +rod in the river at such times as were not close seasons. Most +evenings, her graceful form might be seen standing on the river bank, +when she was so intent on her sport that it would seem as if she had +grown from the sedge at the waterside. Womanlike, she was enthusiastic +over fishing when the fish were on the feed and biting freely, to tire +quickly of the sport should her float remain for long untroubled by +possible captures nibbling at the bait. She avoided those parts of the +river where anglers mostly congregated; she preferred and sought the +solitude of deserted reaches. Perigal, at the same time, developed a +passion for angling. Most evenings, he would be found on the river's +bank, if not in Mavis' company, at least near enough to be within call, +should any assistance or advice be required. It was remarkable how +often each would want help or counsel on matters piscatorial from the +other. Sometimes Mavis would want a certain kind of hook, or she would +be out of bait, or she would lose one of the beaded rings on her float, +all being things which she had no compunction in borrowing from +Perigal, inasmuch as he always came to her when he wanted anything +himself. It must also be admitted that, as the days flew by, their +excuses for meeting became gradually more slender, till at last they +would neglect their rods to talk together for quite a long time upon +any and every subject under the sun, save fishing. + +Once or twice, when owing to Perigal's not making an appearance, Mavis +spent the evening alone, she would feel keenly disappointed, and would +go home with a strong sense of the emptiness of life. + +During her day at the office, or when in her lodgings, she was either +absent-minded or self-conscious; she was always longing to get away +with only her thoughts for company. She would sometimes sigh for +apparently no reason at all. Then Miss Toombs lent her a volume of +Shelley, the love passages in which Mavis eagerly devoured. Her +favourite time for reading was in bed. She marked, to read and reread, +favourite passages. Often in the midst of these she would leave off, +when her mind would pursue a train of thought inspired by a phrase or +thought of the poet. Very soon she had learned 'Love's Philosophy' by +heart. The next symptom of the ailment from which she was suffering was +a dreamy languor (frequently punctuated by sighs), which disposed her +to offer passionate resentment to all forms of physical and mental +effort. This mood was not a little encouraged by the fact of the hay +now lying on the ground, to the scent of which she was always +emotionally susceptible. + +Perigal renounced fishing at the same time as did Mavis. He had a fine +instinct for discovering her whereabouts in the meadows bordering the +river. + +For some while, she had no hesitation in suffering herself to cultivate +his friendship. If she had any doubts of the wisdom of the proceeding, +there were always two ample justifications at hand. + +The first of these was that her association with him had effected a +considerable improvement in his demeanour. He was no longer the +mentally down-at-heel, soured man that he had been when Mavis first met +him. He had taken on a lightness of heart, which, with his slim, boyish +beauty, was very attractive to Mavis, starved as she had been of all +association with men of her own age and social position. She believed +that the beneficent influence she exercised justified the hours she +permitted him of her society. + +The other reason was that she deluded herself into believing that her +sighs and Shelley-inspired imaginings were all because of Windebank's +imminent return. She thought of him every day, more especially since +she had met Perigal. She often contrasted the two men in her thoughts, +when it would seem as if Windebank's presence, so far as she remembered +it, had affected her life as a bracing, health-giving wind; whereas +Perigal influenced her in the same way as did appealing music, reducing +her to a languorous helplessness. She had for so long associated +Windebank with any sentimental leanings in which she had indulged, that +she was convinced that her fidelity to his memory was sufficient +safeguard against her becoming infatuated with Perigal. + +Thus she travelled along a road, blinding herself the while to the +direction in which she was going. But one day, happening to obtain a +glimpse of its possible destination, she resolved to make something of +an effort, if not to retrace her way (she scarcely thought this +necessary), to stay her steps. + +Perigal had told her that if he could get the sum he wanted from his +father, he would shortly be going somewhere near Cardiff, where he +would be engaged in the manufacture of glazed bricks with a partner. +The news had frightened her. She felt as if she had been dragged to the +edge of a seemingly bottomless abyss, into which it was uncertain +whether or not she would be thrown. To escape the fate that threatened, +she threw off her lethargy, to resume her fishing and avoid rather than +seek Perigal. Perhaps he took the hint, or was moved by the same motive +as Mavis, for he too gave up frequenting the meadows bordering the +river. His absence hurt Mavis more than she could have believed +possible. She became moody, irritable; she lost her appetite and could +not sleep at night. To ease her distress of mind, she tried calling on +her old friends, the Medlicotts, and her new ones, the Trivetts. The +former expressed concern for her altered appearance, which only served +to increase her despondency, while the music she heard at Pennington +Farm told of love dreams, satisfied longings, worlds in which romantic +fancy was unweighted with the bitterness and disappointment of life, as +she now found it, all of which was more than enough to stimulate her +present discontent. + +She had not seen or heard anything of Perigal for two weeks, when one +July evening she happened to catch the hook of her line in her hand. +She was in great pain, her efforts to remove the hook only increasing +her torment. She was wondering what was the best way of getting help, +when she saw Perigal approaching. Her first impulse was to avoid him. +With beating heart, she hid behind a clump of bushes. But the pain in +her hand became so acute that she suddenly emerged from her concealment +to call sharply for assistance. He ran towards her, asking as he came: + +"What's the matter?" + +"My hand," she faltered. "I've caught the hook in it." + +"Poor dear! Let me look." + +"Please do something. It hurts," she urged, as she put out her hand, +which was torn by the cruel hook. + +"What an excellent catch! But, all the same, I must get it out at +once," he remarked, as he produced a pocket knife. + +"With that?" she asked tremulously. + +"I won't hurt you more than I can help, you may be sure. But it must +come out at once, or you'll get a bad go of blood poisoning." + +"Do it as quickly as possible," she urged. + +She set her lips, while he cut into the soft white flesh. + +However much he hurt her, she resolved not to utter a sound. For all +her fortitude, the trifling operation pained her much. + +"Brave little Mavis!" he said, as he freed her flesh from the hook, to +ask, as she did not speak, "Didn't it hurt?" + +"Of course it did. See how it's bleeding!" + +"All the better. It will clear the poison out." + +Mavis was hurt at the indifference he exhibited to her pain. + +"Would you please tie my handkerchief round it?" she asked. + +"Let it bleed. What are you thinking of?" + +"I want to get back." + +"Where's the hurry?" + +"Only that I want to get back." + +"But I haven't seen you for ages." + +"Haven't you?" she asked innocently. + +"Cruel Mavis! But before you go back you must wash your hand in the +river." + +"I'll do nothing of the kind." + +"Not if it's for your good?" + +"Not if I don't wish it." + +"As it's for your good, I insist on your doing what I wish," he +declared, as he caught her firmly by the wrist and led her, all +unresisting, to the river's brink. She was surprised at her +helplessness and was inclined to criticise it impersonally, the while +Perigal plunged her wounded hand into the water. Her reflections were +interrupted by a sharp pain caused by the contact of water with the +torn flesh. + +"It's better than blood poisoning," he hastened to assure her. + +"I believe you do it on purpose to hurt me," she remarked, upon his +freeing her hand. + +"I'm justified in hurting you if it's for your good," he declared +calmly. "Now let me bind it up." + +While he tied up her hand, she looked at him resentfully, the colour +heightening on her cheek. + +"I wish you'd often look like that," he remarked. + +"I shall if you treat me so unkindly." + +He took no notice of the accusation, but said: + +"When you look like that it's wonderful. Then certain verses in the +'Song of Solomon' might have been written to you." + +"The 'Song of Solomon'?" + +"Don't you read your Bible?" + +"But you said some of them might have been written to me. What do you +mean?" + +"They're the finest love verses in the English language. They might +have been written to you. They're quite the best thing in the Bible." + +She was perplexed, and showed it in her face; then, she looked +appealingly to him for enlightenment. He disregarded the entreaty in +her eyes. He looked at her from head to foot before saying: + +"Little Mavis, little Mavis, why are you so alluring?" + +"Don't talk nonsense. I'm not a bit," she replied, as something seemed +to tighten at her heart. + +"You are, you are. You've soul and body, an irresistible combination," +he declared ardently. + +His words troubled her; she looked about her, large-eyed, afraid; she +did not once glance in his direction. + +Then she felt his grasp upon her wrist and the pressure of his lips +upon her wounded hand. + +"Forgive me: forgive me!" he cried. "But I know you never will." + +"Don't, don't," she murmured. + +"Are you very angry?" + +"I--I--" she hesitated. + +"Let me know the worst." + +"I don't know," she faltered ruefully. + +His face brightened. + +"I'm going to ask you something," he said earnestly. + +Mavis was filled with a great apprehension. + +"If I weren't a bad egg, and could offer you a home worthy of you, I +wonder if you'd care to marry me?" + +An exclamation of astonishment escaped her. + +"I mean it," he continued, "and why not? You're true-hearted and +straight and wonderful to look at. Little Mavis is a pearl above price, +and she doesn't know it." + +"Ssh! ssh!" she murmured. + +"You're a rare find," he said, to add after a moment or two, "and I +know what I'm talking about." + +She did not speak, but her bosom was violently disturbed, whilst a +delicious feeling crept about her heart. She repressed an inclination +to shed tears. + +"Now I s'pose your upset, eh?" he remarked. + +"Why should I be?" she asked with flashing eyes. + +It was now his turn to be surprised. She went on: + +"It's a thing any woman should be proud of, a man asking her to share +her life with him." + +His lips parted, but he did not speak. + +She drew herself up to her full, queenly height to say: + +"I am very proud." + +"Ah! Then--then--" + +His hands caught hers. + +"Let me go," she pleaded. + +"But--" + +"I want to think. Let me go: let me go!" + +His hands still held hers, but with an effort she freed herself, to run +from him in the direction of her lodging. She did not once look back, +but hurried as if pursued by danger, safety from which lay in the +companionship of her thoughts. + +Arrived at Mrs Farthing's, she made no pretence of sitting down to her +waiting supper, but went straight upstairs to her room. She felt that a +crisis had arisen in her life. To overcome it, it was necessary for her +to decide whether or not she loved Charlie Perigal. She passed the best +part of a sleepless night endeavouring, without success, to solve the +problem confronting her. Jill, who always slept on Mavis' bed, was +alive to her mistress' disquiet. The morning sun was already high in +the heavens when Jill crept sympathetically to the girl's side. + +Mavis clasped her friend in her arms to say: + +"Oh, Jill, Jill! If you could only tell me if I truly loved him!" + +Jill energetically licked Mavis' cheek before nestling in her arms to +sleep. + +The early morning post brought a letter from Perigal to Mavis, which +she opened with trembling hands and beating heart. It ran:-- + +"For your sake, not for mine, I'm off to Wales by the early morning +train. If you care for me ever so little (and I am proud to believe you +do), in clearing out of your life, I am doing what I conceive to be the +best thing possible for your future happiness. If it gives you any +pleasure to know it, I should like to tell you I love you. My going +away is some proof of this statement, C. P. + +"P.S.--I have written by the same post to Windebank to give him your +address." + +Mavis looked at her watch, to discover it was exactly half-past seven. +She ran downstairs, half dressed as she was, to look at the time-table +which Mr Medlicott presented to her on the first of every month. After +many false scents, she discovered, that for Perigal to catch the train +at Bristol for South Wales, he must leave Melkbridge for Dippenham by +the 8.15. Always a creature of impulse, she scrambled into her clothes, +swallowed a mouthful of tea, pinned on her hat, caught up her gloves, +and, almost before she knew what she was doing, was walking quickly +towards the station. She had a little under twenty minutes in which to +walk a good mile. Her one concern was to meet, say something (she knew +not what) to Perigal before he left Melkbridge for good. She arrived +breathless at the station five minutes before his train started. He was +not in the booking office, and she could see nothing of him on the +platform. She was beginning to regret her precipitancy, when she saw +him walking down the road to the station, carrying a much worn leather +brief bag. Her heart beat as she went out to meet him. + +"Little Mavis!" he cried. + +"Good morning." + +"What are you doing here at this time?" + +"I came out for a walk." + +"To see me off?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Well, I will say this, you will bear looking at in the morning." + +"Why, who won't?" + +"Lots of 'em." + +"How do you know?" + +"Eh! But we can't talk here. It will be all over the town that we +were--were--" + +"Going to elope!" she interrupted. + +"I wish we were. But, seriously, you got my letter?" + +"It's really why I came." + +"What?" he asked, astonished. + +"It's really why I came." + +"What have you to say to me?" + +"I don't know." + +"Don't you want me to go to Wales?" + +"I don't know." + +"I must decide soon. Here's the train." + +They mechanically turned towards the platform. + +"Must you go?" she impulsively asked. + +"I could either chuck it or I could put it off till tomorrow." + +"Why not do that?" + +"But would you see me again?" + +"Yes." + +"And will you decide then?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Then I'll see you tonight," he said, as he raised his hat, as if +wishing her to leave him. + +Mavis bit her lip as she turned to leave Perigal. + +"Goodbye till tonight, little Mavis!" + +"Goodbye," she called back curtly. + +"One moment," he cried. + +She paused. + +He went on: + +"It was charming of you to come. It's like everything to do with +you--beautiful." + +"There's still time for you to get your train," she said, feeling +somewhat mollified by his last words. + +"And miss seeing you tonight!" he replied. + +Mavis walked to the factory wondering how many people had seen her +talking to Perigal. During her morning's work, her mind was in a +turmoil of doubt as to the advisability of meeting Perigal in the +evening. She could not help believing that, should she see him, as was +more or less arranged, it would prove an event of much moment in her +life, holding infinite possibilities of happiness or disaster. She knew +herself well enough to know that if she were wholly possessed by love +for him she would be to him as clay in the hands of the potter. She +could come to no conclusion; even if she had, she could not be certain +if she could keep to any resolve she might arrive at. During her midday +meal she remembered how Perigal had said that the "Song of Solomon" +might have been written to her. She opened her Bible, found the "Song" +and greedily devoured it. In her present mood its sensuous beauty +entranced her, but she was not a little perplexed by the headings of +the chapters. As with so many others, she found it hard to reconcile +the ecclesiastical claims here set forth at the beginning of each +chapter with the passionate outpourings of the flesh which followed. +She took the Bible with her to the office, to read the "Song" twice +during the interval usually allotted to afternoon tea. + +When she got back to Mrs Farthing's, she was long undecided whether she +should go out to meet Perigal. The leanings of her heart inclined her +to keep the appointment, whilst, on the other hand, her strong common +sense urged her to decide nothing until Windebank came back. Windebank +she was sure of, whereas she was not so confident of Perigal; but she +was forced to admit that the elusive and more subtle personality of the +latter appealed more to her imagination than the other's stability. +Presently, she left her lodgings and walked slowly towards the canal, +which was in a contrary direction to that in which lay the Avon. The +calm of the still water inclined her to sadness. She idled along the +towpath, plucking carelessly at the purple vetch which bordered the +canal in luxuriant profusion. More than once, she was possessed by the +idea that someone was following her. Then she became aware that Perigal +was also idling along the towpath some way behind her. The sight of him +made her heart beat; she all but decided to turn back to meet him. +Common sense again fought for the possession of her mind. It told her +that by dawdling till she reached the next bend, she could be out of +sight of Perigal, without exciting his suspicions, when it would be the +easiest thing in the world to hurry till she came to a track which led +from the canal to the town. She was putting this design into practice, +and had already reached the bend, when odd verses of the "Song of +Solomon" occurred to her: + +"Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast +doves' eyes. + +"As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. + +"Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee. + +"Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished +my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. + +"Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under +thy tongue. + +"A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a +fountain sealed. + +"How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights! + +"And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that +goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. + +"I am my beloved's, and his desire is towards me. + +"I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine." + +The influence of air, sky, evening sun, and the peace that lay over the +land reinforced the unmoral suggestions of the verses that had leapt in +her memory. Her blood quickened; she sighed, and then sat by the rushes +that, just here, invaded the towpath. + +As Perigal strolled towards her, his personality caused that old, odd +feeling of helplessness to steal over her. She, almost, felt as if she +were a fly gradually being bound by a greedy spider's web. + +He stood by her for a few moments without speaking. + +"You've broken your promise," he presently remarked. + +"Haven't you, too?" she asked, without looking up. + +"No." + +"Sure?" + +"I was so impatient to see you, I hung about in sight of your house, so +that I could catch sight of you directly when you came out." + +"What about Melkbridge people?" + +"What do I care!" + +"What about me?" + +He turned away with an angry gesture. + +"What about me?" she repeated more insistently. + +"You know what I said to you, asked you last night." + +Mavis hung her head. + +"What did you tell Windebank in your letter?" she asked presently. + +"Don't talk about him." + +"I shall if I want to. What did you say about me?" + +"Shall I tell you?" he asked suddenly, as he sat beside her. "I told +him how wholesome and how sweet you were. That's what I said." + +"Ssh!" + +"Do you know what I should have said?" + +Mavis made a last effort to preserve her being from the thraldom of +love. It was in her heart to leave Perigal there and then, but although +the spirit was all but willing, the flesh was weak. As before in his +presence, Mavis was rendered helpless by the odd fascination Perigal +exercised. + +"Do you know what I should have said?" he repeated. + +Mavis essayed to speak; her tongue would not give speech. + +"I'll tell you. I should have said that I love you, and that nothing in +heaven or earth is going to stop my getting you." + +"I must go," she said, without moving. + +"When I love you so? Little Mavis, I love you, I love you, I love you!" + +She trembled all over. He seized her hand, covered it with kisses, and +then tried to draw her lips to his. + +"My hand was enough." + +"Your lips! Your lips!" + +"But--" + +"I love you! Your lips!" + +He forced his lips to hers. When he released them, she looked at him as +if spellbound, with eyes veiled with wonder and dismay--with eyes which +revealed the great awakening which had taken place in her being. + +"I love little Mavis. I love her," he whispered. + +The look in her eyes deepened, her lips trembled, her bosom was +violently disturbed. Perigal touched her arm. Then she gave a little +cry, the while her head fell helplessly upon his shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + +THE AWAKENING + + +Mavis was in love, consequently the world was transformed. All her +previous hesitations in surrendering to her incipient love for Perigal +were forgotten; the full, flowing current of her passion disregarded +the trifling obstacles which had once sought to obstruct its progress. +Life, nature, the aspect of things took on the abnormally adorable hues +of those who love and are beloved. Such was the rapture in her heart, +that days, hours, moments were all too fleeting for the enjoyment of +her newborn felicity. The radiant happiness which welled within her, in +seemingly inexhaustible volume, appeared to fill the universe. Often, +with small success, she would attempt to realise the joy that had come +into her life. At other times, when alone, she would softly shed +tears--tears with which shy, happy laughter mingled. She would go about +all day singing snatches of gay little songs. There was not a happier +girl in the world. As if, perhaps, to give an edge to her joy, the +summer sky of her gladness was troubled by occasional clouds. She would +wake in the night with a great presage of fear, which nothing she could +do would remove. At such times, she would clasp with both hands a ring +that her lover had given her, which at night she wore suspended from +her neck, so that it lay upon her heart. At other times, she would be +consumed by a passion for annihilating all thoughts and considerations +for self in her relations with Perigal; she was urged by every fibre in +her body to merge her being with his. When thus possessed, she would +sometimes, if she were at home when thus moved, go upon her knees to +pray long and fervently for the loved one's welfare; as likely as not +her thoughts would wander, when thus engaged, to be wholly concerned +with the man she adored. + +Thus, she abandoned herself whole-heartedly, unreservedly to the +ecstasy of loving. + +Mavis and Perigal were to be quietly married by special licence in +London, in five weeks' time, which would be in the early days of +September. Perigal urged Mavis not to speak to anyone of the wedding, +saying, as a reason for this silence, that his father had not yet quite +decided upon giving him the money he wanted, and the news of the +engagement and early marriage might cause him to harden his heart. The +honeymoon was to be spent in the retirement of Polperro, a Cornish +village, the beauty and seclusion of which Perigal never tired of +describing. As far as they could both see at present, Mavis was to keep +on with her work at the office (the honeymoon was to consist of her +fortnight's annual holiday), till such time as he could prepare a home +for her in Wales. Although not welcoming, she did not offer the least +objection to this arrangement, as she saw that it was all that could be +done under their present circumstances. She wrote out and placed over +her bed a list of dates, which culminated in the day on which she was +to throw in her lot with the loved one; every day, as soon as she +awoke, she crossed off one more of the slowly dwindling days. Nearly +every Saturday she took the train to Bathminster, where she spent a +considerable fraction of the forty pounds she had saved in buying a +humble equivalent for a trousseau. + +As boxes and parcels of clothes began to arrive at her lodgings, she +would try on the most attractive of these, the while her eyes shone +with happiness. Those with whom she was commonly brought in contact +noticed the change in her demeanour. Mrs Farthing smiled mysteriously, +as if guessing the cause. Miss Hunter made many unsuccessful efforts to +worm confidences from Mavis; while plain Miss Toombs showed her +displeasure of the alteration that had occurred in her by scarcely ever +addressing her, and then only when compelled. + +"You look like a bride," she remarked one day, when Mavis was glowing +with happiness. + +Mavis saw something of Perigal pretty well every day. Sometimes, they +would meet quite early of a morning by the canal; if they did not see +each other then, they made a point of getting a few minutes together of +an evening, usually by the river. So that no hint of their intentions +should reach Major Perigal, the lovers met furtively, a proceeding +which enhanced the charm of their intercourse. + +At all times, Mavis was moved by an abiding concern for his health. +There was much of the maternal in her love, leading her frequently to +ask if his linen were properly aired and if he were careful to avoid +getting damp feet; she also made him solemnly promise to tell her +immediately if he were not feeling in the best of health. Mavis, with a +great delight, could not help noticing the change that had taken place +in her lover ever since their betrothal. He, too, was conscious of the +difference, and was fond of talking about it. + +"I never thought I'd grow young again!" he would remark. + +"What about second childhood?" laughed the irrepressible Mavis. + +"Seriously, I didn't. I always felt so old. And it's little Mavis who +has done it all." + +"Really, sweetheart?" + +"All, dear." + +She rewarded him with a glance of love and tenderness. + +He went on: + +"The past is all over and done with. I made a fresh start from the day +you promised to throw in your exquisite self with me." + +Thus he would talk, expressing, at the same time, boundless confidence +in the future, forgetful or ignorant of what has been well said, "That +the future is only entering the past by another gate." + +One evening, when he had made bitter reference to the life that he had +led, before he had again met with her, she asked: + +"What is this dreadful past you're always regretting so keenly?" + +"You surely don't want to know?" + +"Haven't I a right to?" + +"No. Not that it's so very terrible. Far from it, it isn't. There's an +awful sameness about it. The pleasure of to day is the boredom of +tomorrow. It all spells inherent incapacity to succeed in either good +or evil." + +"Good or evil?" she queried. + +"It's going to be good now, since I've little Mavis and her glorious +hair to live for." + +One evening, he brought a brick to show her, which was a sample of +those he intended manufacturing, should he get the assistance he now +daily expected from his father. She looked at it curiously, fondly, as +if it might prove the foundation stone of the beloved one's prosperity; +a little later, she begged it of him. She took it home, to wrap it +carefully in one of her silk handkerchiefs and put it away in her +trunk. From time to time, she would take the brick out, to have it +about her when she was at her lodgings. She also took an acute interest +in bricks that were either built into houses, or heaped upon the +roadside. She was proudly convinced there were no bricks that could +compare with the one she prized for finish or durability. Perigal was +much diverted and, perhaps, touched by her interest in his possible +source of success. + +The clamourings of Mavis' ardent nature had been so long repressed, +that the disturbing influences of her passion for Perigal were more +than sufficient to loose her pent up instincts. Her lover's kisses +proved such a disturbing factor, that, one evening when he had been +unusually appreciative of her lips, she had not slept, having lain +awake, trembling, till it was time for her to get up. For the future, +she deemed it prudent to allow one kiss at meeting, and a further one +at parting. + +Perigal protested against this arrangement, when he would say: + +"I love to kiss you, little Mavis, because then such a wistful, faraway +look comes into your eyes, which is one of the most wonderful things +I've seen." + +Mavis, with an effort, resisted Perigal's entreaties. + +One August evening, when it was late enough for her to be conscious +that the nights were drawing in, she was returning from a happy hour +spent with her lover. It now wanted but a week to their marriage; their +hearts were delirious with happiness. + +"Don't you miss all the bridesmaids and all the usual thing-uma-jigs of +a wedding?" he had asked her. + +"Not a bit." + +"Sure, darling?" + +"Quite. I only want one thing. So long as I get that, nothing else can +possibly matter." + +"And that?" + +"You," she had replied, at which Perigal had said after a moment or two +of silence: + +"I will, I really will do all I know to make my treasure of a little +Mavis happy." + +Mavis was walking home with a light step and a lighter heart: more than +one red-cheeked, stolid, Wiltshire man and woman turned to look after +the trimly-built, winsome girl, who radiated distinction and happiness +as she walked. + +A familiar voice sounded in Mavis's ear. "At last," it said heartfully. + +She turned, to see Windebank standing before her, a Windebank stalwart +as ever, with his face burned to the colour of brick red, but looking +older and thinner than when she had last seen him. Mavis' heart sank. + +"At last," he repeated. He looked as if he would say more, but he did +not speak. She wondered if he were moved at seeing her again. + +Mavis, not knowing what to say, put out her hand, which he clasped. + +"Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked. + +"Of course." + +"And you're not going to run away again?" + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +"I mean as you did before, into the fog!" + +"There's no fog to run into," she remarked feebly. + +"Little Mavis! Little Mavis! I'd no idea you could look so well and +wonderful as you do." + +"Hadn't we better walk? People are staring at us already." + +"I can't see you so well walking," he complained. + +They strolled along; as they walked, Windebank half turned, so that his +eyes never left her face. + +"What a beautiful girl you are!" he said. + +"You mustn't say that." + +"But it's true. And to think of you working for that outsider Devitt!" + +"He means well. And I've been very happy there." + +"You won't be there much longer! Do you know why?" + +"Tell me about yourself," she said evasively, as she wondered if +talking to Windebank were unfair to Perigal. + +"Do you remember this?" he asked, as he brought out a crumpled letter +for her inspection. + +"It's my writing!" she cried. + +"It's the foolish, dear letter you wrote to me." + +She took it, to recall the dreary day at Mrs Bilkins's on which she had +penned the lines to Windebank, in which she had refused to hamper his +career by acceding to his request. + +"Give it back," he demanded. + +"You don't want it?" + +"Don't I! A girl who can write a letter like that to a chap isn't +easily forgotten, I can tell you." + +Mavis did not reply. Windebank, seeing how she was embarrassed, told +her of his more recent doings; how, after getting Perigal's letter, he +had set out for England as soon as he could start; how he had saved +three days by taking the overland route from Brindisi (such was his +anxiety to see his little Mavis, who had never been wholly out of his +thoughts), to arrive home before he was expected. + +"I had an early feed and came out hoping to see you," he concluded. + +Mavis did not speak. She was deliberating if she should tell Windebank +of her approaching marriage; if he cared seriously for her, it was only +fair that he should know her affections were bestowed. + +"Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked. + +"Of course, but--" + +"There are no 'buts.' You're coming home with me." + +"Home!" + +"To meet my people again. They're just back from Switzerland. It isn't +your home--yet." + +This decided her. She told him, first enjoining him to silence. To her +relief, also to her surprise, he took it very calmly. His face went a +shade whiter beneath his sun-tanned skin; he stood a trifle more erect +than before; and that was all. + +"I congratulate you," he said. "But I congratulate him a jolly sight +more. Who is he?" + +Mavis hesitated. + +"You can tell me. It won't go any further." + +"Charlie Perigal." + +"Charlie Perigal?" he asked in some surprise. + +"Why not?" she asked, with a note of defiance in her voice. + +"But he's upside down with his father, and has been for a long time." + +"What of that?" + +"What are you going to live on?" + +"Charlie is going to work." + +"Charlie work!" The words slipped out before he could stop them. "Of +course, I'd forgotten that," he added. + +"You're like a lot of other people, who can't say a good word for him, +because they're jealous of him," she cried. + +He did not reply for a moment; when he did, it was to say very gravely: + +"Naturally I am very, very jealous; it would be strange if it were +otherwise. I wish you every happiness from the bottom of my heart." + +"Thank you," replied Mavis, mollified. + +"And God bless you." + +He took off his cap and left her. Mavis watched his tall form turn the +corner with a sad little feeling at her heart. But love is a selfish +passion, and when Mavis awoke three mornings later, when it wanted four +days to her marriage, she would have forgotten Windebank's existence, +but for the fact of his having sent her a costly, gold-mounted +dressing-case. This had arrived the previous evening, at the same time +as the frock that she proposed wearing at her wedding had come from +Bathminster. She looked once more at the dressing-case with its +sumptuous fittings, to turn to the wrappings enclosing her simple +wedding gown. She took it out reverently, tenderly, to kiss it before +locking the door and trying it on again. With quick, loving hands she +fastened it about her; she then looked at the reflection of her +adorable figure in the glass. + +"Will he like me in it? Do you think he will love me in it?" she asked +Jill, who, blinking her brown eyes, was scarcely awake. She then took +Jill in her arms to murmur: + +"Whatever happens, darling, I shall always love you." + +Mavis was sick with happiness; she wondered what she had done to get so +much allotted to her. All her struggles to earn a living in London, the +insults to which she had been subjected, the disquiet that had troubled +her mind throughout the spring, were all as forgotten as if they had +never been. There was not a cloud upon the horizon of her joy. + +As if to grasp her present ecstasy with both hands, she, with no +inconsiderable effort, recalled all the more unhappy incidents in her +life, to make believe that she was still enduring these, and that there +was no prospect of escape from their defiling recurrence. She then fell +to imagining how envious she would be were she acquainted with a happy +Mavis Keeves who, in three days' time, was to belong, for all time, to +the man of her choice. + +It was with inexpressible joy that she presently permitted herself to +realise that it was none other than she upon whom this great gift of +happiness unspeakable had been bestowed. The rapture born of this +blissful realisation impelled her to seek expression in words. + +"Life is great and noble," she cried; "but love is greater." + +Every nerve in her body vibrated with ecstasy. And in four days-- + +Two letters, thrust beneath her door by Mrs Farthing, recalled her to +the trivialities of everyday life. She picked them up, to see that one +was in the well-known writing of the man she loved; the other, a +strange, unfamiliar scrawl, which bore the Melkbridge postmark. Eager +to open her lover's letter, yet resolved to delay its perusal, so that +she could look forward to the delight of reading it (Mavis was already +something of an epicure in emotion), she tore open the other, to +decipher its contents with difficulty. She read as follows:-- + + +"SHAW HOUSE, MELKBRIDGE. + +"MADAM,--My son has told me of his intentions with regard to yourself. +This is to tell you that, if you persist in them, I shall withdraw the +assistance I was on the point of furnishing in order to give him a new +start in life. It rests with you whether I do my utmost to make or mar +his future. For reasons I do not care to give, and which you may one +day appreciate, I do what may seem to your unripe intelligence a +meaningless act of cruelty.--I remain, dear Madam, Your obedient +servant, + +"JOHN VEZEY PERIGAL." + + +The sun went out of Mavis' heaven; the gorgeous hues faded from her +life. She felt as if the ground were cut from under her feet, and she +was falling, falling, falling she knew not where. To save herself, she +seized and opened Perigal's letter. + +This told her that he knew the contents of his father's note; that he +was still eager to wed her as arranged; that they must meet by the +river in the evening, when they could further discuss the situation +which had arisen. + +Mavis sank helplessly on her bed: she felt as if her heart had been +struck a merciless blow. She was a little consoled by Perigal's letter, +but, in her heart of hearts, something told her that, despite his brave +words, the marriage was indefinitely postponed; indeed, it was more +than doubtful if it would ever take place at all. She suffered, dumbly, +despairingly; her torments were the more poignant because she realised +that the man she loved beyond anything in the world must be acutely +distressed at this unexpected confounding of his hopes. Her head +throbbed with dull pains which gradually increased in intensity; these, +at last, became so violent that she wondered if it were going to burst. +She felt the need of action, of doing anything that might momentarily +ease her mind of the torments afflicting it. Her wedding frock +attracted her attention. Mavis, with a lump in her throat, took off and +folded this, and put it out of sight in a trunk; then, with red eyes +and face the colour of lead, she flung on her work-a-day clothes, to +walk mechanically to the office. The whole day she tried to come to +terms with the calamity that had so suddenly befallen her; a heavy, +persistent pressure on the top of her head mercifully dulled her +perceptions; but at the back of her mind a resolution was momentarily +gaining strength--a resolution that was to the effect that it was her +duty to the man she loved to insist upon his falling in with his +father's wishes. It gave her a certain dim pleasure to think that her +suffering meant that, some day, Perigal would be grateful to her for +her abnegation of self. + +Perigal, looking middle-aged and careworn, was impatiently awaiting her +arrival by the river. Her heart ached to see his altered appearance. + +"My Mavis!" he cried, as he took her hand. + +She tried to speak, but a little sob caught in her throat. They walked +for some moments in silence. + +"I told him all about it; I thought it better," said Perigal presently. +"But I never thought he'd cut up rough." + +"Is there any chance of his changing his mind?" + +"Not the remotest. If he once gets a thing into his head, as he has +this, nothing on earth will move him." + +"I won't let it make any difference to you," she declared. + +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. + +"That nothing, nothing will persuade me to marry you on Thursday." + +"What?" + +"I mean it. I have made up my mind." + +"But I've set my mind on it, darling." + +"I'm doing it for your good." + +He argued, threatened, cajoled, pleaded for the best part of two hours, +but nothing would shake her resolution. To all of his arguments, she +would reply in a tone admitting no doubt of the unalterable nature of +her determination: + +"I'm doing it for your good, beloved." + +Shadows grew apace; light clouds laced the west; a hush was in the air, +as if trees, bushes, and flowers were listening intently for a message +which had evaded them all the day. + +Perigal's distress wrung Mavis' heart. + +"I can bear it no longer," she presently cried. + +"Bear what, sweetheart?" + +"Your pain. My heart isn't made of stone. I almost wish it were. +Listen. You want me?" + +"What a question!" + +"Then you shall have me." + +He looked at her quickly. She went on: + +"We will not get married. But I give you myself." + +"Mavis!" + +"Yes; I give you myself." + +Perigal was silent for some minutes; he was, evidently, in deep +thought. When he spoke, it was to say with deliberation: + +"No, no, little Mavis. I may be bad; but I'm not up to that form--not +yet." + +"I love you all the more for saying that," she murmured. + +"Since I can't move you, I'll go to Wales tomorrow," he said. + +"Then that means--" + +"Wait, wait, little Mavis; wait and hope." + +"I shall never love anyone else." + +"Not even Windebank?" + +She cried out in agony of spirit. + +"Forgive me, darling," he said. "I will keep faithful too." + +They walked for some moments in silence. + +"Do one thing for me," pleaded Mavis. + +"And that?" + +"We are near my nook--at least I call it that. Let us sit there for +just three minutes and think Thursday was--was going to be our--" She +could not trust her voice to complete the sentence. + +"If you wish it." + +"Only--" + +"Only what?" + +"Promise--promise you won't kiss me." + +"But--" + +"I'm not myself. Promise." + +He promised. They repaired to Mavis' nook, where they sat in silence, +while night enwrapped them in gloom. Instinctively, their hands +clasped. Mavis had realised that she was with her lover perhaps for the +last time. She wished to snatch a moment of counterfeit joy by +believing that the immense happiness which had been hers was to +continue indefinitely. But her imaginative effort was a dismal failure. +Her mind was a blank with the promise of unending pain in the +background. + +Perigal felt the pressure of Mavis's hand instinctively tighten on his; +it gripped as if she could never let him go: tears fell from her eyes +on to his fingers. With an effort he freed himself and, without saying +a word, walked quickly away. With all her soul, she listened to his +retreating steps. It seemed as if her life were departing, leaving +behind the cold shell of the Mavis she knew, who was now dead to +everything but pain. His consideration for her helplessness illumined +her suffering. The next moment, she was on her knees, her heart welling +with love, gratitude, concern for the man who had left her. + +"Bless him! Bless him, oh God! He's good; he's good; he's good! He's +proved it to a poor, weak girl like me!" + +Thus she prayed, all unconscious that Perigal's consideration in +leaving her was the high-water mark of his regard for her welfare. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + +O LOVE, FOR DELIGHTS! + + +"Beloved!" + +"My own!" + +"Are you ready to start?" + +"I'll see if they've packed the luncheon." + +"One moment. Where are we going today?" + +"Llansallas; three miles from here." + +"What's it like?" she asked. + +"The loveliest place they knew of." + +"How wonderful! And we'll have the whole day there?" + +"Only you and I," he said softly. + +"Be quick. Don't lose a moment, sweetheart. I dislike being alone--now." + +"Why?" he asked. + +Mavis dropped her eyes. + +"Adorable, modest little Mavis," he laughed. "I'll see about the grub." + +"You've forgotten something," she pouted, as he moved towards the door. + +"Your kiss!" + +"Our kiss." + +"I hadn't really. I wanted to see if you'd remember." + +"As if I'd forget," she protested. + +Their lips met; not once, but many times; they seemed reluctant to part. + + * * * * * + +Mavis was alone. She had spoken truly when she had hinted how she was +averse to the company of her own thoughts. It was then that clouds +seemed disposed to threaten the sun of her joy. + +She went to the window of the hotel sitting-room, which overlooked the +narrow road leading to Polperro village; beyond the cottages opposite +was bare rock, which had been blasted to find room for stone +habitations; above the naked stone was blue sky. Mavis tried to think +about the sky in order to exclude a certain weighty matter from her +mind. She had been five days in Cornwall, four of which had been spent +with Perigal in Polperro. Mavis did her best to concentrate her +thoughts upon the cerulean hue of the heavens; she wondered why it +could not faithfully be matched in dress material owing to the peculiar +quality of light in the colour of the sky. It was just another such a +blue, so she thought, as she had seen on the morning of what was to +have been her wedding day, when, heavy-eyed and life-weary, she had +crept to the window of her room; then the gladness of the day appeared +so indifferent to her sorrow that she had raged hopelessly, helplessly, +at the ill fortune which had over-ridden her. This paroxysm of +rebellion had left her physically inert, but mentally active. She had +surveyed her life calmly, dispassionately, when it seemed that she had +been deprived by cruel circumstance of parents, social position, +friends, money, love: everything which had been her due. She had been +convinced that she was treated with brutal injustice. The joyous +singing of birds outside her window, the majestic climbing of the sun +in the heavens maddened her. Her spirit had been aroused: she had +wondered what she could do to defy fate to do its worst. The morning's +post had brought a letter from Perigal, the envelope of which bore the +Polperro postmark. This had told her that the despairing writer had +gone to the place of their prospective honeymoon, where the contrast +between his present agony of soul and the promised happiness, on which +he had set so much store, was such, that if he did not immediately hear +from Mavis, he was in danger of taking his life. There had been more to +the same effect. Immediately, all thought of self had been forgotten; +she had hurried out to send a telegram to Perigal, telling him to +expect a surprise to-day. + +She had confided her dear Jill to Mrs Farthing's care. After telling +her wondering landlady that she would not be away for more than one +night, she had hurried (with a few belongings) to the station, +ultimately to get out at Liskeard, where she had to take the local +railway to Looe, from which an omnibus would carry her to Polperro. +Perigal had met her train at Liskeard, her telegram having led him to +expect her. + +He was greatly excited and made such ardent love to her that, upon her +arrival at Looe, she already regretted her journey and had purposed +returning by the next train. But there was nothing to take her back +before morning; against her wishes, she had been constrained to spend +the night at Looe. + +Here Perigal insisted on staying also. + +Mavis, as she looked back on the last four days, and all that had +happened therein, could not blame herself. She now loved Perigal more +than she had ever believed it possible for woman to love man; she +belonged to him body and soul; she was all love, consequently she had +no room in her being for vain regrets. + +When she was alone, as now, her pride was irked at the fact of her not +being a bride; she believed that the tenacious way in which she had +husbanded her affections gave her every right to expect the privilege +of wifehood. It was, also, then she realised that her very life +depended upon the continuance of Perigal's love: she had no doubt that +he would marry her with as little delay as possible. Otherwise, the +past was forgotten, the future ignored: she wholly surrendered herself +to her new-born ecstasy begotten of her surrender. He was the world, +and nothing else mattered. So far as she was concerned, their love for +each other was the beginning, be-all, and end of earthly things. + +It was a matter of complete indifference to her that she was living at +Polperro with her lover as Mrs and Mr Ward. + +It may, perhaps, be wondered why a girl of Mavis's moral +susceptibilities could be so indifferent to her habit of thought as to +find such unalloyed rapture in a union unsanctified by church and +unprotected by law. The truth is that women, as a sex, quickly +accommodate themselves to such a situation as that in which Mavis found +herself, and very rarely suffer the pangs of remorse which are placed +to their credit by imaginative purists. The explanation may be that +women live closer to nature than men; that they set more store on +sentiment and passion than those of the opposite sex; also, perhaps, +because they instinctively rebel against a male-manufactured morality +to which women have to subscribe, largely for the benefit of men whose +observance of moral law is more "honoured in the breach than in the +observance." Indeed, it may be regarded as axiomatic that with nine +hundred and ninety-nine women out of a thousand the act of bestowing +themselves on the man they love is looked upon by them as the merest +incident in their lives. The thousandth, the exception, to whom, like +Mavis, such a surrender is a matter of supreme moment, only suffers +tortures of remorse when threatened by the loss of the man's love or by +other inconvenient but natural consequences of sexual temerity. + +Mavis was recalled to the immediate present by an arm stealing about +her neck; she thrilled at the touch of the man who had entered the room +unobserved; her lips sought his. + +"Ready, darling?" he asked. + +"If you are." + +She caught up her sunbonnet, which had been thrown on one side, to hand +it to him. + +"You put it on me," she said. + +When he had expended several unnecessary moments in adjusting the +bonnet, they made as if they would start. + +"Got everything you want?" he asked, looking round the room. + +"I think so. Take my sunshade." + +"Right o'." + +"My gloves." + +"I've got 'em." + +"My handkerchief." + +"I've got it." + +"Now kiss me." + +His all too eager lips met on hers. + +"Now we can start," she remarked. + +She stood on the steps of the little hotel, while Perigal grasped a +luncheon basket. + +"Quick march!" he cried. + +"Wait one moment. I so love the sunlight," she replied. + +"Little pagan!" + +She stood silent, while the rays of the September sun warmly caressed +her face and neck. + +She looked about her, to see that the sky was on all sides a faultless +blue, with every prospect of its continuance. + +"One of the rare days I love," she murmured. + +She shut her eyes to appreciate further the sun's warmth. + +"If it were only like this all the year round," she thought. + +"This is going to be all my day," she said to Perigal, who was +impatiently awaiting her. "I want to enjoy every moment of it for all I +am worth." + +They turned to the left, walking up the road to the hamlet of +Crumplehorn; when they reached the mill, worked by the stream which +crosses the road, they turned sharp to the left and continued to +ascend. Their progress was accompanied by the music of moving water, +the singing of larks. When they emerged on the Fowey road, they caught +frequent glimpses of the sea, which they lost as they approached +Llansallas. Arrived at this tiny, forgotten village, there was not a +sign of the sea, although Perigal had been told at the inn that he +would find it here. He asked the way, to be directed to a corner of the +churchyard from which a track led to the shore. To their surprise, this +path proved to be a partially dry watercourse which, as it wound in a +downward direction, was presently quite shut in by an overgrowth of +bushes. Mavis, sorry to lose the sunlight, if only for a few minutes, +was yet pleased at exploring this mysterious waterway. Now and again, +where the water had collected in wide pools, she had, with Perigal's +assistance, to make use of stepping stones, to espy which was often +difficult. They picked their way down and down for quite a long time, +till Mavis began to wonder if they would ever discover an outlet. When, +at last, the passage was seen to emerge into a blaze of sunlight, they +ran like children to see who would be out first. In a few moments they +were blinking their eyes to accustom these to the sudden sunlight. It +was hard to believe that the sun had been shining while their way had +been steeped in gloom. When they were shortly able to look about them, +they glanced at one another, to see if the spot they reached had made +anything of an impression. There was occasion for surprise. The lovers +were now in an all but land-locked stretch of water, shut in by tall +rocks or high ground. Before the water of the inlet could reach the +sea, it would have to pass sheer, sentinel rocks which seemed to guard +jealously the bay's seclusion. + +From several places very high up in the ground on either side of them, +water gushed out in continuous currents, making music the while, +presently to merge by divers channels into a stream which straggled +down to the sea. The surface of this stream was covered with +watercress: this was green where the water was fresh, a bright yellow +as far as the salt tide had prevailed. Between where they stood and the +distressed waters of the bay was a stretch of yellow sand. A little to +their right was a dismantled, tumble-down cottage, which served to +emphasise the romantic remoteness of the place. + +"Isn't it--isn't it exquisite?" cried Mavis. + +"It might have been made for us," Perigal remarked. + +"It was. Say it was." + +"Of course it was. Let me make my darling comfortable. She must be +tired after her walk." + +"She isn't a bit--but--" + +"But what, sweetheart?" + +"It's a long time since she had a kiss." + +Perigal insisted upon making Mavis comfortable, with her back to a +conveniently situated hummock of earth. He lit a cigarette, to pass it +on to her before lighting one for himself. + +Mavis lay back with the cigarette between her red lips, the while her +eyes lazily took in the strange loveliness about her. The joy that +burned so fiercely in her heart seemed to have been communicated to the +world. Sea, cliff, waterfalls were all resplendent in the bountiful +sunlight. + +"It's not real: it's not real," she presently murmured. + +"What isn't real?" he asked. + +"This: you: love." + +He reassured her with kisses. + +"If it would only go on for ever!" she continued. "I'm so hungry for +happiness." + +"Why shouldn't it?" he laughed. + +"Will it be just the same when we're married?" + +"Eh! Of course." + +"Sure?" + +"So long as you don't change," he declared. + +She laughed scornfully, while he sauntered down to the sea, cigarette +in mouth. Mavis settled herself luxuriously to watch the adored one +through lazy, half-closed eyelids. He had previously thrown away his +straw hat; she saw how the wind wantoned in his light curls. All her +love seemed to well up into her throat. She would have called to him, +but her tongue refused speech; she was sick with love; she wondered if +she would ever recover. As he idled back, her eyes were riveted on his +face. + +"What's up with little Mavis?" he asked carelessly, as he reached her +side. + +"I love you--I love you--I love you!" she whispered faintly. + +He threw himself beside her to exclaim: + +"You look done. Is it the heat?" + +"Love--love for you," she murmured. + +He kissed her neck, first lifting the soft hair behind her ear. Her +head rested helplessly on his shoulder. + +"I'll see about luncheon when little Mavis will let me," he remarked. + +"Don't fidget: I want to talk." + +"I'll listen, provided you only talk about love." + +"That's what I wanted to talk about." + +"Good!" + +"No one's ever loved as we do?" she asked anxiously. + +"No one." + +"Or ever will?" + +"Never." + +"Sure?" + +"Quite." + +"I'm sure too. And nothing's ever--ever going to change it." + +"Nothing. What could?" + +"I love you. Oh, how I love you!" she whispered, as she nestled closer +to him. + +"Don't you believe I love you?" he asked hoarsely. + +"Prove it." + +"How?" + +"By kissing my eyes." + +As they sat, her arms stole about him; she wished that they were +stronger, so that she could press him closer to her heart. Presently, +he unpacked the luncheon basket, spread the cloth, and insisted on +making all the preparations for their midday meal. She watched him cut +up the cold chicken, uncork the claret, mix the salad--this last an +elaborate process. + +"It's delicious," she remarked, when she tasted his concoction. + +"That's all I'm good for, Tommy rotten things of no real use to anyone." + +"But it is of use. It's added to the enjoyment of my lunch." + +"But there's no money in it: that's what I should have said." + +He filled her glass and his with claret. Before either of them drank, +they touched each other's glasses. + +"Suggest a toast!" said Mavis. + +"Love," replied Perigal. + +"Our love," corrected Mavis, as she gave him a glance rich with meaning. + +"Our love, then: the most beautiful thing in the world." + +"Which, unlike everything else, never dies," she declared. + +They drank. Mavis presently put down her knife and fork, to take +Perigal's and feed him with tid-bits from her or his plate. She would +not allow him to eat of anything without her sanction; she stuffed him +as the dictates of her fancy suggested. Then she mixed great black +berries with the Cornish cream. When they had eaten their fill, she lit +a cigarette, while her lover ate cheese. When he had finished, he sat +quite close to her as he smoked. Mavis abandoned herself to the +enjoyment of her cigarette; supported by her lover's arm, she looked +lazily at the wild beauty spread so bountifully about her. The sun, the +sea, the sky, the cliff, the day all seemed an appropriate setting to +the love which warmed her body. The man at her side possessed her +thoughts to the exclusion of all else; she threw away her half-smoked +cigarette to look at him with soft, tremulous eyes. Suddenly, she put +an arm about his neck and bent his face back, which accomplished, she +leant over him to kiss his hair, eyes, neck, and mouth. + +"I love you! I love you! I love you!" she murmured. + +"You're wonderful, little Mavis--wonderful." + +Her kisses intoxicated him. He closed his eyes and slept softly. She +pulled him towards her, so that his head was pillowed on her heart; +then, feeling blissfully, ecstatically happy, she closed her eyes and +turned her head so that the sunlight beat full on her face. She lost +all sense of surroundings and must have slept for quite two hours. When +she awoke, the sun was low in the heavens. She shivered slightly with +cold, and was delighted to see the kettle boiling for tea on a +spirit-lamp, which Perigal had lit in the shelter of the luncheon +basket. + +"How thoughtful of my darling!" she remarked. + +"It's just boiling. I won't keep you a moment longer than I can help." + +She sipped her tea, to feel greatly refreshed with her sleep. They ate +heartily at this meal. They were both so radiantly happy that they +laughed whenever there was either the scantiest opportunity or none at +all. The most trivial circumstance delighted them; sea and sky seemed +to reflect their boundless happiness. The sea had, by now, crept quite +close to them: they amused themselves by watching the myriads of +sand-flies which were disturbed by every advancing wave. + +"We must soon be thinking of jacking up," said Perigal. + +"Surely not yet, dearest." + +"But it's past six." + +"Don't let us go a moment sooner than is necessary," she pleaded. "It's +all been too wonderful." + +As the September sun had sunk behind the cliffs, they no longer felt +his warmth. When Perigal had packed the luncheon basket, they walked +about hand in hand, exploring the inmost recesses of their romantic +retreat. It was only when it was quite dusk that they regretfully made +a start for home. + +"Go on a moment. I must take a last look of where I have been so +happy," said Mavis. + +"Alone?" + +"If you don't mind. I want to see what it's like without you. I want to +carry it in my mind all my life." + +It was not long before Mavis rejoined her lover. When she had looked at +the spot where she had enjoyed a day of unalloyed rapture, it appeared +strangely desolate in the gathering gloom of night. + +"Serve you right for wishing to be without me," he laughed, when she +told him how the place had presented itself to her. + +"You're quite right. It does," she assented. + +They had some difficulty in finding foothold on the covered way, but +Perigal, by lighting matches, did much to dissipate the gloom. + +"Isn't it too bad of me?" asked Mavis suddenly, "I've forgotten all +about dear Jill." + +"But you were talking about her a lot yesterday." + +"I mean to-day. She'd never forgive me if she knew." + +"You must explain how happy you've been when you see her." + +When they got out by the churchyard, they found that the night was +spread with innumerable stars. She nestled close to his side as they +walked in the direction of Polperro. Now and again, a thick growth of +hedge flowers would fill their pathway with scent, when Mavis would +stop to drink her fill of the fragrance. + +"Isn't it delicious?" she asked. + +"It knew you were coming and has done its best to greet you." + +"It's all too wonderful," she murmured. + +"Like your good-night kisses," he whispered. + +A love tremor possessed her body. + +"Say I love you," she said at another of their frequent halts. + +"I love you! I love you! I love you!" + +"I love music. But there's no music like that." + +He placed his arm caressingly about her soft, warm body. + +"Don't!" she pleaded. + +"Don't!" he queried in surprise. + +"It makes me love you so." + +She spoke truly: from her lips to her pretty toes her body was burning +with love. Her ecstasy was such that one moment she felt as if she +could wing a flight into the heavens; at another, she was faint with +love-sickness, when she clung tremulously to her lover for support. + +Above, the stars shone out with a yet greater brilliance and in immense +profusion. Now and again, a shooting star would dart swiftly down to go +out suddenly. The multitude of many coloured stars dazzled her brain. +It seemed to her love-intoxicated imagination as if night embraced the +earth, even as Perigal held her body to his, and that the stars were an +illumination and were twinkling so happily in honour of the double +union. For all the splendid egotism born of human passion, the immense +intercourse of night and earth seemed to reduce her to insignificance. +She crept closer to Perigal's side, as if he could give her the +protection she needed. He too, perhaps, was touched with the same +lowliness, and the same hunger for the support of loving sympathy. His +hand sought hers; and with a great wonder, a great love and a great +humility in their hearts, they walked home. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + +THE CURSE OF EVE + + +A little one was journeying to Mavis. A great fear, not unmixed with a +radiant wonder, filled her being. It was now three months since her +joyous stay with Perigal at Polperro. At the expiration of an +all-too-brief fortnight, she had gone back, dazed, intoxicated with +passion, to her humdrum work at the Melkbridge boot factory; while +Perigal, provided by his father with the sinews of war, had departed +for Wales, there to lay siege to elusive fortune. During this time, +Mavis had seen him once or twice, when he had paid hurried visits to +Melkbridge, and had heard from him often. Although his letters made +copious reference to the never-to-be-forgotten joys they had +experienced at Polperro, she scanned them anxiously, and in vain, for +any reference to his marrying her now, or later. The omission caused +her many painful hours; she realised more and more that, after the +all-important part she had suffered him to play in her life, it would +not be meet for her to permit any other man to be on terms other than +friendship with her. It was brought home to her, and with no uncertain +voice, how, in surrendering herself to her lover, she was no longer his +adored Mavis, but nothing more nor less than his "thing," who was +wholly, completely in his power, to make or mar as he pleased. + +During these three months, she had seen or heard nothing of Windebank, +so concluded that he was away. + + * * * * * + +She was much perturbed with wondering what she should do with the +sumptuous dressing-case he had given her for a wedding present. + +Directly there was no longer room for doubt that her union with Perigal +would, in the fulness of time, bear fruit, she wrote telling him her +news, and begging him to see her with as little delay as possible. In +reply, she received a telegram, curtly telling her to be outside +Dippenham station on Saturday afternoon at four. + +This was on a Wednesday. Mavis's anxiety to hear from Perigal was such +that her troubled blood set up a raging abscess in the root of a tooth +that was scarcely sound. The least movement increased her torments; but +what troubled her even more than the pain, was that, when the latter +began to subside, one of her cheeks commenced to swell. She was anxious +to look her very best before her lover: her lopsided face gave her a +serio-comic expression. The swelling had diminished a little before she +set out on the bleak December afternoon to meet her lover. Before she +went, she looked long and anxiously in the glass. Apart from the +disfigurement caused by the swelling, she saw (yet strove to conceal +from herself) that her condition was already interfering with her +fresh, young comeliness: her eyes were drawn; her features wore a +tense, tired expression. As she looked out of the carriage window on +her train journey to Dippenham, the gloom inspired by the darkening +shadows of the day, the dreariness of the bleak landscape, chilled her +to the heart. She comforted herself by reflecting with what eager +cheerfulness Perigal would greet her; how delighted he would be at +receiving from her lips further confirmation of her news; how loyally +he would fulfil his many promises by making the earliest arrangements +for their marriage. Arrived at her destination, she learned she would +have to wait twelve minutes till the train arrived that would bring her +lover from Wales. She did not stay in the comparative comfort of the +waiting-room, but, despite the pain that movement still gave her, +preferred to wander in the streets of the dull, quaint town till his +train was due. A thousand doubts assailed her mind: perhaps he would +not come, or would be angry with her, or would meet with an accident +upon the way. Her mind travelled quickly, and her body felt the need of +keeping pace with the rapidity of her thoughts. She walked with sharp, +nervous steps down the road leading from the station, to be pulled up +by the insistent pain in her head. She returned so carefully that +Perigal's train was steaming into the station as she reached the +booking office. She walked over the bridge to get to his platform, to +be stopped for a few moments by the rush, roar, and violence of a West +of England express, passing immediately under where she stood. The +disturbance of the passing train stunned and then jarred her +overwrought nerves, causing the pain in her face to get suddenly worse. +As she met those who had got out of the train Perigal would come by, +she wondered if he would so much as notice the disfigurement of her +face. For her part, if he came to her one-armed and blind, it would +make no difference to her; indeed, she would love him the more. Perigal +stepped from the door of a first class compartment, seemingly having +been aroused from sleep by a porter; he carried a bag. + +Mavis noticed, with a great concern, how careworn he was looking--a +great concern, because, directly she set eyes on him, she realised the +immensity of her love for him. At that moment she loved him more than +she had ever done before; he was not only her lover, to whom she had +surrendered herself body and soul, but also the father of her unborn +little one. Faintness threatened her; she clung to the handle of a +weighing machine for support. + +"More trouble!" he remarked, as he reached her. + +She looked at him with frightened eyes, finding it hard to believe the +evidence of her ears. + +"W-what?" she faltered. + +"Heavens!" + +"What's the matter, dear?" + +"What have you done to your face?" + +"I--I hoped you wouldn't notice. I've had an abscess." + +"Notice it! Haven't you looked in the glass?" + +Mavis bit her lip. + +"I shouldn't have thought you could look so--look like that," he +continued. + +"What trouble did you mean?" she found words to ask. + +"This. Why you sent for me." + +She felt as if he had stabbed her. She stopped, overwhelmed by the blow +that the man she loved so whole-heartedly had struck her. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"Nothing--only--" + +"Only what?" + +"You don't seem at all glad to see me." + +She spoke as if pained at and resentful of his coldness. He looked at +her, to watch the suffering in her eyes crystallise into a defiant +hardness. + +"I am, no end. But I'm tired and cold. Wait till we've had something to +eat," he said kindly. + +Mavis melted. Her love for him was such that she found it no easy +matter being angry with him. + +"How selfish of me! I ought to have known," she remarked. "Let someone +take your bag." + +"I don't know where I'm going to stop. I'll leave it at the station for +the present." + +"Aren't you going home?" she asked in some surprise. + +"We'll talk over everything when I've got warm." + +She waited while he left his bag in the cloak-room. When he joined her, +they walked along the street leading from the station. + +"I could have seen what's up with you without being told," he remarked +ungenially. + +"It won't be for so very long. I shall look all right again some day," +she declared, with a sad little laugh. + +"That's the worst of women," he went on. "Just when you think +everything's all right, this goes and happens." + +His words fired her blood. + +"I should have thought you would have been very proud," she cried. + +"Eh!" + +"However foolish I've been, I'm not the ordinary sort of woman. Where +I've been wrong is in being too kind to you." + +She paused for breath. She was also a little surprised at her bold +words; she was so completely at the man's mercy. + +"I do appreciate it. I'd be a fool if I didn't. But it's this +development that's so inconvenient." + +"Inconvenient! Inconvenient you call it--!" + +"This will do us," he interrupted, pausing at the doorway of the +"King's Arms Hotel." + +"I'm not sure I'll come in." + +"Please yourself. But it's as well to have a talk, so that we can see +exactly where we stand." + +His words voiced the present desire of her heart. She was burning to +put an end to her suspense, to find out exactly where she stood. The +comparative comfort of the interior of the hotel thawed his coldness. + +"Rather a difficult little Mavis," he smiled as they ascended the +stairs. + +"I'm all right till I'm roused. Then I feel capable of anything." + +"The sort of girl I admire," he admitted. + +He engaged a sitting-room and bedroom for the night. Mavis did not +trouble to consider what relation to Perigal the hotel people believed +her to be. Her one concern was to discover his intentions with regard +to the complication which had arisen in her life. She ordered tea. +While it was being got ready, she sat by the newly-lit fire, a prey to +gloomy thoughts. The pain in her face had, in a measure, abated. She +was alone, Perigal having gone to the bedroom to wash after his +journey. She contrasted her present misery with the joyousness that had +possessed her when last she had been under the same roof as her lover. +Tears welled into her eyes, but she held them back, fearing they would +further contribute to the undoing of her looks. + +When the tea was brought, she made the waiter wheel the table to the +fire; she also took off her cloak and hat and smoothed her hair in the +glass. She put the toast by the fire in order to keep it warm. She +wanted everything to be comfortable and home-like for her lover. She +then poked the fire into a blaze and moved a cumbrous arm chair to a +corner of the tea table. When Perigal came in, he was smoking a +cigarette. + +"Trying to work up a domestic atmosphere," he laughed, with a faint +suggestion of a sneer in his hilarity. + +Mavis bit her lip. + +"It was the obvious thing to do. Don't be obvious, little Mavis. It +jars." + +"Won't you have some tea?" she faltered. + +"No, thanks. I've ordered something a jolly sight better than tea," he +said, warming his hands at the fire. + +Mavis was too stunned to make any comment. She found it hard to believe +that the ardent lover of Polperro and the man who was so indifferent to +her extremity, were one and the same. She felt as if her heart had been +hammered with remorseless blows. They waited in silence till a waiter +brought in a bottle of whisky, six bottles of soda water, glasses, and +a box of cigarettes. + +"Have some whisky?" asked Perigal of Mavis. + +"I prefer tea!" + +"Have some in that?" + +"No, thank you." + +While Mavis sipped her tea, she watched him from the corner of her eyes +mix himself a stiff glass of whisky and soda. She would have given many +years of her life to have loved him a little less than she did; she +dimly realised that his indifference only fanned the raging fires of +her passion. + +"I feel better now," he said presently. + +"I'm glad. I must be going." + +"Eh!" + +Mavis got up and went to get her hat. + +"I wish you to stay for dinner." + +"I'm sorry. But I must get back," she said, as she pinned on her hat. + +"I wish you to stay," he declared, as he caught her insistently by the +arm. + +The touch of his flesh moved her to the marrow. She sat helplessly. He +appeared to enjoy her abject surrender. + +"Now I'll have some tea, little Mavis," he said. + +She poured him out a cup, while he got the toast from the fender to +press some on her. He began to recover his spirits; he talked, laughed, +and rallied her on her depression. She was not insensible to his change +of mood. + +When the tea was taken away, he pressed a cigarette on her against her +will. + +"You always get your own way," she murmured, as he lit it for her. + +"Now we'll have a cosy little chat," he said, as he wheeled her chair +to the fire. He brought his chair quite near to hers. + +Mavis did not suffer quite so much. + +"Now about this trouble," he continued. "Tell me all about it." + +She restated the subject of her last letter in as few words as +possible. When she had finished, he asked her a number of questions +which betrayed a familiar knowledge of the physiology of her extremity. +She wondered where he could have gained his information, not without +many jealous pangs at this suggestion of his having been equally +intimate with others of her sex. + +"Hang it all! It's not nearly so bad as it might be," he said presently. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why that, if every woman who got into the same scrape did nothing to +help herself, the world would be over-populated in five minutes." + +Mavis sat bolt upright. Her hands grasped the arms of her chair; her +eyes stared straight before her. There arose to her quick fancy the +recollection of certain confidences of Miss Allen, which had hinted at +hideous malpractices of the underworld of vice, affecting women in a +similar condition to hers. + +"Well?" said Perigal. + +The sound of his voice recalled her to the present. + +Mavis rose, placed a hand on each arm of Perigal's chair, and leant +over so as to look him full in the eyes, as she said icily: + +"Do you know what you are saying?" + +"Eh! Dear little Mavis. You take everything so seriously," he remarked, +as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. + +She sat back in her chair, uneasy, troubled: vague, unwholesome, sordid +shadows seemed to gather about her. + +"Ever gone in for sea-fishing?" Perigal asked, after some minutes of +silence. + +"No." + +"I'm awfully keen. I'm on it all day when the wind isn't east." + +This enthusiasm for sea-fishing struck a further chill to Mavis's +forlorn heart. She could not help thinking that, if he had been moved +by a loving concern for her welfare, he would have devoted his days to +the making of a competence on which they could live. + +"Now about this trouble," said Perigal, at which Mavis listened with +all her ears. He went on: "I know, of course, the proper thing, the +right thing to do is to marry you at once." Here he paused. + +Mavis waited in suspense for him to go on; it seemed an epoch of time +till he added: + +"But what are we going to live upon?" + +She kept on repeating his words to herself. She felt as if she were +drowning in utter darkness. + +"I can tell you at once that there's precious little money in bricks. +I'm fighting against big odds, and if I were worrying about you--if you +had enough to live upon and all that--I couldn't give proper attention +to business." + +"It would be heaven for me," she remarked. + +"So you say now. All I ask you to do is to trust implicitly in me and +wait." + +"How long?" she gasped. + +"I can't say for certain. It all depends." + +"On what?" + +"Circumstances." + +She did not speak for some moments, the while she repressed an impulse +to throw herself at his feet, and implore him to reconsider his +indefinite promise. + +"Will you pour me out a little whisky?" she said presently. + +"What about your face? It might make it throb." + +"I'll chance that." + +"Aren't you well, little Mavis?" he asked kindly. + +"Not very. It must be the heat of the room." + +She gulped down the spirit, to feel the better for it. It seemed to +give her heart to face her misfortunes. She could say no more just +then, as a man came into the room to lay the table. + +Whilst this operation was in progress, she thought of the unlooked-for +situation in which she found herself. It was not so very long since +Perigal was the suppliant, she the giver; now, the parts were reversed, +except that, whereas she had given without stint, he withheld that +which every wholesome instinct of his being should urge him to bestow +without delay. + +She wondered at the reason of the change, till the words he had spoken +on the day of their jaunt to Broughton occurred to her: + +"No sooner was one want satisfied than another arose to take its place. +It's a law of nature that ensures the survival of the fittest, by +making men always struggle to win the desire of the moment." + +She had been Perigal's desire, but, once won, another had taken its +place, which, so far as she could see, was sea-fishing. She smiled +grimly at the alteration in his taste. Then, an idea illuminated, +possessed her mind. + +"Why not make myself desirable so that he will be eager to win me +again," she thought. + +So Mavis, despite the pain in her face, which owing to the spirit she +had drunk was beginning to trouble her again, set out on the most +dismal of all feminine quests--that of endeavouring to make a worldly, +selfish man pay the price of his liberty, and endure poverty for that +which he had already enjoyed to the full. With a supreme effort of +will, she subdued her inclination to unrestrained despair; with +complete disregard of the acute pain in her head, she became gay, +light-hearted, irresponsible, joyous. There was an undercurrent of +suffering in her simulated mirth, but Perigal did not notice it; he was +taken by surprise at the sudden change in her mood. He responded to her +supposititious merriment; he laughed and joked as irrepressibly as did +Mavis. + +"Quite like the old Polperro days," he replied to one of Mavis' sallies. + +His remark reduced her to momentary thoughtfulness. The staple dish of +the extemporised meal was a pheasant. Perigal, despite her protests, +was heaping up her plate a second time, when he said: + +"Do you know what I was dreading the whole way up?" + +"That you'd got into the right train!" + +"Scarcely that. I was funky you'd do the obvious sentimental thing, and +wear the old Polperro dress." + +"As if I would!" + +"Anyway, you haven't. Besides, it's much too cold." + +He ordered champagne. Further to play the part of Circe to his Ulysses, +she drank a little of this, careless of the pain it might inflict. +Although she was worn down by her anxieties and the pain of her +abscess, it gave her an immense thrill of pleasure to notice how soon +she recovered her old ascendancy over him. Now, his admiring eyes never +left her face. Once, when he got up to hand her something, he went out +of his way to come behind her to kiss her neck. + +"Little Mavis is a fascinating little devil," he remarked, as he +resumed his seat. + +"That's what you thought when I met you at the station." + +"I was tired and worried, and worry destroys love quicker than +anything. Now--" + +"Now!" + +"You've gone the shortest way to 'buck' me up." + +Thus encouraged, Mavis made further efforts to captivate Perigal, and +persuade him to fulfill the desire of her heart. Now, he was constantly +about her on any and every excuse, when he would either kiss her or +caress her hair. After dinner, they sat by the fire, where they drank +coffee and smoked cigarettes. Presently, Perigal slipped on the ground +beside her, where he leaned his head against her knee, while he fondled +one of her feet. Her fingers wandered in his hair. + +"Like old times, sweetheart!" he said, + +"Is it?" she laughed. + +"It is to me, little Mavis. I love you! I love you! I love you!" + +Mavis's heart leapt. Life held promise of happiness after all. + +"What have you arranged about tonight?" he asked, after a few moments' +silence. + +"Nothing unusual. Why?" + +"Must you go back?" + +"Why?" she asked, wondering what he was driving at. + +"I thought you might stay here." + +"Stay here!" she gasped. + +"With me--as you did in Polperro." Then, as she did not speak: "There's +no reason why you shouldn't!" + +A great horror possessed Mavis. This, then, was all she had laboured +for; all he thought of her. She had believed that he would have offered +immediate marriage. His suggestion helped her to realise the +hopelessness of her situation; how, in the eternal contest between the +sexes, she had not only laid all her cards upon the table, but had +permitted him to win every trick. She fell from the summit of her +blissful anticipations into a slough of despair. She had little or no +hope of his ever making her the only possible reparation. Ruin, +disgrace, stared her in the face. And after all the fine hopes with +which she had embarked on life! Her pride revolted at this promise of +hapless degradation. Anything rather than that. There was but one way +to avoid such a fate, not only for her, but for the new life within +her. The roar and rush of the express, when she had crossed the +footbridge at the station, sounded hopefully in her ears. + +"There's no reason why you shouldn't!" he repeated. + +"Indeed?" she said mechanically. + +"Is there? After all that's happened, what difference can it make?" he +persisted, as he reached for a cigarette. + +"What difference can it make?" she repeated dully. + +"Good! Dear little Mavis! Have another cigarette." + +Unseen by him, she had caught up coat, gloves, and hat, and moved +towards the door. Here she had paused, finding it hard to leave him +whom she loved unreservedly for other women to caress and care for. + +The words, "What difference can it make?" decided her. They spurred her +along the short, quick road which was to end in peaceful oblivion. She +opened the door noiselessly, and slipped down the stairs and out of the +front door with out being seen by any of the hotel people. Once in the +street, where a drizzle was falling, she turned to the right in the +direction of the station. It seemed a long way. She would have liked to +have stepped from the room, in which she had been with Perigal, on to +the rails before the passing express. She hurried on. Although it was +Saturday night, there were few people about, the bad weather keeping +many indoors who would otherwise be out. She was within a few paces of +the booking office when she felt a hand on her arm. + +"Don't stop me! Let me go!" she cried. + +"Where to?" asked Perigal's voice. + +She pressed forward. + +"Don't be a little fool. Are you mad? Stop!" + +He forced her to a standstill. + +"Now come back," he said. + +"No. Let me go." + +"Are you so mad as to do anything foolish?" + +By way of reply, she made a vain effort to free herself. He tried to +reason with her, but nothing he urged could change her resolution. Her +face was expressionless; her eyes dull; her mind appeared to be +obsessed by a determination to take her life. He changed his tactics. + +"Very well, then," he said, "come along." + +She looked at him, surprised, as she started off. + +"Where you go, I go; whatever you do, I do." + +She paused to say: + +"If you'd let me have my own way, I should be now out of my misery." + +"You only think of yourself," he cried. "You don't mind what would +happen to me if you--if you--!" + +"A lot you'd care!" she interrupted. + +"Don't talk rot. It's coming down worse than ever. Come back to the +hotel." + +"Never that," she said, compressing her lip. + +"You'll catch your death here." + +"A good thing too. I can't go on living. If I do, I shall go mad," she +cried, pressing her hands to her head. + +Passers-by were beginning to notice them. + +Without success, Perigal urged her to walk. + +She became hysterically excited and upbraided him in no uncertain +voice. She seemed to be working herself into a paroxysm of frenzy. To +calm her, perhaps because he was moved by her extremity, he overwhelmed +her with endearments, the while he kissed her hands, her arms, her +face, when no one was by. + +She was influenced by his caresses, for she, presently, permitted +herself to walk with him down the street, where they turned into the +railed-in walk which crossed the churchyard. + +He redoubled his efforts to induce in her a more normal state of mind. + +"Don't you love me, little Mavis?" he asked. "If you did, you wouldn't +distress me so." + +"Love you!" she laughed scornfully. + +"Then why can't you listen and believe what I say?" + +He said more to the same effect, urging, begging, praying her to trust +him to marry her, when he could see his way clearly. + +Perhaps because the mind, when confronted with danger, fights for +existence as lustily as does the body, Mavis, against her convictions, +strove with some success to believe the honeyed assurances which +dropped so glibly from her lover's tongue. His eloquence bore down her +already enfeebled resolution. + +"Go on; go on; go on!" she cried. "It's all lies, no doubt; but it's +sweet to listen to all the same." + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"Your love-words, I mean. They're all I've got to live for now. What +you can't find heart to say, invent. You've no idea what good it does +me." + +"Mavis!" he cried reproachfully. + +"It seems to give me life," she declared, to add after a few moments of +silence: "Situated as I am, they're like drops of water to a man dying +of thirst." + +"But you're not going to die: you're going to live and be happy with +me!" + +She looked at him questioningly, putting her soul into her eyes. + +"But you must trust me," he continued. + +"Haven't I already?" she asked. + +He took no notice of her remark, but gave utterance to a platitude. + +"There's no love without trust," he said. + +"Say that again." + +"There's no love without trust," he repeated. "What are you thinking +of?" he asked, as she did not speak. + +A light kindled in her eyes; her face was aglow with emotion; her bosom +heaved convulsively. + +"You ask me to trust you?" she said. + +He nodded. + +"Very well, then: I love you; I will." + +"Mavis!" he cried. + +"More, I'll prove it. You asked me to stay here with you. I refused. I +love you--I trust you. Do with me as you will." + +"Mavis!" + +"I distrusted you. I did wrong, I atone." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + +SNARES + + +The Sunday week after Mavis' meeting with Perigal at Dippenham, she +left the train at Paddington a few minutes after six in the evening. +She got a porter to wheel her luggage to the cloak-room, reserving a +small handbag for her use, which contained her savings. + +She then made for the refreshment room, where she ordered and sipped a +cup of tea. She would have liked more, but as she had so much to do +with her money, she did not think she dare afford the threepence which +she would have to pay for another cup. As she rested for some moments +in the comparative seclusion of the refreshment room, she derived +satisfaction from the fact that she had got away from Melkbridge before +any suspicions had arisen of her condition. Upon her return to her +lodging after seeing Perigal, she had, at his instigation, written to +Mr Devitt, telling him that she would be leaving his employment in a +week's time. She gave no reason for throwing up her work, beyond saying +that the state of her health necessitated a change of occupation. She +had also given notice to Mrs Farthing, and had spent her spare time in +packing up and saying goodbye to her few friends. Her chief difficulty +was with her dear Jill, as she knew how many London landladies objected +to having dogs in lodgings. At last, she arranged for Mrs Trivett to +look after her pet till such time as she could be sent for. Mavis had +offered the farmer's wife a shilling or two a week for Jill's keep, but +her kind friend would not hear of any such arrangement being made. Then +had followed Mavis' goodbye to her dog, a parting which had greatly +distressed her. Jill had seemed to divine that something was afoot, for +her eyes showed a deep, pleading look when Mavis had clasped her in her +arms and covered her black face with kisses. She thought of her now as +she sat in the waiting room; tears welled to her eyes. With a sigh she +realised that she must set about looking for a lodging. She left the +waiting room in order to renew the old familiar quest. Mavis walked +into the depressing ugliness of Eastbourne Terrace, at the most dismal +hour of that most dismal of all days, the London Sunday in winter. The +street lamps seemed to call attention to the rawness of the evening +air. The roads, save for a few hurrying, recently released servants, +were deserted; every house was lit up--all factors that oppressed Mavis +with a sense of unspeakable loneliness. She became overwhelmed with +self-consciousness; she believed that every passer-by, who glanced at +her, could read her condition in her face; she feared that her secret +was known to a curious, resentful world. Mavis felt heartsick, till, +with something of an effort, she remembered that this, and all she had +to endure in the comparatively near future, should be and were +sacrifices upon the shrine of the loved one. She had walked some +distance along Praed Street, and was now in the wilderness of +pretentious, stucco-faced mansions, which lie between Paddington and +the north side of Hyde Park. She knew it was useless to seek for +lodgings here, so pressed on, hoping to arrive at a humbler +neighbourhood, where she would be more likely to get what she wanted. +As she walked, the front doors of the big houses would now and again +open, when she was much surprised at the vulgar appearance of many of +those who came out. It seemed to her as if the district in which she +found herself was largely tenanted by well-to-do, but self-made people. +After walking for many minutes, she reached the Bayswater Road, which +just now was all but deserted. The bare trees on the further side of +the road accentuated the desolation of the thoroughfare. She turned to +the left and pressed on, fighting valiantly against the persistent +spirit of loneliness which seemed to dog her footsteps. Men and girls +hurried by to keep appointments with friends or lovers. Buses jogged +past her, loaded with people who all had somewhere to go, and probably +someone who looked for their coming. She was friendless and alone. Ever +since her interview with Perigal she had realised how everything she +valued in life, if not life itself, depended on her implicit faith in +him. He had told her that there could be no love without trust; she had +believed in this assertion as if it had been another revelation, and it +had enabled her to go through the past week with hardly a pang of +regret (always excepting her parting from Jill) at breaking with all +the associations that had grown about her life during her happy stay at +Melkbridge. + +Now doubts assailed her mind. She knew that if she surrendered to them +it meant giving way to despair; she thought of any and all of Perigal's +words which she could honestly construe into a resolve on his part to +marry her before her child was born. As she thus struggled against her +unquiet thoughts, two men (at intervals of a few minutes) followed and +attempted to speak to her. Their unwelcome attentions increased her +uneasiness of mind; they seemed to tell her of the dubious ways by +which men sought to entangle in their toils those of her own sex who +were pleasing to the eye: just now, she lumped all men together, and +would not admit that there was any difference between them. Arrived in +the neighbourhood of the Marble Arch, she was sure of her ground. She +was reminded of her wanderings of evenings from "Dawes'," when, if not +exploring Soho, she had often walked in this direction. Memories of +those long-forgotten days, which now seemed so remote, assailed her at +every step. Then she had believed herself to be unhappy. Now she would +have given many years of her life to be able to change her present +condition (including her trust in Perigal) to be as she was before she +had met him. Directly she crossed Edgware Road, the pavement became +more crowded. Shop-girls (the type of young woman she knew well) and +hobbledehoyish youths, the latter clad in "reach-me-down" frockcoat +suits, high collars, and small, ready-made bow ties, thronged about +her. She could not help contrasting the anaemic faces, the narrow, +stooping shoulders of these youths with the solidly-built, +ruddy-cheeked men whom she had seen in Wiltshire. She was rapidly +losing her old powers of physical endurance; she felt exhausted, and +turned into the small Italian restaurant on the left, which she had +sometimes gone to when at "Dawes'." + +"It hasn't changed one bit," she thought, as she entered and walked to +the inner room. There was the same bit of painted canvas at the further +end of the place, depicting nothing in particular. There were the same +shy, self-conscious, whispering couples seated at the marble-topped +tables, who, after critically looking over the soiled bill of fare, +would invariably order coffee, roll and butter, or, if times were good, +steak and fried potatoes. The same puffy Italian waiter stood by the +counter, holding, as of old, coffee-pot in one hand and milk-pot in the +other. Mavis always associated this man with the pots, which he never +relinquished; she remembered wondering if he slept, still holding them +in his grasp. + +She ordered a veal cutlet and macaroni, for which the place was famous +among the epicures of "Dawes'." While it was being prepared, she +brought notepaper, envelope, and pencil from her bag, to write a short +note to Perigal. + +The morning post had brought her a letter from him, which had enclosed +notes to the value of ten pounds towards the expenses of her enforced +stay in London. Her reply told him that, as she had enough for present +needs, she returned his money. She suggested that if he had no use for +it, he could put it towards the expenses of providing their home; that +she had arrived safely in London; that she was about to look for a +lodging. She ended with passionately affectionate wishes for his +wellbeing. When she had put the money and letter into the envelope, and +this into her bag, her meal was banged down before her. She ordered a +bottle of stout, for had she not to nourish another life beside her +own? After Mavis had finished, she did not feel in the least disposed +to go out. She sat back on the dingy plush seat, and enjoyed the +sensation of the food doing her good. It was seven o'clock when she +paid the waiter and joined the crowd now sauntering along Oxford +Street. She walked towards Regent Circus, hoping to find a post-office, +where she could get a stamp for Perigal's letter. She wondered if she +should go to church, if only for a few minutes, but decided to keep +away from a place of worship, feeling that her thoughts were too +occupied with her troubles to give adequate attention to the service. A +new, yet at the same time familiar dread, oppressed her. She seemed to +get relief from hurrying along the crowded pavement. She longed to get +settled for the night, but was still uncertain where to seek a lodging. +She had some thought of taking the Tube, and looking about her in the +direction of Hammersmith, but her one thought now was to get indoors +with as little delay as possible. She remembered that there was a maze +of private houses along the Tottenham Court Road, in many of which she +had often noticed that there was displayed a card, announcing that +apartments were to let. She took a 'bus to the Tottenham Court Road. +Arrived there, she got out and walked along it, to turn, presently, to +the right. Most of the houses, for all their substantial fronts, had an +indefinable atmosphere of being down at heel, perhaps because many were +almost in darkness. They looked like houses that were in no sense of +the word homes. She selected one of the least forbidding and knocked at +the door. After waiting some time, she heard footsteps scuffling along +the passage. A blowsy, elderly, red-faced woman opened the door. She +was clad in a greasy flannel dressing gown; unbrushed hair fell on her +shoulders; naked, unclean toes protruded through holes in her stockings +and slippers. + +"Good evening, dear," said the woman. Mavis turned to go. + +"Was you wanting rooms, my dear?" + +"I was." + +"I've the very thing you want. Don't run away." + +Mavis hesitated. + +"Don't judge of 'em by me. I ain't been quite myself, as you, being +another lady, can quite understand, an' I overslep' myself a bit; but +if you'll walk inside, you'll be glad you didn't go elsewhere." + +Mavis was so tired, that she persuaded herself that the landlady's +appearance might not be indicative (as it invariably is) of the +character of the rooms. + +"One moment. Oo sent yer?" asked the woman. + +"No one. I saw--" + +"Didn't Foxy?" + +"No one did. I saw the card in the window." + +"Please to walk upstairs." + +Mavis followed the woman up unswept stairs to the first floor, where +the landlady fumbled with a key in the lock of a door. + +"S'pose you know Foxy?" she queried. + +"No. Who is he?" + +"'E goes about the West End and brings me lady lodgers." + +"I'm from the country," remarked Mavis. + +"You a dear little bird from far away? You've fallen on a pretty perch, +my dear, an' you can thank Gawd you ain't got with some as I could +mention." + +By this time, they had got into the room, where the landlady lighted +one jet of a dirty chandelier. + +"There now!" cried the landlady triumphantly. + +Mavis looked about her at the gilt-framed glass over the mantelpiece, +the table, the five chairs (including one arm), the sofa and the +chiffonnier, which was pretty well all the furniture that the room +contained. The remains of a fire untidied the grate; the flimsiest +curtains were hung before the windows. The landlady was quick to notice +the look of disappointment on the girl's face. + +"See the bedroom, my dear, before you settle." + +This proved to be even less inviting than the sitting-room: hardly any +of the furniture was perfect; a dirty piece of stuff was pinned across +the window; dust lay heavy on toilet glass and mantel. Happily +contrasted with this squalor was the big bed, which was invitingly +comfortable and clean. + +Mavis was very tired; she looked longingly at the bed, with its +luxurious, lace-fringed pillows. The landlady marked her indecision. + +"It's very cheap, miss." + +"What do you call cheap?" + +"Two guineas a week; light an' coals extry." + +"Two guineas a week!" + +"You've perfec' liberty to bring in who you like." + +Mavis stared at her in astonishment. + +"An' no questions asked, my dear." + +Mavis wondered if the woman were in her right senses. + +"I thought you'd jump at it," she went on. "I could see it when you saw +the bed. The gentlemen like a nice clean bed." + +Mavis understood; clutching her bag, she walked to the door. + +"Not goin' to 'ave 'em?" screeched the landlady. + +Mavis hurried on. + +"Guinea a week and what extries you like. There!" + +Mavis ran down the stairs. + +"Won't they give you more than five shillings?" shouted the woman over +the banisters as Mavis reached the door. + +"I s'pose your beat is the Park," the woman shrieked, as Mavis ran down +the steps. + +Mavis ran a few yards, to stop short. She trembled from head to foot; +tears scalded her eyes, which, with a great effort, she kept back. She +was crushed with humiliation and shame. At once she thought of the +loved one, and how deeply he would resent the horrible insult to which +his tenderly loved little Mavis had been subjected. But there was no +time for vain imaginings. With the landlady's foul insinuations ringing +in her ears, she set about looking for a house where she might get what +she wanted. The rain, that had been threatening all day, began to fall, +but her umbrella was at Paddington. She was not very far from the +Tottenham Court Road. Fearful of catching cold in her present +condition, she hurried to this thoroughfare, where she thought she +might get shelter. When she got there, she found that places of vantage +were already occupied to their utmost capacity by umbrellaless folk +like herself. She hurried along till she came to what, from the +pseudoclassic appearance of the structure, seemed a place of dissenting +worship. She ran up the steps to the lobby, where she found the shelter +she required. A door leading to the chapel was open, which enabled her +to overhear the conclusion of the sermon. As the preacher's words fell +on her ears, she listened intently, and edged nearer to the door +communicating with the chapel. His message seemed meant expressly for +her. It told her that, despite anything anyone might presume to urge to +the contrary, God was ever the loving Father of His children; that He +rejoiced when they rejoiced, suffered when they sorrowed; however much +the faint-hearted might be led to believe that the world was ruled by +remorseless law, that much faith and a little patience would enable +even the veriest sinner to see how the seemingly cruellest inflictions +of Providence were for the sufferer's ultimate good, and, therefore, +happiness. + +Presently, when the rain stopped, Mavis came away feeling mentally +refreshed. As is usual with those in trouble, she applied anything +pertinent she read or heard about sorrow to herself. The fact of her +intercourse with Perigal having been in the nature of deadly sin did +not trouble her so much as might have been expected. She felt that God +would understand, and believed that to know all was to forgive all. +Also, try as she might, she could not see that her sin was of such a +deadly nature as it is made out to be by the Church. It seemed that her +surrender to her lover at Polperro had been the natural and inevitable +consequence of her love for him, and that, if the one were condemned, +so also should love be itself, inasmuch as it was plainly responsible +for what had happened. Now, she was glad to learn, on the authority of +the pulpit, that, however much she suffered from her present extremity, +it would be for her ultimate happiness. + +She started afresh to look for a lodging. She needed all the resolution +she could muster. Repulsive-looking foreign women opened most of the +doors at which she knocked, whilst surly-looking men hovered in the +background. + +Mavis wished she had started earlier for Hammersmith, to see what she +could find there. At last she went into a chemist's shop which she saw +open, to ask if she could be recommended to any rooms. A burly, +blotchy-faced, bearded man stood behind the bottle-laden counter. Mavis +stated her wants. + +"Married?" asked the man. + +"Y--yes--but I'm living by myself for the present." + +"Of course. But your husband would visit you," remarked the man with a +leer. + +Mavis looked at him in surprise. + +"Well, we'll call it your husband," suggested the chemist. + +Mavis walked from the shop. + +It seemed that everyone was in league to insult her. Her heart was +heavy with grief. She could not help thinking how the presence of the +loved one, a word of encouragement from him, would instantly dissipate +her soreness of heart and growing physical exhaustion. + +She gave up the idea of looking for rooms in this disreputable corner +of London. Her only concern was to get lodging for the night, so that +she could resume her quest on the morrow in a more likely part of the +great city. She stopped a policeman and asked to be directed to a +reasonable hotel. The man told her that she would find what she wanted +in the Euston Road. She walked along this depressing and sordid +thoroughfare, where what were once front gardens before comfortable +houses were now waste spaces, given over to the display of dilapidated +signboards of strange and unfamiliar trades. Here she dragged herself +up the steps of the hotels that abound in this road, to learn at each +one she applied at that they were full for the night. If she had not +been so tired, she would have wondered if they were speaking the truth, +or if they divined her condition and did not consider her to be a +respectable applicant. At the last at which she called, she was asked +to write her name in the hotel book. She commenced to write Mavis +Keeves, but remembered that she had decided to call herself Mrs Kenrick +while in London. She crossed out what she had written, to substitute +the name she had elected to bear. Whether or not this correction made +the hotel people suspicious, she was soon informed that she could not +be accommodated. Mavis, heartsore and weary, went out into the night. A +different class of person to the one that she had met earlier in the +evening began to infest the streets. Bold-eyed women, dressed in cheap +finery, appeared here and there, either singly or in pairs. The vague, +yet familiar fear, which she had experienced when she began to look for +rooms, again took possession of her with gradually increasing force. +She was soon on such familiar terms with this obsession, that she +remembered when and how it had first originated in her mind. It was +after her adventure with Mrs Hamilton and her chance meeting with the +never-to-be-forgotten Mrs Ewer, when a horrid fear of London had +possessed her soul. Now she saw, even plainer than before, the deep +pitfalls and foul morasses which ever menace the feet of unprotected +girls in London who have to earn their daily bread. If it were an +effort for her to snatch a living from the great industrial machine +when she was last in London, now, in her condition, it was practically +hopeless to look for work. Mind and body were paralysed by a great +fear. To add to her discomfiture, the rain again began to fall. +Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she walked up a pathway, running +parallel with the road, which flanked a row of forlorn-looking houses. +Here she felt so faint that she was compelled to cling to the railings +to save herself from falling. Two children passed, one of whom carried +a jug, who stopped to stare at her. + +"Please!" called Mavis weakly, at which one of the children approached +her. + +"Can you tell me where I can get a room?" + +"I'll ask fader," replied the child, who spoke with a German accent. + +Mavis remembered little beyond waiting an eternity of suspense, and +then of being assisted into a house, up a flight of stairs to a room +where she sank on the nearest thing handy. She opened her frock to +clutch, as if for protection, the ring Perigal had given her, and which +she always wore suspended on her heart. Then she was overtaken by +unconsciousness. + +When she awoke, she rubbed her eyes again and again, whilst a horrible +pungent smell affected her nostrils. She could scarcely believe that +she had got to where she found herself. She saw by the morning light, +which was feebly straggling into the room, that she was lying, fully +dressed, on an untidy, dirty bed. The room looked so abjectly wretched +that she sprang from her resting-place and attempted to draw the +curtains, in order to take complete stock of her +surroundings--attempted, because the dark, cheap cretonne, of which +they were made, refused to move, their tops being nailed to the upper +woodwork of the window by tintacks. She tried the second window (the +room boasted two), with the same result, owing to a like cause. For her +safety's sake, she was relieved to find that the room overlooked the +Euston Road. + +After turning back the chintz curtains, she looked about her. She had +never been in such a truly awful-looking room before. She had never +imagined that any four walls could enclose such hopeless, dejected +desolation as she saw. A round table stood in the middle of the +carpetless room. There were several other tables about this one. Upon +one stood a basin, in which was water that had some time ago been used +for the ablutionary purposes of someone sadly in need of a wash. Thick +rims of dirt encrusted the sides of the basin where the water had not +reached. The looking glass was pimpled with droppings from lighted +candles. Upon a further table was a tumbler filthy to look upon. The +bed was painted iron; it wanted a leg, and to supply the deficiency a +grocer's box had been thrust underneath. The blankets of the bed (which +contained two pillows) were as grubby as the sheets. The pillows beside +the one on which she had slept bore the impress of somebody's head. +Over everything, walls, furniture, ceiling, and floor, lay a thick +deposit of dust and grime. Misspelt lewd words were fingered on the +dirt of the window-panes. The horror of the room seemed to grip Mavis +by the throat. She coughed, to sicken at a foul feeling in her mouth, +which seemed to be gritty from the unclean air of the room. This +atmosphere was not only as if the windows had not been opened for +years; it was as if it had been inhaled over and over again by +alcohol-breathing lungs; also, the horrid memories of sordid lusts, of +unnumbered bestial acts, seemed to lie heavy on the polluted fuggy air. +To get away from the all-pervading stench, Mavis hurried to the door. +This, she could not help noticing, hung loosely on its hinges; also, +that about the doorplate were innumerable lock marks and screw holes, +as if the door had been furnished with fastenings, times out of number, +till the rotten wood refused to support any more. Mavis pulled open the +door and walked on to a carpetless landing and stairs. She stamped with +her foot, but this not attracting any attention, she called aloud. Her +voice echoed as if she were in a vault. After some time, she heard a +door unbolted, and a rough, unkempt man came up the stairs. + +"How much?" asked Mavis. + +"Five shillin'." + +"For that?" + +"Five shillin'," repeated the man doggedly. + +Mavis did not further argue the point, as, when she opened her mouth, +the stench of the room she had quitted seemed to fasten on her throat. + +She paid the money and was about to fly down the stairs. Then she +remembered her precious bag. Again holding her nose, she hurried back +into the room where she had unwittingly passed the night. The bag was +nowhere to be seen, although its outline was to be easily traced in the +dust on the table where she had put it. + +"My bag! my bag!" she cried. + +"Vot bag?" + +"The one I had last night. Here's its mark upon the table." + +"I know nodinks about it," replied the man, as he disappeared down the +stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + +A NEW ACQUAINTANCE + + +Mavis' heart seemed to stop. She knew the bag contained her trinkets, +her reserve capital of twenty-three pounds, Perigal's letters, her +powder-puff, and other feminine odds and ends. What she could not +remember was if she had posted her note to Perigal, which contained the +money she was returning to him. As much as her consternation would +permit, she rapidly passed over in her mind everything that had +happened since she had left the restaurant in Oxford Street. For the +life of her, she could not recall going into a postoffice to purchase +the stamp of which she had been in need. Her next thought was the +quickest way to get back her property, at which the word police +immediately suggested itself. Once outside the house, she made careful +note of its number; she then walked quickly till she came upon a +policeman, to whom she told her trouble. + +"Was you there alone?" asked the constable. + +Mavis looked at him inquiringly. + +"I mean was you with a gentleman?" + +Mavis bit her lip, but saw it would not help her to be indignant. She +told the man how she got there, a statement which made him civil and +sympathetic. + +"It's a bad place, and we've had many complaints about it. You'd better +complain to the inspector at the station, miss." + +He directed her to where she should go. Exhausted with hunger and the +fear of losing all her possessions, she followed the policeman's +instructions, till she presently found herself telling an inspector at +the station of the theft; he advised her to either make a charge, or, +if she disliked the publicity of the police court, to instruct a +solicitor. Believing that making a charge would be more effectual, +besides speedier, she told the inspector of her decision. + +"Very well. Your name, please?" + +"Mavis Kenrick." + +"Mrs," he wrote, as he glanced at the wedding ring which she now wore +on her finger. + +"What address, please?" was his next question. + +"I haven't one at present." + +The man looked at her in surprise, at which Mavis explained how she had +come from Melkbridge the day before. + +"At least you can give us your husband's address." + +"He's abroad," declared Mavis, with as much resolution as she could +muster. + +"Then you might give me the address of your friends in Melkbridge." + +"To write to?" asked Mavis. + +"In case it should be necessary." + +Mavis was at once aware of the inconvenient consequences to which an +application for references to anyone at Melkbridge would give rise, +especially as her name and state were alike incorrectly given. She +hesitated for a few moments before telling the inspector that, +disliking the publicity of the police court, she would prefer to +instruct a solicitor. As she left the station, she would have felt +considerably crestfallen, had she not been faint from want of food. She +dragged her way to a tea-shop, to feel the better for a cup of tea and +some toast. The taste of the room in which she had passed the night +still fouled her mouth; its stench clung to her clothes. She asked her +way to the nearest public baths, where she thought a shilling well +spent in buying the luxury of a hot bath. Her next concern was to seek +out a solicitor who would assist her to recover her stolen property. +She had a healthy distrust of the tribe, and was wondering if, after +all, it would not have been better to have risked the inspector's +writing to any address she may have given at Melkbridge, rather than +trust any chance lawyer with the matter, when she remembered that her +old acquaintance, Miss Meakin, was engaged to a solicitor's clerk. She +resolved to seek out Miss Meakin, and ask her to get her betrothed's +advice and assistance. As she did not know Miss Meakin's present +address, she thought the quickest way to obtain it was to call on her +old friend Miss Nippett at Blomfield Road, Shepherd's Bush, who kept +the register of all those who attended "Poulter's." + +She had never quite lost touch with the elderly accompanist; they had +sent each other cards at Christmas and infrequently exchanged picture +postcards, Miss Nippett's invariably being a front view of "Poulter's," +with Mr Poulter on the steps in such a position as not to obscure +"Turpsichor" in the background. + +Mavis travelled by the Underground to Shepherd's Bush, from where it +was only five minutes' walk to Miss Nippett's. The whole way down, she +was so dazed by her loss that she could give no thought to anything +else. The calamities that now threatened her were infinitely more +menacing than before her precious bag had been stolen. It seemed as if +man and circumstance had conspired for her undoing. Her suspense of +mind was such that it seemed long hours before she knocked at the +blistered door in the Blomfield Road where Miss Nippett lived. + +Miss Nippett was in, she learned from the red-nosed, chilblain-fingered +slut who opened the door. + +"What nyme?" + +"Mrs Kenrick, who was Miss Keeves," replied Mavis. + +"Will you go up?" said the slut when, a few minutes later, she came +downstairs. + +Mavis went upstairs, past the cupboard containing Miss Nippett's +collection of unclaimed "overs," to the door directly beyond. + + + +"Come in" cried a well-remembered voice, as Mavis knocked. + +She entered, to see Miss Nippett half rising from a chair before the +fire. She was startled by the great change which had taken place in the +accompanist's appearance since she had last seen her. She looked many +years older; her figure was quite bent; the familiar shawl was too +ample for the narrow, stooping shoulders. + +"Aren't you well?" asked Mavis, as she kissed her friend's cheek. + +"Quite. Reely I am but for a slight cold. Mr Poulter, 'e's well too. +Fancy you married!" + +"Yes," said Mavis sadly. + +But Miss Nippett took no notice of her dejection. + +"I've never 'ad time to get married, there's so much to do at +'Poulter's.' You know! Still, there's no knowing." + +Mavis, distressed as she was, could hardly restrain a smile. + +"I've news too," went on Miss Nippett. + +"Have you?" asked Mavis, who was burning to get to the reason of her +call. + +"Ain't you heard of it?" + +"I can't say I have." + +By way of explanation, Miss Nippett handed Mavis one of a pile of +prospectuses at her elbow; she at once recognised the familiar pamphlet +that extolled Mr Poulter's wares. + +"See! 'E's got my name on the 'pectus. 'All particulars from Poulter's +or Miss Nippett, 19 Blomfield Road, W.' Isn't that something to talk +about and think over?" + +Mavis hastily assented; she was about to ask for Miss Meakin's address, +but Miss Nippett was too quick for her. + +"D'ye think he'll win?" + +"Who?" + +"Mr Poulter, of course. 'Aven't you 'eard?" + +"Tell me." + +"Oh, I say, you are ignorant! He's competing for the great cotillion +prize competition. I thought everybody knew about it." + +"I think I've heard something. But could you tell me Miss Meakin's +address?" + +"11 Baynham Street, North Kensington, near Uxbridge Road station," Miss +Nippett informed Mavis, after referring to an exercise book, to add: +"This is the dooplicate register of 'Poulter's.' I always keep it here +in case the other should get lost. Mr. Poulter, like all them great +men, is that careless." + +"Come again soon," said Miss Nippett, as Mavis rose to go. + +Mavis promised that she would. + +"How long have you been married?" + +"Not long. Three months." + +"Any baby?" + +"After three months!" blushed Mavis. + +"Working so at 'Poulter's' makes one forget them things. No offence," +apologised Miss Nippett. + +"Good-bye. I'll look in again soon." + +"If you 'ave any babies, see they're taught dancing at 'Poulter's.'" + +Between Notting Hill and Wormwood Scrubbs lies a vast desert of human +dwellings. Fringing Notting Hill they are inhabited by lower +middle-class folk, but, by scarcely perceptible degrees, there is a +declension of so-called respectability, till at last the frankly +working-class district of Latimer Road is reached. Baynham Street was +one of the ill-conditioned, down-at-heel little roads which tenaciously +fought an uphill fight with encroaching working-class thoroughfares. +Its inhabitants referred with pride to the fact that Baynham Street +overlooked a railway, which view could be obtained by craning the neck +out of window at risk of dislocation. A brawny man was standing before +the open door of No. 11 as Mavis walked up the steps. + +"Is Bill coming?" asked the man, as he furtively lifted his hat. + +Mavis looked surprised. + +"To chuck out this 'ere lodger for Mrs. Scatchard wo' won't pay up," he +explained. + +"I know nothing about it," said Mavis. + +"Ain't you Mrs Dancer, Bill's new second wife?" + +Mavis explained that she had come to see Miss Meakin, at which the man +walked into the passage and knocked at the first door on the left, as +he called out: + +"Lady to see you!" + +"Who?" asked Miss Meakin, as she displayed a fraction of a scantily +attired person through the barely opened door. + +"Have you forgotten me?" asked Mavis, as she entered the passage. + +"Dear Miss Keeves! So good of you to call!" cried Miss Meakin, not a +little affectedly, so Mavis thought, as she raised her hand high above +her head to shake hands with her friend in a manner that was once +considered fashionable in exclusive Bayswater circles. + +She then opened the door wide enough for Mavis to edge her way in. +Mavis found herself in an apartment that was normally a pretentiously +furnished drawing-room. Just now, a lately vacated bed was made up on +the sofa; a recently used washing basin stood on a chair; whilst Miss +Meakin's unassumed garments strewed the floor. + +"And what's happened to you all this long time?" asked Miss Meakin, as +she sat on the edge of a chair in the manner of one receiving a formal +call. + +"To begin with, I'm married," said Mavis hurriedly, at which piece of +information her friend's face fell. + +"Any family?" she asked anxiously. + +"N-no--not yet." + +"I could have married Mr Napper a month ago--in fact he begged me on +his knees to," bridled Miss Meakin. + +"Why didn't you?" + +"We're going to his aunt's at Littlehampton for the honeymoon, but I'm +certainly not going till it's the season there." + +Mavis smiled. + +"Would you?" asked Miss Meakin. + +"Not if that sort of thing appealed to me." + +When Miss Meakin had explained that she had got up late because she had +been to a ball the night before, Mavis told her the reason of her +visit, at which Miss Meakin declared that Mr Napper was the very man to +help her. Mavis asked for his address. While her friend was writing it +down, a violent commotion was heard descending the stairs and advancing +along the passage. Mavis rightly guessed this was caused by the +forcible ejection of the lodger who had failed with his rent. + +To Mavis' surprise, Miss Meakin did not make any reference to this +disturbance, but went on talking as if she were living in a refined +atmosphere which was wholly removed from possibility of violation. + +"There's one thing I should tell you," said Miss Meakin, as Mavis rose +to take her leave. "Mr Napper's employer, Mr Keating, besides being a +solicitor, sells pianos. Mr N. is expecting a lady friend, who is +thinking of buying one 'on the monthly,' so mind you explain what you +want." + +"I won't forget," said Mavis, making an effort to go. But as voices +raised in angry altercation could be heard immediately outside the +front door, Miss Meakin detained Mavis, asking, in the politest tone, +advice on the subject of the most fashionable material to wear at a +select dinner party. + +"I've quite given up 'Browning,'" she told Mavis, "he's so +old-fashioned to up-to-date people. Now I'm going to be Mrs Napper, +when the Littlehampton season comes round, I'm going in exclusively for +smartness and fashion." + +Mavis making as if she would go, and the disturbance not being finally +quelled, Miss Meakin begged Mavis to stay to lunch. She repeatedly +insisted on the word lunch, as if it conveyed a social distinction in +the speaker. + +Mavis had got as far as the door, when it burst open and an elderly +woman of considerable avoirdupois broke into the room, to sink +helplessly upon a flimsy chair which creaked ominously with its burden. + +Miss Meakin introduced this person to Mavis as her aunt, Mrs Scatchard, +and reminded the latter how Mavis had rescued her niece from the +clutches of the bogus hospital nurse in Victoria Street so many months +back. + +"That you should call today of all days!" moaned the perspiring Mrs +Scatchard. + +"Why not today?" asked her niece innocently. + +"The day I'm disgraced to the neighbourhood by a 'visitor' being turned +out of doors." + +"I knew nothing of it," protested Miss Meakin. + +"And Mr Scatchard being a government official, as you might say." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, who was itching to be off. + +"Almost a pillar of the throne, as you might say," moaned the poor +woman. + +"True enough," murmured her niece. + +"A man who, as you might say, has had the eyes of Europe upon him." + +"Ah!" sighed Miss Meakin. + +"And me, too, who am, as it were, an outpost of blood in this no-class +neighbourhood," continued Mrs Scatchard. + +Mavis wondered when she would be able to get away. + +"My father was a tax-collector," Mrs Scatchard informed Mavis. + +"Indeed!" said the latter. + +"And in a most select London suburb. Do you believe in blood?" + +"I think so." + +"Then you must come here often. Blood is so scarce in North Kensington." + +"Thank you." + +"Why not stay and have a bit of dinner?" + +"Lunch," corrected Miss Meakin with a frown. + +"We've a lovely sheep's heart and turnips," said Mrs Scatchard, +disregarding her niece's pained interruption. + +Mavis thanked kindly Mrs Scatchard, but said she must be off. She was +not permitted to go before she promised to let Miss Meakin know the +result of her visit to Mr Napper. + +Mavis spent three of her precious pennies in getting to the office of +Mr Keating, which was situated in a tiny court running out of Holborn. +Upon the first door she came to was inscribed "A.F. Keating, Solicitor, +Commissioner for Oaths," whilst upon an adjacent door was painted +"Breibner, Importer of Pianofortes." She tried the handle of the +solicitor's door, to find that it was locked. She was wondering what +she should do when a tall, thin, podgy-faced man came in from the +court. Mavis instinctively guessed that he was Mr Napper. + +"'Ave you been waiting long, madam?" he asked. + +"I've just come. Are you Mr Napper?" + +"It is. Everybody knows me." + +"I've come from Miss Meakin." + +"Today?" he asked, as his white face lit up. + +"I've come straight from her." + +"And after what I said at last night's 'light fantastic,' she has sent +you to me!" he cried excitedly, as he opened the door on which was +inscribed "Breibner." + +"RE consultation, madam. If you will be good enough to step this way, I +shall be 'appy to take your instructions." + +Mavis, despite her distress of mind, was not a little amused at this +alteration in Mr Napper's manner. She followed him into Mr Keating's +office, where she saw a very small office-boy, who, directly he set his +eyes on Mr Napper, made great pretence of being busy. She was shown +into an inner room, where she was offered an armchair. Upon taking it, +Mr Napper gravely seated himself at a desk and said: + +"Mr Keating is un'appily absent. Any confidence made to me is the same +as made to 'im." + +Mavis recited her trouble, of which Mr Napper put down the details. + +When he had got these, Mavis waited in suspense. Mr Napper looked at +his watch. + +"Do you think you can do anything?" Mavis asked. + +"I'm going to do my best, quite as much for Miss Meakin's sake as for +the dignity of my profession," replied Mr Napper. "Please read through +this, and, if it is correct, kindly sign." + +Here he handed Mavis a statement of all she had told him in respect of +her loss. After seeing that it was rightly set down, she signed "Mavis +Kenrick" at the foot of the document. + +"Vincent!" cried Mr Napper, as Mavis handed it back. + +"Yessur," answered the tiny office-boy smartly, as he made the most of +his height in the doorway. + +"I am going out on important business." + +"Yessur." + +"I shan't be back for the best part of an hour." + +"Yessur." + +"If this lady cares to, she will wait till my return." + +"Yessur." + +Mr Napper dismissed Vincent and then turned to Mavis. + +"If I may say so, I can see by your face that you're fond of +literature," he said. + +"I like reading." + +"Law and music is my 'obby, as you might say. The higher literature is +my intellect." + +"Indeed!" + +"Let me lend you something to read while you're waiting." + +"You're very kind. But I've had nothing to eat. Would you mind if I +took it out with me?" + +"Delighted! What do you say to Locke's Human Understanding?" he asked, +as he produced a book. + +"Thank you very much." + +"Or here's Butler's Anatomy of Melancholy." + +"But--" + +"Or 'Obbes's Leviathan," he suggested, producing a third volume. + +"Thank you, but Locke will do to begin upon." + +"Ask me to explain anything you don't understand," he urged. + +"I won't fail to," she replied, at which Mr Napper took his leave. + +Mavis went to a neighbouring tea-shop, where she obtained the food of +which she was in need. When she returned to Mr Keating's office, she +was shown into the inner room by Vincent, who shut the door as he left +her. She was still a prey to anxiety, and succeeded in convincing +herself how comparatively happy she would be if only she could get back +her stolen goods. To distract her thoughts from her present trouble, +she tried to be interested in the opening chapter of the work that Mr +Napper had lent her. But it proved too formidable in her present state +of mind. She would read a passage, to find that it conveyed no meaning; +she was more interested in the clock on the mantel-piece and wondering +how long it would be before she got any news. One peculiarity of Mr +Napper's book attracted her attention: she saw that, whereas the first +few pages were dog's-eared and thumb-marked, the succeeding ones were +as fresh as when they issued from the bookseller's hands. + +While she was thus waiting in suspense, she heard strange sounds coming +from the office where Vincent worked. She went to the door, to look +through that part of it which was of glass. She saw Vincent, who, so +far as she could gather, was talking as if to an audience, the while he +held an inkpot in one hand and the office cat in the other. When he had +finished talking, he caused these to vanish, at which he acknowledged +the applause of an imaginary audience with repeated bows. After another +speech, he reproduced the cat and the inkpot, proceedings which led +Mavis to think that the boy had conjuring aspirations. + +Her heart beat quickly when Mr Napper re-entered the office. + +"It's all right!" he hastened to assure her. "You're to come off with +me to the station to identify your property." + +Mavis thanked him heartfully when she learned that the police, having +received a further complaint of the house where she had spent the +night, had obtained a warrant and promptly raided the place, with the +result that her bag (with other missing property) had been recovered. +As they walked in the direction of the station, Mr. Napper asked her +how she had got on with Locke's Human Understanding. Upon her replying +that it was rather too much for her just then, he said: + +"Just you listen to me." + +Here he launched into an amazing farrago of scientific terms, in which +the names of great thinkers and scientists were mingled at random. +There was nothing connected in his talk; he seemed to be repeating, +parrot fashion, words and formulas that he had chanced upon in his +dipping into the works that he had boasted of comprehending. + +Mavis looked at him in astonishment. He mistook her surprise for +admiration. + +"I'm afraid you haven't understood much of what I've been saying," he +remarked. + +"Not very much." + +"You've paid me a great compliment," he said, looking highly pleased +with himself. + +Then he spoke of Miss Meakin. + +"You'll tell her what I've done for you?" + +"Most certainly." + +"Last night, at the 'light fantastic' I told you of, we had a bit of a +tiff, when I spoke my mind. Would you believe it, she only danced +twenty hops with me out of the twenty-three set down?" + +"What bad taste!" + +"I'm glad you think that. Her sending you to me shows she isn't +offended at what I said. I did give it her hot. I threw in plenty of +scientific terms and all that." + +"Poor girl!" remarked Mavis. + +"Yes, she was to be pitied. But here we are at the station." + +Mavis went inside with Mr Napper, where she proved her title to her +stolen property by minutely describing the contents of her bag, from +which she was rejoiced to find nothing had been taken. Her unposted +letter to Perigal was with her other possessions. + +As they were leaving the station, Mr Napper remarked: + +"The day before yesterday I had the greatest compliment of my life paid +me." + +"And what was that?" asked Mavis. + +"A lady told me that she'd known me three years, and that all that time +she never understood what my scientific conversation was about." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX + +TRAVAIL + + +If Mavis had believed that the recovery of her property would give her +peace of mind, she soon discovered how grievously she was mistaken. + +Directly she left the police station with Mr Napper, all her old fears +and forebodings for the future resumed sway over her thoughts. As +before, she sought to allay them by undiminished faith in her lover. +She accepted Mr Napper's hospitality in the form of tea and toast at a +branch of the Aerated Bread Company, where she asked him how much she +was in his debt for his services. To her surprise, he replied, "Nothing +at all," and added that he was only too glad to assist her, not only +for Miss Meakin's sake, but because he felt that Mavis dimly +appreciated his intellectuality. Upon Mavis untruthfully replying that +she did, Mr Napper gave a further effort to impress, not only her, but +others seated about them; he talked his jargon of scientific and +philosophical phrases at the top of his voice. She was relieved when +she was rid of his company. She then took train to Shepherd's Bush, +where she called on Miss Meakin as promised. Much to her surprise, Miss +Meakin, who was now robed in a flimsy and not too clean teagown, had +not the slightest interest in knowing if Mavis had recovered her +property; indeed, she had forgotten that Mavis had lost anything. She +was only concerned to know what Mavis thought of Mr Napper, and what +this person had said about herself: on this last matter, Mavis was +repeatedly cross-questioned. Mavis then spoke of a matter she had +thought of on the way down: that of engaging a room at Mrs Scatchard's +if she had one to let. Miss Meakin, however, protested that she had +nothing to do with the business arrangements of the house, and declared +that her aunt had better be consulted. + +Upon Mavis interviewing Mrs Scatchard on the matter, the latter +declared that her niece had suggested the subject to her directly after +Mavis had left in the morning, a statement which Miss Meakin did not +appear to overhear. Mrs Scatchard showed Mavis a clean, homely little +room. The walls were decorated with several photographs of +celebrations, which, so far as she could see, were concerned with the +doings of royalty. When it came to the discussion of terms, Mrs +Scatchard pointed out to Mavis the advantage of being in a house rented +by a man like Mr Scatchard, who was "so mixed up with royalty," as she +phrased it; but, partly in consideration of the timely service which +Mavis had once rendered Miss Meakin, and largely on the score that +Mavis boasted of blood (she had done nothing of the kind), Mrs +Scatchard offered her the room, together with use of the bathroom, for +four-and-sixpence a week. Upon Mavis learning that the landlady would +not object to Jill's presence, she closed with the offer. At Mrs +Scatchard's invitation, she spent the evening in the sitting-room +downstairs, where she was introduced to Mr Scatchard. If, as had been +alleged, Mr Scatchard was a pillar of the throne, that august +institution was in a parlous condition. He was a red-headed, red-eyed, +clean-shaven man, in appearance not unlike an elderly cock; his blotchy +face, thick utterance, and the smell of his breath, all told Mavis that +he was addicted to drink. Mavis wondered how this fuddled man, whose +wife let lodgings in a shabby corner of Shepherd's Bush, could be +remotely associated with Government, till it leaked out that he had +been for many years, and still was, one of the King's State trumpeters. + +Mavis was grateful to the Scatchards for their humble hospitality, if +only because it prevented her mind from dwelling on her extremity. She +was so tired with all she had gone through, that, directly she got to +bed, she fell asleep, to awake about five with a mind possessed by +fears for the future. Try as she could, faith in her lover refused to +supply the relief necessary to allow her further sleep. + +About seven, kindly Mrs Scatchard brought her up some tea, her excuse +for this attention being that "blood" could not be expected to get up +without a cup of this stimulant. Mrs Scatchard, like most stout women, +was of a nervous, kindly, ingenuous disposition. It hurt Mavis +considerably to tell her the story she had concocted, of a husband in +straitened circumstances in America, who was struggling to prepare a +home for her. Mrs Scatchard was herself a bereaved mother. Much moved +by her recollections, she gave Mavis needed and pertinent advice with +reference to her condition. + +"There is kindness in the world," thought Mavis, when she was alone. + +After breakfast, that was supplied at a previously arranged charge of +fourpence, Mavis, fearing the company of her thoughts, betook herself +to Miss Nippett in the Blomfield Road. + +She found her elderly friend in bed, a queer, hapless figure in her +pink flannel nightgown. + +"I haven't heard anything," said Miss Nippett, as soon as she caught +sight of Mavis. + +"Of what?" + +"What luck Mr Poulter's had at the dancing competition! Haven't you +come about that?" + +"I came to see how you were." + +"Don't you worry about me. I shall be right again soon; reely I shall." + +Mavis tried to discover if Miss Nippett were properly looked after, but +without result, Miss Nippett's mind being wholly possessed by +"Poulter's" and its chief. + +"He promised to send me a postcard to say how he got on, but I suppose +he was too busy to remember," sighed Miss Nippett. + +"Surely not!" + +"He's like all these great men: all their 'earts in their fame, with no +thought for their humble assistants," she complained, to add after a +few moments' pause, "A pity you're married." + +"Why?" + +"'Cause, since I've been laid up, he's been in want of a reliable +accompanist." + +Mavis explained that she would be glad of some work, at which her +friend said: + +"Then off you go at once to the academy. He's often spoken of you, and +quite nicely, and he's asked for you in family prayers. If he's won the +prize, it's as sure as 'knife' that he'll give you the job. And mind +you come and tell me if he's won." + +Mavis thanked her wheezing, kind-hearted friend, and promised that she +would return directly she had any news. Then, with hope in her heart, +she hurried to the well-remembered academy, where she had sought work +so many eventful months ago. As before, she looked into the impassive +face of "Turpsichor" while she waited for the door to be answered. + +A slatternly servant of the charwoman species replied to her summons. +Upon Mavis saying that she wanted to see Mr Poulter immediately, she +was shown into the "Ladies' Waiting Room," from which Mavis gathered +that Mr Poulter had returned. + +After a while, Mr Poulter came into the room with a shy, self-conscious +smile upon his lovable face. + +"You've heard?" he asked, as she shook hands. + +Mavis looked at him in surprise. + +"Of course you have, and have come to congratulate me," he continued. + +"I'm glad you've been successful," said Mavis, now divining the reason +of his elation. + +"Yes" (here he sighed happily), "I've won the great cotillion prize +competition. Just think of it!" Here he took a deep breath before +saying, "All the dancing-masters in the United Kingdom competed, even +including Gellybrand" (here his voice and face perceptibly hardened), +"but I won." + +"I congratulate you," said Mavis. + +Mr Poulter's features weakened into a broad smile eloquent of an +immense satisfaction. + +"You can tell people you've been one of the first to congratulate me," +he remarked. + +"I won't forget. I was sorry to see that Miss Nippett is so unwell." + +"It's most unfortunate; it so interferes with the evening classes." + +"But she may get well soon." + +"I fear not." + +"Really?" asked Mavis, genuinely concerned for her friend's health. + +"It's a great pity. Accompanists like her are hard to find. Besides, +she was well acquainted with all the many ramifications of the academy." + +Mavis recalled that, in the old days of her association with +"Poulter's," she had noticed that otherwise kindly Mr Poulter took Miss +Nippett's body and soul loyalty to him quite as a matter of course. +Time, apparently, had not caused him to think otherwise of the faithful +accompanist than as a once capable but now failing machine. + +Mr Poulter asked Mavis what had happened to her since he had last seen +her. She told him the fiction of her marriage; it hurt her to see how +glibly the lie now fell from her lips. + +After Mr Poulter had congratulated her and her absent husband, he said: + +"I fear you would not care to undertake any accompanying." + +"But I should." + +"As you did before?" + +"Certainly!" + +It was then arranged that Mavis should commence work at the academy on +that day, for much the same terms she was paid before. This matter +being settled, she asked for notepaper and envelope, on which she wrote +to Mrs Farthing, asking her to be so good as to send Jill at once, and +to be sure to let her know by what train she would arrive at +Paddington. Mavis was careful to head the notepaper with the address of +the academy; she did not wish anyone at Melkbridge to know her actual +address. After taking leave of Mr Poulter and posting her letter, she +repaired to Miss Nippett's as arranged. The accompanist was now out of +bed, in a chair before the fire. Directly she caught sight of Mavis, +she said: + +"'As he won?" + +"Yes, he's won the great cotillion prize competition." + +A look of intense joy illumined Miss Nippett's face. + +"Isn't he proud?" she asked. + +"Very!" + +"An' me not there to see him in his triumph." A cloud overspread Miss +Nippett's features. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mavis. + +"Did he--did he send and tell you to tell me as 'ow he'd won." + +The wistful old eyes were so pleading, that Mavis fibbed. + +"Of course he sent me." + +"I thought he wouldn't forget his old friend," she remarked with a sigh +of relief. "'E'd surely know I was anxious to know." + +Mavis told Miss Nippett of her engagement to play at "Poulter's" during +the latter's absence. + +"Don't you count on it being for long," said Miss Nippett. + +"I hope it won't be, for your sake." + +"I'm counting the minute' till I shall be back again at the academy," +declared Miss Nippett. + +Mavis, as she looked at the eager, pinched face, could well believe +that she was speaking the truth. + +"I shall buy you a bottle of port wine," said Mavis. + +"What say?" + +Mavis repeated her words. + +"Oh, I say! Fancy me 'avin' port wine! I once 'ad a glass; it did make +me feel 'appy." + +Two days later, in accordance with the contents of a letter she had +received from Mrs Farthing, Mavis met the train at Paddington that was +to bring her dear Jill from Melkbridge. She discovered her friend +huddled in a corner of the guard's van; her grief was piteous to +behold, her eyes being full of tears, which the kindly attentions of +the guard had not dissipated. Directly she saw her mistress, Jill +uttered a cry that was almost human in its gladness, and tried to jump +into Mavis' arms. + +When Jill was released, Mavis hugged her in her arms, careless of the +attention her devotion attracted. + +With her friend restored to her, that evening was the happiest she had +spent for some time. + +For many succeeding weeks, Mavis passed her mornings with Jill, or Miss +Nippett, or both; and most of her afternoons and all of her evenings at +the academy. The long hours, together with the monotonous nature of the +work, greatly taxed her energies, lessened as these were by the +physical stress through which she was passing. + +She obtained infrequent distraction from the peculiarities of the +pupils. One, in particular, who was a fat Jewess, named Miss Hyman, +greatly amused her. This person was desperately anxious to learn +waltzing, but was handicapped by bandy legs. As she spun round and +round the room with Mr Poulter, or any other partner, she would close +her eyes and continually repeat aloud, "One, two, three; one, two, +three," the while her feet kept step with the music. + +Otherwise, her days were mostly drab-coloured, the only thing that at +all kept up her spirits being her untiring faith in Perigal--a faith +which, in time, became a mechanical action of mind. Strive as she might +to quell rebellious thoughts, now and again she would rage soul and +body at the web that fate, or Providence, had spun about her life. At +these times, it hurt her to the quick to think that, instead of being +the wife she deserved to be, she was in her present unprotected +condition, with all its infinite possibilities of disaster. Again and +again the thought would recur to her that she might have been +Windebank's wife at any time that she had cared to encourage his +overtures, and if she were desirable as a wife in his eyes, why not in +Charlie Perigal's! Gregarious instincts ran in her blood. For all her +frequent love of solitude, there were days when her soul ached for the +companionship of her own social kind. This not being forthcoming-indeed +(despite her faith in Perigal) there being little prospect of it--she +avoided as much as possible the sight of, or physical contact with, +those prosperous ones whom she knew to be, in some cases, her equals; +in most, her social inferiors. + +It was at night when she was most a prey to unquiet thoughts. Tired +with her many hours' work at the piano, she would fall into a deep +sleep, with every prospect of its continuing till Mrs Scatchard would +bring up her morning cup of tea, when Mavis would suddenly awaken, to +remain for interminable hours in wide-eyed thought. She would go over +and over again events in her past life, more particularly those that +had brought her to her present pass. The immediate future scarcely +bothered her at all, because, for the present, she was pretty sure of +employment at the academy. On the very rare occasions on which she +suffered her mind to dwell on what would happen after her child was +born, should Perigal not fulfil his repeated promises, her vivid +imagination called up such appalling possibilities that she refused to +consider them; she had enough sense to apply to her own case the wisdom +contained in the words, "sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." + +In these silent watches of the night, so protracted and awesome was the +quiet, that it would seem to the girl's preternatural sensibilities as +if the life of the world had come to a dead stop, and that only she and +the little one within her were alive. Then she would wonder how many +other girls in London were in a like situation to hers; if they were +constantly kept awake obsessed by the same fears; also, if, like her, +they comforted themselves by clasping a ring which they wore suspended +on their hearts--a ring given them by the loved one, even as was hers. +Then she would fall to realising the truth of the saying, "How easily +things go wrong." It seemed such a little time since she had been a +happy girl at Melkbridge (if she had only realised how really happy she +was!), with more than enough for her everyday needs, when her heart was +untrammelled by love; when she was healthful, and, apart from the hours +which she was compelled to spend at the office, free. Now--An alert +movement within her was more eloquent than thought. + +Sometimes she would believe that her present visitation of nature was a +punishment for her infringement of God's moral law; whilst at others +she would rejoice with a pagan exultation that, whatever the future +held in store, she had most gloriously lived in these crowded golden +moments which were responsible for her present plight. + +Once or twice her distress of mind was such that she could no longer +bear the darkness; she would light the candle, when the confinement of +the walls, the sight of the orderly and familiar furniture of the room, +would suggest an imprisoning environment from which there was no +escape. As if to make a desperate effort to free herself, she would +jump out of bed, and, throwing the window up, would look out on the +night, as if to implore from nature the succour that she failed to get +elsewhere. If the night were clear, she would gaze up at the heavens, +as if to wrest from its countless eyes some solution of, or, failing +that, some sympathy for her extremity of mind. But, for all the +eagerness with which her terror-stricken eyes would search the stars, +these looked down indifferently, unpityingly, impersonally, as if they +were so inured to the sight of sorrow that they were now careless of +any pain they witnessed. Then, with a pang at her heart, she would +wonder if Perigal were also awake and were thinking of her. She +convinced herself again and again that her agonised communing with the +night would in some mysterious way affect his heart, to incline it +irresistibly to hers, as in those never-to-be-forgotten nights and days +at Polperro. + +She heard from him fairly regularly, when he wrote letters urging her +for his sake to be brave, and telling of the many shocks he had +received from the persistent ill luck which he was seeking to overcome. +If he had known how eagerly she awaited the familiar writing, how she +read and re-read, times without number, every line he wrote, how she +treasured the letters, sleeping with them under her pillow at night, he +would have surely written with more persistency and at greater length +than he did. Occasionally he would enclose money; this she always +returned, saying that, as she was now in employment, she had more than +enough for her simple needs. Once, after sending back a five-pound note +he had sent her, she received a letter by return of post--a letter +which gave a death blow to certain hopes she had cherished. She had +long debated in her mind if she should apply the gold-mounted dressing +case which Windebank had sent her for a wedding present to a purchase +very near to her heart. She knew that, if he could know of the purpose +to which she contemplated devoting it, and of her straightened +circumstances, he would wish her to do as she desired. Having no other +money available, she was tempted to sell or pawn the dressing case, to +buy with the proceeds a handsome outfit for the expected little life, +one that should not be unworthy of a gentlewoman's child. She felt +that, as, owing to the unconventional circumstances of its birth, the +little one might presently be deprived of many of life's advantages, it +should at least be appropriately clad in the early days of its +existence. She had already selected the intended purchase, and was +rejoicing in its richness and variety, when the reply came to her +letter to Perigal that returned the five-pound note. This told Mavis +what straitened circumstances her lover was in. He asked what she had +done with the gold-mounted dressing case, and, if it were still in her +possession, if she could possibly let him have the loan of it in order +to weather an impending financial storm. With a heart that strove +valiantly to be cheerful, Mavis renounced further thought of the +contemplated layette, and sent off the dressing case to her lover. It +was a further (and this time a dutiful) sacrifice of self on the altar +of the loved one. Most of her spare time was now devoted to the making +of the garments, which, in the ordinary course of nature, would be +wanted in about two months. Sometimes, while working, she would sing +little songs that would either stop short soon after they were started, +or else would continue almost to the finish, when they would end +abruptly in a sigh. Often she would wonder if the child, when born, +would resemble its father or its mother; if her recent experiences +would affect its nature: all the thousand and one things that that most +holy thing on earth, an expectant, loving mother, thinks of the life +which love has called into being. + +At all times she told herself that, if her wishes were consulted, she +would prefer the child to be a boy, despite the fact that it was a more +serious matter to launch a son on the world than a daughter. But she +knew well that, if anything were to happen to her lover (this was now +her euphemism for his failing to keep his promise), a boy, when he came +to man's estate, might find it in his heart to forgive his mother for +the untoward circumstances of his birth, whereas a daughter would only +feel resentment at the possible handicap with which the absence of a +father and a name would inflict her life. Thus Mavis worked with her +needle, and sang, and thought, and travailed; and daily the little life +within her became more insistent. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN + +THE NURSING HOME + + +A day came when Mavis's courage failed. Acting on the advice of kindly +Mrs Scatchard, she had bought, for the sum of one guinea, a confinement +outfit from a manufacturer of such things. She unpacked her purchase +fearfully. Her heart beat painfully at the thought of the approaching +ordeal that the sight of the various articles awakened. + +At the same time, she saw Perigal's conduct in the cold light of +reason. She was surprised to find how bitter she was with herself for +loving a man who could behave as selfishly as he had done. While the +mood possessed her, she went to a post-office and sent a reply-paid +telegram to Perigal, telling him to come to town at once, and asking +him to wire the train by which he would arrive. After sending the +telegram, she somewhat repented of her precipitancy, and waited in much +suspense to see what the answer would be. When, some two hours later, +she heard the double knock of a telegraph boy at the door, her heart +was filled with nervous apprehension, in which reawakened love for +Perigal bore no inconsiderable part. She opened his reply with +trembling hands. "Why? Wire or write reason--love--Charles," it ran. + +In reply, she sat down and wrote a long letter, in which she told him +how she was situated, reminded him of his promises, which, if he still +loved her, as he had professed times out of number in his letters, it +was now more than ever incumbent on him to fulfil; she concluded by +imploring him to decide either one way or the other and put an end to +her suspense. Two days later, the first post brought a letter from +Wales. By the time it arrived Mavis had, in some measure, schooled her +fears and rebellious doubtings of her lover; therefore, she was not so +disappointed at its contents as she would otherwise have been. The +letter was written in much the same strain as his other communications. +While expressing unalterable love for Mavis, together with pride at the +privileges she had permitted him to enjoy, it told her how he was beset +by countless perplexities, and that directly he saw his way clear he +would do as she wished: in the meantime, she was to trust him as +implicitly as before. + +Mavis sighed as she finished the letter; she then became lost in +troubled thought, during which she was uncertain whether to laugh for +joy or sorrow. She laughed for joy, perhaps because her mind, as once +before when similarly confronted, had chosen the easier way of +self-preservation, an instinct specially insistent in one of Mavis's +years. She laughed for very happiness and persuaded herself that she +was indeed a lucky girl to be loved so devotedly. + +Although the colour soon went out of the blue sky of her joy-world, and +its trees and flowers lacked much of their one-time freshness, she was +not a little grateful for her short experience of its delights. It +helped her to bear the slights and disappointments of the following +days, of which she had no inconsiderable share. + +As the year grew older, it became increasingly necessary for Mavis to +discover a place where she might stay during, and for a while after, +her confinement. Mrs Scatchard had told her from the first, that +however much she might be disposed to let Mavis remain in the house for +this event, Mr Scatchard strongly objected, at his age, to the +inconvenience of a baby under the same roof. Mavis filled many weary +hours in dragging herself up and down front-door steps in the quest for +accommodation; but she spent her strength in vain. Directly landladies +learned of the uses to which Mavis would put the room she wished to +engage, they became resentful, and sullenly told her that they could +not accommodate her. Little as Mavis was disposed to find harbourage +for herself and little one in the unhomely places she inspected, she +was hurt by the refusals encountered. It seemed to her that the act of +gravely imperilling life in order to confer life was a situation which +demanded loving care and devoted attention, necessities she lacked: the +refusal of blowsy landladies to entertain her application hurt her more +than the other indignities that she had, so far, been compelled to +endure. One Sunday afternoon Mrs Scatchard brought up the People, in +the advertising columns of which was a list of nursing homes. Mavis +eagerly scanned the many particulars set forth, till she decided that +"Nurse G.," who lived at New Cross, made the most seductive offer. This +person advertised a comfortable home to married ladies during and after +confinement; skilled care and loving attention were furnished for +strictly moderate terms. + +Mavis decided to call on Nurse G. the following day. + +The atmosphere of the Scatchards' had recently been highly charged, as +if in preparation for an event of moment. Whenever Mr Scatchard took +his walks abroad, he was always accompanied by either his wife or +niece, who, when they finally piloted him home, would wear a look of +self-conscious triumph. When Mavis came down to breakfast, before +setting out for New Cross, there was a hum of infinite preparation. Mr +Scatchard was greasing his hair; gorgeous raiment was being packed into +a bag; the final polish was being given to a silver trumpet. Both Mrs +Scatchard and her niece, besides being cloaked and bonneted, wore an +expression of grim resolution. Mr Scatchard had the look of a hunted +animal at bay. Little was said, but just before Mavis started, Miss +Meakin came to her and whispered: + +"Wish us luck, dear." + +"Luck?" queried Mavis. + +"Don't you know of uncle and to-day's great doings?" + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Uncle and the King Emperor," explained Miss Meakin. "There's a royal +kick up to-day, and uncle and the King Emperor will be there." + +"Have you and your aunt had an invitation too?" asked Mavis +mischievously. + +"Not into the palace, as you might say. But we're both going as far as +the gates with uncle, to see he gets there safely and isn't tempted by +the way." + +Soon after, Mr Scatchard left with the two women, looking, for all the +world, like a prisoner in charge of lynx-eyed warders. Then Mavis made +the long and tiring journey to New Cross. Nurse G. had advertised her +nursing home as being at No. 9 Durley Road. This latter she found to be +a depressing little thoroughfare of two-storeyed houses, all exactly +alike. She could discover nothing particularly inviting in the outside +appearance of No. 9. Soiled, worn, cotton lace curtains hung behind not +over-clean windows; behind these again were dusty, carefully closed +Venetian blinds. Mavis passed and repassed the house, uncertain whether +or not to call. Before deciding which to do, she made a mental +calculation (she was always doing this now) of exactly how much she +would have left after being paid by Mr Poulter and settling up with Mrs +Scatchard. As before, she reckoned to have exactly seven pounds fifteen +shillings. She had no intention of asking Perigal for help, as in his +last letter he had made copious reference to his straitened +circumstances. Any debasing shifts and mean discomforts to which her +poverty might expose her she looked on as a yet further sacrifice upon +the altar of the loved one, faith in whom had become the cardinal +feature of her life. The terms "strictly moderate" advertised by Nurse +G. decided her. She opened the iron gate and walked to the door. +Directly she knocked, she heard two or three windows thrown up in +neighbouring houses, from which the bodies of unkempt women projected, +to cast interested glances in Mavis's direction. As she waited, she +could hear the faint puling of a baby within the house. Next, she was +conscious that a lath of a Venetian blind was pulled aside and that +someone was spying upon her from the aperture. She waited further, the +while two of the curious women who leaned from the windows were loudly +deciding the date on which Mavis's baby would be born. Then, the door +of No. 9 was suspiciously opened about six inches. Mavis found herself +eagerly scanned by a fraction of a woman's face. The next moment, the +woman, who had caught sight of Mavis's appearance, which was now very +indicative of her condition, threw the door wide open and called +cheerily: + +"Come in, my dear; come in." + +"I want Nurse G.," said Mavis. + +"That's me: G--Gowler. Come inside." + +"But--" hesitated Mavis, as she glanced at the repulsive face of the +woman. + +"Do either one thing or the other: come right in or keep out. The +neighbours do that talk." + +Mavis walked into the passage, at which the woman sharply closed the +door. The puling of the baby was distinctly louder. + +"We'll 'ave to talk 'ere," continued the woman, with some weakening of +her previous cordiality, "we're that full up: two in a room an' all +expectin'. But then it never rains but it pours, as you might say." + +Mavis resisted an impulse to fly from the house. The more she saw of +Mrs Gowler (the woman wore a wedding ring), the less she liked her. To +begin with, her appearance had given Mavis much of a shock. Her alert +fancy had conjured up a vision of a kindly, motherly woman, with soft +eyes and voice, whose mere presence would have spoken of the sympathy +and tenderness for which the lonely heart of Mavis ached. Nurse Gowler +was short, fat, and puffy, with her head sunk right into her shoulders. +Her pasty face, with its tiny eyes, contained a mouth of which the +upper lip was insufficient to cover her teeth when her jaws were +closed; some of these teeth were missing, but whole ones and stumps +alike were discoloured with decay. It was her eyes which chiefly +repelled Mavis: pupil, iris, and the part surrounding this last, were +all of the same colour, a hard, bilious-looking green. Her face +suggested to Mavis a flayed pig's head, such as can be seen in pork +butchers' shops. As if this were not enough to disgust Mavis, the +woman's manner soon lost the geniality with which she had greeted her; +she stood still and impassively by Mavis, who could not help believing +that Mrs Gowler was attentively studying her from her hat to her shoe +leather. + +Mavis began her story, to be interrupted by a repressed cry of pain +proceeding from the partly open door on the right. Mrs Gowler quickly +closed it. + +Mavis resumed her story. When she got to the part where her supposed +husband was in America, Mrs Gowler impatiently interrupted her by +saying: + +"Where 'e's making a 'ome for you." + +"How did you know?" asked the astonished Mavis. + +"It's always the way; we've lots of 'em like that here, occasionals and +regulars." + +"Occasionals and regulars!" + +"Lor' bless you, some of 'em comes as punctual as the baked potato man +in October. When was you expectin'?" + +"I'm not quite certain," replied Mavis, at which Mrs Gowler plied her +with a number of questions, leading the former to remark presently: + +"I guess you're due next Friday two weeks. To prevent accidents, you'd +better come on the Wednesday night. If you like to book a bed, I'll see +it's kep'." + +"But what are your charges?" + +"'Ow much can you afford?" + +After discussion, it was arranged that, if Mavis decided to stay with +Mrs Gowler for three weeks certain, she was to pay twenty-two shillings +a week, this sum to include the woman's skilled attendance and nursing, +together with bed and board. In the event of Mavis wanting medical +advice, Mrs Gowler had an arrangement with a doctor by which he charged +the moderate fee of a shilling a visit to any of her patients that +required his services. The extreme reasonableness of the terms inclined +Mavis to decide on going to Mrs Gowler's. + +"There's only one thing," she said: "I've a dog; she's a great pet and +quite clean. If you wouldn't object to her coming, I might--" + +"Bring her: bring her. Is she having dear little puppies?" + +"Oh dear, no." + +"A pity. The more the merrier. I love work." + +This decided Mavis. With considerable misgiving, but spurred by +poverty, she told the woman that she was coming. + +"An' what about binding our bargain?" asked Mrs Gowler. + +"How much do you want?" asked Mavis, as she produced her purse. "Will +five shillings do?" + +"It'll do," admitted Mrs Gowler grudgingly, although the deposit she +usually received was half a crown. + +"I feel rather faint. Is there anywhere I can sit down for a minute?" +asked Mavis. + +"If you don't mind the kitchen. P'raps you'd like a cup of tea. I +always keep it ready on the fire." + +Mavis thanked her and followed Mrs Gowler to the room indicated. +Although it was late in May, a roaring fire was burning in the kitchen, +about which, on various sized towel-horses, numerous articles of +babies' attire were airing. + +"Too 'ot for yer?" asked Mrs Gowler. + +"I don't mind where it is so long as I sit down." + +"'Ow do you like your tea?" asked her hostess. "Noo or stooed?" + +"I'd like fresh tea if it isn't any trouble," replied Mavis. + +The tea was quickly made, there being a plentiful supply of boiling +water. Whilst Mavis was gratefully sipping hers, a noise of something +falling was heard in the scullery behind. + +"It's that dratted cat," cried Mrs Gowler, as she caught up a broom and +waddled from the kitchen. She returned, a moment later, with something +remotely approaching a look of tenderness in her eyes. + +"It's awright; it's my Oscar," she remarked. + +Then what appeared to be a youth of eighteen years of age entered the +kitchen. He was dark, with a receding forehead; his chin, much too +large for his face, seemed as if it had been made for somebody else. +His absence of expression, together with the feeling of discomfort that +at once seized Mavis, told her that he was an idiot. + +"Go an' shake hands with the lady, Oscar." + +Mavis shuddered to feel his damp palm upon hers. + +"You wouldn't believe it, but 'e's six fingers on each 'and, and 'e's +twenty-eight: ain't yer, Oscar?" remarked his mother proudly. + +Oscar turned to grin at his mother, whilst Mavis, with all her maternal +instinct aroused, avoided looking at or thinking of the idiot as much +as possible. + +Mrs Gowler waxed eloquent on the subject of her Oscar, to whom she was +apparently devoted. She was just telling Mavis how he liked to amuse +himself by torturing the cat, when a sharp cry penetrated into the +kitchen, as if coming from the neighbourhood of the front door. + +"Bella's coming on," she said, as she caught up an apron before leaving +the kitchen. "Be nice to the lady, Oscar, and see her out, like the +gent you are," cried Mrs Gowler, before shutting the door. + +Alone with the grinning idiot, Mavis shut her eyes, the while she +finished her tea. She did not want her baby to be in any way affected +by the acute mental discomfort occasioned to its mother by the presence +of Mrs Gowler's son, a contingency she had understood could easily be a +reality. When she looked about for her hat and umbrella, she +discovered, to her great relief, that she was alone, Oscar having +apparently slipped out after his mother, the kitchen door being ajar. +Mavis drew on her gloves, stopped her ears with her fingers as she +passed along the passage, opened the door and hurried away from the +house. + +Once outside, the beauty of the sweet spring day emphasised the horror +of the house she had left. + +She set her lips grimly, thought lovingly of Perigal, and resolved to +dwell on her approaching ordeal as little as possible. Before returning +to Mrs Scatchard's, she looked in to see Miss Nippett, who, with the +coming of summer, seemed to lose strength daily. She now hardly ever +got up, but remained in bed all day, where she would talk softly to +herself. She always brightened up when Mavis came into the room, and +was ever keenly interested in the latest news from the academy, +particularly in Mr Poulter's physical and economic wellbeing. Seeing +how make-believe inquiries of Mr Poulter after his accompanist's health +cheered the lonely old woman, Mavis had no compunction in employing +these white lies to brighten Miss Nippett's monotonous days. + +She raised herself in bed and nodded a welcome as Mavis entered the +room. After assuring Mavis "that she was all right, reely she was," she +asked: + +"When are you going to 'ave your baby?" + +"Very soon now," sighed Mavis. + +"I don't think I shall ever 'ave one," remarked Miss Nippett. + +"Indeed!" + +"They're a great tie if one has a busy life," she said, to add +wistfully, "Though it would be nice if one could get Mr Poulter for a +godfather." + +"Wouldn't it!" echoed Mavis. + +"Give it a good start in the world, you know. It 'ud be something to +talk about 'avin' 'im for a godfather." + +Presently, when Mavis stooped to kiss the wan face before going, Miss +Nippett said: + +"If I was to die, d'ye know what 'ud make me die 'appy?" + +"Don't talk such nonsense: at your age, too." + +"If I could just be made a partner in 'Poulter's,'" continued Miss +Nippett. "Not for the money, you understand, reely not for that; but +for the honour, as you might say." + +"I quite understand." + +"But there, one mustn't be too ambitious. That's the worst of me. And +it's the way to be un'appy," she sighed. + +Mavis walked with heavy heart to her lodging; for all her own griefs, +Miss Nippett's touching faith in "Poulter's" moved her deeply. + +When Mavis got back, she found Mrs Scatchard and her niece in high +feather. They insisted upon Mavis joining them at what they called a +knife and fork tea, to which Mr Napper and two friends of the family +had been invited. Mr Scatchard was not present, but no mention was made +of his absence, it being looked upon as an inevitable relaxation after +the work and fret of the day. The room was littered with evening papers. + +"It all went off beautiful, my dear," Mrs Scatchard remarked to Mavis. + +"I'm glad," said Mavis. + +"We left him safe at the palace, and as there's nothing in the papers +about anything going wrong, it must be all right." + +"Of course," Mavis assented. + +"We know Mr Scatchard has his weaknesses; but then, if he hadn't, he +wouldn't be the musical artiste he is," declared his wife, at which +Mavis, who was just then drinking tea, nearly swallowed it the wrong +way. + +Mr Napper soon dropped in, to be closely followed by a Mr Webb and a +Miss Jennings, who had never met the solicitor's clerk before. Mr Webb +and Miss Jennings were engaged to be married. As if to proclaim their +unalterable affection to the world, they sat side by side with their +arms about each other. + +The presence of strangers moved Mr Napper to talk his farrago of +philosophical nonsense. It did not take long for Mavis to see that Miss +Jennings was much impressed by the flow of many-syllabled words which +issued, without ceasing, from the lawyer's clerk's lips. The admiration +expressed in the girl's eyes incited Mr Napper to further efforts. + +He presently remarked to Miss Jennings: + +"I can tell your character in two ticks." + +Miss Jennings, who had been wholly resigned to the fact of her +insignificance, began to take herself with becoming seriousness. + +"How?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with interest. + +"By your face or by your 'ead." + +"Do tell me," she pleaded. + +"'Ead or face?" + +"Try the head," she said, as she sought to free herself from her +lover's entangling embrace. But Mr Webb would not let her go; he +grasped her firmly by the waist, and, despite her entreaties, would not +relax his hold. Mr Napper made as if he would approach Miss Jennings, +but was restrained by Miss Meakin, who stamped angrily on his corns, +and, when he danced with pain, stared menacingly at him. When he +recovered, Miss Jennings begged him to tell her character by her face. + +Mr Napper, looking out of the corner of one eye at Miss Meakin, stared +attentively at Miss Jennings, who was now fully conscious of the +attention she was attracting. Mr Webb waited in suspense, with his eye +on Mr Napper's face. + +"You're very fond of draughts," said the latter presently. + +"Right!" cried Miss Jennings, as she smiled triumph antly at her lover. + +"But I shouldn't say you was much good at 'huffing,'" he continued. + +"Right again!" smiled the delighted Miss Jennings. + +"I should say your 'eart governed your 'ead," came next. + +"Quite right!" cried Miss Jennings, who was now quite perked up. + +"You're very fond of admiration," exclaimed Mr Napper, after a further +pause. + +"She isn't; she isn't," cried Mr Webb, as his hold tightened on the +loved one's form. + +More was said by Mr Napper in the same strain, which greatly increased +not only Miss Jennings's sense of self-importance, but her interest in +Mr Napper. + +As Mavis perceived how his ridiculous talk captivated Miss Jennings, it +occurred to her that the vanity of women was such, that this instance +of one of their number being impressed by a foolish man's silly +conversation was only typical of the manner in which the rest of the +sex were fascinated. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT + +MISS 'PETT'S APOTHEOSIS + + +Mavis was seriously alarmed for Miss Nippett. Her friend was so ill +that she insisted upon a doctor being called in. After examining the +patient, he told her that Miss Nippett was suffering from acute +influenza; also, that complications were threatening. He warned Mavis +of the risk of catching the disease, which, in her present condition, +might have serious consequences; but she had not the heart to leave her +friend to the intermittent care of the landlady. With the money that +Miss Nippett instructed her to find in queer hiding-places, Mavis +purchased bovril, eggs, and brandy, with which she did her best to +patch up the enfeebled frame of the sick woman. Nothing that she or the +doctor could do had any permanent effect; every evening, Miss Nippett's +temperature would rise with alarming persistence. + +"I wonder if she's anything on her mind that might account for it," the +doctor said to Mavis, when leaving one evening. + +"I don't see what she could have, unless--" + +"Unless?" + +"I believe she worries about a matter connected with her old +occupation. I'll try and find out," said Mavis. + +"'Ow did 'e say I was?" asked Miss Nippett, as Mavis rejoined her. + +"Much better." + +"I ain't." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Reely I ain't. If 'e says I'm better, 'e'd better stay away. That's +the worst of these fash'nable 'Bush' doctors; they make fortunes out of +flattering people they're better when they're not." + +Mavis had more than a suspicion that Miss Nippett's retarded +convalescence was due to not having attained that position in the +academy to which she believed her years of faithful service entitled +her. Mavis made reference to the matter; the nature of Miss Nippett's +replies converted suspicion into certainty. + +The next morning, Mavis called on Mr Poulter, whom she had not seen for +two weeks, the increasing physical disabilities of her condition +compelling her to give up work at the academy. She found him engaged in +the invention of a new country dance for a forthcoming competition. +Mavis explained her errand, but had some difficulty in convincing even +kindly Mr Poulter of Miss Nippett's ambitious leanings: in the course +of years, he had come to look on his devoted accompanist very much as +he regarded "Turpsichor" who stood by the front door. Mavis's request +surprised him almost as much as if he had been told that "Turpsichor" +herself ached to waltz with him in the publicity of a long night. + +"I don't believe she's very long to live," said Mavis. "If you could +make her a partner, merely in an honorary sense, it would make her last +days radiantly happy." + +"It might be done, my dear," mused Mr Poulter. + +"But, whatever you do, don't let her think I suggested it to you." + +"'Poulter's' can be the soul of tact and discretion," he informed her. + +After more conversation on the subject, Mavis was about to take her +leave when the postman brought a parcel addressed to her at the +academy, from her old Pennington friend, Mrs Trivett. It contained +eggs, butter, and cream, together with a letter. This last told Mavis +that things were in a bad way at the farm; in consequence, her husband +was thinking of sub-letting his house, in order to migrate to +Melkbridge, where he might earn a living by teaching music. It closed +with repeated wishes for Mavis's welfare. + +"These people will send things in my maiden name," said Mavis, as she +wondered if Mr Poulter's suspicions had been aroused by similar +packages having occasionally arrived for her addressed in the same way. + +"It was only to be expected. From your professional association with +the academy, they would think it only proper to address you by 'Miss' +and your maiden name," remarked guileless Mr Poulter. + +Upon Mavis's third visit to Miss Nippett after her interview with Mr +Poulter, she noticed a change in the sick woman's appearance; she was +sitting up in bed with a face wreathed in smiles. + +"'Ave you 'eard?" she cried excitedly, when she saw Mavis. + +"Heard what?" asked Mavis innocently. + +"'Bout me an' 'Poulter's.' You don't mean to say you 'aven't 'eard!" + +"I hope it's good news." + +"Good! Good! It's wonderful! Jest you throw your eye over that." + +Mavis read a formally worded letter from Mr Poulter, in which he +informed Miss Nippett "that, in consideration of her many years' +faithful service, he could think of no more fitting way to reward her +than by taking her into partnership: in accordance with this resolve, +what was formerly known as 'Poulter's' would in future be described for +all time as 'Poulter and Nippett's.'" + +"What d'ye think of that?" asked Miss Nippett. + +"It's only what you deserved." + +"There's no going back on it now it's in black and white." + +"He wouldn't wish to." + +"It's proof, ain't it, legal an' all that?" + +"Absolute. I congratulate you," said Mavis, as she took the wan white +hand in hers. + +"Even now I can't b'lieve it's true," sighed the accompanist, as she +sank exhausted on her pillows. + +"You're overdoing it," said Mavis, as she mixed some brandy and milk. + +"I 'ate the muck," declared Miss Nippett, when Mavis besought her to +drink it. + +"But if you don't do what you're told, you'll never get well." + +"Reely!" + +"Of course not. Take this at once," Mavis commanded. + +"Here, I say, who are you talking to? Have you for gotten I'm a partner +in--" Here the little woman broke off, to exclaim as she burst into +tears: "It's true: it's true: it's reely, reely true." + +Before Mavis went home, she soothed Miss Nippett's tears; she left her +in a condition of radiant, enviable happiness. She had never seen +anyone so possessed by calm abiding joy as the accompanist at her +unlooked-for good fortune. + +On her way back, Mavis marvelled at what she believed to be the +all-wise arrangements of Providence, by which happiness was parcelled +out to the humblest of human beings. With the exception of Windebank, +she had not been friendly with a rich person since she had been a +child, so could not, at present, have any opinion of how much happiness +the wealthy enjoyed; but she could not help remarking how much joy and +contentment she had encountered in the person seemingly most unlikely +to be thus blessed. At this period of her life, it did not occur to her +that the natural and proper egoism of the human mind finds expression +in a vanity, that, if happily unchastened by knowledge or experience, +is a source of undiluted joy to the possessor. + +If time be measured by the amount of suffering endured, it was a little +later that Mavis realised that to be ignorant is to be often happy, +enlightenment begetting desires that there is no prospect of staying, +and, therefore, discontentment ensues. + +When Mavis next visited Miss Nippett, she rummaged, at her friend's +request, in the cupboard containing the unclaimed "overs" for finery +with which the accompanist wished to decorate her exalted state. If +Miss Nippett had had her way and had appeared in the street wearing the +gaudy, fluffy things she picked out, she would have been put down as a +disreputable old lady. But, for all Miss Nippett's resolves, it was +written in the book of fate that she was to take but one more journey +out of doors, and that in the simplest of raiment. For all her +prodigious elation at her public association with Mr Poulter, her +health far from improved; her strength declined daily; she wasted away +before Mavis' dismayed eyes. She did not suffer, but dozed away the +hours with increasingly rare intervals in which she was stark awake. On +these latter occasions, for all the latent happiness which had come +into her life, she would fret because Mr Poulter rarely called to +inquire after her health. Such was her distress at this remissness on +the part of the dancing master, that more often than not, when Miss +Nippett, after waking from sleep, asked with evident concern if Mr +Poulter had been, Mavis would reply: + +"Yes. But he didn't like to come upstairs and disturb you." + +For five or six occasions Miss Nippett accepted this explanation, but, +at last, she became skeptical of Mavis' statements. + +"Funny 'e always comes when I'm asleep!" she would say. "S'pose he was +too busy to send up 'is name an' chance waking me. Tell those stories +to them as swallers them." + +But a time came when Miss Nippett was too ill even to fret. For three +days she lay in the dim borderland of death, during which the doctor, +when he visited her, became more and more grave. A time came when he +could do no more; he told Mavis that the accompanist would soon be +beyond further need of mortal aid. + +The news seemed to strike a chill to Mavis' heart. Owing to their +frequent meetings, Miss Nippett had become endeared to her: she could +hardly speak for emotion. + +"How long will it be?" she asked. + +"She'll probably drag through the night. But if I were you, I should go +home in the morning." + +"And leave her to die alone?" + +"You have your own trouble to face. Hasn't she any friends?" + +"None that I know of." + +"No one she'd care to see?" + +"There's one man, her old employer. But he's always so busy." + +"Where does he live?" + +Mavis told him. + +"I'll find time to see him and ask him to come." + +"It's very kind of you." + +But the kindly doctor did not seem to hear what she said; he was sadly +regarding Miss Nippett, who, just now, was dozing uneasily on her +pillows. Then, without saying a word, he left the room. + +Thus it came about that Mavis kept the long, sad night vigil beside the +woman whom death was to claim so soon. As Miss Nippett's numbered +moments remorselessly passed, the girl's heart went out to the pitiful, +shrivelled figure in the bed. It seemed that an unfair contest was +being fought between the might and majesty of death on the one hand, +and an insignificant, work-worn woman on the other, in which the ailing +body had not the ghost of a chance. Mavis found herself reflecting on +the futility of life, if all it led to were such a pitifully unequal +struggle as that going on before her eyes. Then she remembered how she +had been taught that this world was but a preparation for the joyous +life in the next; also, that directly Miss Nippett ceased to breathe it +would mean that she was entering upon her existence in realms of bliss. +Somehow, Mavis could not help smiling at the mental picture of her +friend which had suddenly occurred to her. In this, she had imagined +Miss Nippett with a crown on her head and a harp in her hand, singing +celestial melodies at the top of her voice. The next moment, she +reproached herself for this untimely thought; her heart ached at the +extremity of the little old woman huddled up in the bed. Mavis had +always lived her life among more or less healthy people, who were +ceaselessly struggling in order to live; consequently, she had always +disregarded the existence of death. The great destroyer seemed to find +small employment amongst those who flocked to their work in the morning +and left it at night; but here, in the meagre room, where human clay +was, as it were, stripped of all adornments, in order not to lose the +smallest chance in the fell tussle with disease, it was brought home to +Mavis what frail opposition the bodies of men and women alike offer to +the assaults of the many missioners of death. Things that she had not +thought of before were laid bare before her eyes. The inevitable ending +of life bestowed on all flesh an infinite pathos which she had never +before remarked. The impotence of mankind to escape its destiny made +life appear to her but as a tragic procession, in which all its +distractions and vanities were only so much make-believe, in order to +hide its destination from eyes that feared to see. The helplessness, +the pitifulness of the passing away of the lonely old woman gave a +dignity, a grandeur to her declining moments, which infected the common +furniture of the room. The cheap, painted chest of drawers, the worn +trunk at the foot of the bed, the dingy wall-paper, the shaded white +glass lamp on the rickety table, all seemed invested with a nobility +alien to their everyday common appearance, inasmuch as they assisted at +the turning of a living thing, who had rejoiced, and toiled, and +suffered, into unresponsive clay. Even the American clock on the +mantelpiece acquired a fine distinction by reason of its measuring the +last moments of a human being, with all its miserable sensibility to +pain and joy--a distinction that was not a little increased, in Mavis' +eyes, owing to the worldly insignificance of the doomed woman. + +After Mavis had got ready to hand things that might be wanted in the +night, she settled herself in a chair by the head of the bed in order +to snatch what sleep she might. Before she dozed, she wondered if that +day week, which she would be spending at Mrs Gowler's, would find her +as prostrated by illness as was her friend. Two or three times in the +dread silent watches of the night, she was awakened by Miss Nippett's +continually talking to herself. Mavis would interrupt her by asking if +she would take any nourishment; but Miss Nippett, vouchsafing no +answer, would go on speaking as before, her talk being entirely +concerned with matters connected with the academy. And all the time, +the American clock on the mantelpiece remorselessly ticked off the +accompanist's remaining moments. + +Mavis, heartsick and weary, got little sleep. She watched the night +grow paler and paler outside the window, till, presently, the shaded +lamp at the bedside seemed absurdly wan. Birds greeted with their songs +the coming of the day. The sun rose in another such a blue sky as that +on which she and Charlie Perigal had enjoyed their +never-to-be-forgotten visit to Llansallas Bay. Mavis was not a little +jarred by the insensibility of the June day to Miss Nippett's +approaching dissolution. She reflected in what a sad case would be +humanity, if there were no loving Father to welcome the bruised and +weary traveller, arrived at the end of life's pilgrimage, with loving +words or healing sympathy. In her heart of hearts, she envied Miss +Nippett the heavenly solace and divine compassion which would soon be +hers. Then her heart leapt to the glory of the young June day; she +devoutly hoped that she would be spared to witness many, many such days +as she now looked upon. + +"Mrs Kenrick!" said a voice from the bed. + +"Are you awake?" asked Mavis. + +"Do draw that there blind. I can't stand that there sun." + +"Does it worry you?" + +"Give me the 'lectric, same as they have at the Athenaeum on long +nights." + +Mavis did as she was bid: the light of the lamp at once became an +illumination of some importance. + +"Now I want me shawl on again; the old one." "Don't you want any +nourishment?" asked Mavis, as she fastened the familiar shawl about +Miss Nippett's shoulders. + +"What's the use?" + +"To get better, of course." + +"No getting better for me. I know: reely I do." + +"Nonsense!" + +Miss Nippett shook her head as resolutely as her bodily weakness +permitted. + +"What's the time?" she asked presently. + +Mavis told her. + +"Whatever 'appens, I shall go down to posterity as a partner in +'Poulter's'!" + +"You've no business to think of such things," faltered Mavis. + +"It's no use codding me. I know; reely I do." + +"Then, if you don't believe me, wouldn't you like to see a clergyman?" + +"There's someone else I'd much sooner see." + +"Mr Poulter?" + +"You've guessed right this time. Is there--is there any chance of his +coming?" asked Miss Nippett wistfully. + +"There's every chance. The doctor was going to tell him how ill you +were." + +"But you don't understand; these great, big, famous men ain't like me +and you. They--they forget and--" Tears gathered in the red rims of +Miss Nippett's eyes. Mavis wiped them gently away and softly kissed the +puckered brow. + +"There's somethin' I'd like to tell you," said Miss Nippett, some +minutes later. + +"Try and get some sleep," urged Mavis. + +"But I want to tell someone. It isn't as if you was a larruping girl +who'd laugh, but you're a wife, an' ever so big at that, with what +you're expectin' next week." + +"What is it?" asked Mavis. + +"Bend over: you never know oo's listening." + +Mavis did as she was asked. + +"It's Mr Poulter--can't you guess?" faltered Miss Nippett. + +"Tell me, dear." + +"I b'lieve I love him: reely I do. Don't laugh." + +"Why should I?" + +"There was nothing in it--don't run away thinking there was--but how +could there be, 'im so great and noble and famous, and me--" + +Increasing weakness would not suffer Miss Nippett to finish the +sentence. + +Mavis forced her to take some nourishment, after which, Miss Nippett +lay back on her pillow, with her eyes fixed on the clock. Mavis sat in +the chair by the bedside. Now and again, her eyes would seek the +timepiece. Whenever she heard a sound downstairs (for some time the +people of the house could be heard moving about), Miss Nippett would +listen intently and then look wistfully at Mavis. + +The girl divined how heartfully the dying woman hungered for Mr +Poulter's coming. + +Thrice Mavis offered to seek him out, but on each occasion Miss +Nippett's terrified pleadings not to be left alone constrained her to +stay. + +It wanted a few minutes to eight when Miss Nippett fell into a peaceful +doze. Mavis took this opportunity of making herself a much-needed cup +of tea. Whilst she was gratefully sipping it, Miss Nippett suddenly +awoke to say: + +"There! There's something I always meant to do." + +"Never mind now," said Mavis soothingly. + +"But I do. It is something to mind about--I never stood 'Turpsichor' a +noo coat of paint." + +"Don't worry about it." + +"I always promised I would, but kep' putting it off an' off, an' now +she'll never get it from me. Poor old 'Turpsichor'!" + +Miss Nippett soon forgot her neglect of "Turpsichor" and fell into a +further doze. + +When she next awoke, she asked: + +"Would you mind drawing them curtains?" + +"Like that?" + +"You are good to me: reely you are." + +"Nonsense!" + +"But then you ought to be: you've got a good man to love you an' give +you babies." + +"What is it you want?" asked Mavis sadly. + +"Can you see the 'Scrubbs'?" + +"The prison?" + +"Yes, the 'Scrubbs.' Can you see 'em?" + +"Yes." + +"Quite distinct?" + +"Quite." + +"That's awright." + +Miss Nippett sighed with some content. + +"If 'e don't come soon, 'e'll be too late," murmured Miss Nippett after +an interval of seeming exhaustion. + +Mavis waited with ears straining for the sound of the knocker on the +front door. Miss Nippett lay so that her weakening eyes could watch the +door of the bedroom. Now and again, Mavis addressed one or two remarks +to her, but the old woman merely shook her head, as if to convey that +she had neither the wish nor the strength for further speech. Mavis, +with a great fear, noted the failing light in her friend's eyes, but +was convinced that, for all the weakening of the woman's physical +processes, she desired as ardently as ever a sight of Mr Poulter before +she died. A few minutes later, a greyness crept into Miss Nippett's +face. Mavis repressed an inclination to fly from the room. Then, +although she feared to believe the evidence of her ears, a knock was +heard at the door. After what seemed an interval of centuries, she +heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Mavis glanced at Miss Nippett. +She was horrified to see that her friend was heedless of Mr Poulter's +possible approach. She moved quickly to the door. To her unspeakable +relief, Mr Poulter stood outside. She beckoned him quickly into the +room. He hastened to the bedside, where, after gazing sadly at the all +but unconscious Miss Nippett, he knelt to take the woman's wan, worn +hand in his. To Mavis's surprise, Miss Nippett's fingers at once closed +on those of Mr Poulter. As the realisation of his presence reached the +dying woman's understanding, a smile of infinite gladness spread over +her face: a rare, happy smile, which, as if by magic, effaced the +puckered forehead, the wasted cheeks, the long upper lip, to substitute +in their stead a great contentment, such as might be possessed by one +who has found a deep joy, not only after much travail, but as if, till +the last moment, the longed-for bliss had all but been denied. The wan +fingers grasped tighter and tighter; the smile faded a little before +becoming fixed. + +Another moment, and "Poulter's" had lost the most devoted servant which +it had ever possessed. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE + +THE ORDEAL + + +Mavis and Jill stood outside Mrs Gowler's, in the late evening of the +Wednesday after the day on which Miss Nippett had commenced her long, +long rest. Mavis had left the trunk she was bringing at the station (a +porter was trundling it on), but before opening the gate of No. 9 +Durley Road, she instinctively paused to take what she thought might +prove a last look at the world. + +The contented serenity of the summer night enhanced the meanness of the +little street; but Mavis's imagination soared over the roofs, not only +of the road in which she stood, but of countless other roofs, till it +winged its way to Melkbridge. Instead of the depressing road, with its +infrequent down-at-heel passers-by, Mavis saw only the Avon as she had +known it a year ago. The river flowed lazily beneath the pollard +willows, as if complaisant enough to let these see their reflection in +the water. Forget-me-nots jewelled the banks; ragged robin looked +roguishly from, clumps of bushes; the scent of hay seemed to fill the +world. That was then. + +Now--! Before she had set out for Durley Road, she had penned a little +note to Perigal. In this she had told him of the circumstances in which +she was writing it, and had said that if it proved to be the last +letter she should send him, that she would never cease to love and +trust him in any world to which it might please God to take her. This +was all she had written; but the moving simplicity of her words might +have touched even Perigal's heart. Besides writing to her lover, Mavis +had given Mrs Scatchard the address to which she was going, and had +besought her, in the event of anything untoward happening, either to +take Jill for her own or to find her a good home. Mrs Scatchard's +promise to keep and cherish Jill herself, should anything happen to her +mistress, cheered Mavis much. + +Mavis took a last long look of the June night, sighed and entered the +gate of No. 9: her nerves were so disordered that it seemed as if it +shut behind her with a menacing clang. She knocked at the door, but, +upon no one coming, she knocked again and again. She knew there was +someone in the house, for the wailing of babies could be heard within. +For all anyone cared, her baby might have been born on the step. After +knocking and waiting for quite a long time, the door was opened by a +sad-faced girl, who, with the remains of a fresh complexion, looked as +if she were countryborn and bred. + +"Mrs Gowler?" asked Mavis wearily. + +Without making any reply, the young woman left the door open and +disappeared up the stairs. Mavis, followed by Jill, dragged herself +into the passage. The puling and smell of unwashed babies assailed her +ears and nostrils to such an extent, that, to escape from these, she +walked into the kitchen and closed the door. This room was empty, but, +as on her last visit, a fire roared in the kitchener, before which +innumerable rows of little garments were airing. Overpowered by the +stifling heat, Mavis sank on a chair, where a horde of flies buzzed +about her head and tried to settle on her face. She was about to seek +the passage in preference to the stuffy kitchen, when she heard a loud +single knock at the front door. Believing this to be the porter with +her luggage, she went to the door, to find that her surmise was correct. + +"Which room shall I take it to, miss?" + +"It will do if you put it in the hall," replied Mavis. + +When she had paid the man and shut the door, she sat upon her box in +the passage. Jill nestled beside her, whilst Mavis rested with her +fingers pressed well against her ears, to deaden the continual crying +of babies which came from various rooms in the house. + +As Mavis thus waited, disconsolate and alone, her heart sank within +her. Her present case seemed to foreshadow the treatment she would +receive at Mrs Gowler's hands during her confinement, which might now +occur at any moment. As she waited, she lost all count of time; her +whole being was concerned with an alteration in her habits of thought, +which had been imminent during the last few months, but which needed a +powerful stimulus to be completely effected. This was now supplied. +Hitherto, when it became a question whether she should consider others +before herself, she had, owing to an instinct in her blood, chosen the +way of self-abnegation. She often suspected that others took advantage +of this unselfishness, but found it hard to do otherwise than she had +always done. Whether it was owing to all she had lately endured, or +because her maternal instinct urged her to think only of her as yet +unborn little one, she became aware of a hardening of heart which +convinced her of the expediency of fighting for her own hand in the +future. Mrs Gowler's absence was the immediate cause of this +manifestation. Had she not loved Perigal so devotedly and trusted him +so completely, she would have left the miserable house in Durley Road +and gone to an expensive nursing home, to insist later upon his meeting +the bill. For all her awakened instinct of self, the fact of her still +deciding to remain at Mrs Gowler's was a yet further sacrifice on the +altar of the loved one. Perhaps this further self-effacement where her +lover was concerned urgently moved her to stand no trifling in respect +of others. Consequently, when about half-past ten Mrs Gowler opened the +door, accompanied by her idiot son, Oscar, who looked more imbecile +than ever in elaborate clothes, she was not a little surprised to be +greeted by Mavis with the words: + +"What does this mean?" + +"What does what mean?" replied Mrs Gowler, bridling. + +"Keeping me waiting like this." + +"Wot do you expect for wot you're payin'--brass banns and banners?" + +"I don't expect impertinence from you!" cried Mavis. + +"Imperence! imperence! And oo's Mrs Kenrick to give 'erself such airs! +And before my Oscar too!" + +"Listen to me," said Mavis. + +"I wonder you don't send for your 'usband to go for me." + +"But--" + +"Your lovin' 'usband wot's in Ameriky a-making a snug little 'ome for +you." + +Mavis was, for the moment, vanquished by the adroitness of Mrs Gowler's +thrust. + +"I'm not well enough to quarrel. Please to show me my room." + +"That's better. An' I'll be pleased to show you what you call 'my room' +when I've given my Oscar 'is supper," shouted Mrs Gowler, as she sailed +into the kitchen, followed by her gibbering son, who twice turned to +stare at Mavis. + +Alone in the unlit, stuffy passage, Mavis whispered her troubles to +Jill. Tears came to her eyes, which she held back by thinking +persistently of the loved one. While she waited, she heard the clatter +of plates and the clink of glasses in the kitchen. Mavis would have +gone for a short walk, but she had a superstitious fear of going out of +doors again till after her baby was born. + +The sharp cry, as of one suddenly assailed by pain, came from the floor +overhead. Then a door opened, and footsteps came to the top of the +first flight of stairs. + +"Mrs Gowler! Mrs Gowler!" cried a woman's voice frantically. But the +woman had to call many times before her voice triumphed over the +thickness of the kitchen door and the noise of the meal. + +"Oo is it?" asked Mrs Gowler, when she presently came from the kitchen, +with her mouth full of bread, cheese, stout, and spring onions. + +"Liz--Mrs Summerville!" replied the woman. + +"'Arf a mo', an' I'll be up," grumbled Mrs Gowler, as she returned to +the kitchen, to emerge a few seconds later pinning on her apron. + +"You finish yer supper, Oscar, but don't drink all the stout," she +called to her son, as she went up the stairs. Before she had got to the +landing, the cry was heard again and yet again. It sounded to Mavis +like some wounded animal being tortured beyond endurance. The cries +continued, to seem louder when a door was opened, and to be +correspondingly deadened when this was closed. Mavis shuddered; +anticipation of the torment she would have to endure chilled the blood +in her veins; cold shivers coursed down her back. It was as if she were +imprisoned in a house of pain, from which she could only escape by +enduring the most poignant of all torture inflicted by nature on +sensitive human bodies. The cries became continuous. Mavis placed her +fingers in her ears to shut them out. For all this precaution, a scream +of pain penetrated to her hearing. A few moments later, when she had to +use her hands in order to prevent Jill from jumping on to her lap, she +did not hear a sound. Some quarter of an hour later, Mrs Gowler +descended the stairs. + +"A quick job that," she remarked to Mavis, who did not make any reply. +"Let's 'ope you'll be as sharp," added the woman, as she disappeared +into the kitchen. + +Mavis gathered from these remarks that a mother had been delivered of a +child during Mrs Gowler's brief sojourn upstairs. The latter confirmed +this surmise by saying a little later, when she issued from the kitchen +drying her hands and bared arms on a towel: + +"The worst of these here nursing 'omes is that yer never knows when +you're going to be on the job. I didn't expect Liz till termorrer." + +Mavis made no reply. + +"Would you like a glass of stout?" asked Mrs Gowler. + +"No, thank you." + +"I'm going to open another bottle an' thought you'd join, jes' friendly +like, as you might say. What with the work an' the 'eat of the kitchen, +I tell yer, I can do with it." + +"I'm tired of sitting in this horrible passage. I wish you would show +me to my room." + +"Wait till it's ready," retorted Mrs Gowler, angry at her hospitality +being refused. + +"It ought to be ready. What else did I arrange to come for?" + +"You can go up if you like, but Mrs May is bathing her baby, an' +there's no room to move." + +"Does--does that mean that you haven't given me a room to myself?" +cried Mavis. + +"Wot more d'ye expect for wot you're payin'?" + +Mavis made up her mind. + +"If you don't give me a room to myself, I shall go," declared Mavis. + +"And 'ave yer baby in the street?" + +"That's my affair." + +Mavis rose as if to make good her words. + +Seeing that she was in earnest, Mrs Gowler said: + +"Don't be a mug. I'll see what I can do." + +Mavis was much relieved when Mrs Gowler waddled up the stairs, taking +with her an evil-smelling oil lamp. The woman's presence was beginning +to inspire her with a nameless dread, which was alien to the repulsion +inspired by her appearance and coarse speech. Now and again, Mavis +caught a glimpse of terrifying depths of resolution in the woman's +nature; then she seemed as if she would stick at nothing in order to +gain her ends. + +"This way, please, Mrs 'Aughty," Mrs Gowler presently called from the +landing above Mavis's head. + +Mavis walked up the two flights of stairs, followed by Jill, where she +found Mrs Gowler in the passage leading to the two top-back rooms of +the house. One of these was small, being little larger than a box-room, +but to Mavis's eyes it presented the supreme advantage of being +untenanted by any other patient. + +"We'd better 'ave most of the furniture out, 'ceptin' the bed and +washstand," declared Mrs Gowler. + +"But where am I to keep my things?" asked Mavis. + +"Can't you 'ave your box jes' outside the door? If there ain't no +space, you might pop off before I could hop round the bed." + +"Is it often dangerous?" faltered Mavis. + +"That depends. 'Ave you walked much?" + +"A good deal. Why?" + +"That's in yer favour. But I 'ope nothin' will 'appen, for my sake. I +can't do with any more scandals here. I've my Oscar to think of." + +"Scandals?" queried Mavis. + +"What about gettin' your box upstairs?" asked Mrs Gowler, as if wishful +to change the subject. + +"Isn't there anyone who can carry it up?" + +"Not to-night. Yer can't expect my Oscar to soil 'is 'ands with menial +work. I'm bringing him up to be the gent he is." + +"Then I'll go down and fetch what I want for the night." + +"Let me git 'em for yer," volunteered Mrs Gowler, as her eyes twinkled +greedily. + +"I won't trouble you." + +Mavis went down to the passage, taking with her the evil-smelling lamp: +the spilled oil upon the outside of this greased Mavis's fingers. + +To save her strength, she cut the cords with which her trunk was bound +with a kitchen knife, borrowed from Mrs Gowler for this purpose. She +took from this box such articles as she might need for the night. +Amongst other things, she obtained the American clock which had +belonged to her old friend Miss Nippett. Mr Poulter, to whom the +accompanist had left her few possessions, had prevailed on Mavis to +accept this as a memento of her old friend. + +Mavis toiled up the stairs with an armful of belongings, preceded by +Mrs Gowler carrying the lamp, the woman impressed at the cut and +material of which her last arrival's garments were made. + +When Mavis had wound up the clock and placed it on the mantelpiece, +and, with a few deft touches, had made the room a trifle less +repellent, she saw her landlady come into the room with three bottles +and two glasses (one of these latter had recently held stout) tucked +under her arms. + +"I thought we'd 'ave a friendly little chat, my dear," remarked Mrs +Gowler, as if to explain her hospitality. + +Just then, Mavis's heart ached for the sympathy and support of some +motherly person in whom she could confide. A tender word, a hint of +appreciation of her present extremity, would have done much to give her +stay for the approaching dread ordeal. Perhaps this was why, for the +time being, she stifled her dislike of Mrs Gowler and submitted to the +woman's presence. Mrs Gowler unscrewed a bottle of stout, poured +herself out a glass, drank it at one draught, and then half filled a +glass for Mavis. + +"Drink it, my dear. It will do us both good," cried Mrs Gowler, who +already showed signs of having drunk more than she could conveniently +carry. + +Mavis, not to seem ungracious, sipped the stout as she sat on the bed. + +"'Ow is it you ain't in a proper nursing 'ome?" asked Mrs Gowler, after +she had opened the second bottle. + +"Aren't I?" asked Mavis quickly. + +"I've 'eard of better," answered Mrs Gowler guardedly. "Though, after +all, I may be a better friend to you than all o' them together, with +their doctors an' all." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, wondering what she meant. + +"But that's tellin's," continued Mrs Gowler, looking greedily at Mavis +from the depths of her little eyes. + +"Is it?" + +"Babies is little cusses; noisy, squally little brats." + +"Not one's own." + +"That's what I say. I love the little dears. Gawd's messages I call +them. All the same, they're there, as you might say. An' yer can't +explain them away." + +"True," smiled Mavis. + +"An' their cost!" grumbled Mrs Gowler, as she drained the second bottle +by putting it to her lips. "They simply eat good money, an' never 'ave +enough." + +"One must look after one's own," remarked Mavis. + +"Little dears! 'Ow I love their pretty prattle. It makes me think of +'eavens an' Gawd's angels," said Mrs Gowler. Then, as Mavis did not +make any remark, she added: "Six was born 'ere last week." + +"So many!" + +"But onny three's alive." + +"The other three are dead!" + +"It costs five bob a week an' extries to let a kid live, to say nothin' +of the lies and trouble an' all. An' no thanks you get for it." + +"A mother loves and looks after her own," declared Mavis. + +"Little dears! Ain't they pretty when they prattles their little +prayers?" asked Mrs Gowler, as her lips parted in a terrible smile. +"Many's the time I've given 'em gin from me own bottle to give the +little angels sleep." + +She said more to the same effect, to pause before saying, with a return +to her practical manner: + +"An' the gentlemen! They're always 'appy when anything 'appens to baby." + +Mavis looked at the woman with questioning eyes; she wondered what she +meant. For a few moments Mrs Gowler attempted to lull Mavis's +uneasiness by extravagant praise of infants' ways, which culminated in +a hideous imitation of baby language. Suddenly she stopped; her little +eyes glared fiercely at Mavis, while her face became rigid. + +"What's the matter?" asked the girl. + +Mrs Gowler rose unsteadily to her feet and said: + +"Ten quid down will save you from forking out five bob a week till +you're blue in the face from paying it." + +Mavis stared at her in astonishment. Mrs Gowler backed to the door. + +"Told yer you'd fallen on your feet. Next time you'll know better. No +pretty pretties: one little nightdress is all you'll want. But it's +spot cash." + +Mavis was alone; it was, comparatively, a long time before she gathered +what Mrs Gowler meant. When she realised that the woman had as good as +offered to murder her child, when born, for the sum of ten pounds, her +first impulse was to leave the house. But it was now late; she was worn +out with the day's happenings; also, she reflected that, with the +scanty means at her disposal, a further move to a like house to Mrs +Gowler's might find her worse off than she already was. Her heart was +heavy with pain when she knelt by her bedside to say her prayers, but, +try as she might, she could find no words with which to thank her +heavenly Father for the blessings of the day and to implore their +continuance for the next, as was her invariable custom. When she got up +from her knees, she hoped that the disabilities of her present +situation would atone for any remissness of which she had been guilty. +Although she was very tired, it was a long time before she slept. She +lay awake, to think long and lovingly of Perigal. This, and Jill's +presence, were the two things that sustained her during those hours of +sleeplessness in a strange, fearsome house, troubled as she was with +the promise of infinite pain. + +That night she loved Perigal more than she had ever done before. It +seemed to her that she was his, body and soul, for ever and ever; that +nothing could ever alter it. When she fell asleep, she did not rest for +long at a stretch. Every now and then, she would awaken with a start, +when, for some minutes, she would listen to the ticking of the American +clock on the mantelpiece. Her mind went back to the vigil she had spent +during Miss Nippett's kit night of life. Then, it had seemed as if the +clock were remorselessly eager to diminish the remaining moments of the +accompanist's allotted span. Now, it appeared to Mavis as if the clock +were equally desirous of cutting short the moments that must elapse +before her child was born. + +The next morning, she was awakened soon after eight by the noise of a +tray being banged down just inside the door, when she gathered that +someone had brought her breakfast. This consisted of coarsely cut +bread, daubed with disquieting-looking butter, a boiled shop egg, and a +cup of thin, stewed tea. As Mavis drank the latter, she recollected the +monstrous suggestion which Mrs Gowler had insinuated the previous +evening. The horror of it filled her mind to the exclusion of +everything else. She had quite decided to leave the house as soon as +she could pack her things, when a pang of dull pain troubled her body. +She wondered if this heralded the birth of her baby, which she had not +expected for quite two days, when the pain passed. She got out of bed +and was setting about getting up, when the pain attacked her again, to +leave her as it had done before. She waited in considerable suspense, +as she strove to believe that the pains were of no significance, when +she experienced a further pang, this more insistent than the last. She +washed and dressed with all dispatch. While thus occupied, the pains +again assailed her. When ready, she went downstairs to the kitchen, +followed by Jill, to find the room deserted. She called "Mrs Gowler" +several times without getting any response. Before going to her box to +get some things she wanted, she gave Jill a run in the enclosed space +behind the house. When Mavis presently went upstairs with an armful of +belongings from her box, she heard a voice call from the further side +of a door she was passing: + +"Was you wanting Piggy?" + +"I wanted Mrs Gowler." + +"She's gone out and taken Oscar with her." + +"When will she be back?" + +"Gawd knows. Was you wanting her pertikler?" + +"Not very," answered Mavis, at which she sought her room. + +For four hours, Mavis sat terrified and alone in the poky room, during +which her pains gradually increased. They were still bearable, and not +the least comparable to the mental tortures which continually +threatened her, owing to the dreariness of her surroundings and her +isolation from all human tenderness. Now and again, she would play with +Jill, or she would remake her bed. When the horror of her position was +violently insistent, she would think long and lovingly of Perigal, and +of how he would overwhelm her with caresses and protestations of +livelong devotion, could he ever learn of all she had suffered from her +surrender at Looe. + +About one, the door was thrust open, and Mrs Gowler, hot and +perspiring, and wearing her bonnet, came into the room, carrying a +plate, fork, knife, and spoon in one hand and a steaming pot in the +other. + +"'Elp yerself!" cried Mrs Gowler, as she threw the plate and spoon upon +the bed and thrust the pot beneath Mavis's nose. + +"It's coming on," said Mavis. + +"You needn't tell me that. I see it in yer face. 'Elp yerself." + +"But--" + +"I'll talk to you when I've got the dinners. 'Elp yerself." + +"What is it?" asked Mavis. + +"Lovely boiled mutting. Eat all you can swaller. You can do with it +before you've done," admonished the woman. + +Six o'clock found Mavis lying face downwards on the bed, her body +racked with pain. Mrs Gowler sat impassively on the only chair in the +room, while Jill watched her mistress with frightened eyes from a +corner. Now and again, when a specially violent pain tormented her +body, Mavis would grip the head rail of the bed with her hands, or bite +Perigal's ring, which she wore suspended from her neck. Once, when Mrs +Gowler was considerate enough to wipe away the beads of sweat, which +had gathered on the suffering girl's forehead, Mavis gasped: + +"Is it nearly over?" + +"What! Over!" laughed Mrs Gowler mirthlessly. "I call that the +preliminary canter." + +"Will it be much worse?" + +"You're bound to be worse before you're better." + +"I can't--I can't bear it!" + +"Bite yer wedding ring and trus' in Gawd," remarked Mrs Gowler, in the +manner of one mechanically repeating a formula. "This is what some of +the gay gentlemen could do with." + +"It's--it's terrible," moaned Mavis. + +"'Cause it's your first. When you've been here a few times, it's as +easy as kiss me 'and." + +Very soon, Mavis was more than ever in the grip of the fiend who seemed +bent on torturing her without ruth. She had no idea till then of the +immense ingenuity which pain can display in its sport with prey. During +one long-drawn pang, it would seem to Mavis as if the bones in her body +were being sawn with a blunt saw; the next, she believed that her flesh +was being torn from her bones with red-hot pincers. Then would follow a +hallowed, blissful, cool interval from searing pain, which made her +think that all she had endured was well worth the suffering, so vastly +did she appreciate relief. Then she would fall to shivering. Once or +twice, it seemed that she was an instrument on which pain was +extemporising the most ingenious symphonies, each more involved than +the last. Occasionally, she would wonder if, after all, she were +mistaken, and if she were not enjoying delicious sensations of +pleasure. Then, so far as her pain-racked body would permit, she found +herself wondering at the apparently endless varieties of torment to +which the body could be subjected. + +Once, she asked to look at herself in the glass. She did not recognise +anything resembling herself in the swollen, distorted features, the +distended eyes, and the dilated nostrils which she saw in the glass +which Mrs Gowler held before her. She was soon lost to all sense of her +surroundings. She feared that she was going mad. She reassured herself, +however, because, by a great effort of will, she would conjure up some +recollection of the loved one's appearance, which she saw as if from a +great distance. Then, after eternities of torment, she was possessed by +a culminating agony. Sweat ran from her pores. Every nerve in her being +vibrated with suffering, as if the accumulated pain of the ages was +being conducted through her body. More and even more pain. Then, a +supreme torment held her, which made all others seem trifling by +comparison. The next moment, a new life was born into the world--a new +life, with all its heritage of certain sorrow and possible joy; with +all its infinite sensibility to pleasure or pain, to hope and love and +disillusion. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY + +THE "PERMANENT" + + +When Mavis regained a semblance of consciousness, something soft and +warm lay on her heart. Jill was watching her with anxious eyes. A queer +little female figure stood beside the bed. + +"Better, dear?" asked this person. + +"Where's Mrs Gowler?" whispered Mavis. + +"She got tired of waiting, so I came in. I've been here a hour" (she +pronounced the aspirate). + +"Who are you?" asked Mavis. + +"I'm the 'permanent.'" + +"The what?" + +"The 'permanent': at least, that's what they call me here. But you +mustn't talk. You've 'ad a bad time." + +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked Mavis. + +"A boy. Don't say no more." + +Mavis did not know if she were pleased or otherwise with the sex of her +child; she could only thankfully realise that she was free from +torment. She lay back, enjoying to the full her delicious comparative +ease, before lifting the bed clothes to press her lips against her +baby's head. She held it closer to her heart as she realised that its +father was the man she loved. Although the woman who had introduced +herself as the "permanent" had told Mavis not to talk, she did not set +the example of silence. While she busied herself about and in and out +of the room, she talked incessantly, chiefly about herself. For a long +time, Mavis was too occupied with her own thoughts to pay any attention +to what she was saying. Before she listened to the woman's gossip, she +was more intent on taking in the details of her appearance. Mavis could +not make up her mind whether she was young, old, or middle-aged; she +might so easily have been one of these. Her face was not unpleasant, +although her largish dark eyes were quite close to her snub nose, over +which the eyebrows met. Her expression was that of good-natured +simplicity, while her movements and manner of speaking betrayed great +self-consciousness, the result of an immense personal vanity. She was +soon to be a mother. + +"It's my eighth, and all by different fathers," she told Mavis, who +wondered at the evident pride with which the admission was made, till +the woman added: "When you have had eight, and all by different +fathers, it proves how the gentlemen love you." + +Mavis, for all her exhaustion, could not help smiling at the +ingenuousness of the "permanent's" point of view. Seeing Mavis smile, +the woman laughed also, but her hilarity was inspired by self-conscious +pride. + +"P'raps you wonder what's become of the little dears. Three's dead, +two's 'dopted, an' two is paid for at five bob a week by the +gentlemen," she informed Mavis. She then asked: "I'spose this is your +first?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"My! You're a baby at it. I 'spect I'll have a dozen to your six." + +Presently, she spoke of Mrs Gowler. + +"I've had every kid here, all seven of 'em, before the one I'm +'spectin' on Sunday. That's why Piggy calls me the 'permanent.' Do you +like Piggy?" + +Mavis moved her head in a way that could either be interpreted as a nod +or a negative shake. + +"I don't care for her very much, though I must say that so long as you +locks up yer things, and don't take notice of what she says or does +when she's drunk, she's always quite the lady." + +Mavis, for all her growing weariness, smiled. + +"Do you know why I reely come here?" asked the "permanent." "'Cause I +love Piggy's son, Oscar. Oh, he is that comic! He do make me laugh so, +I never can see enough of him. Don't you love looking at Oscar?" + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Don't you think him comic?" + +"No," whispered Mavis. + +"Go h'on! But there, I nearly forgot!" + +The "permanent" left the room, at which Mavis closed her eyes, thankful +for a few moments' peace. + +"Take this cornflour," said a voice at her elbow: the "permanent" had +brought her a basinful of this food. "I made it meself, 'cause Piggy +always burns it, an' Oscar puts his fingers in it." + +"You're very kind," murmured Mavis. + +"Hold yer jaw," remarked the "permanent" with mock roughness. + +Mavis gratefully swallowed the stuff, to feel the better for it. When +she had finished the last drop, she lay back to watch the "permanent," +who arranged the room for the night. Candle, matches, and milk were put +handy for Mavis to reach; an old skirt was put down for Jill; bed and +pillows were made comfortable. + +"If you want me, I'm in the left top front with Mrs Rabbidge." + +"Not alone?" asked Mavis. + +"Not me. Give me company when I 'ave kids. I'll bring yer tea in the +morning." + +Whatever misfortunes the fates had reserved for Mavis, they had endowed +her with a magnificent constitution; consequently, despite the +indifferent nursing, the incompetent advice, the ill-cooked food, she +quickly recovered strength. Hourly she felt better, although the +nursing of her baby was a continuous tax upon her vitality. Following +the "permanent's" advice, who was an old hand in such matters, Mavis +kept quite still and did not exert herself more than she could possibly +help. But although her body was still, her mind was active. She fretted +because she had received no reply to her last little letter to Perigal. +Morning and evening, which was the time when she had been accustomed to +get letters from Wales, she would wait in a fever of anxiety till the +post arrived; when it brought no letter for her, she suffered acute +distress of mind. + +Upon the fifth evening after her baby was born, Mrs Gowler thrust an +envelope beneath her door shortly after the postman had knocked. It was +a yellow envelope, on which was printed "On His Majesty's Service." +Mavis tore it open, to find her own letter to Perigal enclosed, which +was marked "Gone, no address." A glance told her that it had been +correctly addressed. + +When, an hour later, Mrs Gowler came up to see if she wanted anything, +she saw that Mavis was far from well. She took her hand and found it +hot and dry. + +"Does yer 'ead ache?" she asked of Mavis, whose eyes were wide open and +staring. + +"It's awful." + +"If you're no better in the morning, you'd better 'ave a shillingsworth +of Baldock." + +If anything, Mavis was worse on the morrow. She had passed a restless +night, which had been troubled with unpleasantly vivid dreams; +moreover, the first post had brought no letter for her. + +"Got a shillin'?" asked Mrs Gowler after she had made some pretence of +examining her. + +"What for?" asked Mavis. + +"Doctor's fee. You'll be bad if you don't see 'im." + +"Is he clever?" asked the patient. + +"Clever! 'E be that clever, it drops orf 'im." + +When, with the patient's consent, Mrs Gowler set out to fetch the +doctor, she, also at the girl's request, sent a telegram to Mrs +Scatchard, asking her to send on at once any letters that may have come +for Mavis. She was sustained by a hope that Perigal may have written to +her former address. + +"Got yer shillin' ready?" asked Mrs Gowler, an hour or so later. "'E'll +be up in a minute." + +Two minutes later, Mrs Gowler threw the door wide open to admit Dr +Baldock. Mavis saw a short, gross-looking, middle-aged man, who was +dressed in a rusty frock-coat; he carried an old bowler hat and two odd +left-hand gloves. Mrs Gowler detailed Mavis's symptoms, the while Dr +Baldock stood stockstill with his eyes closed, as if intently listening +to the nurse's words. When she had finished, the doctor caught hold of +Mavis's wrist; at the same time, he fumbled for his watch in his +waistcoat pocket; not finding it, he dropped her arm and asked her to +put out her tongue. After examining this, and asking her a few +questions, he told her to keep quiet; also, that he would look in again +during the evening to see how she was getting on. + +"Doctor's fee," said Mrs Gowler, as she thrust herself between the +doctor and the bed. + +Mavis put the shilling in her hand, at which the landlady left the +room, to be quickly followed by the doctor, who seemed equally eager to +go. Mavis, with aching head, wondered if the evening post would bring +her the letter she hungered for from North Kensington. + +An hour later, a note was thrust beneath her door. She got out of bed +to fetch it, to read the following, scrawled with a pencil upon a +soiled half sheet of paper:-- + +"Don't you go and be a fool and have no more of Piggy's doctors. He +isn't a doctor at all, and is nothing more than a coal merchant's +tally-man, who got the sack for taking home coals in the bag he carried +his dinner in. My baby is all right, but he squints. Does yours?--I +remain yours truly, the permannente, MILLY BURT." + +Anger possessed Mavis at the trick Mrs Gowler had played in order to +secure a further shilling from her already attenuated store, an emotion +which increased her distress of mind. When Mrs Gowler brought in the +midday meal, which to-day consisted of fried fish and potatoes from the +neighbouring fried fish shop, Mavis said: + +"If that man comes here again, I'll order him out." + +"The doctor!" gasped Mrs Gowler. + +"He's an impostor. He's no doctor." + +"'E's as good as one any day, an' much cheaper." + +"How dare he come into my room! I shall stop the shilling out of my +bill." + +"You will, will yer! You try it on," cried Mrs Gowler defiantly. + +"I believe he could be prosecuted, if I told the police about it," +remarked Mavis. + +At the mention of "police," Mrs Gowler's face became rigid. She +recovered herself and picked out for Mavis the least burned portion of +fish; she also gave her a further helping of potatoes, as she said: + +"We won't quarrel over that there shillin', an' a cup o' tea is yours +whenever you want it." + +Mavis smiled faintly. She was beginning to discover how it paid to +stick up for herself. + +As the comparative cool of the evening succeeded to the heat of the +day, Mavis's agitation of mind was such that she could scarcely remain +in bed. The fact of her physical helplessness served to increase the +tension in her mind, consequently her temperature. She feared what +would happen to her already over-taxed brain should she not receive the +letter she desired. When she presently heard the postman's knock at the +door, her heart beat painfully; she lay in an immense suspense, with +her hands pressed against her throbbing head. After what seemed a great +interval of time (it was really three minutes), Mrs Gowler waddled into +the room, bringing a letter, which Mavis snatched from her hands. To +her unspeakable relief, it was in Perigal's handwriting, and bore the +Melkbridge postmark. She tore it open, to read the following:-- + +"MY DEAREST GIRL,--Why no letter? Are you well? Have you any news in +the way of a happy issue from all your afflictions? I have left Wales +for good. Love as always, C. D. P." + +These hastily scribbled words brought a healing joy to Mavis's heart. +She read and re-read them, pressing her baby to her heart as she did +so. As a special mark of favour, Jill was permitted to kiss the letter. +If Mavis had thought that a communication, however scrappy, from her +lover would bring her unalloyed gladness, she was mistaken. No sooner +was her mind relieved of one load than it was weighted with another; +the substitution of one care for another had long become a familiar +process. The intimate association of mind and body being what it is, +and Mavis's offspring being dependent on the latter for its well-being, +it was no matter for surprise that her baby developed disquieting +symptoms. Hence, Mavis's new cause for concern. + +Contrary to the case of unwedded mothers, as usually described in the +pages of fiction, Mavis's love for her baby had, so far, not been +particularly active, this primal instinct having as yet been more +slumbering than awake. As soon after his birth as she was capable of +coherent thought, she had been much concerned at the undeniable +existence of the new factor which had come into her life. There was no +contradicting Mrs Gowler, who had said that "babies take a lot of +explaining away." She reflected that, if the fight for daily bread had +been severe when she had merely to fight for herself, it would be much +harder to live now that there was another mouth to fill, to say nothing +of the disabilities attending her unmarried state. The fact of her +letter to Perigal having been returned through the medium of the +dead-letter office had almost distracted her with worry, and it is a +commonplace that this variety of care is inimical to the existence of +any form of love. + +Her baby's illness quickly called to life all the immense maternal +instinct which she possessed, but, at the same time, her recent +awakening to her own claims to consideration made her realise, with a +heartfelt sigh, that, in loving her boy as she now did, she was only +giving a further precious hostage to happiness. + +For three days the mother was kept in a suspense that served to +protract the boy's illness, but, at the end of this time, largely owing +to Mrs Gowler's advice, he began to improve. The day that his +disquieting symptoms disappeared, which was also the day on which he +recovered his appetite, was signalised by the arrival of Perigal's +reply to Mavis's letter from Durley Road, announcing the birth of their +son. In this, he congratulated her on her fortitude, and assured her +that her happiness and well-being would always be his first +consideration. It also told her that she was the best and most charming +girl he had ever met; meeting with other women only the more +strengthened this conviction. + +Mavis's heart leapt with a great joy. So long as she was easily first +in her lover's eyes, nothing else mattered. She had been foolish ever +to have done other than implicitly trust him. His love decorated the +one-time sparrow that she was with feathers of gorgeous hue. + +Days succeeded each other within the four walls of Mrs Gowler's nursing +home much as anywhere else, although in each twenty-four hours there +usually occurred what were to Mavis's sensitive eyes and ears +unedifying sights, agonised cries of women in torment. All day and +night, with scarcely any intermission, could be heard the wailing of +one or more babies in different rooms in the house. Mrs Gowler's +nursing home attracted numberless girls from all parts of the great +city, whose condition necessitated their temporary retirement from +employment, whatever it might be. Mavis gathered that they were mostly +the mean sort of general servant, who had succumbed to the +blandishments of the men who make it a practice to prey on this class +of woman. So far as Mavis could see, they were mostly plain and +uninteresting-looking; also, that the majority of them stayed only a +few days, lack of means preventing them being at Mrs Gowler's long +enough to recover their health. They would depart, hugging their baby +and carrying their poor little parcel of luggage, to be swallowed up +and lost in London's ravening and cavernous maw. As they sadly left the +house, Mavis could not help thinking that these deserted women were +indeed human sparrows, who needed no small share of their heavenly +Father's loving kindness to prevent them from falling and being utterly +lost in the mire of London. Once or twice during Mavis's stay, the +house was so full that three would sleep in one room, each of whom +would go downstairs to the parlour, which was the front room on the +ground floor, for the dreaded ordeal, to be taken upstairs as soon as +possible after the baby was born. Mavis, who had always looked on the +birth of a child as something sacred and demanding the utmost privacy, +was inexpressibly shocked at the wholesale fashion in which children +were brought into the world at Mrs Gowler's. + +There was much that was casual, and, therefore, callous about the +circumstances attending the ceaseless succession of births; they might +as well have been kittens, their mothers cats, so Mavis thought, owing +to the mean indignities attaching to the initial stages of their +motherhood. It did not occur to her how house-room, furniture, doctors, +nurses, and servants supply dignity to a commonplace process of nature. +It seemed to Mavis that Mrs Gowler lived in an atmosphere of horror and +pain. At the same time, the girl had the sense to realise that Mrs +Gowler had her use in life, inasmuch as she provided a refuge for the +women, which salved their pride (no small matter) by enabling them to +forego entering the workhouse infirmary, which otherwise could not have +been avoided. + +Oscar inspired Mavis with an inexpressible loathing. For the life of +her, she could not understand why such terrible caricatures of humanity +were permitted to live, and were not put out of existence at birth. The +common trouble of Mrs Gowler's lodgers seemed to establish a feeling of +fellowship amongst them during the time that they were there. Mavis was +not a little surprised to receive one day a request from a woman, to +the effect that she should give this person's baby a "feed," the mother +not being so happily endowed in this respect as Mavis. The latter's +indignant refusal gave rise to much comment in the place. + +The "permanent" was soon on her feet, an advantage which she declared +was owing to her previous fecundity. Mavis could see how the +"permanent" despised her because she was merely nursing her first-born. + +"'As Piggy 'ad a go at your box yet?" she one day asked Mavis, who +replied: + +"I'm too careful. I always keep it locked." + +"Locks ain't nothin' to her. If you've any letters from a gentleman, as +would compromise him, burn them." + +"Why?" + +"If she gets hold of 'em, she'll make money on 'em." + +"Nonsense! She wouldn't dare." + +"Wouldn't she! Piggy 'ud do anythink for gin or that there dear comic +Oscar." + +In further talks with the "permanent," Mavis discovered that, for all +her acquaintance's good nature, she was much of a liar, although her +frequent deviations from the truth were caused by the woman's boundless +vanity. Time after time she would give Mavis varying accounts of the +incidents attending her many lapses from virtue, in all of which +drugging by officers of His Majesty's army played a conspicuous part. + +Mavis, except at meal times, saw little of Mrs Gowler, who was usually +in the downstair parlour or in other rooms of the house. Whenever she +saw Mavis, however, she persistently urged her to board out her baby +with one of the several desirable motherly females she was in a +position to recommend. Mrs Gowler pointed out the many advantages of +thus disposing of Mavis's boy till such time as would be more +convenient for mother and son to live together. But Mavis now knew +enough of Mrs Gowler and her ways; she refused to dance to the woman's +assiduous piping. But Mrs Gowler was not to be denied. One day, when +Mavis was sitting up in bed, Mrs Gowler burst into the room to announce +proudly that Mrs Bale had come to see Mavis about taking her baby to +nurse. + +"Who is Mrs Bale?" asked Mavis, much annoyed at the intrusion. + +"Wait till you see her," cried Mrs Gowler, as if her coming were a +matter of rare good fortune. + +Mavis had not long to wait. In a few moments a tall, spare, +masculine-looking woman strode into the room. Mrs Bale's red face +seemed to be framed in spacious black bonnet strings. Mavis thought +that she had never seen such a long upper lip as this woman had. This +was surmounted by a broken, turned-up nose, on either side of which +were boiled, staring eyes, which did not hold expression of any kind. +If Mavis had frequented music halls, she would have recognised the +woman as the original of a type frequently seen on the boards of those +resorts, played by male impersonators. Directly she saw Mavis, Mrs Bale +hurried to the bedside and seized the baby, to dandle it in her arms, +the while she made a clucking noise not unlike the cackling of a hen. + +Mavis noticed that Mrs Bale's breath reeked of gin. + +"Put my baby down," said Mavis. + +"I'll leave you two ladies to settle it between yer," remarked Mrs +Gowler, as she left the room. + +"I'm not going to put my baby out to nurse. Good morning." + +"Not for five shillings a week?" asked Mrs Bale. + +"Good morning." + +"Say I made it four and six?" + +Mavis made no reply, at which Mrs Bale sat down and began to weep. + +"What about the trouble and expense of coming all the way here?" asked +Mrs Bale. + +"I never asked you to come." + +"Well, I shan't leave this room till you give me six-pence for +refreshment to get me to the station." + +"I won't give it to you; I'll give it to Mrs Gowler." + +"An' a lot of it I'd see." + +Mrs Gowler, who had been listening at the door, came into the room and +demanded to know what Mrs Bale meant. + +Then followed a stream of recriminations, in which each accused the +other of a Newgate calendar of crime. Mavis at last got rid of them by +giving them threepence each. + +Three nights before Mavis left Durley Road, she was awakened by the +noise of Jill's subdued growling. Thinking she heard someone outside +her room, she went stealthily to the door; she opened it quickly, to +find Mrs Gowler on hands and knees before her box, which she was trying +to open with a bunch of keys. + +"What are you doing?" asked Mavis. + +The woman entered into a confused explanation, which Mavis cut short by +saying: + +"I've heard about your tricks. If I have any more bother from you, I +shall go straight from here to the police station." + +"Gawd's truth! Why did I ever take you in?" grumbled Mrs Gowler as she +waddled downstairs. "I might 'ave known you was a cat by the colour of +your 'air." + +The time came when Mavis was able to leave Durley Road. Whither she was +going she knew not. She paid her bill, refusing to discuss the many +extras which Mrs Gowler tried to charge, had her box taken by a porter +to the cloak room at the station, dressed her darling baby, said +good-bye to Piggy and went downstairs, to shudder as she walked along +the passage to the front door. She had not walked far, when an +ordinary-looking man came up, who barely lifted his hat. + +"Can I speak to you, m'am?" + +"What is it?" + +"You have just left 9 Durley Road?" + +"Y-yes." + +"I'm a detective officer. I'm engaged in watching the house. Have you +any complaint to make?" + +"I don't wish to, thank you." + +"We know all sorts of things go on, but it's difficult to get evidence." + +"I don't care to give you any because--because--" + +"I understand, ma'm," said the man kindly. "I know what trouble is." + +Mavis was feeling so physically and mentally low with all she had gone +through, that the man's kindly words made the tears course down her +cheeks. + +She wiped them away, resettled the baby in her arms, and walked +sorrowfully up the road, followed by the sympathetic glance of the +plain-clothes detective. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE + +PIMLICO + + +Mavis found a resting-place for her tired body in the unattractive +district of Pimlico, which is the last halting-place of so many of +London's young women before the road to perdition is irretrievably +taken. Mavis had purposed going to Hammersmith, but the fates which +decide these matters had other views. On the tedious underground +journey from New Cross, she felt so unwell that she got out at Victoria +to seek refuge in the ladies' cloak room. The woman in charge, who was +old, wizened, and despondent, gave Mavis some water and held her baby +the while she lamented her misfortunes: these were embodied in the fact +that "yesterday there had only been three 'washies' and one torn +dress"; also, that "in the whole of the last month there had been but +three 'faints' and six ladies the worse for drink." Acting on the +cloak-room attendant's advice, Mavis sought harbourage in one of the +seemingly countless houses which, in Pimlico, are devoted to the +letting of rooms. But Mavis was burdened with a baby; moreover, she +could pay so little that no one wished to accommodate her. Directly she +stated her simple wants, together with the sum that she could afford to +pay, she was, in most cases, bundled into the street with scant +consideration for her feelings. After two hours' fruitless search, she +found refuge in a tiny milk-shop in a turning off the Vauxhall Bridge +Road, where she bought herself a scone and a glass of milk; she also +took advantage of the shop's seclusion to give her baby much-needed +nourishment. Ultimately, she got a room in a straight street, flanked +by stucco-faced high houses, which ran out of Lupus Street. Halverton +Street has an atmosphere of its own; it suggests shabby vice, unclean +living, as if its inhabitants' lives were mysterious, furtive +deviations from the normal. Mavis, for all her weariness, was not +insensible to the suggestions that Halverton Street offered; but it was +a hot July day; she had not properly recovered from her confinement; +she felt that if she did not soon sit down she would drop in the +street. She got a room for four shillings a week at the fifth house at +which she applied in this street. The door had been opened by a tall, +thin, flat-chested girl, whose pasty face was plentifully peppered with +pimples. The only room to let was on the ground floor at the back of +the house; it was meagre, poorly furnished, but clean. Mavis paid a +week's rent in advance and was left to her own devices. For all the +presence of her baby and Jill, Mavis felt woefully alone. She bought, +and made a meal of bloater paste, bread, butter, and a bottle of stout, +to feel the better for it. She then telephoned to the station master at +New Cross, to whom she gave the address to which he could forward her +trunk. On her return from the shop where she had telephoned, she went +into a grocer's, where, for twopence, she purchased a small packing +case. With this she contrived to make a cradle for her baby, by +knocking out the projecting nails with a hammer borrowed from the +pimply-faced woman at her lodging. If the extemporised cradle lacked +adornment, it was adorable by reason of the love and devotion with +which she surrounded her little one. Her box arrived in the course of +the evening, when Mavis set about making the room look as homelike as +possible. This done, she made further inroads on her midday purchases +of bread and bloater paste, washed, fed her baby, and said her prayers +before undressing for the night. At ten o'clock, mother and child were +asleep. + +Mavis had occupied her room for some days before she learned anything +of the house in which she lodged. It was kept by a Mr, Mrs, and Miss +Gussle, who lived in the basement. It was Miss Gussle who had opened +the door to Mavis on the day she came. Mrs Gussle was never seen. Mavis +heard from one source that she was always drunk; from another, that she +was a teetotaller and spent her time at devotions; from a third, that +she neither drank nor prayed, but passed the day in reading novelettes. +But it was Mr Gussle who appealed the most to Mavis's sense of +character. He was a wisp of a bald-headed, elderly man, who was +invariably dressed in a rusty black frockcoat suit, a not too clean +dicky, and a made-up black bow tie, the ends of which were tucked +beneath the flaps of a turned down paper collar. He had no business or +trade, but did the menial work of the house. He made the beds, brought +up the meals and water, laid the tables and emptied the slops; but, +while thus engaged, he never made any remark, and when spoken to +replied in monosyllables. The ground floor front was let to a +third-rate Hebraic music-hall artiste, who perfunctorily attended his +place of business. The second and third floors, and most of the top +rooms, were let to good-looking young women, who were presumed to +belong to the theatrical profession. If they were correctly described, +there was no gainsaying their devotion to their calling. They would +leave home well before the theatre doors were open to the public, with +their faces made up all ready to go on the stage; also, they were +apparently so reluctant to leave the scene of their labours that they +would commonly not return till the small hours. The top front room was +rented by an author, who made a precarious living by writing improving +stories for weekly and monthly journals and magazines. Whenever the +postman's knock was heard at the door, it was invariably followed by +the appearance of the author in the passage, often in the scantiest of +raiment, to discover whether the post had brought him any luck. +Although his stories were the delight of the more staid among his +readers, the writer was on the best of terms with the "theatrical" +young women, he spending most of his time in their company. The lodgers +at Mrs Gussle's were typical of the inhabitants of Halverton Street. +And if a house influences the natures of those who dwell within its +walls, how much more does the character of tenants find expression in +the appearance of the place they inhabit? Hence the shabbiness and +decay which Halverton Street suggested. + +Mavis heard from Perigal at infrequent intervals, when he would write +scrappy notes inquiring after her health, and particularly after his +child. Once, he sent a sovereign, asking Mavis to have the boy +photographed and to send him a copy. Mavis did as she was asked. The +photographs cost eight shillings. Although she badly wanted a few +shillings to get her boots soled and heeled, she returned the money +which was over after paying for the photographs, to Perigal. She was +resolved that no sordid question of money should soil their +relationship, however attenuated this might become. + +Much of Mavis's time was taken up with her baby. She washed, dressed, +undressed, and took out her little one, duties which took up a +considerable part of each day. From lack of means she was compelled to +wash her own and the baby's body-linen, which she dried by suspending +from cords stretched across the room. All these labours were an aspect +of maternity which she had never encountered in books. Much of the work +was debasing and menial; its performance left her weak and irritable; +she believed that it was gradually breaking the little spirit she had +brought from Mrs Gowler's nursing home. When she recalled the glowing +periods she had chanced upon in her reading, which eulogised the +supreme joys of motherhood, she supposed that they had been penned by +writers with a sufficient staff of servants and with means that made a +formidable laundry bill of no account. She wondered how working-class +women with big families managed, who, in addition to attending to the +wants of their children, had all the work of the house upon their +hands. Mavis's spare time was filled by the answering of advertisements +in the hope of getting sorely needed work; the sending of these to +their destination cost money for postage stamps, which made sad inroads +on her rapidly dwindling funds. But time and money were expended in +vain. The address from which she wrote was a poor recommendation to +possible employers. She could not make personal application, as she +dared not leave her baby for long at a stretch. Sometimes, her lover's +letters would not bring her the joy that they once occasioned; they +affected her adversely, leaving her moody and depressed. Conversely, +when she did not hear from Melkbridge for some days, she would be +cheerful and light-hearted, when she would spend glad half-hours in +reading the advertisements of houses to let and deciding which would +suit her when she was married to Perigal. Sometimes, when burdened with +care, she would catch sight of her reflection in the glass, to be not a +little surprised at the strange, latent beauty which had come into her +face. Maternity had invested her features with a surpassing dignity and +sweetness, which added to the large share of distinction with which she +had originally been endowed. At the same time, she noticed with a sigh +that sorrow had sadly chastened the joyous light-heartedness which +formerly found constant expression in her eyes. + +Mavis had been at Mrs Gussle's about three weeks when she made the +acquaintance of one of the "theatrical" young women upstairs. They had +often met in the passage, when the girl had smiled sympathetically at +Mavis. One afternoon, when the latter was feeling unusually depressed, +a knock was heard at her door. She cried "Come in," when the girl +opened the door a few inches to say: + +"May I?" + +"I didn't know it was you," remarked Mavis, distressed at her poverty +being discovered. + +"I came to ask if I could do anything for you," said the girl. + +"That's very nice of you. Do come in." + +The girl came in and stayed till it was time for her to commence the +elaborate dressing demanded by her occupation. Mavis made her some tea, +and the girl (who was called "Lil") prevailed upon her hostess to +accept cigarettes. If the girl had been typical of her class, Mavis +would have had nothing to do with her; but although Lil made a brave +show of cynicism and gay worldliness, Mavis's keen wits perceived that +these were assumed in order to conceal the girl's secret resentment +against her habit of life. Mavis, also, saw that the girl's natural +kindliness of heart and refined instincts entitled her to a better fate +than the one which now gripped her. Lil was particularly interested in +Mavis's baby. She asked continually about him; she sought him with her +eyes when talking to Mavis, conduct that inclined the latter in her +favour. + +When Lil was going she asked: + +"May I come again?" + +"Why not?" asked Mavis. + +"I didn't know I--I--So long," cried Lil, as she glanced in the +direction of the baby. + +On the occasion of her next visit, which took place two afternoons +later, Lil asked: + +"May I nurse your baby?" to add, as Mavis hesitated, "I promise I won't +kiss him." + +Mavis consented, greatly to Lil's delight, who played with the baby for +the rest of the afternoon. + +"You're fond of children?" commented Mavis. + +The girl nodded, the while she bit her lip. + +"I can see you've had baby brothers or sisters," remarked Mavis. + +"How do you know?" + +"By the way you hold him." + +"What do you think of Gertie?" asked Lil quickly. + +"Who's Gertie?" + +"Mr Gussle. Upstairs we always call him Gertie." + +"I can't make him out," said Mavis, at which she learned from Lil that +Mr Gussle loathed his present means of earning a livelihood; also, that +he hungered for respectability, and that, to satisfy his longing, he +frequented, in his spare time, a tin tabernacle of evangelical +leanings. Mavis also learned that the girls upstairs, knowing of Mr +Gussle's proclivities, tempted him with cigarettes, spirits, and +stimulating fleshly allurements. + +One day, when Mavis had left her sleeping baby to go out for a few +minutes, she returned to find Lil nursing her boy, the while tears fell +from her eyes. Mavis pretended not to notice the girl's grief. She +busied herself about the room, till Lil recovered herself. Later, when +Mavis was getting seriously pressed for money, she came across odd half +sovereigns in various parts of the room, which she rightly suspected +had been put there by her friend. For all Lil's entreaties, Mavis +insisted on returning the money. Lil constantly wore a frock to which +Mavis took exception because it was garish. One day she spoke to Lil +about it. + +"Why do you so often wear that dress?" she asked. + +"Don't you like it?" + +"Not a bit. It's much too loud for you." + +"I don't like it myself." + +"Then why wear it?" + +"It's my 'lucky dress.'" + +"Your what?" + +"'Lucky' dress. Don't you know all we girls have their 'lucky' dresses?" + +This was news to Mavis. + +"You mean a dress that--" + +"Brings us luck with the gentlemen," interrupted Lil. + +The subject thus opened, Lil became eloquent upon many aspects of her +occupation. Presently she said: + +"It isn't always the worst girls who are 'on the game.'" + +"Indeed!" + +"So many are there through no fault of their own." + +"How is that?" asked Mavis. + +"They get starved into it. It's all these big shops and places. They +pay sweating wages, and to get food the girls pick up men. That's the +beginning." + +Mavis nodded assent. She remembered all she had heard and seen on this +matter when at "Dawes'." + +"And the small employers are getting just as bad. And of them the women +are the worst. They don't care how much they grind poor girls down. If +anything, I b'lieve they enjoy it. And if once a girl goes wrong, +they're the ones to see she don't get back. Why is it they hate us so?" + +"Give it up," replied Mavis, who added, "I should think it wanted an +awful lot of courage." + +"Courage! courage! You simply mustn't think. And that's where drink +comes in." + +Mavis sighed. + +"Don't you ever take to the life," admonished Lil. + +"I'm not likely to," shuddered Mavis. + +"'Cause you ain't the least built that way. And thank God you ain't." + +"I do; I do," said Mavis fervently. + +"It's easy enough to blame, I know; but if you've a little one and no +one in the wide world to turn to for help, and the little one's crying +for food, what can a poor girl do?" asked Lil, as she became thoughtful +and sad-looking. + +A time came when Mavis was sorely pressed for money to buy the bare +necessaries of life. She could not even afford soap with which to wash +her own and her baby's clothes. Of late, she had made frequent visits +to Mrs Scatchard's, where she had left many of her belongings. All of +these that were saleable she had brought away and had disposed of +either at pawnshops or at second-hand dealers in clothes. She had at +last been constrained to part with her most prized trinkets, even +including those which belonged to her father and the ring that Perigal +had given her, and which she had worn suspended from her neck. + +She now had but one and sixpence in the world. The manifold worries and +perplexities consequent upon her poverty had affected her health. She +was no longer able to supply her baby with its natural food. She was +compelled to buy milk from the neighbouring dairy and to sterilise it +to the best of her ability. To add to her distress, her boy's health +suffered from the change of diet. Times without number, she had been on +the point of writing to Perigal to tell him of all she had suffered and +to ask for help, but pride had held her back. Now, the declension in +her boy's health urged her to throw this pride to the winds, to do what +common sense had been suggesting for so long. She had prayed +eloquently, earnestly, often, for Divine assistance: so far, no reply +had been vouchsafed. When evening came, she could bear no longer the +restraint imposed by the four walls of her room. She had had nothing to +eat that day; all she had had the day before was a crust of bread, +which she had gleefully lighted upon at the back of her cupboard. This +she would have shared with Jill, had not her friend despised such plain +fare. Jill had lately developed a habit of running upstairs at meal +times, when, after an interval, she would come down to lick her chops +luxuriously before falling asleep. + +Mavis was faint for lack of nourishment; hunger pains tore at her +stomach. She felt that, if she did not get some air, she would die of +the heat and exhaustion. Her baby was happily sleeping soundly, so she +had no compunction in setting out. She crossed Lupus Street, where her +nostrils were offended by the smell of vegetable refuse from the +costermonger stalls, to walk in the direction of Victoria. The air was +vapid and stale, but this did not prevent the dwellers in Pimlico from +sitting at open windows or standing on doorsteps in order to escape the +stuffiness of their houses. They were mostly vulgar lodging-house +people, who were enjoying their ease following upon the burden of the +day; but Mavis found herself envying them, if only for the fact that +their bodies were well supplied with food. Hunger unloosed a savage +rage within her, not only against everyone she encountered, but also +against the conditions of her life. "What was the use of being of +gentle birth?" she asked herself, if this were all it had done for her. +She deeply regretted that she had not been born an ordinary London +girl, in which case she would have been spared the possession of all +those finer susceptibilities with which she now believed herself to be +cursed, and which had prevented her from getting assistance from +Perigal. She lingered by the cook shop in Denbigh Street, where she +thought that she had never smelt anything so delicious as the greasy +savours which came from the eating-house. It was only with a great +effort of will that she stopped herself from spending her last one and +sixpence (which she was keeping for emergency) in food. When she +reached the Wilton Road, she walked of a set purpose on the station +side of that thoroughfare. She feared that the restaurants opposite +might prevail against her already weakened resolution. By the time she +reached the Victoria Underground Station, her hunger was no longer +under control. Her eyes searched the gutters greedily for anything that +was fit to eat. She glared wolfishly at a ragged boy who picked up an +over-ripe banana, which had been thrown on the pavement. The thought of +the little one at home decided her. She turned in the direction of the +post-office, having at last resolved to wire to her lover for help. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" said a familiar voice at her side. Mavis turned, to +see the ill-dressed figure of flat-chested, dumpy Miss Toombs. + +"Miss Toombs!" she faltered. + +"Didn't you see me staring at you?" + +"Of course not. What are you doing in London?" + +"I'm up here on a holiday. I am glad to see you." + +"So am I. Good night." + +"Eh!" + +"I must go home. I said good night." + +"You are a pig. I thought you'd come and have something to eat." + +"I'm not--I'm not hungry." + +"Well, sit down by me while I feed. I feel I want a jolly good blow +out." + +They had reached the doors of the restaurant opposite the main entrance +to the underground railway. The issuing odours smote Mavis's hesitation +hip and thigh. + +"I--I really must be off," faltered Mavis, as she stood stockstill on +the pavement. + +By way of reply, Miss Toombs shoved the unresisting Mavis through the +swing doors of the eating house; then, taking the lead, she piloted her +to a secluded corner on the first floor, which was not nearly so +crowded as the downstair rooms. + +"It's nice to see good old Keeves again," remarked Miss Toombs, as she +thrust a list of appetising foods under Mavis's nose. + +"I'm really not a bit hungry," declared Mavis, who avoided looking at +the toothsome-looking bread-rolls as far as her ravening hunger would +permit. She grasped the tablecloth to stop herself from attacking these. + +"Got any real turtle soup?" asked Miss Toombs of the polyglot waiter +who now stood beside the table. + +"Mock turtle," said the man, as he put his finger on this item in the +menu card. + +"Two oxtail soups," Miss Toombs demanded. + +"Apres?" + +"Two stewed scallops, and after that some lamb cutlets, new potatoes, +and asparagus." + +"Bon! Next, meiss," said the waiter, who began to think that the +diner's prodigality warranted an unusually handsome tip. + +Miss Toombs ordered roast ducklings and peas, together with other +things, which included a big bottle of Burgundy, the while Mavis stared +at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed; the starving girl could scarcely +believe her ears. + +"Is it--is it all true?" she murmured. + +"Is what true?" + +"Oh, meeting with you." + +"Why? Have I altered much?" + +It seemed a long time to Mavis till the soup was placed before her. +Even when its savoury appeal made her faint with longing, she said: + +"I'm--I'm really not a bit--" + +She got no further. She had taken a mouthful of the soup, to hold it +for a few moments in her mouth. She had no idea till then that it was +possible to enjoy such delicious sensations. Once her fast was broken, +the floodgates of appetite were open. She no longer made pretence of +concealing her hunger; she would not have been able to if she had +wished. She swallowed great mouthfuls of food greedily, silently, +ravenously; she ate so fast that once or twice she was in danger of +choking. If anyone had taken her food away, she would have fought to +get it back. Thus Mavis devoured course after course, unaware, careless +that Miss Toombs herself was eating next to nothing, and was watching +her with quiet satisfaction from the corners of her eyes. + +At last, Mavis was satisfied. She lay back silent and helpless on her +plush seat, enjoying to the full the sensation of the rich, fat food +nourishing her body. She closed her eyes and was falling into a deep +sleep. + +"Have some coffee and brandy," said Miss Toombs. + +Mavis pulled herself together and drank the coffee. + +"I'd give my soul for a cigarette," murmured Mavis, as she began to +feel more awake. + +"Blow you!" complained Miss Toombs, as she signalled to the waiter. + +Mavis looked at her surprised, when her hostess said: + +"You're prettier than ever. When I first saw you, I was delighted to +think you were 'going off.'" + +Mavis, regardless what others might think of her, lit the cigarette. +Although she took deep, grateful puffs, which she wholly enjoyed, she +soon let it go out; neither did she trouble to relight it, nor did she +pay any attention to Miss Toombs's remarks. Mavis's physical content +was by no means reflected in her mind. Her conscience was deeply +troubled by the fact of her having, as it were, sailed with her +benefactress under false colours. + +Her cogitations were interrupted by Miss Toombs putting a box of +expensive cigarettes (which she had got from the waiter) in her hand. + +"Why are you so good to me?" asked Mavis. + +"I've always really liked you." + +"You wouldn't if you knew." + +"Knew what?" + +"Come. I'll show you." + +After Miss Toombs had settled with the waiter, they left the +restaurant. Miss Toombs accompanied Mavis along the Wilton Road and +Denbigh Street. Halverton Street was presently reached. Mavis opened +the door of Mrs Gussle's; with set face, she walked the passage to her +room, followed by plain Miss Toombs. She unlocked the door of this and +made way for her friend to enter. Clothes hung to dry from ropes +stretched across the room: the baby slept in his rough, soap-box cradle. + +Miss Toombs seemed to disregard the appearance of the room; her eyes +sought the baby sleeping in the box. + +"There!" cried Mavis. "Now you know." + +"A baby!" gasped Miss Toombs. + +"You've been kind to me. I had to let you know." + +"Oh, you damn beast!" cried Miss Toombs. + +Mavis looked at her defiantly. + +"Oh, you damn beast!" cried Miss Toombs again. "You were always lucky!" + +"Lucky!" echoed Mavis. + +"To go and have a little baby and not me. Oh, it's too bad: too bad!" + +Mavis looked inquiringly at her friend to see if she were sincere. The +next moment, the two foolish women were weeping happy tears in each +other's arms over the unconscious, sleeping form of Mavis's baby. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO + +MISS TOOMBS REVEALS HERSELF + + +"Fancy you being like this," said Mavis, when she had dried her eyes. + +"Like what?" + +"Not minding my having a baby without being married." + +"I'm not such a fool as to believe in that 'tosh,'" declared Miss +Toombs. + +"What 'tosh,' as you call it?" + +"About thinking it a disgrace to have a child by the man you love." + +"Isn't it?" + +"How can it be if it's natural and inevitable?" + +Mavis looked at Miss Toombs wide-eyed. + +"Does the fact of people agreeing to think it wrong make it really +wrong?" asked Miss Toombs, to add, "especially when the thinking what +you call 'doing wrong' is actuated by selfish motives." + +"How can morality possibly be selfish?" inquired Mavis. + +"It's never anything else. If it weren't selfish it wouldn't be of use; +if it weren't of use it couldn't go on existing." + +"I'm afraid I don't follow you," declared Mavis, as she lit a cigarette. + +"Wait. What would nearly all women do if you were mad enough to tell +them what you've done?" + +"Drop on me." + +"Why?" + +"Because I've done wrong." + +"Are women 'down' on men for 'getting round' girls, or forgery, or +anything else you like?" + +Mavis was compelled to acknowledge her sex's lack of enthusiasm in the +condemnation of such malpractices. + +"Then why would they hunt you down?" cried Miss Toombs triumphantly. +"Because, in doing as you've done, you've been a traitress to the +economic interests of our sex. Women have mutually agreed to make +marriage the price of their surrender to men. Girls who don't insist on +this price choke men off marrying, and that's why they're never +forgiven by other women." + +"Is it you talking?" + +"No, my dear Keeves; women, in this world, who look for marriage, have +to play up to men and persuade them they're worth the price of a man +losing his liberty." + +"But fancy you talking like that!" + +"If they're pretty, and play their cards properly, they're kept for +life. If they're like you, and don't get married, it's a bad look-out. +If they're pretty rotten, and have business instincts, they must make +hay while the sun shines to keep them when it doesn't." + +"And you don't really think the worse of me?" + +"I think the more. It's always the good girls who go wrong." + +"That means that you will." + +"I haven't the chance. When girls are plain, like me, men don't notice +them, and if they've no money of their own they have to earn a pittance +in Melkbridge boot factories." + +"I can't believe it's you, even now." + +"I don't mind giving myself away, since you've done the same to me. And +it's a relief to let off steam sometimes." + +"And you really don't think the worse of me for having--having this?" + +"I'd do the same myself to-morrow if I'd the chance and could afford to +keep it, and knew it wouldn't curse me when it grew up." + +Mavis winced to recover herself and say: + +"But I may be married any day now." + +"Whoever the father is, he seems a bit of a fool," remarked Miss +Toombs, as she took the baby on her knee. + +"To love me?" + +"In not marrying you and getting you for life. From a man's point of +view, you're a find, pretty Mavis." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I don't call it nonsense. Just look at your figure and your hips and +the colour of your hair, your lovely white skin and all, to say nothing +of the passion in your eyes." + +"Is it staid Miss Toombs talking?" + +"If I'm staid, it's because I have to be. No man 'ud ever want me. As +for you, if I were a man, I'd go to hell, if there were such a place, +if I could get you for all my very own." + +"Don't you believe in hell?" + +"Do you?" + +"I don't know. Don't you?" + +"The only hell I know is the jealous anger in a plain woman's heart. Of +course there are others. You've only to dip into history to read of the +hells that kings and priests, mostly priests, have made of this earth." + +"What about Providence?" asked Mavis. + +"Don't talk that 'tosh' to me," cried Miss Toombs vehemently. + +"But is it 'tosh'?" + +"If I were to give you a list of even the few things I've read about, +the awful, cruel, blood-thirsty, wicked doings, it would make your +blood boil at the injustice, the wantonness of it all. Read how the +Spaniards treated the Netherlanders once upon a time, the internal +history of Russia, the story of Red Rubber, loads of things, and over +and over again you'd ask, 'What was God doing to allow such unnecessary +torture?'" + +Miss Toombs paused for breath. Seeing Mavis looking at her with +open-mouthed astonishment, she said: + +"Have I astonished you?" + +"You have." + +"Haven't you heard anyone else talk like that?" + +"What I was thinking of was, that you, of all people, should preach +revolt against accepted ideas. I always thought you so straitlaced." + +"Never mind about me." + +"But I do. If you believe all you say, why do you go to church and all +that?" + +"What does it matter to anyone what an ugly person like me thinks or +does?" + +"Anyway, you're quite interesting to me." + +"Really: really interesting?" asked Miss Toombs, with an inflection of +genuine surprise in her voice. + +"Why should I say so if I didn't think so?" + +A flush of pleasure overspread the plain woman's face as she said: + +"I believe you're speaking the truth. If ever I play the hypocrite, +it's because I'm a hopeless coward." + +"Really!" laughed Mavis, who was beginning to recover her spirits. + +"Although I believe my cowardice is justified," declared Miss Toombs. +"I haven't a friend or relation in the world. If I were to get ill, or +lose my job to-morrow, I've no one to turn to. I've a bad circulation +and get indigestion whenever I eat meat. I've only one pleasure in +life, and I do all I know to keep my job so that I can indulge in it." + +"What's that?" + +"You'll laugh when I tell you." + +"Nothing that gives a human being innocent pleasure can be ridiculous," +remarked Mavis. + +"My happiness comes in winter," declared Miss Toombs. "I love nothing +better than to go home and have tea and hot buttered toast before the +blazing fire in my bed-sitting room. Then, about seven, I make up the +fire and go to bed with my book and hot-water bottles. It's stuffy, but +it's my idea of heaven." + +Mavis did not offer any comment. + +"Now laugh at me," said Miss Toombs. + +Instead of doing any such thing, Mavis bent over to kiss Miss Toombs's +cheek. + +"No one's ever wanted to kiss me before," complained Miss Toombs. + +"Because you've never let anyone know you as you really are," rejoined +Mavis. + +"Now we've talked quite enough about me. Let's hear a little more about +yourself." + +"My history is written in this room." + +"Don't talk rot. I suppose it all happened when you went away for your +holidays last year?" + +"You didn't think--" + +"No. I didn't think you had the pluck." + +"It doesn't require much of that." + +"Doesn't it? There are loads of girls, nice girls too, who'd do as +you've done to-morrow if they only dared," declared Miss Toombs. "And +why not?" she added defiantly. + +"You take my breath away," laughed Mavis. + +"Don't laugh, dear. It's much too serious to laugh at," remonstrated +Miss Toombs. "We're here for such a short time, and so much of that is +taken up with youth and age and illness and work that it's our duty to +get as much happiness as we can. And if two people love each other--" + +"The woman can be brought down to this." + +"And wasn't it worth it?" cried Miss Toombs hotly. + +"Worth it!" echoed Mavis. + +"Didn't you have a lovely time when you were away?" + +"Heavenly!" + +"Didn't he kiss your hands and feet and hair and tell you you were the +most beautiful woman in the whole world, as they do in books?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"And didn't he hold you to his heart all the night through, and didn't +you think you were in heaven? No--no, don't tell me. It would make me +miserable and jealous for weeks." + +"Why should it?" + +"Who's ever wanted to love and kiss my feet and hands? But there it +is--you're a pretty girl, and all that, but you can't have everything +in this world. You've had to pay one of the chief penalties for your +attractiveness." + +Just then Mavis's baby began to cry. + +"It's my hard knee," remarked Miss Toombs ruefully. "They always cry +when I nurse them." + +"I think he's hungry," remarked Mavis. + +"Then give the boy his supper. Don't mind me." + +Mavis busied herself with the preparations for sterilising the milk, +but the boy cried so lustily that, to quiet him, Mavis blushingly undid +her bodice to put the nipple of her firm, white breast in his mouth. + +"It's the only thing to quiet him," explained Mavis. + +"No wonder. He's got taste, has that boy. Don't turn away. It's all so +beautiful, and there's nothing wrong in nature." + +"What are you thinking of?" asked Miss Toombs presently, after Mavis +had been silent for a while. "Don't you feel at home with me?" + +"Don't be silly! You know you profess not to believe in Providence." + +"What of it?" + +"I've been in a bad way lately and I've prayed for help. Surely meeting +with you in a huge place like London is an answer to my prayer." + +"Meeting you, when you were hard up, was like something out of a book, +eh?" + +"Something out of a very good book," replied Mavis. + +"Well, it wasn't chance at all. These sort of things never happen when +they're wanted to. I've been up in town looking for you." + +"What!" + +"And thereby hangs a very romantic tale." + +"You've been looking for me?" + +"What's the time?" + +"You're not thinking of going yet? Why were you looking for me?" + +"It's nearly ten," declared Miss Toombs, as she looked at her watch. +"Unless I stay the night here, I must be off." + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Notting Hill. I beg its pardon--North Kensington. They're quiet +people. If I'm not back soon, my character will be lost and I shall be +locked out for the night." + +"I'd love you to stay. But there's scarcely room for you in this poky +little hole." + +"Can't I engage another room?" + +"But the expense?" + +"Blow that! See if they can put me up." + +Mavis talked to Miss Gussle on the subject. Very soon, Mr Gussle could +be heard panting up the stairs with an iron chair bedstead, which was +set up, with other conveniences, in the music-hall agent's office. + +"Nice if he comes back and came into my room in the night," remarked +Miss Toombs. + +"What on earth would you do?" asked Mavis. + +"Lock the door to keep him in," replied Miss Toombs quickly, at which +the two friends laughed immoderately. + +As Miss Toombs was leaving the room to wire to her landlady to tell her +that she was staying with friends for the night, she kissed her hand to +Mavis's baby. + +"What are you going to call him?" she asked. + +"Charlie, of course," promptly replied Mavis. + +The next moment, she could have bitten off her tongue for having given +Miss Toombs a possible clue to her lover's identity: she had resolved +never to betray him to a living soul. + +But Mavis comforted herself on the score that her friend received her +information without betraying interest or surprise. Twenty minutes +later, Miss Toombs came back, staggering beneath the weight of an +accumulation of parcels, which contained a variety of things that Mavis +might want. + +"How could you spend your money on me?" asked Mavis, as the different +purchases were unpacked. + +"If one can't have a romance oneself, the next best thing is to be +mixed up in someone else's," replied Miss Toombs. + +Mavis and her friend sat down to a supper of strawberries and cream, +whilst they drank claret and soda water. Jill was not forgotten; Miss +Toombs had bought her a pound of meat scraps from the butcher's, which +the dog critically consumed in a corner. + +"Let me hear about your romance and all the Melkbridge news," said +Mavis, as she stopped her friend from pouring more cream upon her plate +of strawberries. + +"Blow Melkbridge!" exclaimed Miss Toombs, her face hardening. + +"But I love it. I'm always thinking about it, and I'd give anything to +go back there." + +"Eh!" + +"I said I'd give anything to be back there." + +"Rot!" + +"Why rot?" + +"You mustn't dream of going back," cried Miss Toombs anxiously. + +"Why on earth not?" + +"Eh! Oh, because I say so." + +"Does anyone down there know?" + +"Not that I'm aware of." + +"Then why shouldn't I go back?" + +"There's no reason, only--" + +"Only what?" + +"Let me tell you of my romance." + +"Very well, only--" + +"When I tell you I'm in love, I don't think you ought to interrupt," +remarked Miss Toombs. + +"I only wanted to know why I mustn't dream of going back to +Melkbridge," said Mavis anxiously. + +"Because I can get you a better job elsewhere. There now!" + +"Let's hear of your love affair," said Mavis, partly satisfied by Miss +Toombs's reason for not wishing her to return to the place where her +lover was. + +"Five weeks ago, a man strode into our office at the factory; tall, +big, upright, sunburned." + +"Who was he?" asked Mavis. + +"He wasn't a man at all; he was a god. And his clothes! Oh, my dear, my +heart came up in my mouth. And when he gave me his card--" + +"Who was he?" interrupted Mavis. + +"Can't you guess?" + +"Give it up." + +"Captain Sir Archibald Windebank." + +"Really!" + +"I wish it hadn't been. I've never forgotten him since." + +"What did he want?" + +"You!" + +"Me?" + +"You, you lucky girl! Has he ever kissed you?" + +"Once." + +"Damn you! No, I don't mean that. You were made for love. But why +didn't you hold him in your arms and never let him go? I should have." + +"That's not a proper suggestion," laughed Mavis. "What did he want me +for?" + +"He wanted to find out what had become of you." + +"What did you tell him?" + +"I didn't get much chance. Directly he saw Miss Hunter was +nice-looking, he addressed all his remarks to her." + +"Not really?" + +"A fact. Then I got sulky and got on with my work." + +"What did she say?" + +"What could she say? But, my goodness, wouldn't she have told some lies +if I hadn't been there, and she had had him all to herself!" + +"Lies about me?" + +"She hated the sight of you. She never could forgive you because you +were better born than she. And, would you believe it, she started to +set her cap at him." + +"Little cat!" + +"He said he would come again to see if we heard any more of you, and, +when he went, she actually made eyes at him. And, if that weren't +enough, she wore her best dress and all her nick-knacks every day till +he came again." + +"He did come again?" + +"This time he spoke to me. He went soon after I told him we hadn't +heard of you." + +"Did he send you to town to look for me?" + +"I did that on my own. I traced you to a dancing academy, then to North +Kensington, and then to New Cross." + +"Where at New Cross?" asked Mavis, fearful that her friend had inquired +for her at Mrs Gowler's. + +"I'd been given an address, but I lost it on the way. I described you +to the station master and asked if he could help me. He remembered a +lady answering your description having a box sent to an address in +Pimlico. When I told him you were a missing relative, he turned it up." + +"Why didn't you call?" + +"I didn't know if you were Mrs Kenrick, and, if you were, how you would +take my 'nosing' into your affairs." + +"Why did you bother?" + +"I always liked you, and when I feared you'd got into a scrape for love +of a man, my heart went out to you and I wanted to help you." + +Mavis bent over to kiss her friend before saying: "I only hope I live +to do you a good turn." + +"You've done it already by making friends with me. But isn't Hunter a +pig?" + +"I hate her," said Mavis emphatically. + +"She tried to get my time for her holidays, but it's now arranged that +she goes away when I get back." + +"Where is she going?" asked Mavis absently. + +"Cornwall." + +"Cornwall? Which part?" + +"South, I believe. Why?" + +"Curiosity," replied Mavis. + +Then Miss Toombs told Mavis the rest of the Melkbridge news. She +learned how Mr and Mrs Trivett had given up Pennington Farm and were +now living in Melkbridge, where Miss Toombs had heard that they had a +hard struggle to get along. Miss Toombs mentioned several other names +well known to Mavis; but she did not speak of Charlie Perigal. + +It was a long time before Mavis slept that night. She had long and +earnestly thanked her Heavenly Father for having sent kindly Miss +Toombs to help her in her distress. She then lay awake for quite a long +while, wondering why Miss Toombs had been against her going to +Melkbridge. Vague, intangible fears hovered about her, which were +associated with her lover and his many promises to marry her. He also +was at Melkbridge. Mavis tried to persuade herself that Miss Toombs's +objection to her going to the same place could have nothing in common +with the fact of her lover's presence there. + +The next morning, while the two friends were breakfasting, Mavis again +spoke of the matter. + +"I can't make out why you were so against my going to Melkbridge," she +said. + +"Have you been worrying about it?" asked Miss Toombs. + +"Yes. Is there any reason why I shouldn't go back?" + +"You great big silly! The reason why I didn't want you to go there is +because I might get you a better job in town." + +"But you told me last night you were friendless. Friendless girls can't +get others work in town. So don't try and get over me by saying that." + +Miss Toombs explained how the manager of a London house, which had +extensive dealings with Devitt's boot factory, was indebted to her for +certain crooked business ways that she had made straight. She told +Mavis that she had gone to see this man on Mr Devitt's behalf since she +had been in town, and that he was anxious to keep in her good books. +She thought that a word from her would get Mavis employment. + +Mavis thanked her friend; she made no further mention of the matter +which occasionally disturbed her peace of mind. + +For all her friend's kindly offer, she longed to tread the familiar +ways of the country town which was so intimately associated with the +chief event of her life. + +During the five unexpired days of Miss Toombs's holiday, the two women +were rarely apart. Of a morning they would take the baby to the grounds +of Chelsea Hospital, which, save for the presence of the few who were +familiar with its quietude, they had to themselves. Once or twice, they +took a 'bus to the further side of the river, when they would sit in a +remote corner of Battersea Park. They also went to Kew Gardens and +Richmond Park. Mavis had not, for many long weeks, known such happiness +as that furnished by Miss Toombs's society. Her broad views of life +diminished Mavis's concern at the fact of her being a mother without +being a wife. + +The time came when Mavis set out for Paddington (she left the baby +behind in charge of Jill), in order to see her friend go by the +afternoon train to Melkbridge. Mavis was silent. She wished that she +were journeying over the hundred miles which lay between where she +stood and her lover. Miss Toombs was strangely cheerful: to such an +extent, that Mavis wondered if her friend guessed the secret of her +lover's identity, and, divining her heart's longings, was endeavouring +to distract her thoughts from their probable preoccupation. Mavis +thanked her friend again and again for all she had done for her. Miss +Toombs had that morning received a letter from her London boot +acquaintance in reply to one she had written concerning Mavis. This +letter had told Miss Toombs that her friend should fill the first +vacancy that might occur. Upon the strength of this promise, Miss +Toombs had prevailed on Mavis to accept five pounds from her; but Mavis +had only taken it upon the understanding that the money was a loan. + +While they were talking outside Miss Toombs's third class compartment, +Mavis saw Montague Devitt pass on his way to a first, followed by two +porters, who were staggering beneath the weight of a variety of +parcels. Mavis hoped that he would not see her; but the fates willed +otherwise. One of the porters dropped a package, which fell with a +resounding thwack at Mavis's feet. Devitt turned, to see Mavis. + +"Miss Keeves!" he said, raising his hat. + +Mavis bowed. + +"May I speak to you a moment?" he asked, after glancing at Miss Toombs, +and furtively lifting his hat to this person. + +Mavis joined him. + +"What has become of you all this time?" + +"I've been working in London." + +"I've often thought of you. What are you doing now?" + +"I'm looking for something to do." + +"I suppose you'd never care to come back and work for me in Melkbridge?" + +"Nothing I should like better," remarked Mavis, as her heart leapt. + +They talked for two or three minutes longer, when, the train being on +the point of starting, Devitt said: + +"Send me your address and I'll see you have your old work again." + +Mavis thanked him. + +"Just met Miss Toombs?" he asked. + +"She's been staying with me. Thank you so much." + +Mavis hurried from the man's carriage to that containing her friend, +who was standing anxiously by the window. + +"It's all right!" cried Mavis excitedly. + +"What's all right, dear?" cried Miss Toombs as the train began to move. + +"I'm coming to work at Melkbridge. It's au revoir, dear!" + +Mavis was astonished, and not a little disquieted, to see the +expression of concern which came over her friend's disappearing face at +this announcement. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE + +AN OLD FRIEND + + +Four days later, Mavis spent the late afternoon with her baby and Jill +in the grounds of Chelsea Hospital. She then took a 'bus to Ebury +Bridge (Jill running behind), to get out here and walk to her lodging. +As she went up Halverton Street, she noticed, in the failing light, a +tall, soldierly looking man standing on the other side of the road. But +the presence of men of military bearing, even in Halverton Street, was +not sufficiently infrequent to call for remark. Mavis opened her door +with the key and went to her room. Here, she fed her baby and ate +something herself. When her boy fell asleep, Mavis left him in charge +of Jill and went out to do some shopping. She had not gone far when she +heard footsteps behind her, as if seeking to overtake her. Mavis, who +was well used to being accosted by night prowlers, quickened her steps, +but to no purpose: a moment or two later, someone touched her arm. She +turned angrily, to see Windebank beside her. Her expression relaxed, to +become very hard. + +"Don't you know me?" he asked huskily. + +She stopped, but did not reply. She recalled the man she had seen +standing on the other side of the road, and whom she now believed to +have been Windebank. If it were he, and he had been waiting to see her, +he had undoubtedly seen her baby. Rage, self-pity at the realisation of +her helplessness, defiance, desire to protect the good name of the +loved one, filled her being. She walked for some moments in silence, he +following. + +"Are you very angry?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"I'm sorry." + +The deep note of sincerity in his voice might have arrested her wrath. +If anything, his emotion stimulated her anger. + +"Why do, you take pleasure in spying on me?" she cried. "I always knew +you were a beast." + +"Eh! Oh, rot!" he replied. + +"Why can't you leave me alone? You would if you knew how I hated you." + +"Do you mean that?" he asked quietly. + +"You shouldn't have spied on me." + +"Don't be angry: at least not very. You wouldn't if you knew how I've +longed to see you again, to find out what's become of you." + +"You know now!" she exclaimed defiantly. + +"And since I know, what is the use of your getting angry?" + +"I hate meanness," cried Mavis. + +"Eh!" + +"Spying's meanness. It's hateful: hateful." + +"So are fools," he cried, with a vehemence approaching hers. + +She looked at him, surprised. He went on: + +"I hate fools, and much, much as I think of you and much as you will +always be to me, I can't help telling you what a fool you've been." + +"Not so loud," urged Mavis. They had now reached the corner of +much-frequented Lupus Street, where the man's emphatic voice would +attract attention. + +"I'll say what I please. And if I choose to tell you I think you a +precious fool, nothing on earth shall stop me." + +"That's right: insult me," remarked Mavis, who was secretly pleased at +his unrestrained anger. + +"'Insult' be hanged! You're an arrant, downright fool! You'd only to +say the word to have been my wife." + +"What an honour!" laughed Mavis, saying the first words which came into +her head. The next moment she would have given much to have been able +to recall them. + +"For me," said Windebank gravely. "And I know I'd have made you happy." + +"I believe you would," admitted Mavis, wishing to atone for her +thoughtless remark. + +As if moved by a common impulse, they crossed Lupus Street and sought +the first quiet thoroughfare which presented itself. This happened to +be Cambridge Street, along the shabby pretentiousness of which they +walked for some minutes in silence, each occupied with their thoughts. + +"How did you find out where I was?" she asked. + +"Miss Toombs." + +"You've seen her?" + +"She sent me 'Halverton Street' written on a piece of paper. I guessed +what it meant." + +"You spoke to her before about me?" + +"Yes. I was anxious to know what had become of you." + +"You needn't have bothered." + +"I couldn't help myself." + +"You really, really cared?" + +"A bit. And now I see what a fool you've been---" + +"It won't make any difference," she interrupted. + +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. + +"It won't make any difference to me. I'm to be married any day now." + +"What's that?" he asked quickly. + +Mavis repeated her statement. + +"To whom?" + +"The man I love; whom else?" + +"Are you counting on that?" + +"Of course," she answered, surprised at the question. + +She wondered what he could mean, but she could get no enlightenment +from his face, which preserved a sphinx-like impenetrability. + +"What are you thinking of?" she asked. + +"How best to help you." + +"I'm not in need of help: besides, I can take care of myself." + +"H'm! Where were you going when I met you?" + +"Shopping." + +"May I come too?" + +"It wouldn't interest you." + +"How long can you spare?" + +"Not long. Why?" + +They had now reached the Wilton Road. By way of reply to her question, +he elbowed her into one of the pretentious restaurants which lined the +side of the thoroughfare on which they walked. + +"I'm not hungry," she protested. + +"Do as you're told," he replied, urging her to a table. + +He called the waiter and ordered an elaborate meal to be brought with +all dispatch. He then took off the light overcoat covering his evening +clothes before joining Mavis, who was surprised to see how much older +he was looking. + +"What are you staring at?" he asked. + +"You. Have you had trouble?" + +"Yes," he replied, looking her hard in the eyes. + +"I'm sorry," she remarked, dropping hers. + +As if to leaven her previous ungraciousness, Mavis ate as much of the +food as she could. She noticed, however, that, beyond sipping his wine, +Windebank merely made pretence of eating: but for all his remissness +with regard to his own needs, he was full of tender concern for her +comfort. + +"You're eating nothing," she presently remarked. + +"Like our other meal in Regent Street." + +She nodded reminiscently. + +"You hadn't forgotten?" + +"It was the night I left you in the fog." + +"Like the little fool you were!" + +She did not make any reply. He seemed preoccupied for the remainder of +the meal, an absent-mindedness which was now and again interrupted by +sparks of forced gaiety. + +She wondered if he had anything on his mind. She had previously +resolved to wish him good-bye when they left the restaurant; but, +somehow, when they went out together, she made no objection to his +accompanying her in the direction of Halverton Street, the reason being +that she felt wholly at home with him; he seemed so potent to protect +her; he was so concerned for her happiness and well-being. She revelled +in the unaccustomed security which his presence inspired. + +"What are you going to buy?" he asked, as they again approached Lupus +Street. + +"Odds and ends." + +"You must let me carry them." + +She smiled a little sadly, but otherwise made no reply to Windebank's +suggestion. She was bent on enjoying to the full her new-found +sensation of security. When they reached Lupus Street, she went into +the mean shops to order or get (in either case to pay for) the simple +things she needed. These comprised bovril, tea, bacon, sugar, +methylated spirit, bread, milk, a chop, a cauliflower, six bottles of +stout, and three pounds of potatoes. Whatever shop she entered, +Windebank insisted on accompanying her, and, in most cases, quadrupled +her order; in others, bought all kinds of things which he thought she +might want. In any other locality, the sight of a man in evening dress, +with prosperity written all over him, accompanying a shabbily-dressed +girl, as Mavis then was, in her shopping, would have excited comment; +but in Pimlico, anything of this nature was not considered at all out +of the way. + +Windebank, loaded with parcels, accompanied Mavis to the door of her +lodging. Here, she opened the door, and in three or four journeys to +her room relieved Windebank of his burdens. She was loth to let him go. +Seeing that her baby was sleeping peacefully, she said to Windebank, +when she joined him outside: + +"I'll walk a little way with you." + +"It's very good of you." + +As they walked towards Victoria, neither of them seemed eager for +speech. They were both oppressed by the realisation of the inevitable +roads to which life's travellers are bound, despite the personal +predilections of the wayfarers. + +"Little Mavis! little Mavis! what is going to happen?" he presently +asked. + +"I'm going to be married and live happily ever after," she answered. + +"I've had shocking luck. I mean with regard to you," he continued. + +Mavis making no reply to this remark, he went on: + +"But what I can't understand is, why you ran away that night when I got +you out of Mrs Hamilton's." + +"I escaped in the fog." + +"But why? Why? Little Mavis! little Mavis! these things are much too +sacred to play the fool with." + +"I ran away out of consideration for you." + +"Eh?" + +"Why else should I? I didn't want you to burden your life with a nobody +like me." + +"Are you serious?" + +She laughed bitterly. + +"Well, I'm hanged!" he cried. + +"It's no use worrying now." + +"One can't altogether help it. Why hadn't you a better sense of your +value? I'd have married you; I'd have lived for you, and I swear I'd +have made you happy." + +"I know you would," she assented. + +"And now I find you like this." + +"I'll be going back now." + +"I'll turn with you if I may." + +"You'll be late." + +"I'll chance that," he laughed. "Months before I met you at Mrs +Hamilton's, I heard about you from Devitt." + +"What did he say?" + +"It was just before you were going down to see him, from some school +you were at, about taking a governess's billet. He told me of this, and +I sent you a message." + +"I never had it." + +"Not really?" + +"A fact. What was it?" + +"I said that my people and myself were no end of keen on seeing you +again and that we wanted you to come down and stay." + +"You told him that?" + +"One day in the market-place at Melkbridge. Afterwards, I often asked +about you, if he knew your address and all that; but I never got +anything out of him." + +"But he knew all the time where I was. I don't understand." + +"Little Mavis is very young." + +"That's right: insult me," she laughed. + +"Those sort of people with a marriageable daughter aren't going to +handicap their chances by having sweet Mavis about the house." + +"People aren't really like that!" + +"Not a bit; they're as artless as you. My dear little Mavis, one 'ud +think you'd never left the nursery." + +"But I have." + +"Curse it, you have! Why did you? Oh! why did you?" + +"Do as I've done?" + +"Yes. Why did you?" + +"I loved him." + +"Eh?" + +"The only possible reason--I loved him." + +"And if you'd loved me, you'd have done the same for me?" + +"If you'd asked me." + +"For me? For me?" + +"If I loved you, and if you asked me." + +"But that's just it. If a chap truly loves a girl, he'd rather die than +injure a hair of her head. And if you loved me, my one idea would be to +protect my darling little Mavis from all harm. Why---" + +He stopped. Mavis's face was drawn as if she were in great pain. + +"What's the matter?" he asked. + +"How dare you? Oh, how dare you?" + +"Dare I what?" he asked, much perplexed at her sudden anger. + +"Insult the man I love. If what you say is true, it would mean he +didn't truly love me. You lie! I tell you he does! You lie--you lie!" + +"You're right," assented Windebank sadly, after a moment's thought. +"You're quite right. I made a mistake. I ask everyone's pardon. How +could any man fail to appreciate you?" + +Much to his surprise, her anger soon abated. A not too convincing +light-heartedness took the place of this stormy ebullition. If +Windebank had been more skilled in the mechanism of a woman's heart, he +would have promptly divined the girl's gaiety had been wilfully +assumed, in order to conceal from herself the anxiety that Windebank's +words, with reference to the proper conduct of a true lover, had +inspired. By the time they had reached her door, she had expended her +fund of forced gaiety; she was again the subdued Mavis whom trouble had +fashioned. She thanked Windebank many times for his kindness; although +she was tired, she was in no mood to leave him. She liked the +restfulness that she discovered in his company; also, she dreaded +to-night the society of her own thoughts. + +They were now standing in the street immediately outside the door of +her lodging. They had been silent for some moments. Mavis regretfully +realised that he must soon leave her. + +"Will you do me a favour?" he asked suddenly. + +She looked up inquiringly. + +"May I see---?" he continued softly. "May I see---?" + +"My boy?" she asked, divining his wish. + +She thought for a moment before slipping into the house. A little +later, she came out carrying the sleeping baby in her arms. Mavis's +heart inclined to Windebank for his request; at the same time, she knew +well that, were she a man, and in his present situation, she would not +be the least interested in the loved woman's child, whose father was a +successful rival. + +Windebank uncovered the little one's face. He looked at it intently for +a while. He then bent down to kiss the baby's forehead. + +"God bless you, little boy!" he murmured. "God bless you and your +beautiful mother!" + +He then covered the baby's face, and walked quickly away in the +direction of Victoria. + +That night, Mavis saw dawn touch the eastern sky with light before she +slept. She lay awake, wondering at and trying to resolve into coherence +the many things which had gone to the shaping of her life. What +impressed her most was that so many events of moment had been brought +about by trivial incidents to which she had attached no importance at +the time of their happening. Strive as she might, she could not hide +from herself how much happier would have been her lot if she had loved +and married Windebank. It also seemed to her as if fate had done much +to bring them together. She recalled, in this connection, how she again +met this friend of her early youth at Mrs Hamilton's, of all places, +where he had not only told her of the nature of the house into which +she had been decoyed, but had set her free of the place. Then had +followed the revelation of her hitherto concealed identity, a +confession which had called into being all his old-time, boyish +infatuation for her. To prevent possible developments of this passion +for a portionless girl from interfering with his career, she had left +him, to lose herself in the fog. If her present situation were a +misfortune, it had arisen from her abnormal, and, as it had turned out, +mischievous consideration for his welfare. But scruples of the nature +which she had displayed were assuredly numbered amongst the virtues, +and to arrive at the conclusion that evil had arisen from the practice +of virtue was unthinkable. Such a sorry sequence could not be; God +would not permit it. + +Mavis's head ached. Life to her seemed an inexplicable tangle, from +which one fact stood out with insistent prominence. This, that although +Windebank's thoughtless words about the safety of a woman with the man +who truly loved her had awakened considerable apprehension in her +heart, she realised how necessary it was to trust Perigal even more (if +that were possible) than she had ever done before. He was her life, her +love, her all. She trusted and believed in him implicitly. She was sure +that she would love him till the last moment of her life. With this +thought in her heart, with his name on her lips, the while she clutched +Perigal's ring, which Miss Toombs's generosity had enabled her to get +out of pawn, she fell asleep. + +The first post brought two letters. One was from Miss Toombs's business +acquaintance, offering her a berth at twenty-eight shillings a week; +the other was from Montague Devitt, confirming the offer he had made +Mavis at Paddington. Devitt's letter told her that she could resume +work on the following Monday fortnight. It did not take Mavis the +fraction of a second to decide which of the two offers she would +accept. She sat down and wrote to Mr Devitt to thank him for his +letter; she said that the would be pleased to commence her duties at +the time suggested. The question of where and how she was to lodge her +baby at Melkbridge, and, at the same time, avoid all possible risk of +its identity being discovered, she left for future consideration. She +was coming back from posting the letter, when she was overtaken by +Windebank, who was driving a superb motor car. He pulled up by the kerb +of the pavement on which she was walking. + +"Good morning," he cried cheerily. "I was coming to take you out." + +"Shopping?" she asked. + +"To have a day in the country. Jump in and we'll drive back for the +youngster." + +"It's very kind of you, but---" + +"There are no 'buts.' I insist." + +"I really mustn't go," said Mavis, thinking longingly of the peace of +the country. + +"But you must. Remember you've someone else to think of besides +yourself." + +"You?" + +"The youngster. A change to country air would do him no end of good." + +"Do you really think it would?" asked Mavis, hesitating before +accepting his offer. + +"Think! I know. If you don't want to come, it's your duty to sacrifice +yourself for the boy's health." + +This decided Mavis. Less than an hour later, they were driving in the +cool of Surrey lanes, where the sweet air and the novelty of the motion +brought colour to Mavis's cheeks. + +They lunched at a wayside inn, to sit, when the simple meal was over, +in the garden where the air was musical with bees. + +"This is peace," exclaimed Mavis, who was entranced with the change +from dirty, mean Pimlico. + +"As your life should always be, little Mavis." + +"It is going to be." + +"But what are you going to do till this marriage comes off?" + +Mavis told him how it was arranged that she was soon to commence work +at Melkbridge. Much to her surprise and considerably to her mind's +disquiet, Windebank hotly attempted to dissuade her from this course. +He urged a variety of reasons, the chief of which was the risk she ran +of the fact of her motherhood being discovered. But he might as well +have talked to Jill, who accompanied the party. Mavis's mind was made +up. The obstacles he sought to put in her way, if anything, +strengthened her determination. One concession, however, he wrung from +her--this, that if ever she were in trouble she would not hesitate to +seek his aid. On the return home in the cool of the evening, Windebank +asked if he could secure her better accommodation than where she now +lived until she left for Wiltshire. Mavis would not hear of it, till +Windebank pointed out that her child's health might be permanently +injured by further residence in unwholesome Halverton Street. Before +Mavis fell in with his request, she stipulated that she was not to pay +more than a pound a week for any rooms she might engage. When she got +back, she was overwhelmed with inquiries from Lil, the girl upstairs, +with reference to "the mug" whom she (Mavis) had captured. But Mavis +scarcely listened to the girl's questions; she was wondering why, first +of all, Miss Toombs and then Windebank should be against her going to +Melkbridge. Her renewed faith in Perigal prevented her from believing +that any act of his was responsible for their anxiety in the matter. +She could only conclude that they believed that in journeying to +Melkbridge, as she purposed, she ran a great risk of her motherhood +being discovered. + +The next morning, Mavis set about looking for the new rooms which she +had promised Windebank to get. Now she could afford to pay a reasonable +price for accommodation, she was enabled to insist upon good value for +the money. The neat appearance of a house in Cambridge Street, which +announced that lodgings were to let, attracted her. A clean, +white-capped servant showed her two comfortably furnished rooms, which +were to let at the price Mavis was prepared to pay. She learned that +the landlady was a Mrs Taylor. Upon asking to see her, a woman, whose +face still displayed considerable beauty, glided into the room. + +Mrs Taylor spoke in a low, sweet voice; she would like to accommodate +Mavis, but she had to be very, very particular: one had to be so +careful nowadays. Could Mavis furnish references; failing that, would +Mavis tell her what place of worship she attended? Mavis referred Mrs +Taylor to Miss Toombs at Melkbridge and Mrs Scatchard at North +Kensington, which satisfied the landlady. When, twenty-four hours +later, Mavis moved in, she found that Windebank had already sent in a +profusion of wines, meats, fruit and flowers for her use. She was +wishing she could send them back, when Mrs Taylor came into her +sitting-room with her hands to her head. + +Upon Mavis asking what was amiss, she learned that Mrs Taylor had a +violent headache and the only thing that did her any good was +champagne, which she could not possibly afford. Mavis hastened to offer +Mrs Taylor a bottle of the two dozen of champagne which were among the +things that Windebank had sent in. + +Under the influence of champagne, Mrs Taylor became expansive. She had +already noted the abundance with which Mavis was surrounded. + +"Have you a gentleman friend, dear?" she presently asked in her soft, +caressing voice. + +"I have one very dear friend," remarked Mavis, thinking of Windebank. + +"I hope you're very careful," remarked Mrs Taylor. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Excuse my mentioning it, but gentlemen will be gentlemen where a +pretty girl is concerned." + +"Thank you, but I am quite, quite safe," replied Mavis hotly. "And do +you know why?" + +Mrs Taylor shook her auburn head. + +"I'll tell you. It's because he loves me more than anything else in the +world. And, therefore, I'm safe," she declared proudly. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR + +MAVIS GOES TO MELKBRIDGE + + +On the following Sunday fortnight, Mavis left the train at Dippenham +quite late in the evening. She purposed driving with her baby and Jill +in a fly the seven miles necessary to take her to Melkbridge. She +choose this means of locomotion in order to secure the privacy which +might not be hers if she took the train to her destination. + +During the last few days, her boy had not enjoyed his usual health; he +had lost appetite and could not sleep for any length of time. Mavis +believed the stuffy atmosphere of Pimlico to be responsible for her +baby's ailing; she had great hopes of the Melkbridge air effecting an +improvement in his health. + +She had travelled down in a reserved first-class compartment, which +Windebank, who had seen her off at Paddington, had secured. He had only +been a few minutes on the platform, as he had to catch the boat train +at Charing Cross, he being due at Breslau the following day, to witness +the German army manoeuvres on a special commission from the War Office. + +Mavis had seen much of him during her stay at Mrs Taylor's. At all +times, he had urged upon Mavis the inadvisability of going to +Melkbridge. He was so against this contemplated proceeding that he had +vainly offered to settle money on her if only it would induce her to +forego her intention. Miss Toombs had by letter joined her entreaties +to Windebank's. She pointed out that if Mavis brought her child to +Melkbridge, as she purposed doing, it was pretty certain that its +identity would be discovered. But Windebank pleaded and Miss Toombs +wrote to no purpose. Before Windebank had said good-bye at Paddington, +he again made Mavis promise that she would not hesitate to communicate +at once with him should she meet with further trouble. + +The gravity with which he made this request awakened disquiet in her +mind, which diminished as her proximity to Melkbridge increased. +Impatient to lessen the distance that separated her from her +destination, she quickly selected a fly. A porter helped the driver +with her luggage; she settled herself with her baby and Jill, and very +soon they were lumbering down the ill-paved street. Her mind was so +intent on the fact of her increasing nearness to the loved one, that +she gave but a passing remembrance to the occasion of her last visit to +Dippenham, when she had met Perigal after letting him know that she was +about to become a mother. Her eyes strained eagerly from the window of +the fly in the direction of Melkbridge. She was blind, deaf, +indifferent to anything, other than her approaching meeting with her +lover, which she was sure could not long be delayed now she had come to +live so near his home. She was to lodge with her old friend Mrs +Trivett, who had moved into a cottage on the Broughton Road. + +Mavis had written to tell Mrs Trivett the old story of her fictitious +marriage; she had, also, stated that for the present she wished this +fact, together with the parentage of her child, to be kept a strict +secret. Mavis little recked the risk she ran of discovery. She was +obsessed by the desire to breathe the Melkbridge air. She believed that +her presence there would in some way or other make straight the tangle +into which she had got her life. The fly had left Dippenham well +behind, and was ambling up and down the inclines of the road. Mavis +looked out at the stone walls which, in these parts, take the place of +hedgerows: she recognised with delight this reminder that she was again +in Wiltshire. Four miles further, she would pass a lodge gate and the +grounds of Major Perigal's place. She might even catch a glimpse of the +house amongst the trees as she passed. As the miles were wearily +surmounted and the dwelling of the loved one came ever nearer, Mavis's +heart beat fast with excitement. She continually craned her neck from +the window to see if the spot she longed to feast her eyes upon were in +sight. When it ultimately crept into view, she could scarcely contain +herself for joy. She caught up her baby from the seat to hold him as +high as it was possible in order that he might catch a glimpse of his +darling daddy's home. + +The baby arms were hot and dry to the touch, but Mavis was too intent +on looking eagerly across the expanse of park to notice this just now. +Many lights flashed in her eyes, to be hidden immediately behind trees. +Her lover's home was unusually illuminated to-night--unusually, +because, at other times, when she had passed it, only one or two lights +had been visible, Major Perigal living the life of a recluse who +disliked intercourse with his species. Half an hour later, Mavis was +putting her baby to bed at Mrs Trivett's. His face was flushed, his +eyes staring and wide awake; but Mavis put down these manifestations to +the trying journey from town. She went downstairs to eat a few +mouthfuls with Mr and Mrs Trivett before returning to his side. She +found them much altered; they had aged considerably and were weighted +with care. Music teaching in Melkbridge was a sorry crutch on which to +lean for support. During the short meal, neither husband nor wife said +much. Mavis wondered if this taciturnity were due to any suspicions +they might entertain of Mavis's unwedded state. But when Mrs Trivett +came upstairs with her, she sat on the bed and burst into tears. + +Upon Mavis asking what was amiss, Mrs Trivett told her that they were +overwhelmed with debt and consequent difficulties to such an extent, +that they did not know from one day to another if they would continue +to have a roof over their heads. She also told Mavis that her coming as +a lodger had been in the nature of a godsend, and that she had returned +to Melkbridge upon the anniversary of the day on which her husband had +commenced his disastrous tenancy of Pennington Farm. + +Mavis slept little that night. Her baby was restless and wailed +fitfully throughout the long hours, during which the anxious mother did +her best to comfort him. Mavis made up her mind to call in a doctor if +he were not better in the morning. When she was dressing, the baby +seemed calmer and more inclined to sleep, therefore she had small +compunction in leaving him in Mrs Trivett's motherly arms when, some +two hours later, she left the Broughton Road for the boot factory. Miss +Toombs was already at the office when she got there. Mavis scarcely +recognised her friend, so altered was she in appearance. Dark rings +encircled her eyes; her skin was even more pasty than was its wont. +Mavis noticed that when her friend kissed her, she was trembling. + +"What's the matter, dear?" asked Mavis. + +"Indigestion. It's nothing at all." + +The two friends talked quickly and quietly till Miss Hunter joined +them. Beyond giving Mavis the curtest of nods, this young person took +no notice of her. + +Mavis was more grateful than otherwise for Miss Hunter's indifference; +she had feared a series of searching questions with regard to all that +had happened since she had been away from Melkbridge. + +Miss Toombs's appearance and conduct at meeting with Mavis was not the +only strange behaviour which she displayed. When anyone came into the +office, she seemed in a fever of apprehension; also, when anyone spoke +to Mavis, her friend would at once approach and speak in such a manner +as to send them about their business as soon as possible. Mavis +wondered what it could mean. + +Her boy did not seem quite so well when she got back to Mrs Trivett's +for the midday meal. During the afternoon's work, her anxiety was such +that she could scarcely concentrate her attention on what she was +doing. When she hurried home in the evening, the boy was decidedly +worse; there was no gainsaying the seriousness of his symptoms. Every +time Mavis tried to make him take nourishment, he would cry out as if +it hurt him to swallow. + +Mrs Trivett, who had had much experience with the ailments of a +sister's big family, feared that the baby was sickening for something. +Mavis would have sent for a doctor at once, but Mrs Trivett pointed out +that doctors could do next to nothing for sick babies beyond ordering +them to be kept warm and to have nourishment in the shape of two drops +of brandy in water every two hours; also, that if it were necessary to +have skilled advice, the doctor had better be sent for when Mavis was +at the boot factory; otherwise, he might ask questions bearing on +matters which, just now, Mavis would prefer not to make public. Mrs +Trivett had much trouble in making the distraught mother appreciate the +wisdom of this advice. She only fell in with the woman's views when she +reflected, quite without cause, that the doctor's inevitable +questioning might, in some remote way, compromise her lover. Late in +the evening, when it was dark, Miss Toombs came round to see how +matters were going. + +"It's all your fault, foolish Mavis, for coming to Melkbridge," she +remarked, when Mavis had told her of her perplexities. + +"But how was I to know?" + +"The only way to have guarded against complications was to keep away +altogether. I suppose you wouldn't go even now?" + +"He's much too ill to move. Besides---" + +"Will you go when he's better, if I tell you something?" + +"What?" asked Mavis, seriously alarmed by the deadly earnestness of her +friend's manner. + +"Miss Hunter!" + +"What of her?" + +"First tell me, where was it you went for your--your honeymoon?" + +"Polperro. Why?" + +"That's one of the places she's been to." + +"And you think---?" + +"Her manner's so funny. And you wondered why I was so jolly keen on +your not coming to Melkbridge!" + +"I thought--I hoped my troubles were at an end," murmured Mavis. + +"Whatever happens, you can rely on me till the death--when it's after +dark." + +"What do you mean?" asked Mavis. + +"Why, that much, much as I love you, I'm not going to risk the loss of +my winter fire, hot-water bottles, and books, for getting mixed up in +any scrape pretty Mavis gets herself into." + +The next morning Mavis went to business in a state bordering on +distraction. The baby was not one whit better, and even hopeful Mrs +Trivett had shaken her head sadly. But she had pointed out that Mavis +could not help matters by remaining at home; she also promised to send +for a doctor should the baby's health not improve in the course of the +morning. Mavis was so distraught that she stared wildly at the one or +two people she chanced to meet, who, knowing her, seemed disposed to +stop and speak. She wondered if she should let her lover know the +disquieting state of his son's health. So far, she had not told him of +her coming to Melkbridge, wishing the inevitable meeting to come as a +delightful surprise. When she got to the office, she found a long +letter from Windebank, which she scarcely read, so greatly was her mind +disturbed. She only noted the request on which he was always insisting, +namely, that she was at once to communicate with him should she find +herself in trouble. + +When she got back at midday, she found that, the baby being no better, +Mrs Trivett had sent her husband for a doctor who had recently come to +Melkbridge; also, that he had promised to call directly after lunch. +With this information, Mavis had to possess herself in patience till +she learned the doctor's report. That afternoon, the moments were +weighted with leaden feet. Three o'clock came; Mavis was beginning to +congratulate herself that, if the doctor had pronounced anything +seriously amiss with her child, Mrs Trivett would not have failed to +communicate with her, when a boy came into the office to ask for Miss +Keeves. + +She jumped up excitedly, and the boy put a note into her hand. A +faintness overwhelmed her so that she could hardly find strength with +which to tear open the missive. When she finally did so, she read: +"Come at once, much trouble," scrawled in Mrs Trivett's writing. + +Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, reached for her hat, the +while Miss Toombs watched her with sympathetic eyes. At the same time, +one of the factory foremen came into the office and put an envelope +into Mavis's hand. She paid no attention to this last beyond stuffing +it into a pocket of her frock. Her one concern was to reach the +Broughton Road with as little delay as possible. Once outside the +factory, she closely questioned the boy as he ran beside her, but he +could tell her nothing beyond that Mrs Trivett had given him a penny to +bring Mavis the note. When Mavis, breathless and faint, arrived at Mrs +Trivett's gate, she saw two or three people staring curiously at the +cottage. She all but fell against the door, and was at once admitted by +Mrs Trivett. + +"The worst! Let me know the worst!" gasped the terror-stricken girl. + +Mavis was told that her baby was ill with diphtheria; also, that a +broker's man was in possession at Mrs Trivett's. + +"Will he get over it?" was Mavis's next question. + +"It's for a lot of money. It's just on thirty pounds." + +"I mean my boy." + +"The doctor has hopes. He's coming in again presently." + +Mavis hurried to the stairs leading to her bedroom. As she went up +these, she brushed against a surly-looking man who was coming down. She +rightly judged him to be the man in possession. She found the little +sufferer stretched upon his bed of pain with wildly dilating eyes; it +wrung Mavis's heart to see what difficulty he had with his breathing. +If she could only have done something to ease her baby's sufferings, +she would have been better able to bear the intolerable suspense. She +realised that she could do nothing till the doctor paid his next visit. +But she had forgotten; one thing she could do: she could pray for +divine assistance to the Heavenly Father who was able to heal all +earthly ills. This she did. Mavis prayed long and earnestly, with words +that came from her heart. She told Him how she had endured pain, +sorrow, countless debasing indignities without murmuring; if only in +consideration of these, she begged that the life of her little one +might be spared. + +Whilst thus engaged, Mavis heard a tap at the door. She got up +impatiently as she called to whomsoever it might be to enter. + +Mrs Trivett came in with many apologies for disturbing Mavis. She then +told her lodger that the broker's man was aware of the illness from +which Mavis's baby was suffering; also that, as he was a family man, he +objected to being in a house where there was a contagious disease, and +that, if the child were not removed to the local fever hospital by the +evening, he would inform the authorities. Mrs Trivett's information +spelt further trouble for Mavis. Apart from her natural disinclination +to confide her dearly loved child to the care of strangers, she saw a +direct menace to herself should the man carry out his threat of +insisting on the removal of the child. Montague Devitt was much bound +up with the town's municipal authorities. In this capacity, it was +conceivable that he might discover the identity of the child's mother; +failing this, her visits to the hospital to learn the child's progress +would probably excite comment, which, in a small town like Melkbridge, +could easily be translated into gossip that must reach the ears of the +Devitt family. The cloud of trouble hung heavily over Mavis. + +"Can't--can't anything be done?" she asked desperately. + +"It's either the hospital or paying the broker." + +"How much is it?" + +"Twenty-nine pounds sixteen." + +"That's easily got," remarked Mavis. "At once?" asked Mrs Trivett, as +her worn face brightened. + +"I don't suppose I could get it till the morrow. It would be then too +late?" + +"But if you're sure of getting it, something might be arranged." + +"Would the man take my word?" + +"No. But he might know someone who would lend the money in a way that +would be convenient." + +"See him at once. Find out if anything can be done," urged the +distracted mother. + +Five minutes later, whilst Mavis was waiting in suspense, Mrs Trivett +came up to say that the doctor had come again. Mavis had no time to ask +her landlady what she had done with the broker's man, as the doctor +came into the room directly after he had been announced. He was quite a +young doctor, on whom the manners of an elderly man sat incongruously. +He glanced keenly at Mavis as he bowed to her; then, without saying a +word, he fell to examining the child's throat. + +"Well?" asked Mavis breathlessly, when he had satisfied himself of its +condition. + +"I must ask you a few questions," replied the doctor. + +"What do you wish to know?" she asked with anxious heart. + +He asked her much about the baby's place of birth, subsequent health +and diet. + +When Mavis told him of the Pimlico supplied milk, which she had +sterilised herself, he shook his head. + +"That accounts for the whole trouble," he remarked. "You should have +fed him yourself." + +"It didn't agree with him, and then it went away," Mavis told him. + +"Ah, you had worry?" + +"A bit. Do you think he'll pull through?" + +"I'll tell you more to-night," he informed her. + +Mavis attracted men. The doctor, not being blind to her fascinations, +was not indisposed to linger for a moment's conversation, after he had +treated the baby's throat, during which Mavis thought it necessary to +tell him the old story of the husband in America who was preparing a +home for her. + +"Some chap's been low enough to land that charming girl with that +baby," thought the doctor as he walked home. "She's as innocent as they +make 'em, otherwise she wouldn't have told me that silly husband yarn. +If she were an old hand, she'd have kept her mouth shut." + +Meanwhile, Mavis had been summoned downstairs to a conference, in which +the broker's man (his name was Gunner), Mrs Trivett, and a man named +Hutton, whom Mr Trivett had fetched, took part. + +Mavis was informed that Mr Hutton would lend her the money needed to +get rid of Mr Gunner's embarrassing presence, for which she was to pay +two pounds interest, if repaid in a month, and eight pounds interest a +year during which the capital sum was being repaid by monthly +instalments. + +"I will telegraph to Germany," said Mavis. "You shall have the money +next week at latest." + +Mr Hutton wanted guarantees; failing these, was Mavis in any kind of +employment? + +Mavis told him how she was employed by Mr Devitt. + +The man opened his eyes. Had the lady proof of this statement? + +Mavis thrust her hand into her pocket, believing she might find the +letter which Montague Devitt had written to Pimlico. She brought out, +instead, the letter the foreman had put into her hand when she was +leaving in reply to Mrs Trivett's summons. The envelope of this was +addressed in Mr Devitt's hand. + +"Here's a letter from him here," declared Mavis, as she tore it open to +glance at its contents before passing it on to Hutton. + +But the glance hardened into a look of deadly seriousness as her eyes +fell on what was written. She re-read the letter two or three times +before she grasped its import. + + +"Dear Miss Keeves," it ran, "it is with the very deepest regret that I +write to say that certain facts have come to my knowledge with regard +to the way in which you spent your holiday last year at Polperro. I, +also, gather that your sudden departure from Melkbridge was in +connection with this visit. As a strict moral rectitude is a sine qua +non amongst those I employ, I must ask you to be good enough to resign +your appointment. I enclose cheque for present and next week's +salary.--Truly yours, + +"MONTAGUE S.T. DEVITT." + + +The faces about her faded from her view; the room seemed as if it were +going round. + +"What's the matter, ma'am?" asked Mrs Trivett anxiously. + +"I can't give the guarantee," gasped Mavis. + +Mr Hutton rose and buttoned his coat. + +"What about Germany?" put in Mrs Trivett. + +"I'd forgotten that," said Mavis. "I'll write a telegram at once." + +Mr Hutton unbuttoned his coat. + +"Here's ink and paper, ma'am." + +Mavis took up the pen, at which Mr Hutton sat down. But she could not +remember the address. With swimming head, she dived her hand into the +pockets of her frock, but could not find Windebank's letter. + +"I must have left it at the office," she murmured. + +"What is it you want?" asked Mrs Trivett. + +"His letter for the address." + +Mr Hutton got up. + +"What time is it?" asked Mavis. + +"Just six o'clock." + +"The factory would be locked for the night. Won't they take my word?" +she asked. "I don't want to be parted from my child while I go to the +factory." + +Mr Hutton buttoned his coat. + +Mavis made an impassioned appeal to the man in possession and his +friend. She might as well have talked to the stone walls which lined +the Dippenham Road for any impression she produced. + +"This address will find me up to ten o'clock to-night, mum," said Mr +Hutton, as he threw a soiled envelope on the table. "An' if I'm woke up +arter, I charge it on the interest." + +When Mr Hutton had taken his leave, Mavis fought an attack of +hysterics. Realising that Gunner, the broker's man, would prove as good +as his word in the matter of having her sick child removed, if the +money were not forthcoming, Mavis saw that there was no time to be +lost. She quickly wrote two notes, one of which was to Miss Toombs, the +other to Charlie Perigal. In these she briefly recounted the +circumstances of her necessity. Trivett was dispatched to Miss Toombs, +whilst his wife undertook to deliver Perigal's note at his father's +house. + +Mavis waited by her beloved boy's side while the messengers sped upon +their respective errands. Her child was doubly dear to her now that +their separation was threatened. As his troubled eyes looked helplessly +(sometimes it seemed appealingly) into hers, she vowed again and again +that he should never be taken away to be nursed by strangers. Something +would happen, something must happen to prevent such a mutilation of her +holiest feelings as would be occasioned by her enforced separation from +her sick boy. Of course, why had she not thought of it before? Her +lover, the boy's father, would return with the messenger, to be +reconciled to her over the nursing of the ailing little life back to +health and strength. She had read much the same sort of thing in books, +which were always informed with life. + +The minutes of the American clock, which had belonged to Miss Nippett, +laboriously totalled into an hour. Mavis could hear Gunner uneasily +shuffling in the room below. The late August evening was drawing in. +Mavis quite succeeded in persuading herself that this would prove the +last night of her misfortunes. + +Mr Trivett was the first to return. He brought six pounds from Miss +Toombs, with a note saying that it was all she could lay hands upon. +This, with the four which Mavis possessed, made ten. Gunner smiled +amiably and set about collecting his clay pipes, which he had left in +odd corners of the cottage. Then, after half an hour of weary waiting, +Mrs Trivett came to the door, which Mavis opened with trembling hands. +She was alone. Her face proclaimed the fruitlessness of her errand. + +"Mr Charles Perigal was out for the evening and would not be back till +quite late," she had been told. + +This decided Mavis to act upon a resolve that, had been formulating in +her mind while waiting for Mrs Trivett's return. + +"Give me half an hour," she said to the sullen Gunner. "I'll make it +well worth your while." She then went upstairs to kiss her baby before +setting out. + +"Where are you going, ma'am?" asked tearful Mrs Trivett, who had +followed her upstairs. + +"To Mr Devitt. He's kind at heart. I know, if I can see him, he'll give +me what I want." + +"But will he see you?" + +"I'll see to that. Promise you won't leave baby while I'm gone." + +Mavis took a last look of her darling as she went out of the door. She +then let herself out and sped in the direction of the Bathminster Road. +She scarcely knew, she did not care, what she should say when she came +face to face with Devitt. She had almost forgotten that he had been +informed of her secret. All she knew was that she was in peril of +losing her sick child, and that she was fighting for its possession +with the weapons that came handiest. Nothing else in the world was of +the smallest account. She also dimly realised that she was fighting for +her lover's approval, to whom she would soon have to render an account +of her stewardship to his son. This gave edge to her determination. She +knocked at the door of the brightly lit, pretentious-looking house in +the Bathminster Road. + +"I want to see Mr Devitt privately," she told the fat butler who opened +the door. + +He would have shown her into a room, but she preferred to wait in the +hall, which, just now, was littered with trunks. + +"I think he's with Mr Harold," said the man, as he walked to a door at +the further end of the hall. + +The trunk labels were written in a firm, bold hand, which caught +Mavis's eye. "Harold Devitt, Esq., Homeleigh, Swanage, Dorset," was the +apparent destination of the luggage. + +"Mr Devitt must be in the drawing-room," said Hayter, as he reappeared +to walk up the stairs. + +Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, followed the man up the +heavily carpeted stairs, which did not betray her footfalls. + +The man opened the door of the drawing-room. + +As she followed close on his heels, she heard a terrific peal at the +front door bell. Recollection of what she saw in the drawing-room is +burned into Mavis's memory and will remain there till her last moment +of consciousness. + +Montague Devitt, in evening dress, was lolling before the fireplace. +His wife and her sister were busily engaged in unpacking showy articles +from boxes, which Mavis divined to be wedding gifts. Victoria Devitt, +sumptuously dressed, was seated on a low chair. Bending over her +shoulder in an attitude of unconcealed devotion was Charlie Perigal. + +Mavis took in the significance of all that she saw at a glance. Her +blood went ice cold. Something snapped in her head. She opened her lips +to speak, but no words issued. Instead, one arm was uplifted to accuse. +Then she became rigid; only her eyes were eloquent. + +Perigal was struck dumb by the apparently miraculous appearance of +Mavis in the room. Then, as her still body continued to menace him with +a gesture of seemingly eternal accusation, he became shamefaced. A hum +of voices sounded in Mavis's ears, but she was indifferent to what they +were saying. + +Next, as if from a great distance, she heard her name called by a +familiar voice. She was impelled to turn in the direction from which it +came, to see Mrs Trivett, tearful, distraught, standing in the doorway. +Mavis's eyes expressed a fearful inquiry. + +"Don't come back! don't come back," wailed the woman. + +Thus, almost in the same breath, Mavis learned how she had lost both +lover and child. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE + +THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW + + +Mavis never left the still, white body of her little one. She was +convinced that they were all mistaken, and that he must soon awaken +from the sleep into which he had fallen. She watched, with +never-wearying eyes, for the first signs of consciousness, which she +firmly believed could not long be delayed. Now and again she would hold +its cold form for an hour at a stretch to her heart, in the hope that +the warmth of her breasts would be communicated to her child. Once, +during her long watch, she fancied that she saw his lips twitch. She +excitedly called to Mrs Trivett, to whom, when she came upstairs, she +told the glad news. To humour the bereaved mother, Mrs Trivett waited +for further signs of animation, the absence of which by no means +diminished Mavis's confidence in their ultimate appearance. Her faith +in her baby's returning vitality, that never waned, that nothing could +disturb, was so unwaveringly steadfast, that, at last, Mrs Trivett +feared to approach her. Letters arrived from Miss Toombs, Perigal, +Windebank, and Montague Devitt, Mavis did not open them; they +accumulated on the table on which lay her untasted food. The funeral +had been fixed for some days later (Mavis was indifferent as to who +gave the orders), but, owing to the hot weather, it was necessary that +this dread event should take place two days earlier than had originally +been arranged. The night came when Mavis was compelled to take a last +farewell of her loved one. + +She looked at his still form with greedy, dry eyes, which never +flinched. By and by, Mrs Trivett gently touched her arm, at which Mavis +went downstairs without saying a word. The change from the room +upstairs to the homely little parlour had the effect of making her, in +some measure, realise her loss: she looked about her with wide, fearful +eyes. + +"My head! my head!" she suddenly cried. + +"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs Trivett. + +"Hold it! Hold it, someone! It's going to burst." + +Mrs Trivett held the girl's burning head firmly in her hands. + +"Tighter! tighter!" cried Mavis. + +"Oh, deary, deary! Why isn't your husband here to comfort you?" sobbed +Mrs Trivett. + +Mavis's face hardened. She repressed an inclination to laugh. Then she +became immersed in a stupor of despair. She knew that it would have +done her a world of good if she had been able to shed tears; but the +founts of emotion were dry within her. She felt as if her heart had +withered. Then, it seemed as if the walls and ceiling of the room were +closing in upon her; she had difficulty in breathing; she believed that +if she did not get some air she would choke. She got up without saying +a word, opened the door, and went out. Trivett, at a sign from his +wife, rose and followed. + +The night was warm and still. Mavis soon began to feel relief from the +stifling sensations which had threatened her. But this relief only +increased her pain, her sensibilities being now only the more capable +of suffering. As Mavis walked up the deserted Broughton Road, her eyes +sought the sky, which to-night was bountifully spread with stars. It +occurred to her how it was just another such a night when she had +walked home from Llansallas Bay; then, she had fearfully and, at the +same time, tenderly held her lover's hand. The recollection neither +increased nor diminished her pain; she thought of that night with such +a supreme detachment of self that it seemed as if her heart were +utterly dead. She turned by the dye factory and stood on the stone +bridge which here crosses the Avon. The blurred reflection of the stars +in the slowly moving water caused her eyes again to seek the skies. + +Thought Mavis: "Beyond those myriad lights was heaven, where now was +her beloved little one. At least, he was happy and free from pain, so +what cause had she, who loved him, to grieve, when it was written that +some day they would be reunited for ever and ever?" + +Mavis looked questioningly at the stars. It would have helped her much +if they had been able to betray the slightest consciousness of her +longings. But they made no sign; they twinkled with aloof indifference +to the grief that wrung her being. Distraught with agonised despair, +and shadowed by Trivett, she walked up the principal street of the +town, now bereft of any sign of life. Unwittingly, her steps strayed in +the direction of the river. She walked the road lying between the +churchyard and the cemetery, opened the wicket gate by the church +school, and struck across the well-remembered meadows. When she came to +the river, she stood awhile on the bank and watched the endless +procession of water which flowed beneath her. The movement of the +stream seemed, in some measure, to assuage her grief, perhaps because +her mind, seeking any means of preservation, seized upon the moving +water, this providing the readiest distraction that offered. + +Mavis walked along the bank (shadowed by the faithful Trivett) in the +direction of her nook. Still with the same detachment of mind which had +affected her when she had looked at the stars in the Broughton Road, +she paused at the spot where she had first seen Perigal parting the +rushes upon the river bank. Unknown to him, she had marked the spot +with three large stones, which, after much search, she had discovered +in the adjacent meadow. As of old, the stones were where she had placed +them. Something impelled her to kick them in the river, but she forbore +as she remembered that this glimpse of Perigal which they commemorated +was, in effect, the first breath which her boy had drawn within her. +And now---! Mavis was racked with pain. As if to escape from its +clutch, she ran across the meadows in the direction of Melkbridge, +closely followed by Trivett. Memories of the dead child's father +crowded upon her as she ran. It seemed that she was for ever alone, +separated from everything that made life tolerable by an impassable +barrier of pain. When she came to the road between the churchyard and +the cemetery, she felt as if she could go no further. She was bowed +with anguish; to such an extent did she suffer, that she leaned on the +low parapet of the cemetery for support. The ever-increasing colony of +the dead was spread before her eyes. She examined its characteristics +with an immense but dread curiosity. It seemed to Mavis that, even in +death, the hateful distinctions between rich and poor found expression. +The well-to-do had pretentious monuments which bordered the most +considerable avenue; their graves were trim, well-kept, filled with +expensive blooms, whilst all that testified to remembrance on the part +of the living on the resting-places of the poor were a few wild flowers +stuck in a gallipot. Away in a corner was the solid monument of the +deceased members of a county family. They appeared, even in death, to +shun companionship with those of their species they had avoided in +life. It, also, seemed as if most of the dead were as gregarious as the +living; well-to-do and poor appeared to want company; hence, the graves +were all huddled together. There were exceptions. Now and again, one +little outpost of death had invaded a level spread of turf, much in the +manner of human beings who dislike, and live remote from, their kind. + +But it was the personal application of all she saw before her which +tugged at her heartstrings. It made her rage to think that the little +life to which her agony of body had given birth should be torn from the +warmth of her arms to sleep for ever in this unnatural solitude. It +could not be. She despairingly rebelled against the merciless fate +which had overridden her. In her agony, she beat the stones of the +parapet with her hands. Perhaps she believed that in so doing she would +awaken to find her sorrows to have been a horrid dream. The fact that +she did not start from sleep brought home the grim reality of her +griefs. There was no delusion: her baby lay dead at home; her lover, to +whom she had confided her very soul, was to be married to someone else. +There was no escape; biting sorrow held her in its grip. She was borne +down by an overwhelming torrent of suffering; she flung herself upon +the parapet and cried helplessly aloud. Someone touched her arm. She +turned, to see Trivett's homely form. + +"I can't bear it: I can't, I can't!" she cried. + +Trivett looked pitifully distressed for a few moments before saying: + +"Would you like me to play?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"I don't know if the church is open; but, if it is, they've been +decorating it for--for--Would you very much mind?" + +"Play to me: play to me!" cried Mavis. + +The musician, whose whole appearance was eloquent of the soil, clumped +across the gravelled path of the churchyard, followed by Mavis. He +tried many doors, all of which were locked, till he came to a small +door in the tower; this was unfastened. + +He admitted Mavis, and then struck a wax match to enable her to see. +The cold smell of the church at once took her mind back to when she had +entered it as a happy, careless child. With heart filled with dumb +despair, she sat in the first seat she came to. As she waited, the +gloom was slowly dissipated, to reveal the familiar outlines of the +church. At the same time, her nostrils were assailed by the pervading +and exotic smell of hot-house blooms. + +The noise made by the opening of the organ shutters cracked above her +head and reverberated through the building. While she waited, none of +the sacred associations of the church spoke to her heart; her soul was +bruised with pain, rendering her incapable of being moved by the +ordinary suggestions of the place. Then Trivett played. Mavis's +highly-strung, distraught mind ever, when sick as now, seeking the way +of health, listened intently, devoutly, to the message of the music. +Sorrow was the musician's theme: not individual grief, but the travail +of an aged world. There had been, there was, such an immense +accumulation of anguish that, by comparison with the sum of this, her +own griefs now seemed infinitesimal. Then the organ became eloquent of +the majesty of sorrow. It was of no dumb, almost grateful, resignation +to the will of a Heavenly Father, who imposed suffering upon His erring +children for their ultimate good, of which it spoke. Rather was the +instrument eloquent of the power wielded by a pagan god of pain, before +whose throne was a vast aggregation of torment, to which every human +thing, and particularly loving women, were, by the conditions +consequent on their nature, condemned to contribute. In return for this +inevitable sacrifice, the god of pain bestowed a dignity of mind and +bearing upon his votaries, which set them apart, as though they were +remote from the thoughtless ruck. + +While Trivett played, Mavis was eased of some of her pain, her mind +being ever receptive to any message that music might offer. When the +organ stopped, the cold outlines of the church chilled her to the +marrow. The snap occasioned by the shutting up of the instrument seemed +a signal on the part of some invisible inquisitor that her torments +were to recommence. Before Trivett joined her, the sound of the church +clock striking the hour smote her ear with its vibrant, insistent +notes. This reminder of the measuring of time recalled to Mavis the +swift flight, not only of the hours, but of the days and years. It +enabled her dimly to realise the infinitesimal speck upon the chart of +recorded time which even the most prolonged span of individual life +occupied. So fleeting was this stay, that it almost seemed as if it +were a matter of no moment if life should happen to be abbreviated by +untimely death. Whilst the girl's mind thus struggled to alleviate its +pain and to mend the gaps made by the slings and arrows of poignant +grief in its defences, Trivett stumbled downstairs and blundered +against the pews as he approached. Then the two walked home, where +Mavis resumed her lonely vigil beside the ark which contained all that +was mortal of her baby. No matter what further anguish this watch +inflicted, she could not suffer her boy to be alone during the last +night of his brief stay on earth. + +The next afternoon, about two, when all Melkbridge was agog with +excitement at the wedding of Major Perigal's son to Victoria Devitt, +two funeral carriages might have been seen drawing up at a cottage in +the Broughton Road. Under the driver's seat of the first was quickly +placed a small coffin, which was smothered with wreaths, while a tall, +comely, fair young woman, clad in deep mourning, stepped into the +coach, the blinds of which were closely drawn. A homely, elderly man, +accompanied by his wife, got into the next, and the two carriages drove +off at a smart trot in the direction of the town. Soon after the little +procession had started, a black spaniel might have been seen escaping +into the road, where it followed the carriages with its nose to the +ground, much in the same way as it had been used to follow the Pimlico +'buses in which its mistress travelled when she had carried her baby. + +Mavis, white and drawn, lay back in the carriage that was proceeding on +its relentless way. She did not know, she did not care, who had made +the arrangements for this dismal ride. All she knew was that all she +had left of life seemed confined in the glass case beneath the driver's +seat. + +During the morning, Mrs Trivett had brought in wreaths of flowers from +Windebank, Miss Toombs, herself, and her husband. A last one had +arrived, which bore upon the attached card, "From C.P., with all +imaginable sympathy." Mavis, after glancing at the well-remembered +writing, had trodden the flowers underfoot and then had passionately +kicked the ruined wreath from the room. + +He, at least, should have no part in her sorrowful lot. As she drove +into the town, she was now and again met by gay carriages which were +returning from setting down wedding guests at the church door. The +drivers of these wore wedding favours pinned to their coats, while +their whips were decorated with white satin ribbons. As each carriage +passed, Mavis felt a sharp tugging at her heart. She guessed that she +was not being driven to Melkbridge; she wondered with an almost +impersonal curiosity whither they were bound. She had been told, but +she had not listened. She had reached such depths of suffering--indeed, +she had quite touched bottom--that it now needed an event of +considerable moment to make the least impression on her mutilated +sensibilities. When they reached the market-place and bore to the +right, she gathered that they were going to Pennington. + +The day was perfect--a day that in happier circumstances Mavis would +have loved. The sun reigned in a cloudless sky, the blue of which was +mellowed with a touch of autumn dignity. The grasses waved gladly by +the road-side, and along the ditches; patches of sunlight played +delightful games of hide-and-seek on hedge-rows and among the trees. +Most of the bushes were gay with song, while the birds seemed to laugh +in very defiance of winter when the sun was so warm. The unrestrained +joy and vivacity of the day emphasised the gloom that rilled the first +of the two funeral carriages. Mavis stared with dull surprise at the +rollicking gaiety of the afternoon: its callousness to her anguish +irked her. It made her think how unnecessary and altogether bootless +was the loss she had sustained. She tried to realise that God had +singled her out for suffering as a mark of His favour. But at the +bottom of her heart she nourished something in the nature of resentment +against the Most High. She knew that, if only life could be restored to +the child, she would be base enough to forfeit her chances of eternal +life in exchange for the boon. As she passed a by-lane, a smart cart, +containing a youngish man and a gaily-clad, handsome, happy-looking +girl, pulled up sharply in coming from this in order to avoid a +collision. Mavis saw the gladness fade from the faces of the occupants +of the cart as they realised the nature of the procession they had +encountered. The man took off his cap; the girl looked away with +frightened eyes. + +Five minutes later, the two carriages entered the gates of Pennington +Churchyard. The wind was blowing from Melkbridge, therefore she had not +heard before the measured tolling of the bell, which now seemed, every +time it struck, to stab her soul to the quick. The carriage pulled up +at the door of the tiny church. After waiting a few moments, Mavis got +out. + +Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she walked up the church, to sit +in a pew near the top. Although she never took her eyes from the +flower-covered coffin, she was aware that Windebank was sitting at the +back, whilst, a few moments later, Miss Toombs strolled into the church +with the manner of one who had got there by the merest chance. + +"Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live." + +Mavis stood up directly those words were spoken; otherwise, she paid no +attention to the exquisite periods of the burial service: her heart was +with her boy. The present was as much as she could endure; she was +nerving herself for the time when she should leave the church. Till +now, she felt that her baby was part of this life and herself; then, +without further ado, he would be torn from her cognisance to be put out +of sight in the ground. + +The inexorable minutes passed. Mavis stood before the open grave. Miss +Toombs, ashamed of her earlier timidity, stood beside her. Windebank, +erect and bare-headed, was a little behind. As the box containing her +baby disappeared, Mavis felt as if the life were being mercilessly +drawn from her. It was as if she stood there for untold ages. Then it +seemed as if her heart were torn out by the roots. Blinded with pain, +she found herself being led by Miss Toombs towards the carriage in +which she had been driven from Melkbridge. But Mavis would not get into +this. Followed by her friend, she struck into a by-path which led into +a lane. Here she walked dry-eyed, numbed with pain, in a world that was +hatefully strange. Then Miss Toombs made brave efforts to talk +commonplaces, while tears streamed from her eyes. The top of Mavis's +head seemed both hot and cold at the same time; she wondered if it +would burst. Then, with a sharp bark of delight, Jill sprang from the +hedge to jump delightedly about her mistress. Mavis knelt down and +pressed her lips to her faithful friend's nose. At the same moment, the +wind carried certain sounds to her ears from the direction of +Melkbridge. Mavis looked up. The expression of fear which Miss Toombs's +face wore confirmed her suspicions. Suddenly, Miss Toombs flung herself +upon Mavis, and clapped her hands against the suffering woman's ears. + +"Don't listen! don't listen!" screamed Miss Toombs. + +But Mavis thrust aside the other woman's arms, to hear the sound of +wedding bells, which were borne to her by the wind. + +Mavis listened intently for some moments, the while Miss Toombs +fearfully watched her. Then, Mavis placed her hands to her head, and +laughed and laughed and laughed, till Miss Toombs thought that she was +never going to stop. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX + +A VISIT + + +Mavis's ride to Pennington was her last appearance out of doors for +many a long day. For weeks she lay at Mrs Trivett's on the borderland +of death. For nights on end, it was the merest chance whether or not +she would live to see another dawn; but, in the end, youth, aided by +skilful doctoring and careful nursing, prevailed against the dread +illness which had fastened on her brain. As she slowly got better, the +blurred shadows which had previously hovered about her took shape into +doctor, nurses, and Mrs Trivett. When they told her how ill she had +been, and how much better she was, despair filled her heart. She had no +wish to live; her one desire was to join her little one beyond the +grave. + +A time came when the improvement which had set in was not maintained; +she failed to get better, yet did not become worse, although Mavis +rejoiced in the belief that her health was daily declining. Often, she +would wake in the night to listen with glad ears to the incessant +ticking of the American clock on the mantelpiece. If alone she would +say: + +"Go on, go on, little clock, and shorten the time till I again see my +dearest." + +As if in obedience to her behest, the clock seemed to tick with renewed +energy. + +Sometimes she would try and picture the unspeakable bliss which would +be hers when the desire of her heart was gratified. She often thanked +God that she would soon be with Him and her little one. She believed +that He found His happiness in witnessing the joy of mothers at again +meeting with their children from whom they had been parted for so long. + +She had no idea who paid the expenses of her illness; she was assured +by Mrs Trivett, whom she often questioned on the subject, that there +was no cause for uneasiness on the matter. Her health still refusing to +improve, a further medical adviser was called in. He suggested foreign +travel as the most beneficial course for Mavis to pursue. But the +patient flatly refused to go abroad; for a reason she could not divine, +the name of Swanage constantly recurred to her mind. She did not at +once remember that she had seen the name on the labels of the luggage +which had cumbered the hall on the night when she had called at the +Devitts. She often spoke of this watering-place, till at last it was +decided that, as she had this resort so constantly in her mind, it +might do her good to go there. Even then, it was many more weeks before +she was well enough to be moved. She remained in a condition of torpor +which the visits of Windebank or Miss Toombs failed to dissipate. At +last, when a mild February came, it was deemed possible for her to make +the journey. The day before it was arranged that she should start, she +was told that a gentleman, who would give no name, and who had come in +a carriage of which the blinds were drawn, wished to see her. When she +went down to the parlour, she saw a spare old man, with a face much +lined and wrinkled, who was clad in ill-fitting, old-fashioned clothes, +fidgeting about the room. + +"You wish to see me?" asked Mavis, as she wondered who he could be. + +"Yes. My name's Perigal: Major Perigal." + +Mavis did not speak. + +The man seemed surprised at her silence. + +"I--I knew your father," he remarked. + +"I knew your son," said Mavis icily. + +"More's the pity!" + +Mavis looked up, mildly surprised. The man continued: + +"He's mean: mean right through. I've nothing good to say of him. I know +him too well." + +Mavis kept silent. Major Perigal went on: + +"A nice mess you've made of it." + +The girl's eyes held the ghost of a smile. He continued: + +"I did my best for you, but you thought yourself too clever." + +Mavis looked up inquiringly. + +"When I heard who it was he was going to marry, I wanted to do you a +good turn for your father's sake, as I knew Charles could never make +you happy. I forbade the marriage, knowing he wouldn't face poverty for +you. He's hateful: hateful right through." + +"And if we'd married?" + +"I'd have come round, especially after seeing you. You're a +daughter-in-law any man would be proud of. And now he's married that +Devitt girl for her money." + +"For her money?" queried Mavis. + +"What little she has. Never mind her: I want to speak of you. For all +your fine looks, you were too clever by half." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, with dull, even voice. + +"What I say. That for all your grand appearance you were much too +knowing. Since you couldn't get him one way, you thought you'd have him +another." + +"You mean---" + +"By doing as you did." + +"You insult me!" cried Mavis, now roused from her lethargy. + +"Eh?" + +"Insult me. And that is why you came. But since you're here, you may as +well know I made a mess of it, as you call it, because I loved your +son. If I'd the time over again, I suppose I'd be just such another +fool. I can't help it. I loved him. I wish you good morning." + +Major Pengal had never been so taken aback in his life. Mavis's words +and manner carried conviction to his heart. + +"I didn't know--I beg your pardon--I take hack my words," he said +confusedly. + +Mavis relapsed into her previous torpor. + +"I didn't know there was such a woman in the world," he continued. +"What you must have been through!" + +Mavis did not speak. + +"May I have the honour of calling on you again?" he asked with +old-fashioned courtesy. + +"It would be useless. I go away to-morrow." + +"For good?" + +"For some weeks." + +"If you return, perhaps you would honour me by calling on me. I never +see anyone. But, if you would permit me to say so, your friendship +would be an honour." + +"Thank you, but I don't know what I shall be doing," said Mavis wearily. + +A few moments later, Major Perigal took his leave, but without +recovering from his unaffected surprise at Mavis's honesty. He looked +at her many times, to say, as he went out of the door of the parlour: + +"I always believed Charles to have brains: now I know him to be a +cursed fool." + +The following day, Mavis, accompanied by Mrs Trivett and Jill, set out +for Swanage. They took train to Dorchester, where they changed into the +South-Western system, which carried them to Swanage, after making a +further change at ancient Wareham. Arrived at Swanage station, they +took a fly to the house of a Mrs Budd, where lodgings, at the doctor's +recommendation, had been secured. On their way to Mrs Budd's, Mavis +noticed a young man in a hand-propelled tricycle, which the fly +overtook. The nature of the machine told Mavis that its occupant was a +cripple. + +If she had encountered him eighteen months ago, her heart would have +filled with pity at seeing the comely young man's extremity: now, she +looked at him very much as she might have noticed a cat crossing the +road. + +Mrs Budd was waiting on the doorstep in anxious expectation of her +lodgers. To see her white hair, all but toothless mouth, and wrinkled +face, she looked seventy, which was about her age; but to watch her +alert, brisk movements, it would seem as if she enjoyed the energy of +twenty. She ushered Mavis into her apartments, talking volubly the +while; but the latter could not help seeing that, whereas she was +treated with the greatest deference by the landlady, this person quite +ignored the existence of Mrs Trivett. + +It was with a feeling of relief that Mavis sat down to a meal after the +door had been closed on Mrs Budd's chatter. The change had already done +her good. Her eyes rested approvingly on the spotless table +appointments. + +"Poor dear!" exclaimed Mrs Trivett in pitying tones, who waited to see +if Mavis had everything she wanted before eating with Mrs Budd in the +kitchen. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mavis. + +"I knew something dreadful would happen. It's the anniversary of the +day on which I had my first lot of new teeth, which gave me such +dreadful pain." + +"What's wrong?" + +"That Mrs Budd. I took a dislike to her directly I saw her." + +Mavis stared at Mrs Trivett in surprise. + +"I do hope you'll be comfortable," continued Mrs Trivett. "But I fear +you won't be. She looks the sort of person who would give anyone damp +sheets and steal the sugar." + +Mrs Trivett said more to the same effect. Mavis, remembering Mrs Budd's +behaviour to her, could scarcely keep back a smile; it was the first +time since her illness that anything had appeared at all amusing. + +But this was not the sum of Mrs Trivett's resentment against Mrs Budd. +After the meal was over, she rejoined Mavis with perspiration dropping +from her forehead. + +"The kitchen's like an oven, and I've nearly been roasted," complained +Mrs Trivett. "And her horrid old husband is there, who can't do +anything for himself." + +"Why didn't you leave before you got so hot?" asked Mavis. + +"It's that there Mrs Budd's fault. She's only one tooth, and it takes +her all her time to eat." + +"I meant, why didn't you leave so that you could finish eating in here?" + +"I didn't like to, ma'am, but if you wouldn't very much mind in +future---" + +"By all means, eat with me if you wish it." + +"Thank you kindly. I'm sure that woman and me would come to blows +before many days was over." + +Mavis rested for the remainder of the day and only saw Mrs Budd during +the few minutes in which the table was being either laid or cleared +away; but these few minutes were enough for the landlady to tell Mavis +pretty well everything of moment in her life. Mavis learned how Mrs +Budd's husband had been head gardener to a neighbouring baronet, until +increasing infirmities had compelled him to give up work; also, that as +he had spent most of his life in hot-houses, the kitchen had always to +have a big fire blazing in order that the old man might have the heat +necessary for his comfort. It appeared that Mrs Budd's third daughter +had died from curvature of the spine. The mother related with great +pride how that, just before death, the girl's spine had formed the +figure of a perfect "hess." Mavis was also informed that Mrs Budd could +not think of knowing her next-door neighbour, because this person paid +a penny a pound less for her suet than she herself did. + +When Mavis was going upstairs to bed, she came upon Mrs Budd +laboriously dragging her husband, a big, heavy man, up to bed by means +of a cord slung about her shoulders and fastened to his waist. Mavis +subsequently learned that Mrs Budd had performed this feat every night +for the last four years, her husband having lost the use of his limbs. + +After Mavis had been a few days at Mrs Budd's, she was sufficiently +recovered to walk about Swanage. One day she was even strong enough to +get as far as the Tilly Whim caves, where she was both surprised and +disgusted to find that some surpassing mediocrity had had the +fatuousness to deface the sheer glory of the cliffs with improving +texts, such as represent the sum of the world's wisdom to the mind of a +successful grocer, who has a hankering after the natural science which +is retailed in ninepenny popular handbooks. Often in these walks, Mavis +encountered the man whom she had seen upon the day of her arrival; as +before, he was pulling himself along on his tricycle. The first two or +three times they met, the cripple looked very hard at Jill, who always +accompanied her mistress. Afterwards, he took no notice of the dog; he +had eyes only for Mavis, in whom he appeared to take a lively interest. +Mavis, who was well used to being stared at by men, paid no heed to the +man's frequent glances in her direction. + +The sea air and the change did much for Mavis's health; she was +gradually roused from the lethargy from which she had suffered for so +long. But with the improvement in her condition came a firmer +realisation of the hard lot which was hers. Her love for Charlie +Perigal had resulted in the birth of a child. Although her lover had +broken his vows, she could, in some measure, have consoled herself for +his loss by devoting her life to the upbringing of her boy. Now her +little one had been taken from her, leaving a vast emptiness in her +life which nothing could fill. God, fate, chance, whatever power it was +that ruled her life, had indeed dealt hardly with her. She felt an old +woman, although still a girl in years. She had no interest in life: she +had nothing, no one to live for. + +One bright March day, Mavis held two letters in her hand as she sat by +the window of her sitting-room at Mrs Budd's. She read and re-read +them, after which her eyes would glance with much perplexity in the +direction of the daffodils now opening in the garden in front of the +house. She pondered the contents of the letters; then, as if to +distract her thoughts from an unpalatable conclusion, which the subject +matter of one of the letters brought home to her, she fell to thinking +of the daffodils as though they were the unselfish nurses of the other +flowers, insomuch as they risked their frail lives in order to see if +the world were yet warm enough for the other blossoms now abed snugly +under the earth. The least important of the two letters was from Major +Perigal; it had been forwarded on from Melkbridge. In his cramped, odd +hand, he expressed further admiration for Mavis's conduct; he begged +her to let him know directly she returned to Melkbridge, so that he +might have the honour of calling on her again. The other letter was +from Windebank, in which he briefly asked Mavis if she would honour him +by becoming his wife. Mavis was much distressed. However brutally her +heart had been bruised by the events of the last few months, she +sometimes believed (this when the sun was shining) that some day it +would be possible for her to conjure up some semblance of affection for +Windebank, especially if she saw much of him. His mere presence +radiated an atmosphere of protection. It offered a welcome harbourage +after the many bufferings she had suffered upon storm-tossed seas. If +she could have gone to him as she had to Perigal, she would not have +hesitated a moment. Now, so far as she was concerned, there was all the +difference in the world. Although she knew that her soul was not +defiled by her experience with Perigal, she had dim perceptions of the +way in which men, particularly manly males, looked upon such +happenings. It was not in the nature of things, after all that had +occurred, for Windebank to want her in a way in which she would wish to +be desired by the man of her choice. Here was, apparently, no +overmastering passion, but pity excited by her misfortunes. Mavis had +got out of Mrs Trivett (who had long since left for Melkbridge) that it +was Windebank who had insisted on paying the expenses of her illness +and stay at Swanage, in spite of Major Perigal's and his son's desire +to meet all costs that had been incurred. Mavis also learned that +Windebank and Charles Perigal had had words on the subject--words which +had culminated in blows when Windebank had told Perigal in unmeasured +terms what he thought of his conduct to Mavis. + +As Mavis recalled Windebank's generosity with regard to her illness, it +seemed to her that this proposal of marriage was all of a piece with +his other behaviour since her baby had died. Consideration for her, not +love, moved his heart. If she were indeed so much to him, why did he +not come down and beg her with passionate words to join her life to his? + +Mavis made no allowance for the man's natural delicacy for her +feelings, which he considered must have been cruelly harrowed by all +she had lately suffered. Just now, there was no room in her world for +the more delicate susceptibilities of emotion. She wholly misjudged +him, and the more she thought of it, the more she believed that his +letter was dictated by pity rather than love. This pity irked her pride +and made her disinclined to accept his offer. + +Then Mavis thought of Major Perigal's letter. It flattered her to think +how her personality appealed to those of her own social kind. She began +to realise what a desirable wife she would have made if it had not been +for her meeting and subsequent attachment to Charlie Perigal. Any man, +Windebank, but for this experience, would have been proud to have made +her his wife. She believed that her whole-hearted devotion to a +worthless man had for ever cut her off from love, wifehood, +motherhood--things for which her being starved. Then she tried to +fathom the why and wherefore of it all. She had always tried to do +right: in situations where events were foreign to her control, she had +trusted to her Heavenly Father for protection. "Why was it," she asked +herself, "that her lot had not been definitely thrown in with Windebank +before she had met with Charles Perigal? Why?" Such was her resentment +at the ordering of events, that she set her teeth and banged her +clenched fist upon the arm of her chair. + +At that moment the crippled man wheeled himself past the house on his +self-propelled tricycle. He looked intently at the window of the room +that Mavis occupied. At the same moment Mrs Budd came into the room to +ask what Mavis would like for luncheon. + +"Who is that passing?" asked Mavis. + +The old woman ran lightly to the window. + +"The gentleman on that machine?" + +"Yes. I've often seen him about." + +"It's Mr Harold Devitt, miss." + +"Harold Devitt! Where does he come from?" asked Mavis of Mrs Budd, who +had a genius for gleaning the gossip of the place. + +"Melkbridge. He's the eldest son of Mr Montague Devitt, a very rich +gentleman. Mr Harold lives at Mrs Buck's with a male nurse to look +after him, poor fellow." + +Mrs Budd went on talking, but Mavis did not hear what she was saying. +Mention of the name of Devitt was the spark that set alight a raging +conflagration in her being. She had lost a happy married life with +Windebank, to be as she now was, entirely owing to the Devitts. Now it +was all plain enough--so plain that she wondered how she had not seen +it before. It was the selfish action of the Devitts, who wished to +secure Windebank for their daughter, which had prevented Montague from +giving Mavis the message that Windebank had given to him. It was the +Devitts who had not taken her into their house, because they feared how +she might meet Windebank in Melkbridge. It was the Devitts who had +given her work in a boot factory, which resulted in her meeting with +Perigal. It was the Devitts, in the person of Victoria, who had +prevented Perigal from keeping his many times repeated promises to +marry Mavis. The Devitts had blighted her life. Black hate filled her +heart, overflowed and poisoned her being. She hungered to be revenged +on these Devitts, to repay them with heavy interest for the irreparable +injury to her life for which she believed them responsible. Then, she +remembered how tenderly Montague Devitt had always spoken of his +invalid boy Harold; a soft light had come into his eyes on the few +occasions on which Mavis had asked after him. A sudden resolution +possessed her, to be immediately weakened by re-collections of +Montague's affection for his son. Then a procession of the events in +her life, which were for ever seared into her memory, passed before her +mind's eye--the terror that possessed her when she learned that she was +to be a mother; her interview with Perigal at Dippenham; her first +night in London, when she had awakened in the room in the Euston Road; +Mrs Gowler's; her days of starvation in Halverton Street; the death and +burial, not only of her boy, but of her love for and faith in +Perigal--all were remembered. Mavis's mind was made up. She went to her +bedroom, where, with infinite deliberation, she dressed for going out. + +"Mr Harold Devitt!" she said, when she came upon him waiting on his +tricycle by the foolish little monument raised to the memory of one of +Alfred the Great's victories over invading Danes. + +The man raised his hat, while he looked intently at Mavis. + +"I have to thank you for almost the dearest treasure I've ever +possessed. Do you remember Jill?" + +"Of course: I wondered if it might prove to be she when I first saw +her. But is your name, by any chance, Miss Keeves?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"I've often wondered if I were ever going to meet you. And when I saw +you about---" + +"You noticed me?" + +"Who could help it? I'm in luck." + +"What do you mean?" she asked lightly. + +"Meeting with you down here." + +Thus they talked for quite a long while. Long before they separated for +the day, Mavis's eyes had been smiling into his. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN + +MAVIS AND HAROLD + + +"You're late!" + +"I always am. I've been trying to make myself charming." + +"That wouldn't be difficult." + +"You think so?" + +"I'm sure of it." + +Mavis spoke lightly, but Harold's voice was eloquent of conviction. + +"I'm sure of it," he repeated, as if to himself. + +"Am I so perfect?" she asked, as her eyes sought the ground. + +"In my eyes. But, then, I'm different from other men." + +"You are." + +"You needn't remind me of it." + +"Isn't it nice to be different from others?" + +"And wheel myself about because I can't walk?" + +"Is that what you meant? Believe me, I didn't mean that. I was thinking +how different you were to talk to, to other men I've met." + +"You flatter me." + +"It's the truth." + +"Then, since I'm so exceptional, will you do something for me?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Never be later than you can help. I worry, fearing something's +happened to you." + +"Not really?" + +"You are scarcely a subject I should fib about." + +This was the beginning of a conversation that took place a fortnight +after Mavis's first meeting with Harold by the sea. During this time, +they had seen each other for the best part of every day when the +weather was fine enough for Harold to be out of doors; as it was an +exceptionally fine spring, they met constantly. Mavis was still moved +by an immense hatred of the Devitt family, whom, more than ever before, +she believed to be responsible for the wrongs and sufferings she had +endured. In her determination to injure this family by making Harold +infatuated with her, she was not a little surprised at the powers of +dissimulation which she had never before suspected that she possessed. +She was both ashamed and proud of this latent manifestation of her +individuality--proud because she was inclined to rejoice in the power +that it conferred. But, at times, this elation was diluted with +self-reproaches, chiefly when she was with Harold, but not looking at +him; then his deep, rich voice would awaken strange tremors in her +being. + +However much Mavis was occasionally moved to pity his physical +misfortune, the recollection of her griefs was more than enough to +harden her heart. + +"Very, very strange that I should have run against you here," he went +on. + +"Why?" + +"I was at home when your old schoolmistress's letter came about you. I +remember she dragged in Ruskin." + +"Poor Miss Mee!" + +"I was always interested in you, and when I was in the South of France, +I was always asking my people to do their best for you." + +Mavis's eyes grew hard as she asked: + +"You've kept your promise to me?" + +"That I shouldn't tell my people I'd met you?" + +"I made it because---" + +"Never mind why. You made it: that is enough for me." + +Mavis's eyes softened. Then she and Harold fell to talking of +Melkbridge and Montague Devitt; presently of Victoria. + +"I hope she was kind to you at Melkbridge," said Harold. + +"Very," declared Mavis, saying what was untrue. + +"Dear Vic is a little disappointing. I'm always reproaching myself I +don't love her more than I do. Have you ever met the man she married?" + +"Mr. Perigal? I've met him," replied Mavis. + +"Do you like him?" + +"I scarcely remember." + +"I don't overmuch. I'm sorry Vic married him, although my people were, +of course, delighted." + +"Why?" + +"We're quite new people, while the Perigals are a county family. But, +somehow, I don't think he'll make Vic happy." + +"What makes you say that?" + +"He's not happy himself. Everything he takes up he wearies of; he gets +pleasure out of nothing. And the pity of it is, he's no fool; if +anything, he's too many brains." + +"How can anyone have too many?" + +"Take Perigal's case. He's too analytical; he sees too clearly into +things. It's a sort of Rontgen ray intelligence, which I wouldn't have +for worlds. Isn't it old Solomon who says, 'In much wisdom there is +much sorrow'?" + +"Solomon says a good many things," said Mavis gravely, as she +remembered how the recollection of certain passion-charged verses from +the "Song" had caused her to linger by the canal at Melkbridge on a +certain memorable evening of her life, with, as it proved, disastrous +consequences to herself. + +"Have you ever read the 'Song'?" asked Harold. + +"Yes." + +"I love it, but I daren't read it now." + +"Why?" + +"More than most things, it brings home to me my--my helplessness." + +The poison, begotten of hatred, made Mavis thankful that the Devitt +family had not had it all their own way in life. + +When she next looked at Harold, he was intently regarding her. Mavis's +glance dropped. + +"But now there's something more than reading the 'Song' that makes me +curse my luck," he remarked. + +"And that?" + +"Can't you guess?" he asked earnestly. + +Mavis did not try; she was already aware of the fascination she +possessed for the invalid. + +For the rest of the time they were together, Mavis could get nothing +out of Harold; he was depressed and absent-minded when spoken to. +Mavis, of set purpose, did her utmost to take Harold out of himself. + +"Thank you," he said, as she was going. + +"What for?" + +"Wasting your time on me and helping me to forget." + +"Forget what?" + +"Never mind," he said, as he wheeled himself away. + +When Mavis got back to Mrs Budd's, she found a bustle of preparation +afoot. Mrs Budd was running up and downstairs, carrying clean linen +with all her wonted energy; whilst Hannah, her sour-faced assistant, +perspired about the house with dustpan and brushes. + +"Expecting a new lodger?" asked Mavis. + +"It's my daughter, Mrs Perkins; she's telegraphed to say she's coming +down from Kensington for a few days." + +"She'll be a help." + +Mrs Budd's face fell as she said: + +"Well, miss, she comes from Kensington, and she has a baby." + +"Is she bringing that too?" + +"And her nurse," declared Mrs Budd, not without a touch of pride. + +When Mrs Perkins arrived, she was wearing a picture hat, decorated with +white ostrich feathers, a soiled fawn dust-coat, and high-heeled patent +leather shoes. She brought with her innumerable flimsy parcels +(causing, by comparison, a collapsible Japanese basket to look +substantially built), and a gaily-dressed baby carried by a London +slut, whose face had been polished with soap and water for the occasion. + +After the dust-cloak had settled with the driver, it advanced +self-consciously to the steps leading to the front door, the while it +called to the London slut: + +"Come along, nurse, and be careful of baby." + +Mavis, who saw and heard this from the window of her sitting-room, +noticed that Mrs Perkins greeted her mother, who was waiting at the +door, with some condescension. When the last flimsy parcel had been +taken within, Mrs Budd brought in Mrs Perkins and the baby to introduce +them to Mavis. Mrs Perkins sat down and assumed a manner of superfine +gentility, while she talked with a Cockney accent. Her mother remained +standing. The dust-cloak lived in Kensington, it informed Mavis, "which +was so convenient for the West End: it was only an hour's 'bus ride +from town." + +"Less than that," said Mavis to the dust-cloak. + +"I have known it to take fifty-five minutes when it hasn't been stopped +by funerals," declared Mrs Perkins. + +Mavis looked at the dust-cloak in surprise. + +"I always thought it took a quarter of an hour at the outside," +remarked Mavis. + +"For my part, when I go to London, I'm afraid of the 'buses," said Mrs +Budd. "I always take the train to Willesden Junction. Florrie's house +is only five minutes from there." + +Mrs Perkins frowned, coughed, and then violently changed the subject. +Mavis gave no heed to what she was saying. Her eyes were fixed on the +baby, which Mrs Budd had put in her arms. + +Passionate regrets filled her mind, while a dull pain assailed her +heart. She held the baby with a tense grip as Mrs Perkins talked at +her, the while the mother kept one eye self-consciously upon her +offspring. + +Baby that and baby this, she was saying, as Mavis continued to stare +with dry-eyed grief at the baby's pasty face. Then blind rage possessed +her. + +"Why should this common brat, which, even at this early age, carried +his origin in his features, live, while my sweet boy is beneath the +ground in Pennington Churchyard?" she asked herself. + +It was cruel, unjust. Mavis's rage was such that she was within +measurable distance of dashing the baby to the ground. Perhaps the +dust-cloak's maternal sensibilities scented danger, for, rather +abruptly, it got up to go, giving as an excuse that it must rest in +order to fulfil social engagements in Swanage. When Mrs Budd, her +daughter and grandson, had gone, Mavis still sat in her chair. Her +hands grasped its arms; her eyes stared before her. If, at any time, +Harold's personality had caused her hatred of his family to wane, the +sight of Mrs Perkins's baby was sufficient to restore its vigour. + +Then it occurred to Mavis how her love for Perigal, which she had +thought to be as stable as the universe, had unconsciously withered +within her. It was as if there had been an immense reaction from her +one-time implicit faith in her lover, making her despise, where once +she had had unbounded confidence. This awakening to the declension that +had taken place in her love gave her many anxious hours. + +For some days Mavis saw nothing of Harold. She walked on the sweep of +sea front and in the streets of the little town in the hope of meeting +him, but in vain. She wondered if he had gone home, but persuaded +herself that he would not have left Swanage without letting her know. + +Mavis was not a little irked at Harold's indifference to her +friendship; it hurt her self-esteem, which had been enhanced by the +influence she had so palpably wielded over him. It also angered her to +think that, after all, she would not be able to drink the draught of +revenge which she had promised herself at the Devitts' expense. + +All this time she had given no further thought to Windebank's letter; +it remained unanswered. As the days passed, and she saw nothing of +Harold, she began to think considerably of the man who had written to +offer her marriage. These thoughts were largely coloured with +resentment at the fact of Windebank's not having followed up his +unanswered letter by either another communication or a personal appeal. +Soon she was torn by two emotions: hatred of the Devitts and awakened +interest in Windebank; she did not know which influenced her the more. +She all but made up her mind to write some sort of a reply to +Windebank, when she met Harold pulling himself along the road towards +the sea. + +He had changed in the fortnight that had elapsed since she had last +seen him; his face had lost flesh; he looked worn and anxious. + +When he saw her, he pulled up. She gave him a formal bow, and was about +to pass him, when the hurt expression on the invalid's face caused her +to stop irresolutely by his side. + +"At last!" he said. + +Mavis looked at him inquiringly. + +"I could bear it no longer," he went on. + +"Bear what?" + +He did not reply; indeed, he did not appear to listen to her words, but +said: + +"I feared you'd gone for good." + +"I've seen nothing of you either." + +"Then you missed me? Tell me that you did." + +"I don't know." + +"I have missed YOU." + +"Indeed!" + +"I daren't say how much. Where are you going now?" + +"Nowhere." + +"May I come too?" he asked pleadingly. "I'll go a little way," she +remarked. + +"Meet me by the sea in ten minutes." + +"Why not go there together?" + +"I'd far rather meet you." + +"Don't you like being seen with me?" + +"Yes and no. Yes, because I am very proud at being seen with you." + +"And 'no'?" + +"It's why I wanted you to meet me by the sea." + +"Why?" + +"Can't you guess?" + +"If I could I wouldn't ask." + +"I'll tell you. When you walk with me, I'm afraid you notice my +infirmity the more." + +"I'll only go on one condition," declared Mavis. + +"That---?" + +"That we go straight there from here." + +"I'm helpless where you're concerned," he sighed, as he started his +tricycle. + +They went to the road bordering the sea, which just now they had to +themselves. On the way they said little; each was occupied with their +thoughts. + +Mavis was touched by Harold's devotion; also, by his anxiety not to +obtrude his infirmity upon her notice. She looked at him, to see in his +eyes unfathomable depths of sadness. She repressed an inclination to +shed tears. She had never been so near foregoing her resolve to make +him the instrument of her hatred of his family. But the forces that +decide these matters had other views. Mavis was staring out to sea, in +order to hide her emotion from Harold's distress, when the sight of the +haze where sea and sky met arrested her attention. Something in her +memory struggled for expression, to be assisted by the smell of seaweed +which assailed her nostrils. + +In the twinkling of an eye, Mavis, in imagination, was at Llansallas +Bay, with passionate love and boundless trust in her heart for the +lover at her side, to whom she had surrendered so much. The merest +recollection of how her love had been betrayed was enough to dissipate +the consideration that she was beginning to feel for Harold. Her heart +turned to stone; determination possessed her. + +"Still silent!" she exclaimed. + +"I have to be." + +"Who said so?" + +"The little sense that's left me." + +"Sense is often nonsense." + +"It's a bitter truth to me." + +"Particularly now?" + +"Now and always." + +"May I know?" + +"Why did you come into my life?" he asked, as if he had not heard her +request. + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"Why have you? Why have you?" + +"You're not the only one who can ask that question," she murmured. + +He looked at her for some moments in amazement before saying: + +"Say that again." + +"I shan't." + +"If I were other than I am, I should compel you." + +"How could you?" + +"With my lips. As it is---" + +"Yes--tell me." + +"My infirmity stops me from saying and doing what I would." + +"Why let it?" asked Mavis in a low voice, while her eyes sought the +ground. + +"You--you mean that?" he asked, in the manner of one who scarcely +believed the evidence of his ears. + +"I mean it." + +He did not speak for such a long time that Mavis began to wonder if he +regretted his words. When she stole a look at him, she saw that his +eyes were staring straight before him, as if his mind were all but +overwhelmed by the subject matter of its concern. + +Mavis touched his arm. He shivered slightly and glanced at her as if +surprised, before he realised that she was beside him. + +"Listen!" he said. "You asked--you shall know; whether you like or hate +me for it. I love you. Women have never come into my life; they've +always looked on me with pitying eyes. I would rather it were so. But +you--you--you are beautiful, with a heart like your face, both rare and +wonderful. Perhaps I love you so much because you are young and +healthy. It hurts me." + +His eyes held such a piteously fearful look that Mavis was moved in +spite of herself. He went on: + +"If my disposition were like my twisted body, it wouldn't matter. But I +love life, movement, struggling. Were I as I used to be, I should love +to have a beautiful, responsive woman for my own. I should love to have +you." + +Before Mavis knew what she had done, she had put her hand on his. Then +he said, as if speaking to himself: + +"What have I to offer besides a helpless, envious love? My wife would +be a nurse, not a mistress, as she should be." + +"Stop! stop!" she pleaded. + +"No, I will not stop," he cried, as he bent over to hold her head so +that her eyes looked into his. "You shall listen and then decide. I +love you. If it's good enough, I'm yours. You know what I have to +offer, and I ask you to be my wife because I can't help myself. +Because--" + +Mavis had closed her eyes for fear that he should read her heart. He +passionately kissed the closed lids before sinking back exhausted in +his chair. + +"Listen to me," said Mavis after a while. "It's I who am to blame. Let +me go away so that you can forget me." + +"Forget you! forget you!" he cried. "No, you shall not go away; not +till you've said 'yes' or 'no' to what I ask." + +"When shall I answer?" + +"Give yourself time--only--" + +"Only?" + +"Don't keep me waiting longer than you can help." + +For three days, Mavis drifted upon uncertain tides. She was borne +rapidly in one direction only to float as certainly in another. She +lacked sufficient strength of purpose to cast anchor and abide by the +consequences. She deplored her irresolution, but, try as she might, she +found it a matter of great difficulty to give her mind to the +consideration of Harold's offer. Otherwise, the most trivial happenings +imprinted themselves on her brain: the aspect of the food she ate, the +lines on her landlady's face, the flittings in and out of the front +door of the "dust-cloak" on its way to trumpery social engagements, the +while its mother minded the baby, all acquired in her eyes a prominence +foreign to their importance. Also, thoughts of Windebank now and again +flooded her mind. Then she remembered all he had done for her, at which +gratitude welled from her soul. At such times she would be moved by a +morbid consideration for his feelings; she longed to pay back the money +he had spent on her illness, and felt that her mind would never be at +ease on the matter till she had. + +If only he would come down, and, despite anything she could say or do, +insist on marrying her and determine to win her heart; failing that, if +he would only write words of passionate longing which might awaken some +echo in her being! She read and re-read the letter in which he offered +her marriage; she tried to see in his formal phrases some approximation +to a consuming love, but in vain. + +She had never answered this letter; she reproached herself for not +having done so. Mavis sat down to write a few words, which would reach +Windebank by the first post in the morning, when she found that the ink +had dried in the pot. She rang the bell. While waiting, a vision of the +piteous look on Harold's face when he had told her of his love came +into her mind. Accompanying this was the recollection of the cause of +which her friendship with Harold was an effect. Hatred of the Devitts +possessed her. She remembered, and rejoiced, that it was now in her +power to be revenged for all she believed she had suffered at their +hands. So black was the quality of this hate that she wondered why she +had delayed so long. When the ink was brought, it was to Harold that +she was about to write; Windebank was forgotten. + +As Mavis wrote the day of the month at the head of the page, she seemed +to hear echoes of Harold's resonant voice vibrating with love for her. +She sighed and put down her pen. If only she were less infirm of +purpose. Her hesitations were interrupted by Mrs Budd bringing in a +letter for Mavis that the postman had just left. It was from Mrs +Trivett. It described with a wealth of detail a visit that the writer +had paid to Pennington Churchyard, where she had taken flowers to lay +on the little grave. Certain nerves in the bereaved mother's face +quivered as she read. Memories of the long-drawn agony which had +followed upon her boy's death crowded into her mind. Mavis hardened her +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT + +MAVIS'S REVENGE + + +Upon a day on which the trees and hedges were again frocked in spring +finery in honour of approaching summer, Mrs Devitt was sitting with her +sister in the drawing-room of Melkbridge House. Mrs Devitt was trying +to fix her mind on an article in one of the monthly reviews dealing +with the voluntary limitation of families on the part of married folk. +Mrs Devitt could not give her usual stolid attention to her reading, +because, now and again, her thoughts wandered to an interview between +her husband and Lowther which was taking place in the library +downstairs. This private talk between father and son was on the subject +of certain snares which beset the feet of moneyed youth when in London, +and in which the unhappy Lowther had been caught. Mrs Devitt was +sufficiently vexed at the prospect of her husband having to fork out +some hundreds of pounds, without the further promise of revelations in +which light-hearted, lighter living young women were concerned. Debts +were forgivable, perhaps excusable, in a young gentleman of Lowther's +standing, but immorality, in Mrs Devitt's eyes, was a horse of quite +another colour; anything of this nature acted upon Mrs Devitt's +susceptibilities much in the same way as seeing red afreets an angry +bull. + +Miss Spraggs, whom the last eighteen months had aged in appearance, +looked up from the rough draft of a letter she was composing. + +"Did you hear anything?" she asked, as she listened intently. + +"Hear what?" + +"The door open downstairs. Lowther's been in such a time with Montague." + +"I suppose Lowther is confessing everything," sighed Mrs Devitt. + +"Nothing of the sort," remarked Miss Spraggs. + +"What do you mean?" + +"No one ever does confess everything: something is always kept back." + +"Don't you think, Eva, you look at things from a very material point of +view?" + +Eva shrugged her narrow shoulders. Mrs Devitt continued: + +"Now and again, you seem to ignore the good which is implanted in us +all." + +"Perhaps because it's buried so deep down that it's difficult to see." + +Half an hour afterwards, it occurred to Mrs Devitt that she might have +retorted, "What one saw depended on the power of one's perceptions," +but just now, all she could think of to say was: + +"Quite so; but there's so much good in the world, I wonder you don't +see more of it." + +"What are you reading?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she revised the draft of +her letter. + +The scribbling virgin often made a point of talking while writing, in +order to show how little mental concentration was required for her +literary efforts. + +"An article on voluntary limitations of family. It's by the Bishop of +Westmoreland. He censures such practices: I agree with him." + +Mrs Devitt spoke from her heart. The daughter of a commercial house, +which owed its prosperity to an abundant supply of cheap labour, she +realised (although she never acknowledged it to herself) that the +practices the worthy bishop condemned, if widely exercised, must, in +course of time, reduce the number of hands eager to work for a +pittance, and, therefore, the fat profits of their employers. + +"So do I," declared Miss Spraggs, who only wished she had the ghost of +a chance of contributing (legitimately) to the sum of the population. + +"There's an admirable article about Carlyle in the same number of the +National Review," said Miss Spraggs presently. + +"I never read anything about Carlyle," declared Mrs Devitt. + +Miss Spraggs raised her straight eyebrows. + +"He didn't get on with his wife," said Mrs Devitt, in a manner +suggesting that this fact effectually disposed in advance of any +arguments Miss Spraggs might offer. + +Soon after, Montague Devitt came into the room, to be received with +inquiring glances by the two women. He walked to the fireplace, where +he stood in moody silence. + +"Well?" said his wife presently. + +"Well!" replied Devitt. + +"What has Lowther confessed?" + +"The usual." + +"Money?" + +"And other things." + +"Ah! What were the other things?" + +"We'll talk it over presently," replied Montague, as he glanced at Miss +Spraggs. + +"Am I so very young and innocent that I shouldn't learn what has +happened?" asked Miss Spraggs, who, in her heart of hearts, enjoyed +revelations of masculine profligacy. + +"I'd rather speak later," urged Montague gloomily, to add, "It never +rains but it pours." + +"Why do you say that?" asked his wife quickly. + +"I'd a letter from Charlie Perigal this mornin'." + +"Where from?" + +"The same Earl's Court private hotel. He wants somethin' to do." + +"Something to do!" cried the two sisters together. + +"His father hasn't done for him what he led me to believe he would," +explained Devitt gloomily. + +"You can find him something?" suggested Miss Spraggs. + +"And, till you do, I'd better ask them to stay down here," said his +wife. + +"That part of it's all right," remarked Devitt. "But somehow I don't +think Charlie---" + +"What?" interrupted Mrs Devitt. + +"Is much of a hand at work," replied her husband. + +No one said anything for a few minutes. + +Mrs Devitt spoke next. + +"I'm scarcely surprised at Major Perigal's refusal to do anything for +Charles," she remarked. + +"Why?" asked her husband. + +"Can you ask?" + +"You mean all that business with poor Mavis Keeves?" + +"I mean all that business, as you call it, with that abandoned creature +whom we were so misguided as to assist." + +Devitt said nothing; he was well used to his wife's emphatic views on +the subject--views which were endorsed by her sister. + +"The whole thing was too distressing for words," she continued. "I'd +have broken off the marriage, even at the last moment, for Charles's +share in it, but for the terrible scandal which would have been caused." + +"Well, well; it's all over and done with now," sighed Devitt. + +"I'm not so sure; one never knows what an abandoned girl, as Miss +Keeves has proved herself to be, is capable of!" + +"True!" remarked Miss Spraggs. + +"Come! come!" said Devitt. "The poor girl was at the point of death for +weeks after her baby died." + +"What of that?" asked his wife. + +"Girls who suffer like that aren't so very bad." + +"You take her part, as you've always done. She's hopelessly bad, and +I'm as convinced as I'm sitting here that it was she who led poor +Charlie astray." + +"It's all very unfortunate," said Devitt moodily. + +"And we all but had her in the house," urged Mrs Devitt, much irritated +at her husband's tacit support of the girl. + +"Anyway, she's far away from us now," said Devitt. + +"Where has she gone?" asked Miss Spraggs. + +"Somewhere in Dorsetshire," Devitt informed her. + +"If she hadn't gone, I should have made it my duty to urge her to leave +Melkbridge," remarked Mrs Devitt. + +"She's not so bad as all that," declared Devitt. + +"I can't understand why men stand up for loose women," said his wife. + +"She's not a loose woman: far from it. If she were, Windebank would not +be so interested in her." + +Devitt could not have said anything more calculated to anger the two +women. + +Miss Spraggs threw down her pen, whilst Mrs Devitt became white. + +"She must be bad to have fascinated Sir Archibald as she has done," she +declared. + +"Windebank is no fool," urged her husband. + +"I suppose the next thing we shall hear is that she's living under his +protection," cried Mrs Devitt. + +"In St John's Wood," added Miss Spraggs, whose information on such +matters was thirty years behind the times. + +"More likely he'll marry her," remarked Devitt. + +"What!" cried the two women. + +"I believe he'd give his eyes to get her," the man continued. + +"He's only to ask," snapped Miss Spraggs. + +"Anyway, we shall see," said Devitt. + +"Should that happen, I trust you will never wish me to invite her to +the house," said Mrs Devitt, rising to her full height. + +"It's all very sad," remarked Devitt gloomily. + +"It is: that you should take her part in the way you do, Montague," +retorted his wife. + +"I'm sorry if you're upset," her husband replied. "But I knew Miss +Keeves as a little girl, when she was always laughin' and happy. It's +all very, very sad." + +Mrs Devitt moved to a window, where she stood staring out at the +foliage which, just now, was looking self-conscious in its new finery. + +"Who heard from Harold last?" asked Devitt presently. + +"I did," replied Miss Spraggs. "It was on Tuesday he wrote." + +"How did he write?" + +"Quite light-heartedly. He has now for some weeks: such a change for +him." + +"H'm!" + +"Why do you ask?" said Mrs Devitt. + +"I saw Pritchett when I was in town yesterday." + +"Harold's doctor?" queried Miss Spraggs. + +"He told me he'd seen Harold last week." + +"At Swanage?" + +"Harold had wired for him. I wondered if anythin' was up." + +"What should be 'up,' as you call it, beyond his being either better or +worse?" + +"That's what I want to know." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, that it was more from Pritchett's manner than from anything else +that I gathered somethin' had happened." + +"So long as he's well, there's nothing to worry about," said Mrs Devitt +reassuringly. + +The late afternoon post brought a letter for Montague from his son +Harold. This told his father that a supreme happiness had come in his +life; that, by great good fortune, he had met and quietly married Mavis +Keeves; that, by her wish, the marriage had been kept a secret for +three weeks; it ended by saying how he hoped to bring his wife to his +father's house early in the following week. Montague Devitt stared +stupidly at the paper on which this information was conveyed; then he +leaned against the mantelpiece for support. He looked as if he had been +struck brutally and unexpectedly between the eyes. "Montague! +Montague!" cried his wife, as she noticed his distress. + +The letter fell from his hands. + +"Read!" he said faintly. + +"Harold's writing!" exclaimed Mrs Devitt, as she caught up the letter. + +Devitt watched her as she read; he saw her face grow hard; then her jaw +dropped; her eyes stared fixedly before her. When Miss Spraggs read the +letter, as she very soon did, she went into hysterics; she had a great +affection for Harold. The hand of fate had struck the Devitts +remorselessly; they were stunned by the blow for quite a long while. +For her part, Mrs Devitt could not believe that Providence would allow +her to suffer such a terrible affliction as was provided by the fact of +her stepson's marriage to Mavis; again and again she looked at the +letter, as if she found it impossible to believe the evidence of her +eyes. + +"What's--what's to be done?" gasped Mrs Devitt, when she was presently +able to speak. + +"Don't ask me!" replied her husband. + +"Can't you do anything?" asked Miss Spraggs, during a pause in her +hysterical weeping. + +"Do what?" + +"Something: anything. You're a man." + +"I haven't grasped it yet. I must think it out," he said, as he began +to walk up and down the room so far as the crowded furniture would +permit. + +"We must try and think it's God's will," said his wife, making an +effort to get her thoughts under control. + +"What!" cried Devitt, stopping short in his walk to look at his wife +with absent eyes. + +"God has singled us out for this bitter punishment," snuffled Mrs +Devitt, as her eyes glanced at the heavily gilded chandelier. + +With a gesture of impatience, Devitt resumed his walk, while Miss +Spraggs quickly went to windows and door, which she threw open to their +utmost capacity for admitting air. + +"One thing must be done," declared Devitt. + +"Yes?" asked his wife eagerly. + +"That Hunter girl who split on Mavis Keeves havin' been at Polperro +with Perigal." + +"She knows everything; we shall be disgraced," wailed Mrs Devitt. + +"Not at all. I'll see to that," replied her husband grimly. + +"What will you do?" + +"Give her a good job in some place as far from here as possible, and +tell her that, if her tongue wags on a certain subject, she'll get the +sack." + +"What!" asked his wife, surprised at her husband's decision and the way +in which he expressed himself. + +"Suggest somethin' better." + +"I was wondering if it were right." + +"Right be blowed! We're fightin' for our own hand." + +With this view of the matter, Mrs Devitt was fain to be content. + +It was a dismal and forlorn family party which sat down to dinner that +evening under the eye of the fat butler. Husband, wife, and Miss +Spraggs looked grey and old in the light of the table lamps. By this +time Lowther had been told of the trouble which had descended so +suddenly upon the family. His comment on hearing of it was +characteristic. + +"Good God! But she hasn't a penny!" he said. He realised that the +prospects of his father assisting him out of his many scrapes had +declined since news had arrived of Harold's unlooked-for marriage. When +the scarcely tasted meal was over, Montague sent Lowther upstairs "to +give the ladies company," while he smoked an admirable cigar and drank +the best part of a bottle of old port wine. The tobacco and the wine +brought a philosophical calm to his unquiet mind; he was enabled to +look on the marriage from its least unfavourable aspects. He had always +liked Mavis and would have done much more for her than he had already +accomplished, if his womenfolk had permitted him to follow the leanings +of his heart; he knew her well enough to know that she was not the girl +to bestow herself lightly upon Charlie Perigal. He had not liked +Perigal's share in the matter at all, and the whole business was still +much of a mystery. Although grieved beyond measure that the girl had +married his dearly loved boy, he realised that with Harold's ignorance +of women he might have done infinitely worse. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs Devitt of her husband in the +seclusion of their bedroom. + +"Try and make the best of it. After all, she's a lady." + +"What! You're not going to try and have the marriage annulled?" + +It was her husband's turn to express astonishment. + +"Surely you'll do something?" she urged. + +"What can I do?" + +"As you know, it can't be a marriage in--in the worldly sense; when +it's like that something can surely be done," said Mrs Devitt, annoyed +at having to make distant allusions to a subject hateful to her heart. + +"What about Harold's feelin's?" + +"But--" + +"He probably loves her dearly. What of his feelin's if he knew--all +that we know?" + +"I did not think of that. Oh dear! oh dear! it gets more and more +complicated. What can be done?" + +"Wait." + +"What for?" + +"Till we see them. Then we can learn the why and the wherefore of it +all and judge accordin'ly." + +With this advice Mrs Devitt had to be content, but for all the comfort +it may have contained it was a long time before husband or wife fell +asleep that night. + +But even the short period of twenty-four hours is enough to accustom +people to trouble sufficiently to make it tolerable. When this time had +passed, Mrs Devitt's mind was well used to the news which yesterday +afternoon's post had brought. Her mind harked back to Christian +martyrs; she wondered if the fortitude with which they met their +sufferings was at all comparable to the resolution she displayed in the +face of affliction. The morning's post had brought a letter from +Victoria, to whom her brother had written to much the same effect as he +had communicated with his father. In this she expressed herself as +admirably as was her wont; she also treated the matter with a +sympathetic tact which, under the circumstances, did her credit. She +trusted that anything that had happened would not influence the love +and duty she owed her husband. Harold's marriage to Miss Keeves was in +the nature of a great surprise, but if it brought her brother happiness +she would be the last to regret it; she hoped that, despite past +events, she would be able to welcome her brother's wife as a sister; +she would not fail to come in time to greet her sister-in-law, but she +would leave her husband in town, as he had important business to +transact. + +Some half hour before the time by which Harold and his wife could +arrive at Melkbridge House, the Devitt family were assembled in the +library; in this room, because it was on the ground floor, and, +therefore, more convenient for Harold's use, he having to be carried up +and down stairs if going to other floors of the house. + +Devitt was frankly ill at ease. His wife did her best to bear herself +in the manner of the noblest traditions (as she conceived them) of +British matronhood. Miss Spraggs talked in whispers to her sister of +"that scheming adventuress," as she called Mavis. Victoria chastened +agitated expectation with resignation; while Lowther sat with his hands +thrust deep into his trouser pockets. At last a ring was heard at the +front door bell, at which Devitt and Lowther went out to welcome bride +and bridegroom. Those left in the room waited while Harold was lifted +out of the motor and put into the hand-propelled carriage which he used +in the house. The Devitt women nerved themselves to meet with becoming +resolution the adventuress's triumph. + +Through the open door they could hear that Mavis had been received in +all but silence; only Harold's voice sounded cheerily. The men made way +for Mavis to enter the library. It was by no means the triumphant, +richly garbed Mavis whom the women had expected who came into the room. +It was a subdued, carelessly frocked Mavis, who, after accepting their +chastened greetings, kept her eyes on her husband. When the door was +closed, Harold was the first to speak. + +"Mother, if I may call you that! father! all of you! I want you to hear +what I have to say," he began, in his deep, soothing voice. "You know +what my accident has made me; you know how I can never be other than I +am. For all that, this winsome, wonderful girl, out of the pity and +goodness of her loving heart, has been moved to throw in her lot with +mine--even now I can hardly realise my immense good fortune" (here +Mavis dropped her eyes), "but there it is, and if I did what was right, +I should thank God for her every moment of my life. Now you know what +she is to me; how with her youth and glorious looks she has blessed my +life, I hope that you, all of you, will take her to your hearts." + +A silence that could almost be heard succeeded his words; but Harold +did not notice this; he had eyes only for his wife. + +Tea was brought in, when, to relieve the tension, Victoria went over to +Mavis and sat by her side; but to her remarks Harold's wife replied in +monosyllables; she had only eyes for her husband. The Devitts could +make nothing of her; her behaviour was so utterly alien to the scarcely +suppressed triumph which they had expected. But just now they did not +give very much attention to her; they were chiefly concerned for +Harold, whose manner betrayed an extra-ordinary elation quite foreign +to the depression which had troubled him before his departure for +Swanage. Now a joyous gladness possessed him; from the frequent tender +glances he cast in his wife's direction, there was little doubt of its +cause. Harold's love for his wife commenced by much impressing his +family, but ended by frightening them; they feared the effect on his +mind when he discovered, as he undoubtedly must, when his wife had +thrown off the mask, that he had wedded a heartless adventuress, who +had married him for his money. At the same time, the Devitts were +forced to admit that Mavis's conduct was unlike that of the scheming +woman of their fancies; they wondered at the reason of her humility, +but did not learn the cause till the family, other than Harold, were +assembled upstairs in the drawing-room waiting for dinner to be +announced. When Mavis had come into the room, the others had been +struck by the contrast between the blackness of her frock and the milky +whiteness of her skin; they were little prepared for what was to follow. + +"Now we are alone, I have something to say to you," she began. The +frigid silence which met her words made her task the harder; the +atmosphere of the room was eloquent of antagonism. With an effort she +continued: "I don't know what you all think of me--I haven't tried to +think--but I'm worse--oh! ever so much worse than you believe." + +The others wondered what revelations were toward. Devitt's mind went +back to the night when Mavis had last stood in the drawing-room. Mavis +went on: + +"When I was away my heart was filled with hate: I hated you all and +longed to be revenged." + +Mavis's audience were uncomfortable; it was an axiom of their existence +to shy at any expression of emotion. + +The Devitts longed for the appearance of the fat butler, who would +announce that dinner was served. But to-night his coming was delayed +till Mavis had spoken. + +"Chance threw Harold in my way," she went on. "He loved me at once, and +I took advantage of his love, thinking to be revenged on you for all I +believed--yes, I must tell you everything--for all I believed you had +done against me." + +Here Mrs Devitt lifted up her hands, as if filled with righteous anger +at this statement. + +Mavis took no notice, but continued: + +"That is why I married him. That was then. Now I am punished, as the +wicked always are, punished over and over again. Why did I do it? Why? +Why?" + +Here a look of terror came into her eyes; these looked helplessly about +the room, as if nothing could save her from the torment that pursued +her. + +"He is ill; very ill. His doctor told me. How long do you think he will +live?" + +"Pritchett?" asked Devitt. + +"Yes, when he came down to Swanage. What he told me only makes it +worse." + +"Makes what worse?" asked Devitt, who was eager to end this painful +scene. + +"My punishment. He thinks me good--everything I ought to be. I love +him! I love him! I love him! He's all goodness and love. He believes in +me as he believes in God. I love him! How long do you think he'll live? +I love him! I love him! I love him!" + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE + +A SURPRISE + + +Mavis spoke truly. She loved her husband, although with a different +love from that which she had known for Perigal. She had adored the +father of her child with her soul and with her body, but in her +affection for her husband there was no trace of physical passion, of +which she had no small share. This new-born love was, in truth, an +immense maternal devotion which seemed to satisfy an insistent longing +of her being. + +Upon the day of their wedding, Mavis was already wondering if she were +beginning to love Harold; but for all this uncertainty, she believed +that if the marriage were to be a physical as well as a civil union, +she would have confessed before the ceremony took place her previous +intimacy with Perigal. After the marriage, the holy fervour with which +Harold had regarded Mavis bewildered her. The more his nature was +revealed to her, the better she was enabled to realise the cold-blooded +brutality with which the supreme Power (Mavis's thoughts did not run so +easily in the direction of a Heavenly Father as was once their wont) +had permanently mutilated Harold's life, which had been of the rarest +promise. Still ignorant of her real sentiments for her husband, she had +persuaded him, for no apparent reason, to delay acquainting his family +with the news of their marriage. Truth soon illumined Mavis's mind. +Directly she realised how devotedly she loved her husband (the maternal +aspect of her love did not occur to her), her punishment for her +previous duplicity began. She was constantly overwhelmed with bitter +reproaches because of her having set out to marry her husband from +motives of revenge against his family. + +Mavis's confession to the Devitts temporarily eased her mind, but, as +her husband's solicitude for her happiness redoubled, her torments +recommenced with all their old-time persistency. Harold's declining +health gave her innumerable anguished hours; she realised that, so long +as he lived, she would suffer for the deception she had practised. She +believed that, if she survived him, her remaining days would be filled +with grief. + +Whichever way she looked, trouble confronted her with hard, unbending +features. + +She was enmeshed in a net of sorrow from which there was no escape. + +In order to stifle any hints or rumours which might have got about +Melkbridge of Mavis having been a mother without being a wife, she was +pressed by the Devitts to make a stay of some length at Melkbridge +House. Guessing the reason of this invitation, she accepted, although +she, as well as her husband, were eager to get into a quaint, +weather-beaten farmhouse which Harold had bought in the neighbourhood. + +To make her stay as tolerable as possible, Mavis set herself to win the +hearts of the Devitt family, the feminine members of which, she was +convinced, were bitterly hostile to her. The men of the household, to +the scarcely concealed dismay of the women, quickly came over to her +side. Lowther she appreciated at his worth; her studied indifference to +him went a long way towards securing that youth's approval, which was +not unmingled with admiration for her person. Montague she was +beginning to like. For his part, he was quickly sensible of the +feminine distinction which Mavis's presence bestowed upon his home. The +fine figure she cut in evening dress at dinner parties, when the +Devitts feasted their world; her conversation in the drawing-room +afterwards; the emotion she put into her playing and singing (it was +the only expression Mavis could give to the abiding griefs gnawing at +her heart), were social assets of no small value, which Devitt was the +first to appreciate. Mrs Harold Devitt's appearance and parts gave to +his assemblies a piquancy which was sadly lacking when his friends +repaid his hospitality. Mavis, also, pointed out to Devitt the +advisability of rescuing from the lumber rooms several fine old pieces +of furniture which were hidden away in disgrace, largely because they +had belonged to Montague's humble grandfather. The handiwork of +Chippendale and Hepplewhite was furbished up and put about the house, +replacing Tottenham Court Road monstrosities. When the old furniture +epidemic presently seized upon Melkbridge, the Devitts could flatter +themselves that they had done much to influence local fashion in the +matter. + +Montague came to take pleasure in Mavis's society, when he would drop +his blustering manner to become his kindly self. They had many long +talks together, which enabled Mavis to realise the loneliness of the +man's life. The more Montague saw of her the more he disliked his +son-in-law's share in the paternity of Mavis's dead child. + +Now and again he would discuss business worries with her, which +established a community of interest between them. His friendship gave +Mavis confidence in her endeavours to placate the female Devitts. This +latter was uphill work: Mrs Devitt and her sister entrenched themselves +in a civil reserve which resisted Mavis's most strenuous assaults. With +Victoria, Mavis believed, at first, that she had better luck, Mrs +Charlie Perigal's sentiments and manner of expressing them being all +that the most exigent fancy might desire; but as time wore on, Mavis +got no further with her sister-in-law; she could never feel that she +and Victoria had a single heart beat in common. + +As with so many others, Mavis began by liking but ended by being +repelled by Victoria's inhuman flawlessness. + +Thus Mavis lived for the weeks she stayed at Melkbridge House. But at +all times, no matter what she might be doing, she was liable to be +attacked by bitter, heart-rending grief at the loss of her child. Mavis +had already suffered so much that she was now able to distinguish the +pains peculiar to the different varieties of sorrow. This particular +grief took the shape of a piteous, persistent heart hunger which +nothing could stay. Joined to this was a ceaseless longing for the lost +one, which cast drear shadows upon the bright hues of life. The way in +which she was compelled to isolate her pain from all human sympathy did +not diminish its violence. + +One night, when the Devitts were entertaining their kind, the +conversation at dinner touched upon a local petty sessions case, in +which the nursemaid of one of those present had been punished for +concealing the birth of an illegitimate child, who had since died. + +"It was a great worry to me," complained the nurse's mistress. "She was +such a perfect nurse." + +"I hope you'll do something for her when she comes out," urged Harold. + +The woman stared at Harold in astonishment. + +"Think how the poor girl's suffered," he continued. + +"Do you really think so?" asked the woman. + +"She's lost her child." + +"But I always understood that those who lose children out of wedlock +cannot possible grieve like married women who have the same loss." + +In a moment Mavis's thoughts flew to Pennington Churchyard, where her +heart seemed buried deep below the grass; certain of her facial nerves +twitched, while tears filled her eyes. Devitt's voice recalled her to +her surroundings; she looked up, to catch his eyes looking kindly into +hers. Although she made an effort to join in the talk, she was mentally +bowing her head, the while her being ached with anguish. She did not +recover her spirits for the rest of the evening. + +There came a day when one of the big guns of the financial world was +expected to dinner. Mavis had many times met at Melkbridge House some +of the lesser artillery of successful business men, when she had been +surprised to discover what dull, uninteresting folk they were; apart +from their devotion to the cult of money-getting, they did not seem to +have another interest in life, the ceaseless quest for gold absorbing +all their vitality. This big gun was a Sir Frederick Buntz, whose +interest Devitt, as he told Mavis, was anxious to secure in one of his +company-promoting schemes. In order to do Devitt a good turn, Mavis +laid herself out to please the elderly Sir Frederick, who happened to +have an eye for an attractive woman. Sir Frederick scarcely spoke to +anyone else but Mavis throughout dinner; at the end of the evening, he +asked her if she advised him to join Devitt's venture. + +Mavis's behaviour formed the subject of a complaint made by Mrs Devitt +when alone with Montague in their bedroom. + +"Didn't you notice the shameless way she behaved?" asked Mrs Devitt. + +"Nonsense!" replied her well-pleased lord. + +"Everyone noticed it. She's rapidly going from bad to worse." + +"Anyway, it's as good as put five thousand in my pocket, if not more." + +"What do you mean?" + +Montague's explanation modified his wife's ill opinion of Mavis. The +next morning, when Devitt thanked his daughter-in-law for influencing +Sir Frederick in the way she had done, Mavis said: + +"I want something in return." + +"Some shares for yourself?" + +"A rise of a pound a week for Miss Toombs." + +"That plain, unhealthy little woman at the boot factory!" + +"She's a heart of gold. I know you'll do it for me," said Mavis, who +was now conscious of her power over Devitt. + +Having won her way, Mavis set out to intercept Miss Toombs, who about +this time would be on her way to business. They had not met since +Mavis's marriage to Harold, Miss Toombs refusing to answer Mavis's many +letters and always being out when her old friend called. + +Mavis ran against Miss Toombs by the market-place; her friend looked in +worse health than when she had last seen her. + +"Good morning," said Mavis. + +"Don't talk to me," cried Miss Toombs. "I hate the sight of you." + +"No, you don't. And I've done you a good turn." + +"I'm sorry to hear it. I wish you good morning." + +"What have I done to upset you?" asked Mavis. + +"Don't pretend you don't know." + +"But I don't." + +"What! Then I'll tell you. You've married young Devitt, when there's a +man worth all the women who ever lived eating his heart out for you." + +Mavis stopped, amazed at the other woman's vehemence. + +"A man who you've treated like the beast you are," continued Miss +Toombs hotly. "After all that's happened, he longed to marry you, and +that's more than most men would have done." + +"You don't know--you can't understand," faltered Mavis. + +"Yes, I do. You're not really bad; you're only a precious big fool and +don't know when you've got a good thing." + +"I--I love my husband." + +"Rot! You may think you do, but you don't. You're much too hot-blooded +to stick that kind of marriage long. I know I wouldn't. And it serves +you right if you ever make a mess of it." + +"I thought Sir Archibald only pitied me," said Mavis, in extenuation of +her marriage. + +"Pity! pity! He's a man, not a bloodless nincompoop," said Miss Toombs. +"And it's you I have to thank for seeing him so often," she added, as +her anger again flamed up. + +"Sir Archibald?" asked Mavis. + +"He sees me to talk about you," said Miss Toombs sorrowfully. "And he +never looks twice at me. He doesn't even like me enough to ask me to go +away for a week-end with him. I'm simply nothing to him, and that's the +truth." + +"I think you a dear, anyway. And I've got you a rise of a pound a week." + +"What?" + +Mavis repeated her information. + +"That'll buy me some summer muslins I've long had my eye on, and one or +two bits of jewellery. Then, perhaps, he'll look at me," declared Miss +Toombs. + +The next moment she caught sight of her reflection in Perrott's (the +grocer's) window, at which she cried: + +"Just look at me! What on earth could ever make that attractive?" + +"Your kind nature," replied Mavis. "You're much too fond of +under-valuing your appearance." + +"It's all damned unfair!" cried Miss Toombs passionately. "What use are +your looks to you? What fun do you get out of life? Why--oh why haven't +I your face and figure?" + +"What would you do with it?" asked Mavis. + +"Get him, get him somehow. If he wouldn't marry me I'd manage to +'live.' And he's not a cad like Charlie Perigal," cried Miss Toombs, as +she hurried off to work. + +When Mavis got back, she learned that the morning post had brought an +invitation for the Devitts and herself for a dinner that Major Perigal +was giving in two weeks' time. Major Perigal, also, wrote privately to +Mavis, urging her to give him the honour of her company; he assured her +that his son would not be present. + +Little else but the approaching dinner was discussed by the Devitts for +the rest of the day. As if to palliate their interest in the matter, +they explained to Mavis how the proffered hospitality was alien to the +ways of the giver of the feast. At heart they were greatly pleased with +the invitation; it promised a meeting with county folk on equal terms, +together with a termination to the aloofness with which Major Perigal +had treated the Devitts since his son's marriage to Victoria. They +accepted with alacrity. Mavis, alone, hesitated. + +Her husband urged her to go, although his physical disability would +prevent him from accompanying her. + +"I want my dearest to go," he said. "It will give me so much pleasure +to know how wonderful you looked, and how everyone admired you." + +Mavis decided to accept the invitation, largely because it was her +husband's wish; a little, because she had the curiosity to meet those +who would have been acquaintances and friends had her father been +alive. Her lot had been thrown so much among those who worked for daily +bread, that she was not a little eager to mix, if it were only for a +few hours, with her own social kind. + +Mavis, again at Harold's wish, reluctantly ordered an expensive frock +for the dinner. It was of grey taffetas embroidered upon bodice and +skirt with black velvet butterflies. The night of the dinner, when +Mavis was ready to go, she showed herself to her husband before setting +out. He looked at her long and intently before saying: + +"I shall always remember you like this." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, a little afraid. + +"It isn't what I expect. It's what I deserve for marrying a glorious +young creature like you." + +"Am I discontented?" she asked proudly. + +"God bless you. You're as good as you're beautiful," he replied. + +As she stooped to kiss him, the prayer of her heart was: + +"May he never know why I married him." + +His eyes, alight with love, followed her as she left the room. + +Major Perigal received his guests in the drawing-room. The first person +whom Mavis encountered after she had greeted her host was Windebank. +She recalled that she had not seen him since her illness at Mrs +Trivett's, He had written to congratulate her on her marriage when she +had come to stay with the Devitts; since then, she had not heard from +him. + +Although Mavis knew that she might see him to-night, she was so taken +aback at meeting him that she could think of nothing to say. He +relieved her embarrassment by talking commonplace. + +"Here's someone who much wishes to meet you," he said presently. "It's +Sir William Ludlow; he served with your father in India." + +Mavis knew the name of Sir William Ludlow as that of a general with a +long record of distinguished service. + +When he was introduced by Windebank, Mavis saw that he had soldier +written all over his wiry, spare person; she congratulated herself upon +meeting a man who might talk of the stirring events in which he had +taken so prominent a part. He had only time to tell Mavis how she more +resembled her mother than her father when a move was made for the +dining-room. Mavis was taken down by Windebank. + +"Thank you," she said in an undertone, when they had reached the +landing. + +"What for?" + +"All you've done." + +He turned on her such a look of pain that she did not say any more. + +Windebank sat on her right; General Sir William Ludlow on her left. +Directly opposite was a little pasty-faced woman with small, bright +eyes. Victoria, by virtue of her relationship to Major Perigal, faced +her father-in-law at the bottom of the table; upon her right sat the +most distinguished-looking man Mavis had ever seen. Tall, finely +proportioned, with noble, regular features, surmounted by grey hair, he +suggested to Mavis a fighting bishop of the middle ages: she wondered +who he was. The soldier on her left talked incessantly, but, to Mavis's +surprise, he made no mention of his campaigns; he spoke of nothing else +but rose culture, his persistent ill-luck at flower shows, the +unfairness of the judging. The meal was long and, even to Mavis, to +whom a dinner party was in the nature of an experience, tedious. + +Infrequent relief was supplied by the pasty-faced woman opposite, who +was the General's wife; she did her best to shock the susceptibilities +of those present by being in perpetual opposition to their stolid views. + +An elderly woman, whose face showed the ravages of time upon what must +have been considerable beauty (somehow she looked rather disreputable), +had referred to visits she had paid, when in London for the season, to +a sister who lived in Eccleston Square. + +"Such a dreadful neighbourhood!" she complained. "It made me quite ill +to go there." + +"I love it," declared Lady Ludlow. + +"That part of London!" exclaimed the faded beauty. + +"Why not? Whatever life may be there, it is honest in its +unconcealment. And to be genuine is to be noble." + +"You're joking, Kate," protested the faded beauty. + +"I'm doing nothing of the kind. Give me Pimlico," declared Lady Ludlow +emphatically. + +At mention of Pimlico, Mavis and Windebank involuntarily glanced into +each other's eyes; the name of this district recalled many memories to +their minds. + +When dinner was over, Mavis had hardly reached the drawing-room with +the women-folk, when Lady Ludlow pounced upon her. + +"I've been so anxious to meet you," she declared. "You're one of the +lucky ones." + +"Since when am I lucky?" asked Mavis. + +"Since your father died and you had to earn your living till you were +married. Old Jimmy Perigal told me all about it. You're to be envied." + +"I fail to see why." + +"You've mixed with the world and have escaped living with all these +stuffy bores." + +"They don't know how lucky they are," remarked Mavis with conviction. + +"Nonsense! Give me life and the lower orders. What did my husband talk +about during dinner?" + +"Roses." + +"Of course. When he was at his wars, I had some peace. Now I'm bored to +death with flowers." + +"Who was that distinguished-looking man who sat on Mrs Charles +Perigal's right?" asked Mavis. + +"That's Lord Robert Keevil, whose brother is the great tin-god 'Seend.'" + +"The Marquis of Seend?" queried Mavis. + +"That's it: he was foreign minister in the last Government. But Bobbie +Keevil is adorable till he's foolish enough to open his mouth. Then he +gives the game away." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He's the complete fool. If he would only hold his tongue, he might be +a success. His wife is over there. Her eyes are always weeping for the +loss of her beauty. Your father wanted to marry her in his youth. But +give me people who don't bother about such tiresome conventionalities +as marriage." + +Mavis looked curiously at the woman whom her father had loved. +Doubtless, she was comely in her youth, but now Mavis saw pouched eyes, +thin hair, a care-lined face not altogether innocent of paint and +powder. And it was those cracked lips her father had longed to kiss; +those dim eyes, the thought of which had, perhaps, shortened his hours +of rest! The sight of the faded beauty brought home to Mavis the vanity +of earthly love, till she reflected that, had the one-time desire of +her father's heart been gratified, the sorrow they would have shared in +common would ever endear her to his heart, and keep her the fairest +woman the earth possessed, for all the defacement time might make in +her appearance. + +When the men came up from the dining-room, there was intermittent music +in which Mavis took part. The sincerity of her voice, together with its +message of tears, awoke genuine approval in her audience. + +"An artiste, my dear," declared Lady Ludlow. "Artistes have always a +touch of vulgarity in their natures, or they wouldn't make their +appeal. We must be great friends. I'm sick to death of correct people." + +For the rest of the evening, Mavis noticed how she herself was +constantly watched by Windebank and Major Perigal, the former of whom +dropped his eyes when he saw that Mavis perceived the direction of his +glance. As the evening wore on, Mavis was faintly bored and not a +little troubled. She reflected that it was in these very rooms that +Charlie Perigal had read her piteous little letters from London, and +from where he probably penned his lying replies. Mavis would have liked +to have been alone so that she could try to appreciate the whys and +wherefores of the most significant events in her life. The conditions +of her last stay in London and those of her present life were as the +poles apart so far as material well-being was concerned; her mind ached +to fasten upon some explanation that would reconcile the tragic events +in her life with her one-time implicit faith in the certain protection +extended by a Heavenly Father to His trusting children. Perhaps it was +as well that Mavis was again asked to sing; the effort of remembering +her words put all such thoughts from her mind. + +Whatever clouds may have gathered about Mavis's appreciation of the +evening, there was no doubt of the enjoyment of those Devitts who were +present. The dinner was, to them, an event of social moment in their +lives. Although they looked as if they had got into the dignified +atmosphere of Major Perigal's drawing-room by mistake, they were +greatly delighted with their evening; afterwards, they did not fail to +make copious references to those they had met at dinner to their +Melkbridge friends. + +A month after the dinner, Major Perigal died suddenly in his chair. Two +days after he was buried, Mavis received an intimation from his +solicitors, which requested her presence at the reading of his will. +Wondering what was toward, Mavis made an appointment. To her boundless +astonishment, she learned that Major Perigal, "on account of the esteem +in which he held the daughter of his old friend, Colonel Keeves," had +left Mavis all his worldly goods, with the exception of bequests to +servants and five hundred pounds to his son Charles. + + + + +CHAPTER FORTY + +A MIDNIGHT WALK + + +Thus it would seem as if fate wished to make amends for the sorry +tricks it had played Mavis. Her first impressions after hearing the +news were of such a contradictory nature that she was quite bewildered. +Those present at the reading of the will, together with Montague +Devitt, who had accompanied her, hastened to offer their +congratulations (those of Devitt being chastened by the reflection of +how much his daughter Victoria suffered from Mavis's good fortune), +but, even while these were talking and shaking her hand, two salient +emotions were already emerging from the welter in Mavis's mind. One of +these was an immeasurable, passionate regret for her child's untimely +death. If he had lived, she would now have been able to devote her +sudden enrichment to providing him, not only with the comforts that +wealth can secure, but also with a career when he should come to man's +estate. The other emotion possessing her was the inevitable effect of +unexpected good fortune on a great and persistent remorse: more than +ever, she suffered tortures of self-reproach for having set out to +marry her husband from motives of revenge against his family. Whilst +thus occupied with her thoughts, she became conscious that someone was +watching her; she turned in the direction from which she believed she +was being regarded, to see Charlie Perigal with his eyes fixed on her. +She looked him full in the eyes, the while she was relieved to find +that his presence did not affect the beating of her heart. Seeing that +she did not avoid his glance, he came over to her. + +"I congratulate you," he said. + +"Thank you," she replied indifferently. + +"I have also to congratulate you on your marriage--that is, if you are +happy." + +"I am very happy," she declared with conviction. + +"That's more than I am." + +"Indeed!" she remarked carelessly. + +"Although, in some respects, I deserve all I've got--I'm bad and mean +right through." + +"Indeed!" said Mavis, as before. + +"But there's something to be said for me. To begin with, no one can +help being what they are. There's no more merit in your being good than +there is demerit in my being what I am." + +"Did I ever lay claim to goodness?" + +"Because you didn't, it goes nearer to making you good and admirable +than anything else you could do. Directly virtue becomes +self-conscious, it is vulgar." + +Mavis began to wonder if it would ease the pain at her heart if she +were to confess her duplicity to her husband. + +Perigal continued: + +"An act is judged by its results; it is considered either virtuous or +vicious according as its results are harmful or helpful to the person +affected." + +"Indeed!" said Mavis absently. + +"Once upon a time, there was no right and no wrong, till one man in the +human tribe got more than his fair share of arrow-heads--then, his wish +to keep them without fighting for them led to the begetting of vice and +virtue as we know it." + +"How was that?" asked Mavis, striving to escape from her distracting +emotions by following what Perigal was saying. + +"The man with the arrow-heads hired a chap with a gift of the gab to +tell the others how wrong it was to want things someone else had +collared. That was the first lesson in morality, and the preacher, +seeing there was money in the game, started the first priesthood. Yes, +morality owes its existence to the fact of the well-to-do requiring to +be confirmed in their possessions without having to defend them by +force." + +Mavis was now paying no attention to Perigal's talk: mind and heart +were in Pennington Churchyard. Perigal, thinking he was interesting +Mavis, went on: + +"You mayn't think it, but a bad egg like me does no end of a lot of +good in the world, although downright criminals do more. If it weren't +for people who interfered with others' belongings, the race would get +slack and deteriorate. It's having to look after one's property which +keeps people alert and up to the mark, and, therefore, those who're the +cause of this fitness have their uses. No, my dear Mavis, evil is a +necessary ingredient of the body politic, and if it were abolished +to-morrow the race would go to 'pot.'" + +Perigal said more to the same effect. Mavis was, presently, moved to +remark: + +"You take the loss of the money you expected very calmly." + +"No wonder!" + +"No wonder?" she queried, without expressing any surprise in her voice. + +"To begin with, you have it. Then I've seen you." + +Mavis thought for a moment before saying: + +"I suppose, as I'm another man's wife, I ought to be angry at that +remark." + +"Aren't you?" he asked eagerly. + +She did not reply directly; perhaps some recognition of the coldness +with which she regarded him penetrated his understanding, for he added +pleadingly: + +"Don't say you don't mind because you're absolutely indifferent to me!" + +"Why not?" + +"Anything but that," he said, while a distressed look crept into his +eyes. "But then, if you speak the truth, you couldn't say that after +all that has-- + +"I'm going to speak the truth," she interrupted. "It doesn't interest +me to say anything else." + +"Well?" he exclaimed anxiously. + +"I don't in the least mind what you said. And I'm not in the least +offended, because, whatever you might ever say or do, it would never +interest me." + +He stared at her helplessly for a few moments before saying: + +"Serve me jolly well right." + +Mavis did not say any more, at which Perigal got up to leave her. + +"I've been a precious fool," he muttered, after glancing at Mavis's +face before moving away. + +Devitt scarcely spoke whilst driving Mavis home; consequently, her +thoughts had free play. It would certainly ease her mind, she +reflected, if she made full confession to her husband of the reasons +that impelled her to make his acquaintance and accept his offer of +marriage; but it then occurred to her that this tranquillity of soul +would be bought at the price, not only of his implicit faith in her, +but of his happiness. Therefore, whatever pangs of remorse it was +destined for her to suffer, he must never know; she being the offender, +it was not meet that she should shift the burden of pain from her +shoulders to his. Her sufferings were her punishment for her wrongdoing. + +Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs were silent when they learned of Mavis's +good fortune; they were torn between enhanced respect for Harold's wife +and concern for Victoria, who had married a penniless man. Mavis could +not gauge the effect of the news on Victoria, as she had gone back to +London after Major Perigal's funeral, her husband remaining at +Melkbridge for the reading of the will. Harold, alone among the +Devitts, exhibited frank dismay at his wife's good fortune. + +"Aren't you glad, dearest?" asked Mavis. + +"For your sake." + +"Why not for yours?" + +"It's the thing most likely to separate us." + +"Separate us!" she cried in amazement. + +"Why not? This money will put you in the place in life you are entitled +to fill." + +Mavis stared at him in astonishment. + +"With your appearance and talents you should be a great social success +with the people who matter," he continued. + +"Nonsense!" + +"You undervalue your wonderful self. I should never have been so +selfish as to marry you." + +"You don't regret it?" + +"For the great happiness it has brought me--no. But when I think how +you might have made a great marriage and had a real home--" + +"Aren't we going to have a real home?" she interrupted. + +"Are we?" + +"If it's love that makes the home, we have one whatever our condition," +declared Mavis. + +"Thank you for saying that. But what I meant was that children are +wanted to make the perfect home." + +Mavis's face fell. + +"You, with your rare nature, must want to have a child," he continued. +"I don't know which must be worse: for a childless woman to long for a +child or to have one and lose it." + +Mavis grasped the arm of the chair for support. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed. + +"What you said. Don't, don't say I'm dissatisfied any more." + +Thus Mavis and those nearest to her learned of the alteration in her +fortunes. + +Mavis was not long in discovering that the command of money provided +her with a means of escape from the prepossessions afflicting her mind. +The first thing she did was to summon the most renowned nerve +specialists to Melkbridge, where they held a lengthy consultation in +respect of Harold's physical condition. Mavis was anxious to know if +anything could be done to strengthen the slender thread of his life; +she was much distressed to learn that the specialists' united skill +could do nothing to stay the pitiless course of his disease. This +verdict provided a further sorrow for Mavis, which she had to keep +resolutely to herself, inasmuch as she told Harold that the doctors had +spoken most favourably of the chances of his obtaining considerable +alleviation of his physical distresses. + +"And then you regret my coming into all this money, when it can do so +much for you," she said, with a fine assumption of cheerfulness. + +To get some distraction from her many troubles, Mavis next set about +seeking out all the people who had ever been kind to her in order that +they should benefit from her good fortune. + +It did not take her long to discover that Miss Annie Mee was dead; but +for all she and her solicitors were able to do, they could find no +trace of 'Melia. Mavis paid Mr Poulter's debts, gave him a present of a +hundred pounds (endowing the academy he called it), and, in memory of +Miss Nippett, she gave "Turpsichor" two fine new coats of paint. Mavis +also discovered where Miss Nippett was buried, and, finding that the +grave had no headstone, she ordered one. To Mrs Scatchard and her niece +she made handsome presents, and gave Mr Napper a finely bound edition +of the hundred best books; whilst Mr and Mrs Trivett were made +comfortable for life. Mavis was unable to find two people she was +anxious to help. These were the "Permanent" and the "Lil" of Halverton +Street days. One day, clad in shabby garments, she went to Mrs Gowler's +address at New Cross to get news of the former. But the house of evil +remembrance was to let; a woman at the next door house told Mavis that +Mrs Gowler had been arrested and had got ten years for the misdeeds +which the police had at last been able to prove. Mavis went on a +similar errand to Halverton Street, to find that Lil had long since +left and that there was no one in the house who knew of her +whereabouts. She had been lost in one of the many foul undercurrents of +London life. The one remaining person Mavis wished to benefit was Miss +Toombs. For a long time, this independent-minded young woman resisted +the offers that Mavis made her. One day, however, when Miss Toombs was +laid up with acute indigestion, Mavis prevailed on her to accept a +handsome cheque which would enable her to do what she pleased for the +rest of her life, without endangering the happiness she derived from +tea, buttered toast, and hot-water bottles in winter. + +"It was unkind of you not to take it before," said Mavis. + +Miss Toombs looked stupidly at her benefactor. + +"Now I know you want to thank me. Good night," said Mavis, as she put +out her hand. + +Miss Toombs took it, gripped it, and then turned round with her face to +the wall. The next morning, Mavis received a letter from her in pencil. +In this, she told Mavis that the desire of her life had been for +independence; but that she had held out against taking the money +because she had latterly become jealous of Mavis, owing to Windebank's +lifelong infatuation for her. + +In addition to these benefactions, Mavis insisted on repaying Windebank +for all the expense he had been put to for her illness, her child's +funeral, and for her long stay at Swanage. + +Thus, Mavis's first concern was to benefit those who had shown her +kindness; whether or not she added to the sum of their individual +happiness is another matter. Mr Poulter, doubtless, thought that dear +Mrs Harold Devitt, while she was about it, might just as well have +gilded "Turpsichor's" head and face. Mrs Scatchard, and particularly +Miss Meakin, were probably resentful that Mavis did not ask them to mix +with her swell friends; whilst Miss Toombs had plenty of time on her +hands in which to indulge in vain regrets because she was not as +attractive and finely formed as Mavis. + +Beyond these gifts, it was a long time before Mavis could get into the +habit of spending her substance freely, and without thought of whether +she could really afford to part with money; the reason being that, for +so many years in her life, she had had to consider so carefully every +penny she spent, that she found it difficult to break away from these +habits of economy. Late in the year, she moved up from her Melkbridge +place (which she had long since gone into) to the house in town which +Major Perigal had been in the habit of letting, or, if a tenant were +not forthcoming, shutting up. + +When she got there with Harold and Jill, she welcomed the distractions +that London life offered, and in which her husband joined so far as his +physical disability would permit. Windebank, to whom Harold took a +great liking, and Lady Ludlow introduced Mavis to their many +acquaintances. In a very short time, Mavis had more dear, devoted +friends than she knew what to do with. The women, who praised her and +her devotion "to a perfect dear of a husband" to her face, would, after +enjoying her hospitality, go away to discuss openly how soon she would +elope with Windebank, or any other man they fancied was paying her +attention. + +Mavis was not a little surprised by the almost uniform behaviour of the +men who frequented her house. Old or young, rich or impecunious, +directly they perceived how comely Mavis was, and that her husband was +an invalid, did not hesitate to consider her fair game to be bagged as +soon as may be. Looks, manners, veiled words, betrayed their thoughts; +but, somehow, even the hardiest veteran amongst them did not get so far +as a declaration of love. Something in Mavis's demeanour suggested a +dispassionate summing up of their desires and limitations, in which the +latter made the former appear a trifle ridiculous, and restrained the +words that were ever on their tongues. This propensity on the part of +men who, Mavis thought, ought to know better, occasioned her much +disquiet. She confided these tribulations to Lady Ludlow's ear. + +"Men are all alike all the world over," remarked the latter, on hearing +Mavis's complaint. "You can't trust 'em further than you can see 'em." + +"Not all, surely," replied Mavis, thinking of the innocuous young men, +indigenous to Shepherd's Bush, whom she had so often danced with at +"Poulter's." + +"Anyhow, men in our class of life are all at one on that point. +Directly they see a pretty woman, their one idea is to get hold of her." + +"I wouldn't believe it, unless I'd seen for myself the truth of it." + +"It's a great pity all of our sex didn't realise it; but then it would +make the untempted more morally righteous than ever," declared Lady +Ludlow. + +"But if a man really and truly loves a woman--" + +"That's another story altogether. A woman is always safe with the man +who loves her." + +"Because his love is her best protection?" + +"Assuredly." + +The sudden reflection that Perigal had never really loved her produced, +strangely enough, in Mavis a sharp but short-lived revulsion of feeling +in his favour. On the whole, Mavis's, heart inclined to social gaiety. +To begin with, the constant change afforded by a succession of events +which, although all of a piece, were to her unseasoned senses ever +varying, provided some relief from the remorse and suffering that were +always more or less in possession of her heart. Also, having for all +her life been cut off from the gaieties natural to her age and kind, +her present innocent dissipations were a satisfaction of this long +repressed social instinct. + +But, at all times, Windebank's conduct was a puzzle. Although he had +the run of the house, although scarcely a day passed without Mavis +seeing a good deal of him, he never betrayed by word or look the love +which Miss Toombs declared burned within him for Mavis. He had left the +service in order to devote more time to his Wiltshire property, but his +duties seemed to consist chiefly in making himself useful to Mavis or +her husband. Womanlike, Mavis would sometimes try to discover her power +over him, but although no trouble was too great for him to take in +order to oblige her, Mavis's most provoking moods neither weakened his +allegiance nor made him other than his calm, collected self. + +"No! Miss Toombs is mistaken," thought Mavis. "He doesn't love me; he +but understands and pities me." + +A week before Christmas, Mavis and her husband returned to Melkbridge. +Christmas Day that year fell on a Sunday. Upon the preceding Saturday, +she bade her many Melkbridge acquaintances to the feast. When this was +over, she wished her guests good night and a happy Christmas. After +seeing her husband safely abed and asleep, she set about making +preparations for a project that she had long had in her mind. Going to +her room, she put on the plainest and most inconspicuous hat she could +find; she also donned a long cloak and concealed face and hair in a +thick veil. Unlocking a box, she got out a cross made of holly, which +she concealed under her cloak. Then, after listening to see if the +house were quiet, she went downstairs in her stockings, and carrying +the thick boots she purposed wearing. Arrived at the front door, the +bolts and bars of which she had secretly oiled, she opened this after +putting on her boots, and let herself out into the night. Vigorous +clouds now and again obscured the stars: the world seemed full of a +great peace. Mavis waited to satisfy herself that she had not awakened +anyone in the house; she then struck out in the direction of +Pennington. It was only on the rarest occasions that Mavis could visit +her boy's grave, when she had to employ the greatest circumspection to +avoid being seen. Although since her translation from insignificance to +affluence and local importance, she was remarkably well known in and +about Melkbridge, and although her lightest acts were subjects of +common gossip, she could not let Christmas go by without taking the +risk that a visit to the churchyard at Pennington would entail. Her +greatest fear of detection was in going through the town, but she kept +well under the shadows of the town hall side of the market-place, so +that the policeman, who was there on duty, walking-stick in hand, would +not see her. Once in the comparative security of the Pennington road, +she hurried past dark inanimate cottages and farmsteads, whilst +overhead familiar constellations sprawled in a now clear sky. Several +times on her progress, she fancied that she heard footsteps striking +the hard, firm road behind her, but, whenever she stopped to listen, +she could not hear a sound. Just as she reached the brewery at +Pennington, clouds obscured the stars; she had some difficulty in +picking her way in the darkness. When she got to the churchyard gate, +happily unlocked, it was still so dark that she had to light matches in +order to avoid stumbling on the graves. Even with the help of matches, +it was as much as she could do to find her way to the plain white stone +on which only the initials of her boy and the dates of his birth and +death were recorded. When she got to the grave, the wind had blown out +so many of her matches that she had only four left. One of these she +lit in order to place the holly cross on the grave; she had just time +to put it where she wanted it to lie, when the match went out. She +knelt on the ground, while her heart went out to what was lying so many +feet beneath. + +"Oh, my dear! my dear!" she cried, but the sound of her own voice +startled her into silence. The cry of her heart was: + +"What is all that I have worth without you! How gladly would I give up +my all, if only I could hold you warm and breathing in my arms!" + +Then she fell to thinking what a joyous time would be hers at this +season of the year, were her boy alive and if they were going to spend +Christmas together. Pain possessed her; its operation seemed to isolate +her from the world that she had lately known. She breathed an +atmosphere of anguish; the mourning that the presence of those in the +churchyard had caused their loved ones seemed to find expression in her +heart, till, happily, tears eased her pain. + +Then she became conscious of the physical discomfort occasioned by +kneeling on the ground in the cold night air. + +She got up. In order to take a last look at the grave, she lit another +match. This burned steadily, enabling her to glance about her to see +what companionship her boy possessed on this drear December night. The +feeble match flame intensified the gloom and emphasised the deep, black +quietude of the place. This hamlet of the dead was amazingly remote +from all suggestions of life. It appeared to hug itself for its +complete detachment from human interests. It seemed desolate, alone, +forgotten by the world. As Mavis left its stillness, she thought: + +"At least he's found a great peace." + +Before Mavis left the churchyard, the stars enabled her to discern her +path. She hastened in the direction of Melkbridge, wondering if her +absence had been discovered. As before, she believed that she was +followed, but strove to think that the footsteps she was all but +certain she heard were the echo of her own. As she hurried through the +town, this impression became a conviction. She was alarmed, and +resolved to find out who it was who had elected to spy upon her +actions. When she came to the place where the road branched off to her +house, she concealed herself in the shadow of the wall. She had not +long to wait. Very soon, the tall upright figure of a man swung into +the road in which she was standing. One glance was enough to tell her +that it was Windebank. As he was about to pass her, he paused as if to +listen. + +"Who are you looking for?" asked Mavis, who was anxious to discover +what he was doing out of doors. + +"Let me see you home," he said coldly. + +"If anyone sees us, they will think--" she began. + +"We shan't meet anyone. It's not safe for you to be out." + +They walked in silence. As he did not express the least surprise at +finding her out alone in the small hours of the morning, Mavis believed +that he had divined her intention of going to Pennington and had hung +about the house till she had come out, when he had followed, all the +way to and from her destination, in order to protect her from harm. + +"Good night," he said, as he stopped just before they reached the +nearest lodge gates of her grounds. + +"Good night and thank you," replied Mavis. + +"I won't wish you a very happy Christmas." + +"May I wish you one?" + +"Good night," he answered curtly. + + + + +CHAPTER FORTY-ONE + +TRIBULATION + + +Although, as time went on, Mavis became used to her griefs, and +although she got pleasure from the opulent, cultured atmosphere with +which she was surrounded, she was neither physically nor spiritually +happy. It was not that the mutual love existing between herself and +Harold abated one jot; neither was it that she had lost overmuch of her +old joyousness in nature and life. But there were two voids in her +being (one of which she knew could never be filled) which were the +cause of her distress. A woman of strong domestic instincts, she would +have loved nothing better than to have had one or two children. Owing +to her changed circumstances, maternity would not be associated with +the acute discomforts which she had once experienced. Whenever she +heard of a woman of her acquaintance having a baby, her face would +change, her heart would be charged with a consuming envy. Illustrations +of children's garments in the advertisement columns of women's journals +caused her to turn the page quickly. Whenever little ones visited her, +she would often, particularly if the guest were a boy, furtively hug +him to her heart. Once or twice, on these occasions, she caught +Windebank's eye, when she wondered if he understood her longing. + +Her other hunger was for things of the spirit. She was as one adrift +upon a sea of doubt; many havens noticed her signals of distress, but, +despite the arrant display of their attractions, she could not find one +that promised anchorage to which she could completely trust. Her +old-time implicit faith in the existence of a Heavenly Father, who +cared for the sparrows of life, had waned. Whenever the simple belief +recurred to her, as it sometimes did, she would think of Mrs Gowler's, +to shudder and put the thought of beneficent interference with the +things of the world from her mind. + +At the same time she could not forget that when there had seemed every +prospect of her being lost in the mire of London, or in the slough of +anguish following upon her boy's death, she had, as if by a miracle, +escaped. + +Now and again, she would find herself wondering if, after all, the +barque of her life had been steered by a guiding Hand, which, although +it had taken her over storm-tossed seas and stranded her on lone +beaches, had brought her safely, if troubled by the wrack of the waters +she had passed, into harbour. + +Incapable of clear thought, she could arrive at no conclusion that +satisfied her. + +At last, she went to Windebank to see if he could help. + +"What is one to do if one isn't altogether happy?" she asked. + +"Who isn't happy?" + +"I'm not altogether." + +"You! But you've everything to make you." + +"I know. But I'll try and explain." + +"You needn't." + +"Why? You don't know what troubles me." + +"That's nothing to do with it. All troubles are alike in this respect, +that the only thing to be done is to mend what's wrong. If you can't, +you must make the best of it," he declared grimly. + +After this rough-and-ready advice, Mavis felt that it would be futile +to attempt a further explanation of her disquiet. + +"Thanks; but it isn't so easy as it sounds," she said. + +"Really!" he remarked, not without a suggestion of sarcasm in his +exclamation. + + * * * * * + +About this time, Mavis saw a good deal of Perigal. He rented from her +husband the farm that Harold had purchased soon after his marriage, and +in which he had purposed living. Perigal had long since spent the ten +thousand pounds he had inherited from his mother; he was now living on +the four hundred a year his wife possessed. If anything, Mavis +encouraged his frequent visits; his illuminating comments on men and +things took her out of herself; also, if the truth be told, Mavis's +heart held resentment against the man who had played so considerable a +part in her life. Whenever Mavis was in London, the sight of a fallen +woman always fed this dislike; she reflected that, but for the timely +help she had enjoyed, she might have been driven to a like means of +getting money if her child had been in want. Another thing that urged +her against Perigal was that she constantly noticed how negligently +many of the married women of her acquaintance interpreted their wifely +duties, and, in most cases, to husbands who had dowered their mates +with affection and worldly goods. She reflected that, by all the laws +of justice, Perigal should have appreciated to the full the treasure of +love and passion which she had poured out so lavishly at his feet. + +Perigal, all unconscious of the way in which Mavis regarded him, went +out of his way to pay her attention. + +One summer afternoon, while Harold rested indoors, Mavis gave Perigal +tea beneath the shade of a witch-elm on the lawn. She was looking +particularly alluring; if she were at all doubtful of this fact, the +admiration expressed in Perigal's eyes would have reassured her. They +had been talking lightly, brightly, each in secret pursuing the bent of +their own feelings for the other, when the spectre of Mavis's spiritual +troublings blotted out the sunlight and the brilliant gladness of the +summer afternoon. She was silent for awhile, presently to be aware that +Perigal's eyes were fixed on her face. She looked towards him, at which +he sighed deeply. + +"Aren't you happy?" she asked. + +"How can I be?" + +"You've everything you want in life." + +"Have I? Since when?" + +"The day you married." + +"Rot!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"I can tell you after all that" (here he caught Mavis's eye)--"after +we've been such friends--as far as I'm concerned, my marriage has been +a ghastly failure." + +"You mustn't tell me that," declared Mavis, to whom the news brought a +secret joy. + +"I can surely tell you after--after we've been such dear friends. But +we don't hit it off at all. I can't stick Vic at any price." + +"Nonsense! She's pretty and charming. Everyone who knows her says the +same." + +"When they first know her; then they think no end of a lot of her; but +after a time everyone's 'off' her, although they haven't spotted the +reason." + +"Have you?" + +"Unfortunately, that's been my privilege. Vic has enough imagination to +tell her to do the right thing and all that; but otherwise, she's +utterly, constitutionally cold." + +"Nonsense! She must have sympathy to 'do the right thing,' as you call +it." + +"Not necessarily. Hers comes from the imagination, as I told you; but +her graceful tact chills one in no time. I might as well have married +an icicle." + +"I'm sorry," remarked Mavis, saying what was untrue. + +"And then Vic has a conventional mind: it annoys me awfully. +Conventions are the cosmetics of morality." + +"Where did you read that?" + +"And these conventions, that are the rudiments of what were once +full-blooded necessities, are most practised by those who have the +least call for their protection. Pity me." + +"I do." + +Perigal's eyes brightened. + +"I'm unhappy too," said Mavis, after a pause. + +"Not really?" + +"I wondered if you would help me." + +"Try me." + +Perigal's eyes glittered, a manifestation which Mavis noticed. + +"You know how you used to laugh at my belief in Providence." + +"Is that how you want me to help?" + +"If you will." + +Perigal's face fell. + +"Fire away," he said, as he lit a cigarette. + +Mavis told him something of her perplexities. + +"I want to see things clearly. I want to find out exactly where I am. +Everything's so confusing and contradictory. I shan't be really happy +till I know what I really and truly believe." + +"How can I help you? You have to believe what you do believe." + +"But why do I believe what I do believe?" + +"Because you can't help yourself. Your present condition of mind is the +result of all you have experienced in your existence acting upon the +peculiar kind of intelligence with which your parents started you in +life. Take my advice, don't worry about these things. If you look them +squarely in the face, you only come to brutal conclusions. Life's a +beastly struggle to live, and then, when subsistence is secured, to be +happy. It's nature's doing; it sees to it that we're always sharpening +our weapons." + +Mavis did not speak for a few moments; when she did, it was to say: + +"I can't understand how I escaped." + +"From utter disaster?" he asked. + +"Scarcely that." + +"I hope not, indeed. But you were a fool not to write to me and let me +have it for my selfishness. But I take it that at the worst you'd have +written, when, of course, I should have done all I could." + +"All?" + +"Well--all I reasonably could." + +"I wasn't thinking so much of that," said Mavis. "What I can't +understand is why I've dropped into all this good fortune, even if it's +at your expense." + +"You owe it to the fact of your being your father's daughter and that +he was friendly with the pater. Next, you must thank your personality; +but the chief thing was that you are your father's daughter." + +"And I often and often wished I'd been born a London shop-girl, so that +I should never long for things that were then out of my reach. So there +was really something in my birth after all." + +"I should jolly well think there was. It's no end of an asset. But to +go back to what we were talking about." + +"About nature's designs to make us all fight for our own?" + +"Yes. Look at yourself. You're now ever so much harder than you were." + +"Are you surprised?" she asked vehemently, as she all but betrayed her +hatred. + +"It's really a good thing from your point of view. It's made you more +fitted to take your own part in the struggle." + +"Then, those who injured me were the strong preying on the weak?" she +asked. + +"It's the unalterable law of life. It's a disagreeable one, but it's +true. It's the only way the predominance of the species is assured." + +"I think I'll have a cigarette," said Mavis. + +"One of mine?" + +"One of my own, thanks." + +"You're very unkind to me," said Perigal. + +"In not taking your cigarette?" + +"You ignore everything that's been between us. You look on me as +heartless, callous; you don't make allowances." + +"For what?" + +"My cursed temperament. No one knows better than I what a snob I am at +heart. When you were poor, I did not value you. Now--" + +"Now?" + +"Can you ask?" + +A joy possessed Mavis's heart; she felt that her moment of triumph was +near. + +Perigal went on: + +"Still, I deserve all I get, and that's so rare in life that it's +something in the nature of an experience." + +Mavis did not speak. She was hoping no one would come to interrupt them. + +"There's one thing you might have told me about," he went on. + +"What?" + +Perigal dropped his eyes as he said: + +"Someone who died." + +Mavis's heart was pitiless. + +"Why should I?" + +"He was mine as much as yours. There are several things I want to know. +And if it were the last word I utter, all that happened over that has +'hipped' me more than anything." + +"I shall tell you nothing," declared Mavis. + +"I've a right to know." + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"I tell you, no. You left me to fight alone; it was all so terrible, I +daren't think of it more than I can help." + +"But--" + +"There are no 'buts,' no anything. I bore the sorrow alone, and I shall +keep to myself all the tenderness that remains: nothing can ever alter +it." + +"You say that as if you hated me. Don't do that, little Mavis. I love +you more than I do my mean selfish self." + +"You love me!" + +"I do now. I wanted you to know. Once or twice, I hoped--never mind +what. But from the way you said what you said just now, I see it's +utterly 'off.'" + +"You never said anything truer. And do you know why?" she asked with +flaming eye. + +"Because I left you in the lurch?" + +"Not altogether that, but because you were a coward, and, above all, a +fool, in the first place. I know what I was. I see what other women +are, and it makes me realise my value. I realise my value as, if you'd +married me, I'd have faced death, anything with you. Pretty women with +a few brains who'll stick to a man are rather scarce nowadays. But it +wasn't good enough for you: you wouldn't take the risk. You've no--no +stuffing. That is why, if you and I were left alone in the world +together for the rest of our lives, I should never do anything but +despise you." + +Perigal's face went white. He bit his thin lips. Then he smiled as he +said: + +"Retributive justice." + +"I'm sorry to be so candid. But it's what I've been thinking for +months. I've only waited for an opportunity to say it." + +"We've both scored," he said. "You can't take away what you've given, +and that's a lot to be thankful for--but--but--" + +"Well?" + +"I'm dependent for my bread and butter on a woman who bores me to +death, and have to look to a family for any odd jobs I may get--a +family that, whatever they may do for me, I should always despise. +That, and because I see what a fool I've been to lose you, is where +you've scored." + +As he strolled away, wondering how Mavis could be so indifferent to him +after all that had happened, she did not trouble to glance after his +retreating form. + +Henceforth, Mavis was left much to herself. Perigal avoided her; whilst +Windebank, about this time, to her annoyance, discontinued his frequent +visits. Having so much time on her hands, Mavis returned to her old +prepossessions about the why and wherefore of the varied happenings in +her life. + +Looking back, she found that her loving trust, her faith in her lover, +her girlish innocence of the ways of sensual men had been chiefly +responsible for her griefs; that it was indeed, as Perigal said, that +she in her weakness had been preyed upon by the strong. Thus, it +followed that girlish confidence in the loved one's word, the primal +instinct of abnegation of self to the adored one, whole-hearted +faith--all these characteristics (which were above price) of a loving +heart were in the nature of a handicap in the struggle for happiness. +It also followed that a girl thus equipped would be at a great +disadvantage in rivalry with one who was cold, selfish, calculating. +Mavis shuddered as she reached this conclusion. + +Her introspections were interrupted by an event that, for the time, put +all such thoughts from her mind. + +One morning, upon going into Harold's room, she found that he did not +recognise her. The local doctor, who usually attended him, was called +in; he immediately asked for another opinion. This being obtained from +London, the remedies the specialist prescribed proved so far beneficial +that the patient dimly recovered the use of his senses, with the faint +promise of further improvement if the medical instructions were obeyed +to the letter. Then followed for Mavis long, scarcely endurable night +watches, which were so protracted that often it seemed as if the hand +of time had stopped, as if darkness for ever enshrouded the world. +When, at last, day came, she would make an effort to snatch a few +hours' sleep in order to fit her for the next night's attendance on the +loved one. The shock of her husband's illness immediately increased her +faith in Divine Providence. It was as if her powerlessness in the face +of this new disaster were such that she relied on something more than +human aid to give her help. Always, before she tried to sleep, she +prayed long and fervently to the Most High that He would restore her +beloved husband to comparative health; that He would interfere to +arrest the fell disease with which he was afflicted. She prayed as a +mother for a child, sick unto death. At the back of her mind she had +formed a resolution that, if her prayer were answered, she would +believe in God for the rest of her life with all her old-time fervour. +She dared not voice this resolve to herself; she believed that, if she +did so, it would be in the nature of a threat to the Almighty; also, +she feared that, if her husband got worse, it would be consequently +incumbent on her to lose the much needed faith in things not of this +world. Thus, when Mavis knelt she poured out her heart in supplication. +She was not only praying for her husband but for herself. + +But Mavis's prayer was unheard. Her husband steadily got worse. One +night, when the blackness of the sky seemed as a pall thrown over the +corpse of her hopes, she took up a chance magazine, in which some +verses, written to God by an author, for whose wide humanity Mavis had +a great regard, attracted her. + +The substance of these lines was a complaint of His pitiless disregard +of the world's sorrow. One phrase particularly attracted her: it was +"His unweeting way." + +"That is it," thought Mavis. "That expresses exactly what I feel. There +is, there must be, a God, but His ways are truly unweeting. He has seen +so much pain that He has got used to it and grown callous." + + + + +CHAPTER FORTY-TWO + +THE WELL-BELOVED + + +One morning, when Mavis was leaving Harold, she was recalled by one of +the nurses. He had signalled that he wished to see her again. Upon +Mavis hastening to his side, he tried to speak, but could not. His eyes +seemed to smile a last farewell till unconsciousness possessed him. + +As before, Mavis called in the most expensive medical advice, which +told her that nothing could be done. It appeared that Harold's spine +had commenced to curve in such a manner that his lungs were seriously +affected. It was only a question of months before the slight thread, by +which his life hung, would be snapped. Mavis knew of many cases in +which enfeebled lungs had been bolstered up for quite a long time by a +change to suitable climates; she was eager to know if the same held +good in her husband's case. + +"Oh yes," said the great specialist. "There were parts of South Africa +where the veld air was so rarefied that a patient with scarcely any +lung at all might live for several years. But--" + +"But what?" asked Mavis. + +"If I may say so, he will never be other than what he now is. Would it +be advisable to prolong--?" + +The expression on Mavis's face stopped him short in the middle of his +question. + +"Of course, if you've decided to send him, it's quite another matter," +he went on. "In that case, you cannot be too careful in seeing he has +the most reliable attendants procurable." + +Mavis hesitated the fraction of a second before replying: + +"I should go with him." + +It needed only that brief moment for Mavis to make up her mind. She +would do her utmost to prolong her husband's life; she would accompany +him wherever he went to obtain this end. + +In making this last resolve, Mavis knew well the trials and discomforts +to which she would expose herself. Her well-ordered days, her present +existence, which seemed to run on oiled wheels, the friends and +refinements with which she had surrounded herself, the more +particularly appealed to her when contrasted with the lean years of her +earlier life. Her days of want, joined to her natural inclinations, had +created a hunger for the good things of the earth, which her present +opulence had not yet stayed. She still held out her hands to grasp the +beautiful, satisfying things which money, guided by a mind of some +force and a natural refinement, can buy. Therefore, it was a +considerable sacrifice for Mavis to give up the advantage she not only +possessed, but keenly appreciated, to tend a man who was a physical and +mental wreck, in a part of the world remote from civilising influences. +But, together with her grief for the loss of her boy, there lived in +her heart an immense and ineradicable remorse for having married her +husband from motives of revenge against his family. + +Harold's living faith in her goodness kept these regrets green; +otherwise, the kindly hand of time would have rooted them from her +heart. + +"Do you believe?" Mavis had once asked of her husband on a day when she +had been troubled by things of the spirit. + +"In you," he had replied, which was all she could get from him on the +subject. + +His reply was typical of the whole-hearted reverence with which he +regarded her. + +Mavis believed that to tend her husband in the land where existence +might prolong his life would be some atonement for the deception she +had practised. When she got a further eminent medical opinion, which +confirmed the previous doctor's diagnosis, she set about making +preparations for the melancholy journey. These took her several times +to London; they proved to be of a greater magnitude than she had +believed to be possible. + +When driving to a surgical appliance manufacturer on one of these +visits, she saw an acquaintance of her old days playing outside a +public house. It was Mr Baffy, the bass viol player, who was fiddling +his instrument as helplessly as ever, while he stared before him with +vacant eyes. Mavis stopped her cab, went up to his bent form and put a +sovereign into his hand as she said: + +"Do you remember me?" + +The vacant manner in which his eyes stared into hers told Mavis that he +had forgotten her. + +When Mavis's friends learned of her resolution, they were unanimous in +urging her to reconsider what they called her Quixotic fancy. Lady +Ludlow was greatly concerned at losing her friend for an indefinite +period; she pointed out the uselessness of the proceeding; she +endeavoured to overwhelm Mavis's obstinacy in the matter with a torrent +of argument. She may as well have talked to the Jersey cows which +grazed about Mavis's house, for any impression she produced. After a +while, Mavis's friends, seeing, that she was determined, went their +several ways, leaving her to make her seemingly endless preparations in +peace. + +Alone among her friends, Windebank had not contributed to the appeals +to Mavis with reference to her leaving England with her husband: for +all this forbearing to express an opinion, he made himself useful to +Mavis in the many preparations she was making for her departure and +stay in South Africa. So ungrudgingly did he give his time and +assistance, that Mavis undervalued his aid, taking it as a matter of +course. + +Three days before it was arranged that Mavis should leave Southampton +with Harold, her resolution faltered. The prospect of leaving her home, +which she had grown to love, increased its attractions a thousand-fold. +The familiar objects about her, some of which she had purchased, had +enabled her to sustain her manifold griefs. Cattle in the stables (many +of which were her dear friends), with the passage of time had become +part and parcel of her lot. A maimed wild duck, which she had saved +from death, waited for her outside the front door, and followed her +with delighted quacks when she walked in the gardens. All of these +seemed to make their several appeals, as if beseeching her not to leave +them to the care of alien hands. Her dearly loved Jill she was taking +with her. Another deprivation that she would keenly feel would be the +music her soul loved. Whenever she was assailed by her remorseless +troubles in London, she would hasten, if it were possible, to either +the handiest and best orchestral concert, or a pianoforte recital where +Chopin was to be played. The loneliness, sorrowings, and longings of +which the master makers of music (and particularly the consumptive +Pole) were eloquent, found kinship with her own unquiet thoughts, and +companionship is a notorious assuager of griefs. + +Physical, and particularly mental illness, was hateful to her. If the +truth be told, it was as much as she could do to overcome the +repugnance with which her husband's presence often inspired her, +despite the maternal instinct of which her love for Harold was, for the +most part, composed. In going with him abroad, she was, in truth, +atoning for any wrong she may have done him. + +Two days later, Mavis occupied many hours in saying a last farewell to +her home. It was one of the October days which she loved, when +milk-white clouds sailed lazily across the hazy blue peculiar to the +robust ripe age of the year. This time of year appealed to Mavis, +because it seemed as if its mellow wisdom, born of experience, +corresponded to a like period in the life of her worldly knowledge. The +prize-bred Jersey cows grazed peacefully in the park grounds. Now and +again, she would encounter an assiduous bee, which was taking advantage +of the fineness of the day to pick up any odds and ends of honey which +had been overlooked by his less painstaking brethren. Mavis, with heavy +heart, visited stables, dairies, poultry-runs. These last were well at +the back of the house; beyond them, the fields were tipped up at all +angles; they sprawled over a hill as if each were anxious to see what +was going on in the meadow beneath it. Followed by Jill and Sally, her +lame duck, Mavis went to the first of the hill-fields, where geese, +scarcely out of their adolescence, clamoured about her hands with their +soothing, self-contented piping. Even the fierce old gander, which was +the terror of stray children and timid maid-servants, deigned to notice +her with a tolerant eye. Mavis sighed and went indoors. + +Just before tea, she was standing at a window sorrowfully watching the +sun's early retirement. The angle of the house prevented her from +seeing her favourite cows, but she could hear the tearing sound their +teeth made as they seized the grass. + +She had seen nothing of her friends (even including Windebank) for the +last few days. They had realised that she was not to be stopped from +going on what they considered to be her mad enterprise, and had given +her up as a bad job. No one seemed to care what became of her; it was +as if she were deserted by the world. A sullen anger raged within her; +she would not acknowledge to herself that much of it was due to +Windebank's latent defection. She longed to get away and have done with +it; the suspense of waiting till the morrow was becoming intolerable. +As the servants were bringing in tea, Mavis could no longer bear the +confinement of the house; she hurried past the two men to go out of the +front door. + +She walked at random, going anywhere so long as she obeyed the passion +for movement which possessed her. Some way from the house, she chanced +upon Windebank, who was standing under a tree. + +"Why are you here?" she asked, as she stood before him. + +"I was making up my mind." + +"What about?" + +"If I should see you again." + +"You needn't. Do you hear? You needn't," she said passionately. He +looked at her surprised. She went on: + +"Everyone's forgotten me and doesn't care one bit what becomes of me. +You're the worst of all." + +"I?" + +"You. They're honest and stay away. You, in your heart, don't wish to +trouble to say good-bye, but you haven't the pluck to act up to your +wishes. I hate you!" + +"But, Mavis--" + +"Don't call me that. You haven't the courage of your convictions. I +hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I wish I'd never seen you. Be honest +and go away and leave me." + +"No!" cried Windebank, as he seized her arm. + +"That's right! Strike me!" cried Mavis, reckless of what she said. + +"I'm going to be honest at last and tell you something," he declared. + +"More insults!" + +"It is an insult this time, but all the same you'll hear it." + +Mavis was a little awed by the resolution in his face and manner. He +went on now a trifle hoarsely: + +"Little Mavis, I love you more than I ever believed it possible for man +to love woman. I've tried to forget you, but I want you more and more." + +"How--how dare you!" she cried. + +"Because I love you. And because I do, I've fought against seeing you; +but as you've come to me and you're going away to-morrow, I must tell +you." + +Mavis was less resentful of his words; she resisted an inclination to +tremble violently. + +"Don't go," urged Windebank. + +"Where?" + +"Abroad. Don't go and leave me. I love you." + +"How can you! Harold was your friend." + +"My enemy. He took you from me when I was sure of you; my enemy, I tell +you. Oh, little Mavis, let me make you happy. You can do no good going +with him, so why not stay? I'd give my life to hold you in my arms, and +I know I'd make you happy." + +"You mustn't; you mustn't," murmured Mavis, as she strove to believe +that his words and the grasp of his hand on her arm did not minister to +the repressed, but, none the less ardent longings of her being. + +"I must. I tell you I haven't been near a woman since I struck you +again in Pimlico, and all for love of you. I've waited. Now, I'll get +you." + +Windebank placed his arms about her and kissed her lips, eyes, and hair +many, many times. Then he held her at arm's length, while his eyes +looked fixedly into hers. + +A delicious inertia stole over Mavis's senses. He had only to kiss her +again for her to fall helplessly into his arms. + +Although she realised the enormity of his offence, something within her +seemed to impel her to wind her arm about his neck and draw his lips to +hers. Instead, she summoned all her resolution; striking him full in +the face, she freed herself to run quickly from him. As she ran, she +strove to hide from herself that, in her inmost heart, she was longing +for him to overtake her, seize her about the body, and carry her off, +as might some primeval man, to some lair of his own, where he would +defend her with his life against any who might seek to disturb her +peace. + +But Windebank did not follow her. That night she sobbed herself to +sleep. The next morning, Mavis left with Harold for Southampton. + +Many months later, Mavis, clad in black, stood, with Jill at her side, +on the deck of a ship that was rapidly steaming up Southampton water. +Her eyes were fixed on the place where they told her she would land. +The faint blurs on the landing pier gradually assumed human shape; one +on which she fixed her eyes became suspiciously like Windebank. When +she could no longer doubt that he was waiting to greet her, she went +downstairs to her cabin, to pin a bright ribbon on her frock. When he +joined her on the steamer, neither of them spoke for a few moments. + +"I got your letter from--" he began. + +"Don't say anything about it," she interrupted. "I know you're sorry, +but I'd rather not talk of it." + +Windebank turned his attentions to Jill, to say presently to Mavis: + +"Are you staying here or going on?" + +"I don't know. I think I'll stay a little. And you?" + +"I'll stay too, if you've no objection." + +"I should like it." + +Windebank saw to the luggage and drove Mavis to the barrack-like +South-Western Hotel; then, after seeing she had all she wanted, he went +to his own hotel to dress for his solitary dinner. He had scarcely +finished this meal when he was told that a lady wished to speak to him +on the telephone. She proved to be Mavis, who said: + +"If you've nothing better to do, come and take me out for some air." + +The next few days, they were continually together, when they would +mostly ramble by the old-world fortifications of the town. During all +this time, neither of them made any mention of events in the past in +which they were both concerned. + +One evening, an unexpected shower of rain disappointed Windebank's +expectation of seeing Mavis after dinner. He telephoned to her, saying +that, after coming from a hot climate, she must not trust herself out +in the wet. + +He was cursing the weather and wondering how he would get through the +evening without her, when a servant announced that a lady wished to see +him. The next moment, Mavis entered his sitting-room. He noticed that +she had changed her black frock for one of brighter hue. + +"Why have you come?" he asked, when the servant had gone. + +"To see you. Don't you want me?" + +"Yes, but--" + +"Then sit down and talk; or rather don't. I want to think." + +"You could have done that better alone." + +"I want to think," she repeated. + +They sat for some time in silence, during which Windebank longed to +take her in his arms and shower kisses on her lips. + +Presently, when she got up to leave, she found so much to say that she +continually put off going. At last, when they were standing near the +door, Mavis put her face provokingly near his. He bent, meaning to kiss +her hair, but instead his lips fell on hers. + +To his surprise, Mavis covered his mouth with kisses. Windebank's eyes +expressed astonishment, while his arm gripped her form. + +"Forgive me; forgive me," she murmured. + +"What for?" he gasped. + +"I've been a brute, a beast, and you've never once complained." + +"Dearest!" + +"It's true enough; too true. All your life you've given me love, and +all I've given you are doubts and misunderstandings. But I'll atone, +I'll atone now. I'm yours to do what you will with, whenever you +please, now, here, if you wish it. You needn't marry me; I won't bind +you down; I only ask you to be kind to me for a little, I've suffered +so much." + +"You mean--you mean--" + +"That you've loved me so long and so much that I can only reward you by +giving you myself." + +She opened her arms. He looked at her steadily for a while, till, with +a great effort, he tore himself from her presence and left the room. + +The next morning, Mavis received a letter from Windebank. + +"My own dearest love," it ran, "don't think me a mug for leaving you +last night as I did, but I love you so dearly that I want to get you +for life and don't wish to run any risk of losing what I treasure most +on earth. I am making arrangements so that we can get married at the +very earliest date, which I believe is three days from now. And then--" + +Mavis did not read any more just then. + +"When and where you please," she scribbled on the first piece of paper +she could find. Lady Ludlow's words occurred to her as she sent off her +note by special messenger: "A woman is always safe with the man who +loves her." + +Three days later, Windebank and Mavis were made man and wife. For all +Windebank's outward impassivity, Mavis noticed that, when he put the +ring on her finger, his hand trembled so violently that he all but +dropped it. Directly the wedding was over, Windebank and Mavis got into +the former's motor, which was waiting outside the church. + +"At last!" said Windebank, as he sat beside his wife. + +"Where next?" asked Mavis. + +"To get Jill and your things and then we'll get away." + +"Where to? I hope it's right away, somewhere peaceful in the country." + +"We'll go on till you come to a place you like." + +They went west. They had lunched in high spirits at a wayside inn, +which took Mavis's fancy, to continue travelling till the late +afternoon, when the machine came to a dead stop. + +"We'll have to camp in a ditch," said Mavis. + +"How you'd curse me if we had to!" said her husband. + +"It would be heaven with you," she declared. + +Windebank reverently kissed her. + +He saw that the car wanted spirit, which he learned could be bought at +a village a short way ahead. Mavis and Jill accompanied Windebank to +the general shop where petrol was sold. + +"I can't let you out of my sight," she said, as they set out. + +"Why not?" + +"You might run off." + +He laughed. By the time they reached the shop, Mavis had quite emerged +from the sobriety of her demeanour to become an approximation to her +old light-hearted self. + +"That's how I love to see you," remarked Windebank. + +When they entered the shop, Mavis' face fell. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, all concern for his wife. + +"Don't you smell paraffin?" + +"What of it?" + +"It takes me back to Pimlico--that night when we went shopping +together--you bought me a shilling's worth." + +"I wish someone would come; then we'd get out of it," remarked +Windebank. + +But his wife did not appear to listen; she was lost in thought. Then +she clung desperately to his arm. + +"What is it?" he asked tenderly. + +"It's love I want; love. Nothing else matters. Love me: love me: love +me. A little love will help me to forget." + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sparrows, by Horace W. C. 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The Devitts were +like their home in being new, ostentatious folk; their prosperity +did not extend further back than the father of Montague, the present +head of the family. + +Montague Devitt did little beyond attending board meetings of the +varied industries which his father's energy had called into being. +He was a bluff, well-set-up man, who had married twice; both of his +wives had brought him money. Each time Montague chose a mate, he had +made some effort to follow the leanings of his heart; but money not +lying in the same direction as love, an overmastering instinct of +his blood had prevailed against his sentimental inclinations; in +each case it had insisted on his marrying, in one instance an +interest in iron works, in another, a third share of a Portland +cement business. + +His first wife had borne him two sons and a daughter; his second was +childless. + +Montague was a member of two or three Bohemian clubs in London, to +which, as time went on, he became increasingly attached. At these, +he passed as a good fellow, chiefly from a propensity to stand +drinks to any and everyone upon any pretence; he was also renowned +amongst his boon companions for his rendering of "The Village +Blacksmith" in dumb show, a performance greeted by his thirsty +audience with thunders of applause. + +Harold, his first born, will be considered later. + +Lowther, his second son, can be dismissed in a few words. He was a +good-looking specimen of the British bounder. His ideas of life were +obtained from the "Winning Post," and the morality (or want of it) +suggested by musical comedy productions at the Gaiety Theatre. He +thought coarsely of women. While spending money freely in the +society of ladies he met at the Empire promenade, or in the Cafe d' +l'Europe, he practised mean economics in private. + +Victoria, Montague's daughter, was a bit of a puzzle to friends and +relations alike, all of whom commenced by liking her, a sentiment +which, sooner or later, gave place to a feeling of dissatisfaction. +She was a disappointment to her father, although he would never +admit it to himself; indeed, if he had tried to explain this +displeasure, he would have been hard put to it to give a +straightforward cause for a distressing effect. On first +acquaintance, it would seem as if she were as desirable a daughter +as heart of father could want. She was tall, good-looking, well +educated; she had abundance of tact, accomplishments, and +refinement; she had never given her parents a moment of anxiety. +What, then, was wrong with her from her father's point of view? He +was well into middle age; increasing years made him yearn for the +love of which his life had been starved; this craving would have +been appeased by love for his daughter, but the truth was that he +was repelled by the girl's perfection. She had never been known to +lose her temper; not once had she shown the least preference for any +of the eligible young men of her acquaintance; although always +becomingly dressed, she was never guilty of any feminine foibles, +which would have endeared her to her father. To him, such +correctness savoured of inhumanity; much of the same feeling +affected the girl's other relatives and friends, to the ultimate +detriment of their esteem. + +Hilda, Montague's second wife, was the type of woman that successful +industrialism turns out by the gross. Sincere, well-meaning, narrow, +homely, expensively but indifferently educated, her opinion on any +given subject could be predicted; her childlessness accentuated her +want of mental breadth. She read the novels of Mrs Humphry Ward; she +was vexed if she ever missed an Academy; if she wanted a change, she +frequented fashionable watering-places. She was much exercised by +the existence of the "social evil"; she belonged to and, for her, +subscribed heavily to a society professing to alleviate, if not to +cure, this distressing ailment of the body politic. She was the +honorary secretary of a vigilance committee, whose operations +extended to the neighbouring towns of Trowton and Devizeton. The +good woman was ignorant that the starvation wages which her +husband's companies paid were directly responsible for the existence +of the local evil she deplored, and which she did her best to +eradicate. + +Miss Spraggs, Hilda Devitt's elder sister, lived with the family at +Melkbridge House. She was a virgin with a taste for scribbling, +which commonly took the form of lengthy letters written to those she +thought worthy of her correspondence. She had diligently read every +volume of letters, which she could lay hands on, of persons whose +performance was at all renowned in this department of literature +(foreign ones in translations), and was by way of being an agreeable +rattle, albeit of a pinchbeck, provincial genus. Miss Spraggs was +much courted by her relations, who were genuinely proud of her local +literary reputation. Also, let it be said, that she had the disposal +of capital bringing in five hundred a year. + +Montague's eldest son, Harold, was, at once, the pride and grief of +the Devitts, although custom had familiarised them with the calamity +attaching to his life. + +He had been a comely, athletic lad, with a nature far removed from +that of the other Devitts; he had seemed to be in the nature of a +reversion to the type of gentleman, who, it was said, had +imprudently married an ancestress of Montague's first wife. Whether +or not this were so, in manner, mind, and appearance Harold was +generations removed from his parents and brother. He had been the +delight of his father's eye, until an accident had put an end to the +high hopes which his father had formed of his future. A canal ran +through Melkbridge; some way from the town this narrowed its course +to run beneath a footbridge, locally known as the "Gallows" bridge. + +It was an achievement to jump this stretch of water; Harold Devitt +was renowned amongst the youth of the neighbourhood for the +performance of this feat. He constantly repeated the effort, but did +it once too often. One July morning, he miscalculated the distance +and fell, to be picked up some while after, insensible. He had +injured his spine. After many weeks of suspense suffered by his +parents, these learned that their dearly loved boy would live, +although he would be a cripple for life. Little by little, Harold +recovered strength, till he was able to get about Melkbridge on a +self-propelled tricycle; any day since the year of the accident his +kindly, distinguished face might be seen in the streets of the town, +or the lanes of the adjacent country, where he would pull up to chat +with his many friends. + +His affliction had been a terrible blow to Harold; when he had first +realised the permanent nature of his injuries, he had cursed his +fate; his impotent rage had been pitiful to behold. This travail +occurred in the first year of his affliction; later, he discovered, +as so many others have done in a like extremity, that time accustoms +the mind to anything: he was now resigned to his misfortune. His +sufferings had endowed him with a great tolerance and a vast +instinct of sympathy for all living things, qualities which are +nearly always lacking in young men of his present age, which was +twenty-nine. The rest of the family stood in some awe of Harold; +realising his superiority of mind, they feared to be judged at the +bar of his opinion; also, he had some hundreds a year left him, in +his own right, by his mother: it was unthinkable that he should ever +marry. Another thing that differentiated him from his family was +that he possessed a sense of humour. + +It may be as well to state that Harold plays a considerable part in +this story, which is chiefly concerned with a young woman, of whom +the assembled Devitts were speaking in the interval between tea and +dinner on a warm July day. Before setting this down, however, it +should be said that the chief concern of the Devitts (excepting +Harold) was to escape from the social orbit of successful +industrialism, in which they moved, to the exalted spheres of county +society. + +Their efforts, so far, had only taken them to certain halfway houses +on their road. The families of consequence about Melkbridge were +old-fashioned, conservative folk, who resented the intrusion in +their midst of those they considered beneath them. + +Whenever Montague, a borough magistrate, met the buffers of the +great families upon the bench, or in the hunting field, he found +them civil enough; but their young men would have little to do with +Lowther, while its womenfolk ignored the assiduities of the Devitt +females. + +The drawing-room in which the conversation took place was a large, +over-furnished room, in which a conspicuous object was a picture, +most of which, the lower part, was hidden by padlocked shutters; the +portion which showed was the full face of a beautiful girl. + +The picture was an "Etty," taken in part payment of a debt by +Montague's father, but, as it portrayed a nude woman, the old +Puritan had employed a Melkbridge carpenter to conceal that portion +of the figure which the artist had omitted to drape. Montague would +have had the shutters removed, but had been prevailed upon by his +wife to allow them to remain until Victoria was married, an event +which, at present, she had no justification for anticipating. + +The late afternoon post had brought a letter for Mrs Devitt, which +gave rise to something of a discussion. + +"Actually, here is a letter from Miss Annie Mee," said Mrs Devitt. + +"Your old schoolmistress!" remarked Miss Spraggs. + +"I didn't know she was alive," went on Mrs Devitt. "She writes from +Brandenburg College, Aynhoe Road, West Kensington Park, London, +asking me to do something for her." + +"Of course!" commented the agreeable rattle. + +"How did you know?" asked Mrs Devitt, looking up from the letter she +was reading with the help of glasses. + +"Didn't you know that there are two kinds of letters: those you want +and those that want something?" asked Miss Spraggs, in a way that +showed she was conscious of saying a smart thing. + +"I can hardly believe human nature to be so depraved as you would +make it out to be, Eva," remarked Mrs Devitt, who disliked the fact +of her unmarried sister possessing sharper wits than her own. + +"Oh! I say, is that your own?" guffawed Devitt from his place on the +hearthrug. + +"Why shouldn't it be?" asked Miss Spraggs demurely. + +"Anyway," continued Mrs Devitt impatiently, "she wishes to know if I +am in want of a companion, or anything of that sort, as she has a +teacher she is unable to keep owing to her school having fallen on +bad times." + +"Then she's young!" cried Lowther, who was lolling near the window. + +"'Her name is Mavis Keeves; she is the only daughter of the late +Colonel Keeves, who, I believe, before he was overtaken by +misfortune, occupied a position of some importance in the vicinity +of Melkbridge,'" read Mrs Devitt from Miss Annie Mee's letter. + +"Keeves! Keeves!" echoed her husband. + +"Do you remember him?" asked his wife. + +"Of course," he replied. "He was a M.F.H. and knew everyone" +(everyone was here synonymous with the elect the Devitts were pining +to meet on equal terms). "His was Sir Henry Ockendon's place." + +The prospects of Mavis Keeves securing employment with the Devitts +had, suddenly, increased. + +"How was it he came 'down'?" asked the agreeable rattle, keenly +interested in anything having to do with the local aristocracy, past +or present. + +"The old story: speculatin' solicitors," replied Montague, who made +a point of dropping his "g's." "One week saw him reduced from money +to nixes." + +Mrs Devitt raised her eyebrows. + +"I mean nothin'," corrected Devitt. + +"How very distressing!" remarked Victoria in her exquisitely +modulated voice. "We should try and do something for her." + +"We will," said her father. + +"We certainly owe a duty to those who were once our neighbours," +assented Miss Spraggs. + +"Do you remember her?" asked Mrs Devitt of her husband. + +"Of course I do, now I come to think of it," he replied. + +"What was she like?" + +He paused for a moment or two before replying. + +"She'd reddy sort of hair and queer eyes. She was a fine little +girl, but a fearful tomboy," said Devitt. + +"Pretty, then!" exclaimed Mrs Devitt, as she glanced apprehensively +at her step-daughter. + +"She was then. It was her hair that did it," answered her husband. + +"H'm!" came from his wife. + +"The pretty child of to-day is the plain girl of to-morrow" +commented Miss Spraggs. + +"What was her real disposition?" asked Mrs Devitt. + +"I know nothin' about that; but she was always laughin' when I saw +her." + +"Frivolous!" commented Mrs Devitt. + +"Perhaps there's more about her in the letter," suggested Lowther, +who had been listening to all that had been said. + +"There is," said his step-mother; "but Miss Mee's writing is very +trying to the eyes." + +Montague took the schoolmistress's letter from his wife's hand. He +read the following in his big, blustering voice: + +"'In all matters affectin' Miss Keeves's educational qualifications, +I find her comme il faut, with the possible exception of freehand +drawing, which is not all that a fastidious taste might desire. Her +disposition is winnin' and unaffected, but I think it my duty to +mention that, on what might appear to others as slight provocation, +Miss Keeves is apt to give way to sudden fits of passion, which, +however, are of short duration. Doubtless, this is a fault of youth +which years and experience will correct.'" + +"Rebellious!" commented Mrs Devitt. + +"Spirit!" said Harold, who all this while had been reclining in his +invalid chair, apparently reading a review. + +Mrs Devitt looked up, as if surprised. + +"After all, everything depends on the point of view," remarked Miss +Spraggs. + +"Is there any more?" asked Harold. + +By way of reply, his father read from Miss Mee's letter: + +"'In conclusion, I am proud to admit that Miss Keeves has derived +much benefit from so many years' association with one who has +endeavoured to influence her curriculum with the writin's of the +late Mr Ruskin, whose acquaintance it was the writer's inestimable +privilege to enjoy. With my best wishes for your welfare, I remain, +dear Madam, your obedient servant, Annie Allpress Mee.' That's all," +he added, as he tossed the letter on to the table at his wife's +side. + +"Did she know Ruskin?" asked Harold. + +"When I was at her school--it was then at Fulham--she, or her +sister, never let a day go by without making some reference to him," +replied his step-mother. + +"What are you going to do for Miss Keeves?" asked Harold. + +"It's so difficult to decide off-hand," his step-mother replied. + +"Can't you think of anything, father?" persisted Harold. + +"It's scarcely in my line," answered Montague, glancing at his wife +as he spoke. + +Harold looked inquiringly at Mrs Devitt. + +"It's so difficult to promise her anything till one has seen her," +she remarked. + +"Then why not have her down?" asked Harold. + +"Yes, why not?" echoed his brother. + +"She can get here and back again in a day," added Harold, as his +eyes sought his review. + +"Very well, then, I'll write and suggest Friday," said Mrs Devitt, +not too willingly taking up a pen. + +"You can always wire and put her off, if you want to do anything +else," remarked her sister. + +"Won't you send her her fare?" asked Harold. + +"Is that necessary?" queried Mrs Devitt. + +"Isn't it usual?" + +"I can give it to her when she comes," said Mrs Devitt, who hated +parting with money, although, when it was a question of entertaining +the elect of Melkbridge, she spent her substance lavishly. + +Thus it came about that a letter was written to Miss Annie Mee, +Brandenburg College, Aynhoe Road, West Kensington Park, London, W., +saying that Mrs Devitt would expect Miss Keeves, for an interview, +by the train that left Paddington for Melkbridge at ten on Friday +next; also, that she would defray her third-class travelling +expenses. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +MAVIS KEEVES + + +The following Friday morning, Mavis Keeves sprang from bed on +waking. It was late when she had gone to sleep the previous night, +for she had been kept up by the festivities pertaining to breaking- +up day at Brandenburg College, and the inevitable "talk over" the +incidents of the event with Miss Helen and Miss Annie Mee, which +conversation had been prolonged till nearly twelve o'clock; but the +excitement of travelling to the place of her birth, and the +certainty of getting an engagement in some capacity or another +(Mavis had no doubt on this point) were more than enough to curtail +her slumbers. She had fallen asleep laughing to herself at the many +things which had appealed to her sense of humour during the day, and +it was the recollection of some of these which made her smile +directly she was awake. She tubbed and dressed quickly, although she +had some bother with her hair, which, this morning, seemed intent on +defying the efforts of her fingers. Having dressed herself to her +somewhat exigent satisfaction, she went downstairs, passing the +doors of those venerable virgins, the Misses Helen and Annie Mee, as +she descended to the ground-floor, on which was the schoolroom. This +was really two rooms, but the folding doors, which had once divided +the apartment, had long since been removed from their hinges; they +were now rotting in the strip of garden behind the house. + +The appearance of Brandenburg College belied its pretentious name. +Once upon a time, its name-plate had decorated the gates of a +stately old mansion in the Fulham of many years ago; here it was +that Mrs Devitt, then Miss Hilda Spraggs, had been educated. Since +those fat days, the name-plate of Brandenburg College had suffered +many migrations, always in a materially downward direction, till now +it was screwed on the railings of a stuffy little road in Shepherd's +Bush, which, as Mavis was in the habit of declaring, was called West +Kensington Park for "short." + +The brass plate, much the worse for wear, told the neighbourhood +that Brandenburg College educated the daughters of gentlemen; +perhaps it was as well that this definition, like the plate, was +fallen on hard times, inasmuch as it was capable of such an elastic +interpretation that it enabled the Misses Mee to accept pupils whom, +in their prosperous days, they would have refused. Mavis looked +round the familiar, shabby schoolroom, with its atmosphere of ink +and slate pencil, to which she was so soon to say "good-bye." + +It looked desolate this morning, perhaps because there leapt to her +fancy the animated picture it had presented the day before, when it +had been filled by a crowd of pupils (dressed in their best), their +admiring parents and friends. + +Yesterday's programme had followed that of all other girls' school +breaking-up celebrations, with the difference that the passages +selected for recital had been wholly culled from the writings of Mr +Ruskin. Reference to the same personage had occurred in the speech +to the prize-winners (every girl in the school had won a prize of +sorts) made by Mr Smiley, the curate, who performed this office; +also, the Misses Mee, when opportunity served, had not been backward +in making copious references to the occasion on which they had drunk +tea with the deceased author. Indeed, the parents and friends had +breathed such an atmosphere of Ruskin that there were eight requests +for his works at the local free library during the following week. + +"Good old Ruskin!" laughed Mavis, as she ran downstairs to the +breakfast room, which was situated in the basement. Here, the only +preparation made for the meal was a not too clean table-cloth spread +upon the table. Mavis went into the kitchen, where she found Amelia, +the general servant, doing battle with a smoky kitchen-fire. + +"How long before breakfast is ready?" asked Mavis. + +"Is that you, miss? Oi can't see you properly," said Amelia, as she +turned her head. "This 'ere smoke had got into my best oye." + +Amelia spoke truly; there was a great difference between the seeing +capacity of her two eyes, one of these being what is known as +"walled." Amelia was an orphan; she had been dragged up by the +"Metropolitan Association for Befriending Young Servants," known to +its familiars as the "Mabys," such designation being formed by the +first letter of each word of the title. Every week, dozens of these +young women issued from the doors of the many branches of this +institution, who became, to their respective mistresses, a source of +endless complaint; in times of domestic stress, one or two of these +"generals" had been known to keep their situations for three months. +Amelia was a prodigy of success, a record in the annals of the +society, inasmuch as she had been at Brandenburg College for two +years and a half. She kept her situation because she was cheap; +also, because she did her best to give satisfaction, as she +appreciated the intellectual atmosphere of the place, which made her +hope that she, too, might pick up a few educational crumbs; +moreover, she was able to boast to her intimates, on the occasions +when she visited her parent home, how her two mistresses could speak +four languages, which was certainly true. + +"Wasn't it all beautiful, miss?" asked Amelia, who had listened to +yesterday's entertainment halfway down the stairs leading to the +basement. + +"Wonderful," replied Mavis, as she tied on a kitchen apron, a +preliminary to giving Amelia a helping hand with the breakfast. + +"And the 'reverend'! He did make me laugh when he gave four prizes +to fat Miss Robson, and said she was a good all round girl." + +This joke had not been intentional on Mr Smiley's part; he had been +puzzled by the roar of laughter which had greeted his remark; when +he divined its purport, he was quite willing to take credit for +having deliberately made the sally. + +"You managed to hear that?" asked Mavis. + +"Yes, miss; an' what the 'reverend' said about dear Mr Fuskin. I +'eard that too." + +"Ruskin," corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee. + +Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss +Keeves, who, noticing the girl's dejection, said: + +"Call him what you like, Amelia. It's only the Miss Mees who're so +particular." + +"Dear gentleman," continued Amelia. "Next to being always with you, +miss, I should like to have been with 'im." + +"I'm afraid you can't even be with me. I have to earn my own +living." + +"Yes, miss; but when you marry a rich gentleman, I should like to +come with you as 'general.'" + +"Don't talk nonsense, Amelia." + +"But it ain't, miss; didn't the music master, 'im with the lovely, +long, shiny 'air, promise me a shillin' to give you a note?" + +"Did he?" laughed Mavis. "It's nearly eight: you'd better take in +the breakfast things." + +"Oh, well, if I can't be here, or with you, I'd sooner be with that +dear Mr--" + +"Ruskin, Amelia," interrupted Mavis. "Try and get it right, if only +for once." + +Amelia took no notice of the interruption, but went on, as she +dusted the cups, before putting them on the tray: + +"Dear Mr Fuskin! 'Ow I would have looked after 'im, and 'ow +carefully I'd 'ave counted 'is washing!" + +Punctually, as the clock struck eight, the two Miss Mees entered the +breakfast room; they kissed Mavis on the cheek before sitting down +to the meal. They asked each other and Mavis how they had slept, as +was their invariable custom; but the sensitive, observant girl could +not help noticing that the greetings of her employers were a trifle +less cordial than was their wont. Mavis put down this comparative +coldness to their pride at the success of yesterday's festival. + +To the indifferent observer, the Miss Mees were exactly alike, being +meagre, dilapidated, white-haired old ladies, with the same beaked +noses and receding chins; both wore rusty black frocks, each of +which was decorated with a white cameo brooch; both walked with the +same propitiatory shuffle. They were like a couple of elderly, +moulting, decorous hens who, in spite of their physical +disabilities, had something of a presence. This was obtained from +the authority they had wielded over the many pupils who had passed +through their hands. + +Nearer inspection showed that Miss Annie Mee was a trifle stouter +than her sister, if this be not too robust a word to apply to such a +wisp of a woman; that her eyes were kinder and less watery than +Helen's; also, that her face was less insistently marked with lines +of care. + +The Miss Mees' dispositions were much more dissimilar than their +appearance. Miss Helen, the elder, loved her home and, in her heart +of hearts, preferred the kitchen to any other part of the house. It +was she who attended to the ordering of the few wants of the humble +household; she arranged the meals, paid the bills, and generally +looked after the domestic economy of the college; she took much +pride in the orderliness of her housekeeper's cupboard, into which +Amelia never dared to pry. In the schoolroom, she received the +parents, arranged the fees and extras, and inflicted the trifling +punishment she awarded to delinquents, which latter, it must be +admitted, gave her a faint pleasure. + +Annie Mee, her sister, had a natural inclination for the flesh-pots +of life. She liked to lie abed on Sunday and holiday mornings; she +spread more butter on her breakfast toast than Helen thought +justified by the slenderness of their resources; she was indulgent +to the pupils, and seized any opportunity that offered of going out +for the evening. She frequented (and had been known to enjoy) +entertainments given in schoolrooms for church purposes she welcomed +the theatre or concert tickets which were sometimes sent her by the +father of one of the pupils (who was behind with his account), when, +however paltry the promised fare, she would be waiting at the door, +clad in her faded garments, a full hour before the public were +admitted, in order not to miss any of the fun. Mavis usually +accompanied her on these excursions; although she was soon bored by +the tenth-rate singers and the poor plays she heard and saw, she was +compensated by witnessing the pleasure Miss Annie Mee got from these +sorry dissipations. + +The two sisters' dispositions were alike in one thing: the good +works they unostentatiously performed. The sacrifices entailed by +these had much contributed to their declining fortunes. This unity +of purpose did not stay them from occasionally exchanging embittered +remarks when heated by difference of opinion. + +When they sat down to breakfast, Helen poured out the coffee. + +"What day does the West London Observer come out?" asked Annie, +presently, of Mavis. + +"Friday, I believe." + +"There should be some account of yesterday's proceedings," said Miss +Helen. "The very proper references which Mr Smiley made to our +acquaintance with the late Mr Ruskin are worthy of comment." + +"I have never known the applause to be so hearty as it was +yesterday," remarked Annie, after she had eaten her first piece of +toast. + +"What is the matter, Mavis?" asked Miss Helen. + +"A crumb stuck in my throat," replied Mavis, saying what was untrue, +as she bent over her plate. This action was necessary to hide the +smile that rose to her lips and eyes at the recollection of +yesterday's applause, to which Miss Annie had referred. It had amused +Mavis to notice the isolated clapping which followed the execution of +an item, in the programme by a solitary performer; this came from her +friends in the room. The conclusion of a duet would be greeted by two +patches of appreciation; whilst a pianoforte concerto, which engaged +sixteen hands, merged the eight oases of applause into a roar of +approval. + +"How do you get to Paddington, Mavis?" asked Miss Helen, after she +had finished her meagre breakfast. + +"From Addison Road," replied Mavis, who was still eating. + +"Wouldn't Shepherd's Bush be better?" asked Annie, who was wondering +if she could find accommodation for a further piece of toast. + +"I always recommend parents to send their daughters from Paddington +via Addison Road," remarked Helen severely. + +"There are more trains from Shepherd's Bush," persisted Annie. + +"Maybe, dear Annie" (when relations between the sisters were +strained, they made use of endearing terms), "but more genteel +people live on the Addison Road connection." + +"But, Helen dear, the class of residence existing upon a line of +railway does not enable a traveller to reach his or her destination +the quicker." + +"I was not aware, dear Annie, that I ever advanced such a +proposition." + +"Then there is no reason, dearest Helen, why Mavis shouldn't reach +Paddington by going to Shepherd's Bush." + +"None, beyond the fact that it is decided that she shall travel by +way of Addison Road. Besides, Addison Road is nearer, dear." + +"But the exercise of walking to Shepherd's Bush would do Mavis good +after the fatigues of yesterday, Helen." + +"That is altogether beside the point, dear Annie." + +"I am never listened to," complained her sister angrily. + +"You argue for the sake of talking," replied the other crossly. + +They continued in that strain for some moments, and were still at it +when Mavis went upstairs to put on her hat; here, she gave a last +look at herself in the glass. + +"I wonder if I'll do?" she thought, as she dealt with one or two +strands of tawny coloured hair, which were still inclined to be +rebellious. + +"I wonder if I'll meet anyone who remembers me?" she thought, as she +left the room. + +Downstairs, the two old ladies were awaiting her in the hall. Miss +Helen was full of good advice for the journey, whilst Miss Annie +dangled a packet of sandwiches, "In case dear Mavis should need +refreshment on the way." + +"Thanks so much," said Mavis, as she took the little packet, the +brown-paper covering of which was already grease-stained from the +fat of the sandwiches. + +"Don't fail to remember me to Mrs Devitt," urged Helen. + +"I won't forget," said Mavis. + +"I put salt and mustard in the sandwiches," remarked Annie. + +"Thanks so much," cried Mavis, as she opened the front door. + +"And don't forget to be sure and travel in a compartment reserved +for ladies," quavered Helen. + +"I won't forget; wish me luck," answered Mavis. + +"We do; good-bye," said the two old ladies together. + +Directly the door was closed, Miss Annie, followed at a distance by +Miss Helen, hurried into the schoolroom, where, pulling aside the +Venetian blind of the front window, they watched the girl's trim +figure walk down the street. The two old ladies were really very +fond of her and not a little proud of her appearance. + +"She has deportment," remarked Helen, as Mavis disappeared from +their ken. + +"Scarcely that--distinction is more the word," corrected Annie. + +"I fear for her in the great world," declared Helen with trembling +lips; "they say that good looks are a girl's worst enemy." + +"But Mavis has profited by the example of our lives, Helen." + +"There is much in that, Annie. Also, she should have derived much +benefit from being, in school hours, and often out of them, in an +atmosphere influenced by the writings of the late Mr Ruskin." + +With these consolations, the two old ladies toiled upstairs, and set +about packing for a fortnight's stay they proposed making with an +old friend at Worthing, for which place they proposed starting in +two days' time. + +Meanwhile, the subject of their thoughts was walking to Addison Road +Station, happily ignorant of the old ladies' fears concerning the +perils of her path. To look at her, she seemed the least likely girl +in London who was about to take a journey on the chance of obtaining +a much-needed engagement. Her glowing eyes, flushed cheeks, and +light step were eloquent of a joyousness not usually associated with +an all but penniless girl on the look-out for something to do. Her +clothes, also, supported the impression that she was a young woman +well removed from likelihood of want. She was obliged to be careful +with the few pounds that she earned at Brandenburg College: being of +an open-handed disposition, this necessity for economy irked her; +but however much she stinted her inclinations in other directions, +she was determined, as are so many other young women who are thrown +on their own resources, to have one good turn-out in which to make a +brave show to the world. Not that Mavis spent her money, shop-girl +fashion, in buying cheap flummery which was, at best, a poor and +easily recognisable imitation of the real thing; her purchases were +of the kind that any young gentlewoman, who was not compelled to +take thought for the morrow, might becomingly wear. As she walked, +most of the men she met looked at her admiringly; some turned to +glance at her figure; one or two retraced their steps and would have +overtaken her, had she not walked purposefully forward. She was so +used to these tributes to her attractiveness, that she did not give +them heed. She could not help noticing one man; he glanced at her +and seemed as if he were about to raise his hat; when she looked at +him to see if she knew him, she saw that he was distinguished +looking, but a stranger. She hurried on; presently, she went into a +draper's shop, where she bought a pair of gloves, but, when she came +out, the good-looking stranger was staring woodenly at the window. +She hastened forward; turning a corner, she slipped into a +tobacconist's and newsagent's, where she bought a packet of her +favourite cigarettes, together with a box of matches. When she got +to the door, her good-looking admirer was entering the shop. He made +way for her, and, raising his hat, was about to speak: she walked +quickly away and was not troubled with him any more. When she got to +Paddington, she disobeyed Miss Helen's injunctions to travel in a +compartment reserved for ladies, but went into an ordinary carriage, +which, by the connivance of the guard, she had to herself. When the +train left Paddington, she put her feet on the cushions of the +opposite seat, with a fine disregard of railway bye-laws, and lit a +cigarette. + +It was, perhaps, inevitable that the girl's thoughts should incline +to the time and the very different circumstances in which she had +last journeyed to Melkbridge. This was nine years ago, when she had +come home for the holidays from Eastbourne, where she had been to +school. Then, she had had but one care in the world, this on account +of a jaundiced pony to which she was immoderately attached. Then she +suffered her mind to dwell on the unrestrained grief with which she +had greeted her favourite's decease; as she did so, half-forgotten +fares, scenes, memories flitted across her mind. Foremost amongst +these was her father's face--dignified, loving, kind. Whenever she +thought of him, as now, she best remembered him as he looked when he +told her how she should try to restrain her grief at the loss of her +pet, as her distress gave him pain. She had then been a person of +consequence in her little world, she being her father's only child; +she had been made much of by friends and acquaintances, amongst +whom, so far as she could recollect, no member of the Devitt family +was numbered. Perhaps, she thought, they have lately come to +Melkbridge. Then aspects of the old home passed through her mind. +The room in which she used to sleep; the oak-panelled dining-room; +the garden, which was all her very own, passed in rapid review; +then, the faces of playmates and sweethearts, for she had had +admirers at that early age. There was Charlie Perigal, the boy with +the steely blue eyes and the pretty curls, with whom she had +quarrelled on the ground that he was in the habit of catching birds +in nasty little brick traps; also, because, when taxed with this +offence, he had defended his conduct and, a few moments later, had +attempted to stone a frog in her highly indignant presence. + +Then there was Archie Windebank, whose father had the next place to +theirs; he was a fair, solemn boy, who treated her with an immense +deference; he used to blush when she asked him to join her in play. +The day before she had left for school, he had confessed his +devotion in broken accents; she had thought of him for quite a week +after she had left home. How absurd and trivial it all seemed, now +that she was to face the stern realities of life! + +The next thing she recalled was the news of her father's ruin. This +calamity was more conveyed to her by the changed look in his face, +when she next saw him, than by anything else. + +She had been, at once, taken away from the expensive school at which +she was being educated and had been sent to Brandenburg College, +then languishing in Hammersmith Terrace, while her father went to +live at Dinan, in Brittany, where he might save money in order to +make some sort of a start, which might ultimately mean a provision +for his daughter. + +Next, she remembered--this she would never forget--the terrible day +on which Miss Helen Mee had called her into the study to tell her +that she would never again see her dear father in this world. Tears +came to Mavis's eyes whenever she thought of it. Orphaned, +friendless, with no one to give her the affection for which her +lonely soul craved, Mavis had stayed on at Brandenburg College, +where the little her father had left sufficed to pay for her board +and schooling. This sum lasted till she was sixteen, when, having +passed one or two trumpery examinations, she was taken on the staff +of the college. The last few months, Mavis's eyes had been opened to +the straitened circumstances in which her employers lived; she had +lately realised that she owed her bread and butter more to the +kindness of the Miss Mees, than to the fact of her parts as a +teacher being in request at the school. She informed the kind ladies +that she was going to seek her bread elsewhere; upon their offering +the mildest of protests, she had made every effort to translate her +intentions into performance. + +This was by no means an easy matter for a comparatively friendless +girl, as Mavis soon discovered. Her numerous applications had, so +far, only resulted in an expenditure of stationery and postage +stamps. Then, Miss Annie Mee kindly volunteered to write to the more +prosperously circumstanced of the few one-time pupils with whom she +had kept up something of a correspondence. Those who replied offered +no suggestion of help, with the exception of Mrs Devitt. So much for +the past: the future stretched, an unexplored country, before her, +which, to one of her sanguine disposition, seemed to offer boundless +opportunities of happiness. It appeared a strange conjunction of +circumstances that she should have been sent for by a person living +in her native place. It seemed fortuitous to Mavis that she should +earn her bread in a neighbourhood where she would be known, if only +because of the high reputation which her dear father had enjoyed. It +all seemed as if it had been arranged like something out of a book. +Amelia's words, referring to the certainty of her marrying, came +into her mind; she tried to dismiss them, but without success. Then, +her thoughts flew back to Charlie Perigal and Archie Windebank, +youthful admirers, rivals for her favours. She wondered what had +become of them; if she should see them again: a thousand things in +which she allowed her imagination to wing itself in sentimental +flight. + +She was of an ardent temperament; men attracted her, although, since +she had been grown up, she had never exchanged anything that could +be construed into a love passage with a member of the opposite sex, +opportunities for meeting those whom she considered her equals being +wanting in her dull round of daily teaching. Sometimes, a face she +had seen in the street, or a character she encountered in a book +attracted her, when she would think of her hero, allowing her mind +to place him in tender situations with herself, for the few hours +her infatuation lasted, showing her to be of an impressionable and +romantic disposition. Although she often felt her loneliness, and +the consequent need of human companionship, her pride would never +suffer her to take advantage of the innumerable facilities which the +streets of London offer a comely girl to make chance friendships, +facilities which, for thousands of friendless young women in big +towns, are their only chance for meeting the male of their species. + +Mavis's pride was not of the kind with which providence endows +millions of foolish people, apparently by way of preventing them +from realising their insignificance, or, at the worst, making their +smallness tolerable. It arose from knowledge of the great and +inexhaustible treasure of love which was hers to bestow; so +convinced was she of the value of this wealth, that she guarded it +jealously, not permitting it to suffer taint or deterioration from +commerce with those who, if only from curiosity, might strive to +examine her riches. + +She feared with a grave dread the giving of the contents of this +treasure house, knowing full well that, if she gave at all, she +would bestow with a lavish hand, believing the priceless riches of +her love to be but a humble offering upon the shrine of the loved +one. + +For all this consciousness that she would be as wax in the hands of +the man she would some day love, she had much of a conviction that, +somehow, things would come right. + +Beyond thanking the Almighty for the beauties of nature, sunlight, +and the happiness that danced in her veins, she did not bother +herself overmuch with public religious observances. She had a fixed +idea that, if she did her duty in life, and tried to help others to +the best of her small ability, God would, in some measure, reward +her very much as her dear father would have done, if he had been +spared; also, that, if she did ill, she would offend Him and might +be visited with some sign of His displeasure, just as her own father +might have done if he had been still on earth to advise and protect +her. + +Then, all such thoughts faded from her mind; she looked out of the +carriage window as the train rushed through Didcot Junction. She +felt hungry after the meagre breakfast she had made; she remembered +the sandwiches, and, untying the greasy little parcel, was glad to +eat them. When she had finished the sandwiches, she lit another +cigarette; after smoking this, she closed her eyes the better to +reflect. + +Then she remembered nothing till the calling of "Melkbridge!" +"Melkbridge!" seemed to suffuse her senses. She awoke with a start, +to find that she had reached her destination. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +FRIENDS IN NEED + + +Mavis scrambled out of the train, just in time to prevent herself +from being carried on to the next stopping--place. She smoothed her +ruffled plumage and looked about her. She found the station much +smaller than she had believed it to be; she hardly remembered any of +its features, till the scent of the stocks planted in the station- +master's garden assisted her memory. She gave up her ticket, and +looked about her, thinking that very likely she would be met, if not +by a member of the Devitt family, by some conveyance; but, beyond +the station 'bus and two or three farmers' gigs, there was nothing +in the nature of cart or carriage. She asked the hobbledehoy, who +took her ticket, where Mrs Devitt lived, at which the youth looked +at her in a manner that evidently questioned her sanity at being +ignorant of such an important person's whereabouts. Mavis repeated +her question more sharply than before. The ticket-collector looked +at her open--mouthed, glanced up the road and then again to Mavis, +before saying: + +"Here her be." + +"Mrs Devitt?" + +"Noa. Her." + +"The housekeeper?" + +"Noa. The trap. Mebbe your eyes hain't so 'peart' as mine." + +The grating of wheels called her attention to the fact that a smart, +yellow-wheeled dogcart had been driven into the station yard by a +man in livery. + +"Be you Miss Keeves, miss?" asked the servant. + +"Yes." + +"Then you're for Melkbridge House. Please get in, miss." + +Mavis clambered into the cart and was driven quickly from the +station. At the top of the hill, they turned sharp to the right, and +rolled along the Bathminster road. Mavis first noticed how much the +town had been added to since she had last set foot in it; then she +became conscious that distances, which in her childhood had seemed +to be considerable, were now trivial. + +The man driving her had been a gentleman's servant; seeing that +Mavis belonged to a class of life which he had been accustomed to +serve, he treated her with becoming respect. Mavis incorrectly +argued from the man's deference that it had been decided to secure +her services: her heart leapt, her colour heightened at her good +fortune. + +If a few moments of pleasure are worth purchasing at a cost of many +hours of crowded disappointment, it was as well that Mavis was +ignorant of the way in which her prospects had been prejudiced by +the trend of events at Melkbridge House since Mrs Devitt had replied +to Miss Mee's letter. To begin with, Mavis's visit had been within +an ace of being indefinitely postponed; it was owing to Harold's +expressed wish that the original appointment had been allowed to +stand. The reason for this indifference to Mavis's immediate future +was that, the day after the schoolmistress had written, Harold had +been seriously indisposed. His symptoms were so alarming that his +doctor had insisted on having a further opinion; this was obtained +from a Bathminster physician, who had confirmed the local medical +man's diagnosis; he had also advised Harold a month's rest on his +back, this to be followed by a nine months' residence abroad. As if +this were not enough to interfere with Mavis's visit, Montague +Devitt had met young Sir Archibald Windebank, the bachelor owner of +Haycock. Abbey, when going to discharge his duties as borough +magistrate, the performance of which he believed might ease his mind +of the pain occasioned by his son's illness. + +After he had told Windebank his bad news, and the latter had +expressed his genuine concern, Devitt had said: + +"Do you remember Keeves--Colonel Keeves?" + +"Of Melkbridge Court? Of course. Why?" + +"I heard something of his daughter the other day." + +"Little Mavis!" + +"She's big Mavis now," remarked Devitt. + +"Have you seen her?" asked Windebank eagerly. + +"Not yet, but I may very soon." + +"She promised to be an awfully pretty girl. Is she?" + +"I haven't seen her. But if she comes down you might care to call." + +"Thanks," replied Windebank. "When you see her, you might mention I +asked after her." + +"I will." + +"Although I don't suppose she'll remember me after all these years." + +Devitt had left Windebank and gone about his business. When he came +out of the court house, and was about to get into his motor, +Windebank again approached him, but in such a manner that made +Devitt wonder if he had been hanging about on purpose to speak to +him. + +Windebank made one or two remarks about nothing in particular. +Devitt was about to start, when the other said: + +"By the way, when you do see Miss Keeves, you might tell her that +the mater and my sister will be down here next week and that they'll +be awfully pleased to see her, if she'd care to come and stay." + +"I won't forget," replied Devitt dryly. + +"Tell her to come for as long as she cares to, as the mater and +Celia were always fond of her. None of us could ever make out what +became of her." + +"I won't forget," said Devitt again. + +"Thanks. Good-bye." + +Montague told his wife of this; she had replied: + +"We will decide nothing till we see her," which meant that, if Mavis +had not fulfilled the promise of her childhood, and had grown up +plain, there would be some prospect of her being engaged in some +capacity in the Devitt family, as her acquaintance with the big +people about Melkbridge might result in introducing Victoria within +the charmed circle, without prejudicing the latter's chances of +making a brilliant match. Mrs Devitt's words likewise meant that, if +Mavis were charming or pretty, her prospects of securing an +engagement would be of the slenderest. + +Mavis, ignorant of these considerations, was driven to the door of +Melkbridge House. On getting out of the cart, the front door was +opened by Hayter, the fat butler, who showed her into the drawing- +room. Left to herself, Mavis looked about the expensively furnished +room. Noticing a mirror, she walked to it in order to see if hair or +hat had been disarranged by her journey and drive; as she looked at +her comely reflection, she could not help seeing with a thrill of +satisfaction that already the change of air, together with the +excitement of the occasion, had flushed her cheeks with colour; she +was looking her best. She walked to the window and looked in the +direction of her old home, which was on a slight eminence about a +mile from where she stood: were the time of year other than summer, +its familiar outlines would not have been obscured by foliage. Mavis +sighed, turned her back on the window and walked towards the +fireplace; something moving in the cool, carefully shaded room +caught her eye. It was the propitiatory wagging of a black, cocker +spaniel's tail, while its eyes were looking pleadingly up to her. +Mavis loved all animals; in a moment the spaniel was in her lap, her +arms were about its neck, and she was pressing her soft, red lips to +its head. The dog received these demonstrations of affection with +delight; although it pawed and clawed the only decent frock which +Mavis possessed, she did not mind a bit. + +"I shall be here a long time and we shall always be the best of +friends," murmured Mavis, as she pressed the affectionate animal to +her heart. + +Mavis waited half an hour in the drawing-room before anyone came. + +Victoria was the first to join her; she entered the room with a +frank smile, together with an apology for having kept Mavis waiting. +The latter took to Miss Devitt at once, congratulating herself on +her good fortune at the prospect of living with such congenial +companions as Miss Devitt and the dog. Victoria explained that her +brother's illness was responsible for Mavis having been treated with +apparent neglect. + +"I am so sorry," replied Mavis. "Is it serious?" + +"Not at present, but it may be." + +"How dreadful it must be for you, who love him!" + +"We are all of us used to seeing my brother more or less ill; he has +been a cripple for the last eight years." + +"How very sad! But if your brother is worse, why didn't you wire and +put me off?" + +"You would have been disappointed if we had." + +"I should have understood." + +Then, after making further sympathetic reference to Harold's +condition, Mavis said: + +"What a dear dog this is! Is he yours?" + +"It's Harold's. She's no business to be in here. She'll dirty your +dress." + +"I don't mind in the least." + +"Let me turn her out," said Victoria, as she rose from her seat. + +"Please don't. I love to have her with me," pleaded Mavis, adding, +as Victoria acceded to her request: + +"Don't you like dogs?" + +"In their proper place. Jill wouldn't be allowed in at all if Harold +didn't sometimes wish it." + +"If I had a house, it should be full of dogs," remarked Mavis. + +"I understand that you were born near here." + +"Yes, at Melkbridge Court." + +"I don't know what time you go back, but, after luncheon--of course +you'll stay--you might take the opportunity of your being down here +to have a look at the old place." + +"I--I might," faltered Mavis, who suddenly felt as if all the +happiness had been taken out of her life; for Miss Devitt's words +hinted that her family was not going to keep Mavis at Melkbridge +House. + +She looked regretfully at the dog, then inquiringly at Victoria, +when Mrs Devitt came into the drawing-room. + +Her eyes at once fell on Mavis's comeliness; looking at her step- +daughter, she found herself comparing the appearance of the two +girls. Before she had offered her hand to Mavis, she had decided +that, beside her, Victoria appeared at a disadvantage. + +Although Mavis's hair and colouring might only appeal to a certain +order of taste, the girl's distinction, to which one of the Miss +Mees had alluded earlier in the day, was glaringly patent to Mrs +Devitt's sharp eyes; beside this indefinable personal quality, Mrs +Devitt observed with a shudder, Victoria seemed middle-class. +Mavis's fate, as far as the Devitts were concerned, was decided in +the twinkling of an eye. For all this decision, so suddenly arrived +at, Mrs Devitt greeted Mavis kindly; indeed, the friendliness that +she displayed caused the girl's hopes to rise. + +"Luncheon will be ready directly. We are only waiting for my +husband," said Mrs Devitt. + +"You must be hungry after your journey," added Victoria. + +"I've always a healthy appetite, whatever I do," remarked Mavis, who +was fondly regarding the black spaniel. + +Then Montague Devitt, Lowther, and Miss Spraggs entered the drawing- +room, to all of whom Mavis was introduced. + +The men were quite cordial, too cordial to a girl who, after all, +was seeking a dependant's place, thought Mrs Devitt. + +Already she envied Mavis for her family, the while she despised her +for her poverty. + +The attentions that her husband and stepson were already paying her +were a hint of what Mrs Devitt might expect where the eligible men +of her acquaintance were concerned. She felt the necessity of +striking a jarring note in the harmony of the proceedings. Jill, the +spaniel, who, at that moment, sprang upon Mavis's lap, supplied the +means. + +"What is Jill doing here?" + +"I really don't mind," exclaimed Mavis. + +"She shouldn't be in the house. There's no reason for her being here +at all, now Harold is ill." + +"If you wish her to go," said Mavis ruefully. + +Jill was ordered from the room, but refused to quit her new friend's +side. Lowther approached the dog; to emphasise his wishes, he kicked +her in the side. + +Mavis looked up quickly. + +"Come along, you brute!" cried Lowther, who seized the spaniel by +the ear, and, despite its yell of agony, was carrying it by this +means from the room. + +Mavis felt the blood rush to her head. + +"Stop!" she cried. + +Lowther turned to look at her. + +"Stop--, please don't," she pleaded, as she went quickly to Jill and +caught her in her arms. + +Lowther looked down, surprised, into Mavis's pleading, yet defiant +face. + +"It was all my fault: you're hurting her and she's such a dear," +continued Mavis, + +"Better let her stay," said Devitt, while Mrs Devitt, seeing the +girl's flushed face, recalled the passage in Miss Mee's letter which +referred to Mavis's sudden anger. + +Mrs Devitt hated a display of emotion; she put down Mavis's +interference with Lowther's design to bad form. She was surprised +that Lowther and her husband were so assiduous in their attentions +to Mavis; indeed, as Mrs Devitt afterwards remarked to Miss Spraggs: + +"They hardly ever took their eyes oft" her face." + +"Never trust a man further than you can see him," had remarked the +agreeable rattle, who had never had reason to complain of want of +respect on the part of any man with whom she may have been +temporarily isolated. + +"And did you notice how her eyes flashed when she seized Jill from +Lowther? They're usually a sort of yellow. Then, as perhaps you saw, +they seemed to burst into a fierce glare." + +"My dear Hilda, is there anything I don't notice?" Miss Spraggs had +replied, a remark which was untrue in its present application, as, +at the moment when Mavis had taken Jill's part, Eva Spraggs had been +looking out of the window, as she wondered if the peas, that were to +accompany a roast duckling at luncheon, would be as hard and as +unappetising as they had been when served two days previously. + +This was later in the day. Just now, Mavis was about to be taken +down to luncheon by Montague Devitt; she wondered if her defence of +dear Jill had prejudiced her chance of an engagement. + +"What's that picture covered with a shutter for?" asked Mavis, as +her eye fell on the padlocked "Etty." + +"Oh, well-it's an 'Etty': some people might think it's scarcely the +thing for some young people, you know," replied Devitt, as they +descended the stairs. + +"Really! Is that why it's kept like that?" asked Mavis, who could +scarcely conceal her amusement. + +Mrs Devitt, who was immediately behind, had detected the note of +merriment in Mavis's voice. "Scarcely a pure-minded girl," she said +to herself, unconscious of the fact that there is nothing so +improper as the thoughts implied by propriety. + +It was not a very pleasant time for Mavis. Although the luncheon was +a good meal, and served in a manner to which she had been +unaccustomed for many years, she did not feel at home with the +Devitts. Montague, the head of the house, she disliked least; no one +could be long insensible to his goodness of heart. Already, she +could not "stand" Lowther, for the reason that he hardly took his +eyes from her face. As for the women, she was soon conscious of the +social gulf that, in reality, lay between her and them; she was, +also, aware that they were inclined to patronise her, particularly +Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs: the high hopes with which she had +commenced the day had already suffered diminution. + +"And what are your aims in life?" Miss Spraggs asked presently; she +had found the peas to be as succulent as she had wished. + +"To earn my own living," replied Mavis, who had seen that it was she +to whom the agreeable rattle had spoken. + +"But, surely, that doesn't satisfy the young women of today!" +continued Miss Spraggs. + +"I fear it does me; but then I don't know any young women to be +influenced by," answered Mavis. + +"I thought every young woman, nowadays, was thirsting with +ambition," said Miss Spraggs. + +"I suppose everyone, who isn't an idiot, has her preferences," +remarked Mavis. + +"I don't mean that. I thought every girl was determined on living +her own life to the exclusion of everything else," continued Miss +Spraggs. + +"Really!" asked Mavis in some surprise, as she believed that it was +only the plain and unattractive women who were of that complexion of +thought. + +"Despise marriage and all that," put in Lowther, his eyes on Mavis +as he tossed off a glass of wine. + +"But I don't despise marriage," protested Mavis. + +"Really!" said Mrs Devitt, whose sensibilities were a trifle shocked +by this remark. + +"If two people are in love with each other, and can afford to marry, +it seems a particularly natural proceeding," said Mavis simply. + +"One that you would welcome?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she raised her +thin eyebrows. + +"One that someone else would welcome," put in Devitt gallantly. + +But Mavis took no notice of this interruption, as she said: + +"Of course. Nothing I should wish for more." + +Miss Spraggs made two or three further efforts to take a rise out of +Mavis; in each case, such was the younger woman's naturalness and +self-possession, that it was the would--be persecutor who appeared +at a disadvantage. + +After luncheon the womenfolk moved to the drawing room; when +Victoria presently went to sit with her invalid brother, Mrs Devitt +assumed a business-like manner as she requested Mavis to sit by her. +The latter knew that her fate was about to be decided. They sat by +the window where, but for the intervening foliage, Mavis would have +been able to see her old home. + +"This is our best chance of a quiet talk, so I'll come to the point +at once," began Mrs Devitt. + +"By all means," said Mavis, as Miss Spraggs took up a book and +pretended to be interested in its contents. + +"How soon do you require a situation?" + +"At once." + +"Has Miss Mee applied to anyone else in the neighbourhood on your +account?" + +"Not that I'm aware of." + +"And you yourself, have you written to anyone here?" + +"There's no one I could write to. There's not one of my father's old +friends I've kept up. They've all forgotten my very existence, years +ago." + +"Sure?" + +"Who am I to remember?" asked Mavis simply. + +It was on Mrs Devitt's lips to give the girl Sir Archibald's +message, but the thought of her unmarried step--daughter restrained +her. She addressed Mavis rather hurriedly (she tried hard to act +conscientiously): + +"I may as well say at once that the opportunity that presented +itself, when I wrote to Miss Mee, has passed." + +The room seemed to move round Mavis. Mrs Devitt continued, as she +noticed the look of dismay on the girl's face: + +"But I need hardly tell you that I will do all I can to do something +for you." + +"Thank you," said Mavis. + +"Can't you get anything to do in London?" + +"I might." + +"Have you tried?" + +"A little." + +Mavis felt tears welling into her eyes; she would never have +forgiven herself if she had displayed the extremity of weeping +before these people, who, after all, were not of her social world. +She resolved to change the subject and keep any expression of her +disappointment till she was safe from unsympathetic eyes. + +"Did you know my father?" she asked. + +"I didn't live here, then. I married Mr--my husband six years ago." + +"I suppose he knew him?" + +"I gather so." + +Very soon after, the two men came into the drawing-room, having +considerably curtailed the time they usually devoted to their +cigars. + +"We were discussing getting something to do for Miss Keeves," said +Mrs Devitt. + +"You haven't thought of anything?" asked her husband. + +"Not yet," replied his wife. + +"I suppose you wouldn't care to go into an office?" he continued. + +"A lot of girls do that kind of thing nowadays," said Mavis. + +"Or a shop?" put in Miss Spraggs. + +Mavis glanced up. + +"I mean a--flower shop," corrected Miss Spraggs, misliking the look +in Mavis's yellow eyes. + +Mavis looked towards where she could have seen her old home but for +the intervening trees. + +"I think I'd better see about my train," she said as she rose. + +"Must you, dear?" asked Mrs Devitt. + +The men pressed her to stay, particularly Lowther. + +"I think I'll go. I want to get back in good time," said Mavis. + +"I'll drive you to the station, if I may," volunteered Lowther. + +"Thank you; if it's giving you no trouble," she replied. + +Lowther left the room. Mavis said good-bye to the others, including +Victoria, who joined her for this purpose, from whom the girl +learned that Harold was asleep. + +As Devitt conducted Mavis to the door, which the fat butler held +open, she heard the snorting of a motor; the next minute, a superb +car, driven by Lowther, pulled up before the front door. Mavis had +never before been in a petrol-propelled carriage (automobiles were +then coming into use); she looked forward to her new experience. + +She got in beside Lowther, waved her hand to Devitt and was gone. +She was surprised at the swift, easy motion, but had an idea that, +soon after they left the house, Lowther Devitt was not travelling so +fast as when they set out. + +"How delightful!" she cried. + +"Eh!" + +"I've never been in a motor before." + +"What?" + +"I really haven't. Don't talk: I want to enjoy it." + +Seeing that the girl was disinclined for speech, he increased the +pace. Mavis was quite disappointed at the short time it took to +reach the station. They got out, when Mavis learned that she had +twenty minutes to wait. She was sorry, as she disliked the ardent +way in which Lowther looked at her. She answered his remarks in +monosyllables. + +"I'm afraid you're no end angry with me," he said presently. + +"Why?" she said coldly. + +"Because I punished Jill for disobedience." + +"It was cruel of you." + +"I made sure she was worrying you." + +"Indeed!" + +"But it was almost worth while to upset you, you looked so fine when +you were angry." + +"Did it frighten you?" she asked half scornfully. + +"Almost. You looked just like a young tigress." + +"I've been told that before." + +"Then you often get angry?" + +"If I'm annoyed. But it's soon over." + +"I go up to town sometimes," he said presently. + +"How clever of you!" + +"I go up to my club--the Junior Constitutional. May I look you up +when I run up next?" + +"Here's the train coming in." + +"Bother! It's so nice talking to you. I'm no end of sorry the mater +isn't taking you on." + +"I am too," replied Mavis, who, at once, saw the meaning that +Lowther might misread into her words. + +"Can I look you up when next I'm in town?" he asked eagerly. + +"Oh yes, you can look me up," she replied diffidently. + +"We ought to go out to supper one evening." + +"I should be delighted." + +"You would! Really you would?" + +"If you brought your sister. I must find a seat." + +"No hurry. It always waits some time here; milk-cans and all that. +By Jove! I wish I were going up alone with you. And that's what I +meant. I thought we'd go out to supper at the Savoy or Kettner's by +ourselves, eh?" + +She looked at him coldly, critically. + +"Or say the Carlton," he added, thinking that such munificence might +dazzle her. + +"I'll get in here," she said. + +Seeing Mavis select a third-class carriage, his appreciation of her +immediately lessened. + +"Tell you what," he said to her through the window, "we won't bother +about going out to grub; we'll have a day in the country; we can +enjoy ourselves just as much there. Eh, dear? Oh, I beg your pardon, +but you're so pretty, you know, and all that." + +Mavis noticed the way in which he leered at her while he said these +words. She bit her lip in order to restrain the words that were on +her tongue; it was of no avail. + +"I'll tell you something," she cried. + +"Yes--yes; quickly, the train is just off." + +"If my father had been alive, and we'd been living here, you'd not +have dared to speak to me like that; in fact, you wouldn't have had +the chance." + +It was a crestfallen, tired, and heartsick Mavis who opened the door +of Brandenburg College with her latch-key in the evening. The only +thing that sustained her was the memory of the white look of anger +which appeared in Lowther Devitt's face when she had unmistakably +resented his insult. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +MAVIS LEAVES HER NEST + + +Mavis did not tell the whole truth to the two old ladies; they +gathered from her subdued manner that she had not been successful in +her quest. + +The girl was too weary to give explanations, to talk, even to think; +the contemplation of the wreck of the castles that she had been +building in the air had tired her: she went to bed, resolving to put +off further thought for the future until the morrow. + +Several times in the night, she awoke with a start, when she was +oppressed with a great fear of the days to come; but each time she +put this concern from her, as if conscious that she required all the +rest she could get, in order to make up her mind to the course of +action which she should pursue on the morrow. + +When she definitely awoke, she determined on one thing, that, unless +pressed by circumstances, she would not ask the Devitts for help. + +The old ladies were already down when she went in to breakfast. Miss +Annie, directly she saw Mavis, took up a letter that she had laid +beside her plate. + +"I've heard from Mrs Devitt, dear," she said, after she had asked +Mavis, according to custom, how she had slept. + +"What does she say?" asked Mavis indifferently. + +"That she regrets she is unable to offer you anything at present, +but if, at any time, you would take a clerkship in one of the +companies in which her husband is interested, they might be able to +provide you with a berth," replied Annie. + +"Oh!" said Mavis shortly. + +"She has also sent me a postal order for your fare," continued +Annie. + +Mavis made no reply. + +The two old maids glanced significantly at one another; presently, +Annie Mee was emboldened to ask: + +"Do you think you would like to earn your living in the manner +indicated?" + +"I have decided not to," replied Mavis shortly. + +"Of course, if you would prefer to stay with us," began Miss Helen. + +"If you have no objection, I will leave for good tomorrow morning," +said Mavis. + +"Leave for good!" cried the two old ladies together, who, now that +they believed Mavis to be going, were dismayed at the prospect of +living without her. + +"It will be better for all of us," remarked Mavis. + +"But have you anything in view, dear?" asked Miss Annie. + +"Nothing very definite. But I've every hope of being settled in a +day or two." + +The two old ladies heaved a sigh of relief; for all their affection +for the girl, they found that her healthy appetite made serious +inroads into the meager profits of the college. After breakfast, +Mavis went upstairs for her hat. She opened the drawers at the base +of her old-fashioned looking-glass and counted up her +possessions. These amounted to seven pounds, thirteen shillings and +sevenpence halfpenny; in addition to which, there was a quarter's +salary of four pounds ten shillings due to her; also, there was her +fare which Mrs. Devitt had sent, a sum which she was undecided +whether or not to accept. At any other time, Mavis would have +thought that this money would have been ample provision with which +to start life; but her one time ignorance on this matter had been +rudely dissipated by her fruitless search after employment, when she +had first decided to leave Brandenburg College. Beyond her little +store of ready money, she owned a few trinkets which, at the worst, +she could sell for a little; but this was a contingency on which she +would not allow her mind to dwell just now. One or two things she +was determined not to part with; these were her mother's wedding +ring, a locket containing a piece of her father's hair, and a +bracelet which he had given her. The two old ladies would be leaving +for Worthing on the morrow; Amelia was going to Southend-on-Sea for +a fortnight. As Mavis had resolved to sever her long connection with +the college, it was necessary for her to seek lodging elsewhere. + +A few minutes later, she set out upon this wearisome quest: she had +never looked for London lodgings before. Although nearly every +window in the less frequented streets displayed a card announcing +that apartments were to let, she soon discovered how difficult it +was to get anything remotely approaching her simple needs. She +required a small bedroom in a house where there was a bathroom; +also, if possible, she wanted the use of a sitting-room with a +passable piano on which she sought permission to give lessons to any +pupils whom she might be successful in getting. + +Most of the doors she knocked at were answered by dirty children or +by dirtier women; these, instinctively, told Mavis that she would +get neither cleanliness nor comfort in a house frequented by such +folk. When confronted with these, she would make some excuse for +knocking at the door, and, after walking on a few yards, would +attack the knocker of another house, when, more likely than not, the +door would be opened by an even more slatternly person than before. +Now and again she would light upon a likely place, but it soon +appeared to Mavis that good landladies knew their value and made +charges which were prohibitive to the girl's slender resources. + +Tired with running up and down so many steps and stairs, Mavis +turned into a milk-shop to buy a bun and a glass of milk. She asked +the kindly-faced woman who served her if she happened to know of +anyone who let clean rooms at moderate charges. The woman wrote down +two addresses, said that she would be comfortable at either of +these, and told her the quickest way of getting to them. The first +name was a Mrs Ellis, who lived at 20 Kiva Gardens. This address +proved to be a neat, two-storied house, by the side of which was a +road leading to stables and a yard. Mrs Ellis opened the door. +Mavis, with a sense of elation, saw that she was a trim, elderly, +kindly-looking body. + +The girl explained what she wanted. She learned that there was a +small bedroom at the back to let; also, that she could have the use +of the downstairs sitting-room, in which was a piano. + +"Would you very much mind if I had one or two pupils?" asked Mavis. + +"Not a bit, miss. I like young people myself, and look on music as +company." + +"I'd like to see the bedroom." + +Mrs Ellis took Mavis upstairs, where the girl was delighted to find +that the room was pleasant-looking and scrupulously clean. + +"It's only a question of terms," said Mavis hesitatingly. + +"You'd better see the sitting-room and try the piano, miss, before +you decide," remarked Mrs Ellis. + +They went downstairs to another room at the back of the house; this +was adequate, although Mavis noticed that it was stuffy. Perhaps the +landlady suspected the girl's thoughts on the matter, for she said: + +"I have the window shut to keep out dust and smell from the yard, +miss." + +Mavis, satisfied with this explanation, looked through the window, +and saw that the yard was much bigger than she had believed it to +be. Three or four men in corduroys were lounging about and chaffing +each other. + +"You try the piano, miss; I shan't keep you a moment," said Mrs +Ellis, who, also, had looked out of the window. + +Mavis, left to herself, did as she was bid. She found the piano, +although well past its prime, to be better than the generality of +those that she had already tried. She got up and again looked out of +the window, when she saw that the men, whom she had previously seen +idling in the yard, were now hard at work. + +The next moment, Mrs Ellis, looking rather hot, re-entered the +room. + +"I've had to talk to my men," she said. + +"You employ them?" asked Mavis. + +"Yes, the lazy rascals. It was my husband's business, but since he +died I've kept it on." + +"You must be very clever." + +"It wants managing. You didn't open the window, miss?" This question +was asked anxiously. + +"No." + +"How much did you wish to pay, miss?" + +Mavis explained that she didn't wish to pay more than five shillings +a week for a bedroom, but after some discussion it was agreed that +she should pay six shillings a week, which would include the use of +the sitting-room, together with a morning bath, bathrooms not having +been supplied to Mrs Ellis's house. + +"I'm letting it go reasonable to you, miss, because you're a real +young lady and not like most who thinks they are." + +"Here's my first week's rent in advance. I can't say how long I +shall stay, because I may get a place where they may want me to live +in the house," said Mavis. + +"It isn't the money I want so much as the company. And if you'd like +me to supply the meals, we shan't quarrel over L s. d." + +"I'm sure we shan't. I shall come in without fail tomorrow morning." + +Mavis then took a bus to Kensington Church; here she got out and +walked the few yards necessary to take her to the Kensington Free +Library, where she put down the addresses of those advertising +situations likely to suit her. This task completed, she walked to +Brandenburg College. When dinner was over--the Misses Mee dined +midday--Mavis wrote replies to the advertisements. After parting +with the precious pennies, which bought the necessary stamps at the +post-office, she came home to pack her things. This took her some +time, there being so many odds and ends which had accumulated during +her many years' association with the college. As it was getting +dark, she slipped out to tell the nearest local agent for Carter +Paterson to have her boxes removed the first thing in the morning. + +Hurrying back, she ran into Bella Goss, a pupil at the college, and +her father. Mr. Goss was the person who was behindhand with his +account; he supplied Miss Annie Mee with the theatre and concert +tickets which were the joy of her life. + +"There's Miss Keeves!" cried Bella, at which her father raised his +hat. + +Bella, looking as if she wished to speak to Mavis, the latter +stopped; she shook hands with the child and bowed to Mr. Goss. + +"You're leaving the college, aren't you, Miss Keeves?" asked Bella. + +"Yes, dear," replied Mavis. + +"Going to be married?" asked Mr. Goss, who secretly admired Mavis. + +"I'm going to earn my living; at least, I hope so," said Mavis. + +"Haven't you anything to do, then?" he asked. + +"Nothing settled," Mavis answered evasively. + +"I suppose you wouldn't care for anything in the theatrical line?" + +Mavis did not think that she would. + +"Or, if you want anything very badly, I might get you into a house +of business." + +"Do you mean a shop?" asked Mavis. + +"A big one where they employ hundreds," said Goss apologetically. + +"It's awfully kind of you. I'll come to you if I really want +anything badly." "Thank you, Miss Keeves. Good night." + +"Good night. Good night, Bella." + +Mavis hurried home and to bed, to be kept awake for quite two hours +by fears of the unknown perils which might menace the independent +course which she was about to travel. + +Breakfast the next morning was a dismal meal. Mavis was genuinely +sorry to leave the old ladies, who had, in a large measure, taken +the place of the parents she had lost. + +They, on their part, were conscious of the break that Mavis's +departure would make in their lives. All three women strove to +conceal their distress by an affectation of cheerfulness and +appetite. But little was eaten or drunk. Miss Annie Mee was so +absent-minded that she forgot to spread any butter upon her toast. +The old ladies were leaving for Worthing soon after eleven. Mavis +purposed taking leave of them and Brandenburg College as soon after +breakfast as she could get away. When she rose from the table, Miss +Helen Mee said: + +"I should like to see you in my study in five minutes from now." + +The study was a small-sized room, which was reached by descending +two steps at the end of the hall further from the front door. Mavis +presented herself here at the expiration of the allotted time, where +she found Miss Helen and Miss Annie solemnly seated behind the book- +littered table, which stood in the middle of the room. + +"Pray close the door," said Helen. + +"Please take a seat," added Annie, when Mavis had obeyed the elder +Miss Mee's behest. + +The girl sat down and wondered what was coming. It was some moments +before Helen spoke; she believed that delay would enhance the +impressiveness of the occasion. + +"Dear Mavis," she presently began, "before I say a few parting +words, in which my sister most heartily joins, words which are not +without a few hints of kindly admonishment, that may help you along +the path you have--er--elected--yes, elected to pursue, I should +like to press on you parting gifts from my sister and myself." + +Here she handed Mavis her treasured copy of The Stones of Venice, +which contained the great Mr Ruskin's autograph, together with a +handsomely bound Bible; this latter was open at the fly-leaf. + +"Read," said Helen, as she looked at Mavis over her spectacles. + +Mavis read as follows: + +"TO DEAR MAVIS, FROM HER FRIEND, HELEN ALLPRESS MEE. + +"ARE NOT TWO SPARROWS SOLD FOR A FARTHING? AND ONE OF THEM SHALL NOT +FALL ON THE GROUND WITHOUT YOUR FATHER. + +"FEAR YE NOT THEREFORE, YE ARE OF MORE VALUE THAN MANY SPARROWS.--St +Matthew x. 29, 31." + +Mavis thanked Miss Mee and was about to press on her the trinket +that she had previously purchased as a parting gift for her old +friend; but Helen checked the girl with a gesture signifying that +her sister was about to speak. + +Mis Annie was less prosy than her sister. + +"Take this, dear, and God bless you." + +Here she handed Mavis her much-prized copy of Sesame and Lilies, +likewise containing the autograph of the great Mr. Ruskin; at the +same time, she presented Mavis with a box of gloves. + +Mavis thanked the generous old ladies and gave them the little +presents she had bought for this purpose. To Miss Helen she handed a +quaint old workbox she had picked up in the shop of a dealer in +antiquities; to Miss Annie she gave her A three-quarter-length +photograph in a silver frame. + +The two old ladies' hands shook a little when they took these +offerings; they both thanked her, after which Miss Helen rose to +take formal farewell of Mavis. + +She spoke the words that she always made use of when taking final +leave of a pupil; usually, they came trippingly to her tongue, +without the least effort of memory; but this morning they halted; +she found herself wondering if her dignity were being compromised in +Mavis's eyes. + +"Dear Mavis," she said, "in--in issuing from the doors--er--portals +of Brandenburg College to the new er--er--world that awaits you +beyond, you--you may rest assured that you carry--" + +The old lady stopped; she did not say any more; she sat down and +seemed to be carefully wiping her spectacles. Mavis rose to go, +girl-like; she hated anything in the nature of a scene, especially +when made over such an insignificant person as herself. At the same +time, her farewell of the two old ladies, with whom she had lived +for so long, affected her far more than she would ever have thought +possible. Halfway to the door, she hesitated; the noise made by Miss +Annie blowing her nose decided her. In a moment, she had placed her +arms about Miss Helen and Miss Annie, and all three women were +weeping to their hearts' content. + +Some seventy minutes later, it was two very forlorn-looking old +ladies who stumbled into the train that was to take them to +Worthing. Meanwhile, Mavis had packed her few remaining things and +had gone down to the kitchen to say good-bye to Amelia. + +Directly Amelia caught sight of her and she burst into tears. Mavis, +somewhat disconcerted by this evidence of esteem, gave Amelia five +shillings, at which the servant wept the more. + +"Oh, miss! what shall I do without you?" + +"You'll get on all right. Besides, you're going for a holiday to +Southend." + +"Moind you let me come to you when you're married," sobbed Amelia. + +"I shouldn't count on that if I were you." + +"Do 'ave me, miss. I'll always troi and 'and things so no one sees +my bad oye." + +"It isn't that I don't want you; but it's so unlikely that I shall +ever have a home." + +Mavis offered her hand. Amelia wiped her wet hand (she had been +washing up) upon her apron before taking it. + +"Oh, miss, you are good to me, and you a reel lydy." + +"Be a good girl and look after your mistresses." "That I will, miss. +Whatever should I sy to that there Mr. Fuskin, when I meet 'im in +'eaven, if I didn't?" + +"Good-bye, Amelia." + +"There! I forgot," cried Amelia. She went to the drawer of the +dresser and brought out something wrapped in tissue paper. + +Mavis undid this, to find Amelia's offering to consist of a silver +brooch forming the word "May." + +"It's the nearest I could get to your nime, miss," she explained. + +"Thank you so much." + +"It ain't good enough for you: nothin' ain't good enough for you. +Wasn't you loved by the music master, 'im who was so lovely and +dark?" wept Amelia. + +It was with a heavy heart that Mavis left Brandenburg College, the +walls of which had sheltered her for so long: she did her best to be +self-possessed as she kissed the Misses Mee and walked to her new +address, to which her two boxes had been taken the first thing by +the carriers. + +The rest of the morning, and after the simple meal which Mrs Ellis +provided, Mavis unpacked her things and made her room as homelike as +possible. While she was doing this, she would now and again stop to +wonder if she had heard the postman's knock; although she could hear +him banging at doors up and down the street, he neglected to call at +No. 20, a fact which told Mavis that so far no one had troubled to +seriously consider her applications for employment. A cup of tea +with Mrs Ellis put a cheerful complexion upon matters; she spent the +next few hours in finishing her little arrangements. These completed +to her satisfaction, she leaned against the window and looked +hungrily towards the heavens. It was a blue, summer evening; there +was not a cloud in the sky. + +Although the raucous voices of children playing in the streets +assailed her ears, she was scarcely conscious of these, her thoughts +being far away. She was always a lover of nature; wildflowers, +especially cowslips, affected her more than she would care to own; +the scent of hay brought a longing to her heart; the sight of a +roadside stream fascinated her. Now, she was longing with a +passionate desire for the peace of the country. Upon this July +evening, the corn must now be all but ripe for the sickle, making +the fields a glory of gold. She pictured herself wandering alone in +a vast expanse of these; gold, gold, everywhere; a lark singing +overhead. Then, in imagination, she found her way to a nook by the +Avon at Melkbridge, a spot endeared to her heart by memories that +she would never forget. As a child, she loved to steal there with +her picture book; later, as a little girl, she would go there all +alone, and, lying on her back, would dream, while her eyes followed +the sun. Her fondness for this place was the only thing which she +had kept from her father's knowledge. She wondered if this hiding +place, where she had loved to take her thoughts, were the same. She +could shut her eyes and recall it: the pollard willows, the brown +river banks, the swift, running river in which the forget-me-nots +(so it appeared to her) never seemed to tire in the effort to see +their reflection. + +Darkness came out of the east. Mavis's heart went out to the summer +night. Then, she was aware of a feeling of physical discomfort. The +effort of imagination had exhausted her. She became wearily +conscious of the immediate present. The last post, this time, +knocked at the door of Mrs Ellis', but it brought no letter for +Mavis. It seemed that the world had no need of her; that no one +cared what became of her. She was disinclined to go out, +consequently, the limitations of her surroundings made her quickly +surrender to the feeling of desolation which attacked her. She +wondered how many girls in London were, at the present moment, +isolated from all congenial human companionship as she was. She +declined the landlady's kindly offer to partake of cold boiled beef +and spring onions in the status of guest; the girl seemed to get +satisfaction from her morbid indulgence in self-pity. + +As she was about to undress, her eye fell on the Bible which Helen +Mee had given her earlier in the day. Mavis remembered something had +been written on the fly-leaf: more from idle curiosity than from any +other motive, she opened the cover of the book, to read in the old +lady's meager, pointed hand: + +"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not +fall on the ground without your Father. + +"Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows."-- +St Matthew x. 29, 31. + +Mavis's heart was filled with contrition. She was not forgotten; +there was Someone who cared what became of her. Although she was now +as one of the sparrows, which are never certain of their daily food, +she could not fall without the knowledge of One who cared, and He--- + +Mavis knelt: she implored forgiveness for having believed herself to +be utterly forgotten: she thanked Him for caring that a poor, +friendless girl, such as she, should not fall. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +BARREN WAYS + + +There followed for Mavis many, many anxious days, spent from the +first thing in the morning till late at night in a fruitless search +for work. Her experiences were much the same as those of any +attractive, friendless girl seeking to earn her livelihood in +London. To begin with, she found that the summer was a time of year +in which the openings she sought were all obstinately closed, the +heads of firms, or those responsible for engaging additional +assistance, being either away on holidays, or back from these in no +mood to consider Mavis' application. + +Another thing that struck her was that, whenever she went to +interview men, she was always treated civilly, cordially, or +familiarly; but the womenfolk she saw were invariably rude, directly +they set eyes upon her comeliness. Once or twice, she was offered +employment by men; it was only their free and easy behaviour which +prevented her accepting it. Mavis, as yet, was ignorant of the +conditions on which some employers of female labour engage girls +seeking work; but she had a sensible head screwed on her pretty +shoulders; she argued that if a man were inclined to be familiar +after three minutes' acquaintance, what would he be when she was +dependent upon him for a weekly wage? It was not compatible with her +vast self-respect to lay herself open to risk of insult, suggested +by a scarcely veiled admiration for her person after a few moments' +acquaintance. It was not as if she had any qualification of +marketable value; she knew neither shorthand nor typewriting; she +could merely write a decent hand, was on very fair terms with +French, on nodding acquaintance with German, and had a sound +knowledge of arithmetic. + +On the face of it, her best course was to get a situation as +governess; but Mavis, after a week's trial, gave up the endeavour. +The mothers of possible pupils, with whom the girl's credentials +from the college secured an interview, were scarcely civil to the +handsome, distinguished-looking girl; they were sure that such +looks, seeking for employment, boded ill for anyone indulgent enough +to engage her. Mavis could not understand such behaviour; she had +read in books how people were invariably kind and sympathetic, women +particularly so, to girls in want of work; surely she furnished +opportunity for her own sex to show consideration to one of the less +fortunate of their kind. + +Mavis next advertised in local papers for pupils to whom she would +teach music. Receiving no replies, she attempted to get employment +in a house of business; this effort resulted in her obtaining work +as a canvasser, remuneration being made by results. This meant +tramping the pavement in all weathers, going up and coming down +countless flights of stairs, swallowing all kinds of humiliating +rebuffs in the effort to sell some encyclopedia or somebody's set of +novels, which no one wanted. She always met with disappointment and, +in time, became used to it; but there were occasions when a +purchaser seemed likely, when hope would beat high, only to give +place to sickening despair when her offer was finally rejected. On +the whole, she met with civility and consideration from the young +men (mostly clerks in offices) whom she interviewed; but there was a +type of person whose loud-voiced brutality cut her to the quick. +This was the West-end tradesman. She would walk into a shop in Bond +Street or thereabouts, when the proprietor, taking her for a +customer, would advance with cringing mien, wringing his hands the +while. No sooner did he learn that the girl wanted him to buy +something, than his manner immediately changed. Usually, in coarse +and brutal voice, he would order her from the shop; sometimes, if he +were in a facetious mood, and if he had the time to spare, he would +make fun of her and mock her before a crowd of grinning underlings. +To this day, the sight of a West-end tradesman fills Mavis with +unspeakable loathing; nothing would ever mitigate the horror which +their treatment of her inspired at this period of her life. + +Then Mavis, in reply to one of her many answers to advertisements, +received a letter asking her to call at an office in Eastcheap, at a +certain time. Arrived there, she learned how she could earn a pound +a week by canvassing, together with commission, if her sales were +successful. She had eagerly accepted the offer, when she learned +that she was to make house-to-house calls in certain London suburbs +(she was to commence at Peckham), armed with a bottle of pickles and +a bottle of sauce. She was furnished with a Peckham local directory +and was instructed to make calls at every house in her district, +when she was to ask for the mistress by name, in order to disarm +suspicion on the part of whoever might open the door. When she was +asked inside, she was to do her utmost to get orders for the pickles +and the sauce, supplies of which were sent beforehand to a grocer in +the neighbourhood. Mavis did not relish the job, but was driven by +the goad of necessity. On her way home to tell Mrs. Ellis that she +would be leaving immediately to live in Peckham, she slipped on a +piece of banana skin and twisted her ankle, an accident which kept +her indoors for the best part of a week. When she had written to +Eastcheap to say that she was well enough to commence work, she had +received a letter which informed her that her place had been filled. + +Now, she was sitting in her little bedroom in Kiva Street, a prey to +despair; she had no one to comfort her, not even Mrs. Ellis, this +person having gone out on a rare visit to an aunt. + +Her little stock of money had sadly dwindled; eighteen shillings and +her trinkets stood between her and want. She had fought and had been +vanquished; there was nothing left for her to do but to write to Mrs +Devitt and ask if the offer, that had been mentioned in her last +letter to Miss Mee, still held good. During all these weeks of weary +effort, Mavis had been largely kept up by the thought that she was a +sparrow, who could not fall to the ground without the knowledge of +the Most High. Now, it seemed to her that she could sustain her +flight but a little while longer; yet, so far as she could see, +there was no one to whom her extremity seemed to matter in the +least. + +Apart from her desire to earn a living, the girl had struggled +resolutely in order that she should not seek work of the Devitts. +She disliked the family; she had resolved to apply to them only as a +last resource. + +She had gone one day to Brandenburg College to call on her old +employers, but she found that the name-plate had been removed, and +that the house was to let. She had made inquiries, to learn that her +old friend Miss Annie Mee had died suddenly at Worthing, and also +that Miss Helen had sold the school for what it would fetch, and no +one knew what had become of her. Mavis grieved at the loss of her +friend, but not so deeply, or for so long, as she would if she had +not been consumed with anxiety on her own account. She had not +forgotten Mr Goss's offer of help: she had called at his house +twice, to learn on each occasion that he was out of town. Presently, +Mrs Ellis came in; finding Mavis moping, she asked her to the +downstairs sitting-room for a cup of tea. The girl gladly went: she +sat by the window watching the men working in the yard behind, while +Mrs Ellis made tea in the kitchen. Mavis, wanting air, opened the +window, although she remembered her landlady's liking for having +this particular one shut. No sooner had she done so, than she heard +a woman's voice raised in raucous anger, the while it made use of +much bad language. It abused certain people for not having done +their work. The bad language getting more forceful than before, +Mavis moved from the window. Presently, the voice stopped. Soon +after, Mrs Ellis, looking red and flustered, came into the room. +When she saw that Mavis had opened the window, she became redder in +the face, as she said: + +"I'm sorry, miss; I couldn't help it." + +"Help what?" asked Mavis. + +"Talking to the men as I did. I always wanted the window down, so +you shouldn't hear." + +"It was you, then?" + +"Didn't you know, miss?" + +"Not altogether. It was something like your voice." + +"If I were to talk to them ordinary, they wouldn't listen; so I've +to talk to them in my 'usband's language, which is all they +understand," said Mrs Ellis apologetically. + +The contrast between Mrs Ellis's neat, unassuming respectability and +her language to the men made Mavis smile. + +"I'm glad you've taken it sensible," remarked her landlady. "Many's +the good lodger I've lost through that there window being open." + +Tea put fresh heart into Mavis. It was ten days since she had last +called on Mr Goss: she resolved to make a further attempt. He was +in, she learned from the maid-of-all-work, who opened the door of Mr +Goss's house. + +On asking to see him, she was shown into a double drawing-room, the +front part of which was tolerably furnished; but Mavis could not +help noticing that the back was quite shabby; unframed coloured +prints, taken from Christmas numbers of periodicals, were fastened +to the walls with tin tacks. + +Mr Goss came into the room wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. +Mavis feared that she had interrupted a meal. Whether she had or +not, he was glad to see her and asked if he could help her. Mavis +told him how she was situated. In reply, he said that he had a +friend who was a man of some importance in a West-end emporium. He +asked her if she would like a letter of introduction to this person. +Mavis jumped at the offer. When he had written the letter, Mavis +asked after his daughter, to learn that she was staying at Margate +with her mother. When Mavis thanked and said good-bye to Mr Goss, he +warmly pressed the hand that she offered. + +The next day, she presented herself at the great house of business +where Mr Goss's friend was to be found. His name was Evans. It was +only after delay that she was able to see him. He was a grave, +kindly-looking man, who scanned Mavis with interest before he read +Mr Goss's letter. Mavis could almost hear the beating of her heart +while she waited to see if he could offer her anything. + +"I'm sorry," he said, as he folded up the letter. + +Mavis could not trust herself to speak. + +"Very sorry I can't oblige you or Mr Goss," continued the man. "All +our vacancies were filled last week. I've nothing at present." + +Mavis turned to go. + +"You want something to do at once?" said Mr Evans, as he noticed the +girl's dismay. + +Mavis nodded. The man went on: + +"They'd probably take you at Dawes'." + +"Dawes'!" echoed Mavis hopefully. + +"Do you know anything of Dawes'?" + +"Everyone knows Dawes'," smiled Mavis. + +"But do you know anything of the place, as it affects girls who live +there?" + +"No," answered Mavis, who scarcely heeded what Mr Evans was saying; +all her thoughts were filled by a great joy at a prospect of getting +work. + +She was conscious of the man saying something about her consulting +Mrs Goss before thinking of going there; but she did not give this +aspect of the matter another moment's thought. + +"What name shall I ask for?" asked Mavis. + +"Mr Orgles, if you go." + +"Thank you so much. May I mention your name?" + +"If you decide to go there, certainly." + +Mavis thanked him and was gone. She, at once, made for Dawes'. The +girl knew exactly where it was, its name and situation being a +household word to women living in London. Arrived there, she glanced +appealingly at the splendid plate-glass windows, as if beseeching +them to mitigate some of their aloofness. She approached one of the +glass doors, which was opened by a gorgeously attired official. When +inside, she looked about her curiously, fearfully. She was in a long +room, down either side of which ran a counter, behind which were +stationed young women, who bore themselves with a self-conscious, +would-be queenly mien. The space between the counters, to which the +public was admitted, was promenaded by frock-coated men, who piloted +inexperienced customers to where they might satisfy their respective +wants. One of these shop-walkers approached Mavis. + +"Where can I direct you, madam?" + +"I want to see Mr Orgles." + +The man looked at her attentively. + +"I've come from Mr Evans at Poole and Palfrey's," murmured Mavis. + +The man left her and spoke to one of the regal young women, who +stood behind the counter as if trying to make believe that they were +there, not from necessity, but from choice. + +The man returned to Mavis and told her to wait. As she stood in the +shop, she saw the young woman whom the man had spoken to mouth +something in a speaking tube; this person then whispered to two or +three other girls who stood behind the counter, causing them to +stare continuously at Mavis. Presently, the speaking tube whistled, +when a message came to say that if Miss Keeves would walk upstairs, +Mr Orgles would see her. The shop-walker walked before Mavis to show +her the way. She could not help noticing that the man's demeanour +had changed: he had approached her, when he first saw her, with the +servility peculiar to his occupation; now, having fathomed her +errand, he marched before her with elbows stuck out and head erect, +as if to convey what an important personage he was. + +She was shown into a plainly furnished office, where she was told to +wait. She wondered if, at last, she would have any luck. She sat +there for about ten minutes, when a man came into the room, shutting +the door after him. He was about sixty-five, and walked with a +stoop. His face reminded Mavis of a camel. He had large bulging +eyes, which seemed to gaze at objects sideways. He looked like the +deacon at a house of dissenting worship, which, indeed, he was. +Mavis rightly concluded this person to be Mr Orgles. + +"You wished to see me?" he asked. + +"Mr Orgles?" + +"That's my name." + +Mavis explained why she had called: it was as much as she could do +to hide her anxiety. Mr Orgles not making any reply, she went on +speaking, saying how she would do her utmost to give satisfaction in +the event of her being engaged. + +While she was pleading, she was conscious that the man was looking +in his sideways fashion at her figure. He approached her. Mavis +suddenly felt an instinct of repugnance for the man. She said all +she could think of, but Mr Orgles remained silent; she anxiously +scanned his face in the hope of getting some encouragement from its +expression, but she might as well have stared at a brick wall for +all the enlightenment she got. Then followed a few moments' pause, +during which her eyes were riveted on Mr Orgles's nostrils: these +were prominent, large, dilating; they fascinated her. As he still +remained silent, she presently found courage to ask: + +"Will you take me?" + +He turned his face so that one of his eyes could look into hers, +fiercely as she thought. He shook his head. Mavis uttered a little +cry; she rose to go. + +"Don't go," said a voice beside her. + +Mr Orgles was standing quite near. + +"Do you badly want a place?" + +"Very badly." + +"H'm!" + +His big nostrils were dilating more than ever; he turned his head so +that one of his eyes again looked into hers. + +"Something might be got you," continued the man. + +"It all depends on influence." + +Mavis looked up quickly. + +"I was wondering if you'd like me to do my best for you?" + +"Oh, of course I would." + +"Excuse me," said Mr Orgles, as he took what seemed to be a tiny +piece of fluff from the skirt of her coat. "You must have got it +coming upstairs." + +"Do you think you would speak for me?" Mavis found words to ask. + +Mr Orgles's eyes again rested on Mavis, as he said: + +"It depends on you." + +"On me?" + +"You say you have never been out in the world before?" + +"Not really in the world." + +"I am sorry." + +"Sorry!" echoed Mavis. + +"Because you haven't lived; you don't know what life can be--is," +cried Mr Orgles, who now waved his arms and moved jerkily about the +girl. + +She looked at him in astonishment. + +"Excuse me; a further bit of fluff," said Mr Orgles. + +This time he placed his hand upon the breast of her coat and seemed +in no hurry to remove it. + +Mavis flushed and moved away; at any other time she would have hotly +resented his conduct, but today she was desperately anxious to get +employment, Mr Orgles took courage from her half-heartedness. + +"Let me show you," he cried. + +"Show me what?" she asked, perplexed. + +"How to live: how to enjoy life: how to be happy. The rest is easy: +you will be employed here; you will rise to great things; and it +will all be owing to me." + +Mavis looked at the excited, gesticulating old man in surprise; she +wondered if he were right in his senses. Suddenly, his gyrations +ceased; he glanced at the door and then moved his head in order to +dart a horrid glance at the girl. He then approached her with arms +outstretched. + +Mavis intuitively knew what he meant. Her body quivered with rage; +the fingers of her right hand clenched. Perhaps the man saw the +anger in her eyes, because he stopped; but he was near enough for +Mavis to feel his hot breath upon her cheek. + +Thus they stood for a moment, he undecided, she on the defensive, +when the door opened and a man came into the room. Mr Orgles, with +an unpleasant look on his face, turned to see who the intruder might +be. + +"I've been looking for you, Orgles," said the man. + +"Indeed, sir! Very sorry, sir," remarked Mr Orgles, who wore such an +attitude of servility to the newcomer that Mavis could hardly +believe him to be the same man. + +"I see you're busy," continued the intruder. "Engaging someone in +Miss Jackson's place?" + +"I was thinking about doing so, sir." + +"Why hesitate?" + +Here the man--he was tall, dark, and fresh-coloured--looked kindly +at Mavis; although not a gentleman, he had an unmistakable air of +authority. + +"There's no reason why I shouldn't, sir, only--" + +"Only what?" + +"She's had no experience, sir." + +The man turned to Mavis and said: + +"If your references are satisfactory, you can consider yourself as +engaged from next week." + +"Oh, thank you," said Mavis, trying to voice her gratitude. + +"Call to-morrow with your references at eleven and ask for Mr +Skeffington Dawes," said the stranger. + +A great gladness and a great reproach came to the girl's heart: a +great gladness at having secured work; a great reproach at having +believed that there was no one who cared if a human sparrow, such as +she, should fall. + +She bowed her thanks to Mr Skeffington Dawes and left the room, all +unconscious of the malignant glance that Mr Orgles shot at her, +after turning his head to bring the girl within his range of vision. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +"DAWES" + + +After securing a place in "Dawes'," which Mavis did at her interview +with Mr Skeffington Dawes (one of the directors of the firm), her +first sensation was one of disappointment, perhaps consequent upon +reaction from the tension in her mind until she was sure of +employment. + +Now, she was resentful at having to earn her bread as a shop-girl, +not only on account of its being a means of livelihood which she had +always looked down upon, but also, because it exposed her to the +insults of such creatures as Orgles. She sat in Mrs Ellis' back +sitting-room three days before she was to commence her duties at +"Dawes'"; she was moody and depressed; on the least provocation, or +none at all, she would weep bitter tears for ten minutes at a time. + +This physical lowness brought home to her the fear of possibly +losing her hitherto perfect health. The prospect of being overtaken +by such a calamity opened up a vista of terrifying possibilities +which would not bear thinking about. + +Now, she was to earn fifteen pounds a year and "live in," a term +meaning that "Dawes'" would provide her with board and lodging; she +might, also, add to her salary by commissions on sales. The effort +of packing her belongings took her mind from brooding over troubles, +real or imaginary, and served to heighten her spirits. Mrs Ellis' +words, also, put heart into her. + +"People will take to a nice-mannered, well-spoken, fine-looking +young lady like you, miss," she said to Mavis. + +"Nonsense!" replied Mavis. + +"It ain't, miss. I've kep my eyes open, and I see how young ladies, +such as you, either go 'up' or go 'down.' You're one of the 'go +uppers,' and now you've a chance, why, you might, one day, have a +business of your own." + +"Mind you come and deal with me if I do. You shall always have +'tick' for as much as you like." + +"Thank you very much, miss; but I couldn't enjoy wearing a thing if +I didn't know it was paid for. I should think everyone was looking +at it." + +"Time to talk about that when I get my own business." + +"And if things go wrong, which God forbid, you've always a home +here!" + +"Mrs Ellis!" + +"I'm not so young as I was, and that yard gets me in the throat +crool in the cold weather. You'd be useful there too, miss, if you +wouldn't mind learning a few swear words." + +"Oh, Mrs Ellis!" laughed Mavis. + +"It's difficult at first, miss; but it's wonderful how soon you drop +into it if you give your mind to it," declared the landlady +solemnly. + +Four evenings later, Mavis arrived at "Dawes'," having sent her +boxes earlier in the day. She was to commence work on the morrow, +and had been advised by the firm that it would be as well to take up +her abode in her future quarters the night before. + +Nine o'clock found her on the pavement before the firm's great +windows, now securely shuttered; she wondered how she should find +her way inside, there being no door in the spread of shutters by +which she could gain admittance. Noticing that one or two men were +dogging her footsteps, she asked a policeman how she could get into +"Dawes'." + +"A new hand, miss?" asked the policeman. + +"Yes." + +"I thought so. First to the right and first to the right again, +where you'll see two or three open doors belonging to the firm," the +policeman informed her. He had directed many fresh, comely young +women, who had arrived from the country, to the "young ladies'" +entrance; later, he had seen the same girls, when it was often with +an effort that he could believe them to have been what they once +were. + +Mavis followed his directions and nearly missed the first on the +right, this being a narrow turning. Many-storied buildings, looking +like warehouses, were on either side of this; their height was such +that the merest strip of sky could be seen when Mavis looked up. She +then came to an open door. Above this was a fanlight, which fitfully +lighted a passage terminating in a flight of uncarpeted stone steps. +It was all very uninviting. The girl looked about for someone of +whom to make further inquiries. No one came in or went out; all that +Mavis could see was one or two over-dressed men, who were prowling +about on the further side of the way. A little distance up the +turning was another open door lit in the same way as the first. This +also admitted to a similar passage, which, also, terminated in a +flight of bare stone steps. Just as she got there, two young women +flaunted out; they were in evening dress, but Mavis thought the +petticoats that they aggressively displayed were cheap, torn, and +soiled. They pushed past Mavis, to be joined by two of the prowlers +in the street. Mavis walked inside, where she waited for some time +without seeing anyone; then, an odd-looking, malformed creature came +up, seemingly from a hole at the end of the passage. She had +scarcely any nose; she wore spectacles and the uniform of a servant. +Before she disappeared up the stairs, Mavis saw that she carried +blankets in one hand, a housemaid's pail in the other. She breathed +noisily through her nostrils. When she was well out of sight, Mavis +thought that she might have got the information she wanted from this +person. Presently, the clattering of a pail was heard, a sound which +gradually came nearer. In due course, the malformed creature +appeared at the foot of the stairs. + +"I've come," said Mavis to this person. + +"'Ave yer?" + +The person vanished, seemingly through the floor. + +Mavis was taken aback by the woman's rudeness; even to this +creature, shop-girls were, apparently, of small account. By and by, +Mavis heard her clumping up from below. When she appeared, Mavis put +authority into her voice as she said: + +"Can I see anyone here?" + +"If you've any eyes in your 'ead," snorted the servant, as she +disappeared from view. + +Still no one came. Mavis was making up her mind to explore the +downstair regions when the footfalls of the rude person were heard +coming down. + +"I've been waiting quite ten minutes," Mavis began angrily, as the +person came in view. + +"'Ave yer?" + +"Look here, I'm not used to be answered like that," Mavis began; but +she was wasting her breath; the servant went on her way in complete +disregard of Mavis's wrath. + +Mavis thought of trying another entrance, when a young woman came +downstairs. She had a pasty face, with a turned-up nose and large, +romantic eyes. She carried a book under her arm. When she saw Mavis, +she stopped to look curiously at her. + +"I've come here to start work tomorrow. Can you tell me where I'm to +go?" asked Mavis. + +"I'm in a great hurry. I've a Browning--" + +"If you'll only tell me where to go," interrupted Mavis. + +"It's this way," cried the girl, as she led the way up the stairs. +"I've a Browning to return to--" + +"If you'll only tell me where I'm to go--" + +"You'd never find it. I'd have shown you round, but I've to return a +Browning to a gentleman." + +"It's very kind of you," remarked Mavis, who was wondering how much +further she had to climb. + +"Do you love Browning?" asked the girl with the big eyes. + +"I can't say I do." + +"You--don't--love--Browning?" asked the other in astonishment. + +"I'm sorry, but I don't." + +"I couldn't live without Browning. Here's your room: you'll probably +find someone inside. My name's Miss Meakin." + +"Mine is Mavis Keeves. Thanks so much." + +Mavis opened the door of a not over-large room, which was lit by a +single gas burner. Mavis looked at the four small beds, the four +chests of drawers, the four washing stands, the four cane chairs, +and the four framed bits of looking glass, which made up the +furniture of the room. Upon three of the beds were tumbled articles +of feminine attire; others had slipped on the not over-clean floor. +Then Mavis noticed the back of a girl who was craning her neck out +of the one window at the further end of the room. The atmosphere of +the apartment next compelled attention; it was a combination of gas +(the burner leaked), stale body linen, cheap scents and soapsuds; it +stuck in her throat and made her cough. + +"Is that Pongo?" asked the girl, who was still staring out of the +window. + +"It's me," said Mavis. + +"Eh!" + +The girl brought her body into the room. Mavis saw a girl who would +have had a fine figure if she had been two or three inches taller. +She was swarthy, with red lips and fine eyes; she was dressed in +showy but cheap evening finery. + +"Common and vulgar-minded," was Mavis's mental comment as she looked +at this person. + +"Are you the new girl?" the stranger asked. + +"Yes." + +"I took you for Bella, the slavey. Sorry! Pleased to meet you." + +"Thank you." + +"Have you just come in from outside?" + +"Yes." + +"You didn't see anything of a gentleman in a big motor car?" + +"No." + +"I'm expecting my boy in one. He promised to call for me in his +motor car to-night and take me out to dinner and supper," continued +the girl. + +"I'm rather hungry too," remarked Mavis. + +"Are you going out to dinner and supper?" + +"Don't they give supper here?" + +"They do," answered the girl, emphasising the last word, as if to +disparage the meal supplied to their young ladies by "Dawes'." + +"It will have to be good enough for me," said Mavis, who resented +the patronising manner of the other. + +"Excuse me," remarked the dark girl suddenly, as she again craned +out of the window. + +"Certainly," said Mavis dryly, as she wondered what had happened to +the boxes she had had sent on earlier in the day. + +"No sign of him yet. I'm afraid he's had a breakdown," exclaimed the +girl, after looking down the street for some time, a remark to which +Mavis paid no attention. The girl went on: + +"You were speaking of the supper 'Dawes'' supply. I couldn't eat it +myself. I simply lode their food." + +"What?" asked Mavis, whose ears had caught the mispronunciation. + +"Yes, I simply lode the food they give for supper, the same as Miss +Potter and Miss Allen, the other young ladies who sleep in this +room. Indeed, we can only eat restaurant food in the evenings." + +"What's wrong with the supper here?" asked Mavis, nervously thinking +of her hearty appetite and the few shillings that remained after +settling up with Mrs Ellis. + +"Taste and try: you've only to go right to the bottom of the 'ouse. +Excuse me." + +Here the swarthy young woman leaned so far out of the window that +Mavis feared she would lose her balance and fall into the street. +Then Mavis heard footsteps and the clatter of a pail in the passage. +The door opened, and the misshapen person who had been rude to her +when she was waiting downstairs appeared. + +"Here she is," called this person, at which two men entered with +Mavis's trunks; these they dumped on the floor. + +"Thank you," said Mavis. + +"Heavy work, miss," remarked one of the men. + +"Be off with you," cried the servant. + +"Now then, beauty," laughed the other of the men. + +"Be off with you; none of your cadging here." + +"But they're heavy, and if--" began Mavis. + +"It's what they're paid for. Be off with you," snorted the servant. + +"There he is!" cried the girl who had been leaning out of the +window. + +"Motor and all?" asked Mavis. + +"Eh! Oh, he hasn't brought the motor; we'll 'ave to take a 'an'som. +Good-bye for the present. My name's Impett--Rose Impett." + +"Mine's Keeves," said Mavis, thinking she may as well be agreeable +to those she had to live with. She then went to her boxes and saw +that the odd-looking servant had uncorded them. + +"Thank you," said Mavis. + +"I dessay it's more than you deserve," remarked the servant. + +"I daresay," assented Mavis. + +"Let's have a look at you." + +"What?" + +"You needn't be jealous of me; let's have a look." + +The servant urged Mavis to stand by the flaring gas, where she +looked her up and down, Mavis thought maliciously. + +"H'm! Wonder how long it'll be before I have to pray for you?" + +"Eh!" + +"Same as I has to for the others." + +"I don't understand." + +"Look on the bed; see 'ow they leave their clothes, and such +clothes. That's what their souls is like." + +"Indeed!" said Mavis, scarcely knowing what to say. + +"All the same, I prays for them, though what God A'mighty thinks o' +me for all the sinners I pray for, I can't think. Supper's +downstairs, if you can eat it; and my name's Bella." + +Bella left the room. Mavis thought that she rather liked her than +otherwise, despite her rudeness earlier in the evening. Mavis +unpacked her more immediate requirements before seeking supper in +the basement. She descended to the floor on which was the passage +communicating with the street, but the staircase leading to the +supper-room was unlit, therefore she was compelled to grope her way +down; as she did so, she became aware of a disgusting smell which +reminded Mavis of a time at Brandenburg College when the drains went +wrong and had to be put right. She then found herself in a +carpetless passage lit by gas flaming in a wire cage; here, the +smell of drains was even more offensive than before. There was a +half-open door on the right, from which came the clatter of knives +and plates. Mavis, believing that this was the supper-room, went in. + +She found herself in a large, low room, the walls of which were +built with glazed brick. Upon the left, the further wall receded as +it approached the ceiling, to admit, in daytime, the light that +straggled from the thick glass let into the pavement, on which the +footsteps of the passers-by were ceaselessly heard. The room was +filled by a long table covered by a scanty cloth, at which several +pasty-faced, unwholesome-looking young women were eating bread and +cheese, the while they talked in whispers or read from journals, +books, or novelettes. At the head of the table sat a dark, elderly +little woman, who seemed to be all nose and fuzzy hair: this person +was not eating. Several of the girls looked with weary curiosity at +Mavis, while they mentally totted up the price she had paid for her +clothes; when they reached their respective totals, they resumed +their meal. + +"Miss Keeth?" said the dark little woman at the head of the table, +who spoke with a lisp. + +"Yes," replied Mavis. + +"If you want thupper, you'll find a theat." + +"Thank you." + +Mavis sank wearily in the first empty chair. "Dawes'" had already +got on her nerves. She was sick at heart with all she had gone +through; from the depths of her being she resented being considered +on an equality with the two young women she had met and those she +saw about her. She closed her eyes as she tried to take herself, for +a brief moment, from her surroundings. She was recalled to the +present by a plate, on which was a hunk of bread and a piece of +cheese, being thrust beneath her nose. She was hungry when she came +downstairs; now, appetite had left her. Her gorge rose at the pasty- +faced girls, the brick-walled cellar, the unwholesome air, and the +beady-eyed little woman seated at the head of the table. She thought +it better, if only for her health's sake, to try and swallow +something. She put a piece of cheese in her mouth. Mavis, by now, +was an authority on cheap cheese; she knew all the varieties of +flavour to be found in the lesser-priced cheeses. Ordinarily, she +had been enabled to make them palatable with the help of vinegar, +mustard, or even with an onion; but tonight none of these resources +were at hand with which to make appetising the soapy compound on her +plate. Miss Striem, the dark little woman at the head of the table, +noted her disinclination to tackle the cheese. + +"You can have anything exthra if you care to pay for it," she +remarked. + +"What have you?" asked Mavis. + +"Ham, bloater, or chicken pathte, and an exthellent brand of +thardines." + +"I'll try the ham paste," said Mavis. + +An opened tin of ham paste was put before her. Mavis noticed that +the other girls were looking at her out of the corners of their +eyes. + +She put some of the paste on to her plate; it looked unusual, even +for potted meat; but ascribing its appearance to the effect of the +light, Mavis spread some on a bit of bread and put this in her +mouth. Only for a moment; the next, she had removed it with her +handkerchief. One of the girls tittered. Miss Striem looked sharply +in this person's direction. + +"I can't eat this: it's bad!" cried Mavis. + +"Perhaps you would prefer a thardine." + +"Anything, so long as it's fit to eat." + +Some of the girls raised their eyebrows at this remark. All of them +were more or less frightened of Miss Striem, the housekeeper. + +An opened tin of sardines was set before Mavis. She had only to +glance inside to see that its contents were mildewed. + +"Thanks," she said, pushing the tin away. + +"I beg your pardon," remarked Miss Striem severely. + +"They're bad too. I'm not going to eat them." + +"You'll have to pay for them juth the thame." + +"What?" cried Mavis. + +"If you order, you pay. Ith a rule in the houth," said Miss Striem, +as if the matter were forthwith dismissed from her mind. + +"To sell girls bad food?" asked Mavis. + +"I cannot discuth the matter; the thum due will be deducted from +your wageth." + +Mavis's blood was up. Her wage was small enough without having +anything deducted for food she could not eat. + +"I shall go to the management," she remarked. + +"You'll what?" + +"Go to the management. I'm not going to be cheated like that." + +"You call me a cheat?" screamed the little woman, as she rose to her +feet. + +Mavis was, for the moment, taken aback by Miss Striem's vehemence. +The girl next to her whispered, "Go it," under her breath. + +"You call me a cheat?" repeated Miss Striem. + +"I shall say what I have to say to the management," replied Mavis +coolly. + +"And I'll thay what I have to thay; and you'll find out who is +believed in a way you won't like." + +"I shall prove my case," retorted Mavis, as she grabbed the ham +paste and the tin of sardines. + +Miss Striem sat down. A giggle ran round the table. + +"Can you tell me where the sitting-room is, please?" Mavis asked of +the girl next to her. + +"What?" replied the girl whom she had spoked to. + +Mavis repeated her question. + +"There's no such thing; there's only this place open at meal times +and your bedroom." + +"Thanks; I'll go there. Good night." + +Mavis, carrying her ham paste and sardines, walked the evil-smelling +passage and up the stairs to her room. Once outside the supper-room, +she repented of having had words with Miss Striem, who was, +doubtless, a person of authority; but it was done now, and Mavis +reflected how she had justice and evidence on her side. The bedroom +was empty. Mavis placed the ham paste and sardines on her washing- +stand; she then took advantage of the absence of the other girls to +undress and get into bed. She fell into a heavy slumber, which gave +place to a state of dreamy wakefulness, during which she became +conscious of others being in the room; of hearing herself discussed; +of a sudden commotion in the apartment. A sequence of curious noises +thoroughly awoke her. The unaccustomed sight of three other girls in +the room in which she slept caused her to sit bolt upright. The +girl, Miss Impett, to whom she had already spoken, was sitting on +her bed, yawning as she pulled off her stockings. Another, a fine, +queenly-looking girl, in evening dress, was sitting on a chair with +her hands pressed to her stomach; her eyes were rolling as if she +were in pain. The third girl, also in evening dress, but not so +handsome as the sufferer, was whispering consoling words. + +"Is she ill?" asked Mavis. + +"It's the indigestion," replied the last girl Mavis had noticed. + +"Can I do anything?" asked Mavis. + +"She always has it dreadful when she goes out to supper; now she's +paying for it and--" She got no further; her friend was seized with +another attack; all her attention was devoted to rubbing the +patient's stomach, the while the latter groaned loudly. It was a +similar noise which had awakened Mavis. + +"I suppose we shan't get to sleep for an hour," yawned Miss Impett, +as she struggled into a not too clean nightdress. + +"Oh, you cat, you!" gasped the sufferer. + +"It's your own fault," retorted Miss Impett. "You always over-eat +yourself and drink such a lot of that filthy creme de menthe." + +"Don't you wish you had the chance?" snapped the girl who was +attending her friend. + +"I always drink Kummel; it's much more ladylike," remarked Miss +Impett. + +"You'd drink anything you can bally well get," the sufferer cried at +a moment when she was free of pain. + +"I am a lady. I know how to be'ave when a gentleman offers me a +drink," retorted Miss Impett. + +"You a lady--you--!" began the sufferer's ministering angel. She got +no further, being checked by her friend casting a significant glance +in Mavis's direction. + +Half an hour later, Mavis fell asleep. It was a strange experience +when, the next morning, she had to wash and dress with three other +girls doing the same thing in the little space at their disposal. + +She had asked if there were any chance of getting a bath, to be +surprised at the astonished looks on the faces of the others. At a +quarter to eight, they scurried down to breakfast, at which meal +Miss Striem presided, as at supper. + +Breakfast consisted of thick bread, salt butter, and the cheapest of +cheap tea. It was as much as Mavis could do to get any of it down, +although she was hungry. She could not help noticing that she was +the object of much remark to the other girls present, her words with +Miss Striem on the previous evening having attracted much attention. +After breakfast, Mavis was taken upstairs to the department in which +she was to work. It was on the roomy ground floor, for which she was +thankful; she was also pleased that the girl selected to instruct +her in her duties was her Browning friend of last night. Her work +was not arduous, and Mavis enjoyed the handling of dainty things; +but she soon became tired of standing, at which she sat on one of +the seats provided by Act of Parliament to rest the limbs of weary +shop assistants. + +"You mustn't do that!" urged Miss Meakin. + +"Why not?" + +"You'll get yourself disliked if you do." + +"What are they here for, if not to sit on?" + +"They have to be there; but you won't be here long if you're seen +using them, 'cept when the Government inspector is about." + +"It's cruel, unfair," began Mavis, but her friend merely shrugged +her shoulders as she moved away to wait on a customer. + +Mavis was disposed to rebel against the unwritten rule that seats +are not to be made use of, but a moment's reflection convinced her +of the unwisdom of such a proceeding. + +Later on in the morning, Miss Meakin said to Mavis: + +"I hear you had a dust up with old Striem last night." + +Mavis told her the circumstances. + +"She's an awful beast and makes no end of money out of the catering. +But no one dare say anything, as she's a relation of one of the +directors. All the young ladies are talking of your standing up to +her." + +"I suppose she'll report me," remarked Mavis. + +"She daren't; she's too keen on a good thing; but I'll bet she has +her knife into you if she gets a chance." + +Presently, Miss Meakin got confidential; she told Mavis how she was +engaged to be married; also, that she met her "boy" by chance at a +public library, where they both asked the librarian for Browning at +the same time, and that this had brought them together. + +The girls went down to dinner in two batches. When it was time for +Mavis to go (she was in the second lot), she was weary with +exhaustion; the continued standing, the absence of fresh air, her +poor breakfast, all conspired to cause her mental and physical +distress. + +The contaminated air of the passage leading to the eating-room +brought on a feeling of nausea. Miss Meakin, noticing Mavis change +colour, remarked: + +"We're all like that at first: you'll soon get used to it." + +If the atmosphere of the downstair regions discouraged appetite, the +air in the glazed bricked dining-room was enough to take it away; it +was heavy with the reek arising from cooked joints and vegetables. +Mavis took her place, when a plate heaped up with meat and +vegetables was passed to her. One look was enough: the meat was cag +mag, and scarcely warm at that; the potatoes looked uninvitingly +soapy; the cabbage was coarse and stringy; all this mess was +seemingly frozen in the white fat of what had once been gravy. Mavis +sickened and turned away her head; she noticed that the food +affected many of the girls in a like manner. + +"No wonder," she thought, "that so many of them are pasty-faced and +unwholesome-looking." + +She realised the necessity of providing the human machine with fuel; +she made an effort to disguise the scant flavour of the best-looking +bits she could pick out by eating plenty of bread. She had swallowed +one or two mouthfuls and already felt better for the nourishment, +when her eye fell on a girl seated nearly opposite to her, whom she +had not noticed before. This creature was of an abnormal stoutness; +her face was covered with pimples and the rims of her eyes were red; +but it was not these physical defects which compelled Mavis's +attention. The girl kept her lips open as she ate, displaying +bloodless gums in which were stuck irregular decayed teeth; she +exhibited the varying processes of mastication, the while her boiled +eyes stared vacantly before her. She compelled Mavis's attention, +with the result that the latter had no further use for the food on +her plate. She even refused rice pudding, which, although burned, +might otherwise have attracted her. + +The air of the shop upstairs was agreeably refreshing after the +vitiated atmosphere of the dining-room; it saved her from faintness. +Happily, she was sent down to tea at a quarter to four, to find that +this, by a lucky accident, was stronger and warmer than the tepid +stuff with which she had been served at breakfast. As the hours wore +on, Mavis noticed that most of the girls seemed to put some heart +into their work; she supposed that this elation was caused by the +rapidly approaching hour of liberty. When this at last arrived, +there was a rush to the bedrooms. Mavis, who was now suffering +tortures from a racking headache, went listlessly upstairs; she +wondered if she would be allowed to go straight to bed. When she got +into the room, she found everything in confusion. Miss Potter, Miss +Allen, and Miss Impett were frantically exchanging their working +clothes for evening attire. Mavis was surprised to see the three +girls painting their cheeks and eyebrows in complete indifference to +her presence. They took small notice of her; they were too busy +discussing the expensive eating-houses at which they were to dine +and sup. Miss Potter, in struggling into her evening bodice, tore it +behind. Mavis, seeing that Miss Allen was all behind with her +dressing, offered to sew it. + +"Thank you," remarked Miss Potter, in the manner of one bestowing a +favour. Mavis mended the rent quickly and skilfully. Perhaps her +ready needle softened the haughty Miss Potter's heart towards her, +for the beauty said: + +"Where are you off to to-night?" + +"Nowhere," answered Mavis. + +"Nowhere!" echoed Miss Potter disdainfully, while the other +occupants of the room ejaculated "My!" + +"Haven't you a 'boy'?" asked Miss Potter. + +"A what?" + +"A young man then," said Miss Potter, as she made a deft line +beneath her left eye with an eye pencil. + +"I don't know any young men," remarked Mavis. + +"Hadn't you better be quick and pick up one?" asked Miss Impett. + +"I don't care to make chance acquaintances," answered Mavis. + +To her surprise, her remark aroused the other girls' ire; they +looked at Mavis and then at one another in astonishment. + +"I defy anyone to prove that I'm not a lady," cried Miss Impett, as +she bounced out of the room. + +"I'm as good as you any day," declared Miss Potter, as she went to +the door. + +"Yes, that we are," cried Miss Allen defiantly, as she joined her +friend. + +Mavis sat wearily on her bed. Her head ached; her body seemed +incapable of further effort; worst of all, her soul was steeped in +despair. + +"What have I done, oh, what have I done to deserve this misery?" she +cried out. + +This outburst strengthened her: needs cried for satisfaction in her +body, the chief of these being movement and air. She walked to the +window and looked out on the cloudless September night; there was a +chill in the air, imparting to its sweetness a touch of austerity. +Mavis wondered from what peaceful scenes it came, to what untroubled +places it was going. The thought that she was remote from the +stillness for which her heart hungered exasperated her; she closed +the window in order to spare herself being tortured by the longing +which the night air awoke in her being. The atmosphere of the room +was foul when compared with the air she had just breathed; it seemed +to get her by the throat, to be on the point of stifling her. The +next moment she had pinned on her hat, caught up her gloves, and +scurried into the street. Two minutes later she was in Oxford +Street, where she was at once merged into a stream of girls, a +stream almost as wide as the pavement, which was sluggishly moving +in the direction of the Park. This flow was composed of every +variety of girl: tall, stumpy, medium, dark, fair, auburn, with +dispositions as varied as their appearances. Many were aglow with +hope and youthful ardour; others were well over their first fine +frenzy of young blood. There were wise virgins, foolish virgins, +vain girls, clever girls, elderly girls, dull girls, laughing girls, +amorous girls, spiteful girls, girls with the toothache, girls +radiantly happy in the possession of some new, cheap finery: all +wending their way towards the Marble Arch. Most walked in twos and +threes, a few singly; some of these latter were hurrying and darting +amongst the listless walk of the others in their eagerness to keep +appointments with men. Whatever their age, disposition, or +condition, they were all moved by a common desire--to enjoy a +crowded hour of liberty after the toil and fret of the day. As Mavis +moved with the flow of this current, she noticed how it was +constantly swollen by the addition of tributaries, which trickled +from nearly every door in Oxford Street, till at last the stream +overflowed the broad pavement and became so swollen that it seemed +to carry everything before it. Here were gathered girls from nearly +every district in the United Kingdom. The broken home, stepmothers, +too many in family, the fascination which London exercises for the +country-grown girl--all and each of these reasons were responsible +for all this womanhood of a certain type pouring down Oxford Street +at eight o'clock in the evening. Each of them was the centre of her +little universe, and, on the whole, they were mostly happy, their +gladness being largely ignorance of more fortunate conditions of +life. Ill-fed, under-paid, they were insignificant parts of the +great industrial machine which had got them in its grip, so that +their function was to make rich men richer, or to pay 10 per cent, +dividends to shareholders who were careless how these were earned. +Nightly, this river of girls flows down Oxford Street, to return in +an hour or two, when the human tide can be seen flowing in the +contrary direction. Meantime, men of all ages and conditions were +skilfully tacking upon this river, itching to quench the thirst from +which they suffered. It needed all the efforts of the guardian +angels, in whose existence Mavis had been taught to believe, to +guide the component parts of this stream from the oozy marshland, +murky ways, and bottomless quicksands which beset its course. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +WIDER HORIZONS + + +Seven weeks passed quickly for Mavis, during which her horizon +sensibly widened. She learned many things, the existence of which +she would never have thought possible till the knowledge stared her +in the face. To begin with, she believed that the shabby treatment, +in the way of food and accommodation, that the girls suffered at +"Dawes'" would bind them in bonds of sympathy: the contrary was the +case. The young women in other departments looked down on and would +have nothing to do with girls, such as she, who worked in the shop. +These other departments had their rivalries and emulation for social +precedence, leading to feuds, of which the course of action +consisted of the two opposing parties sulking and refusing to speak +to each other, unless compelled in the course of business. The young +women in the showroom were selected for their figures and general +appearance; these, by common consent, were the aristocracy of the +establishment. After a time, Mavis found that there was another +broad divergence between her fellow-workers, which was quite +irrespective of the department in which they were. There was a type +of girl, nearly always the best-looking, which seemed to have an +understanding and freemasonry of its own, together with secrets, +confidences, and conversations, which were never for the ears of +those who were outsiders--in the sense of their not being members of +this sisterhood. Miss Potter, Miss Allen, and Miss Impett all belonged +to this set, which nearly always went out after shop hours in evening +dress, which never seemed to want for ready money or pretty clothes, and +which often went away for the weekend ("Dawes'" closed at two on +Saturdays). When Mavis had first been introduced to the three girls with +whom she shared her bedroom, she had intuitively felt that there was a +broad, invisible gulf which lay between her and them; as time went on, +this division widened, so far as Miss Impett and Miss Potter were +concerned, to whom Mavis rarely spoke. Miss Allen, who, in all other +respects, toadied to and imitated Miss Potter, was disposed to be +friendly to Mavis. Miss Impett, who on occasion swore like any street +loafer, Mavis despised as a common, ignorant girl. Miss Potter she knew +to be fast; but Miss Allen, when alone with Mavis, went out of her way +to be civil to her; the fact of the matter being that she was a weak, +easily led girl, whose character was dominated by any stronger nature +with which she came in contact. + +Another thing which much surprised Mavis was the heartless cruelty +the girls displayed to any of their number who suffered from any +physical defect. Many times in the day would the afflicted one be +reminded of her infirmity; the consequent tears incited the +tormentors to a further display of malignity. + +Bella, the servant, was an object of their attentions; her gait and +manner of breathing would be imitated when she was by. She was +always known by the name of "Pongo," till one of the "young ladies" +had witnessed The Tempest from the upper boxes of His Majesty's +Theatre; from this time, it was thought to be a mark of culture on +the part of many of the girls at "Dawes'" to call her "Caliban." +Mavis sympathised with the afflicted woman's loneliness; she made +one or two efforts to be friendly with her, but each time was +repulsed. + +One day, however, Mavis succeeded in penetrating the atmosphere of +ill-natured reserve with which "Pongo" surrounded herself. The +servant was staggering upstairs with two big canfuls of water; the +task was beyond her strength. + +"Let me help you," said Mavis, who was coming up behind her. + +Shan't," snorted Bella. + +"I shall do as I please," remarked Mavis, as she caught hold of one +of the cans. + +"Leave 'old!" cried Bella; but Mavis only grasped the can tighter. + +"Go on now; don't you try and get round me and then turn an' laugh +at me." + +"I never laugh at you, and I only want to help you up with the +water." + +"Straight?" + +"What else should I want?" + +"Don't be kind to me," cried Bella, suddenly breaking down. + +"Bella!" gasped Mavis in astonishment. + +"Don't you start being kind to me. I ain't used to it," wept Bella. + +"Don't be a fool, Bella!" + +"I ain't a fool. I'm onny ugly and lopsided, and everyone laughs at +me 'ceptin' you, and I've no one or--or nothin' to care for." + +Mavis thought it advisable to take Bella into her room, which +happened to be empty; here, she thought, Bella would be free from +eyes that would only find food for mirth in her tears. + +"I've never had a young man," sobbed Bella. "An' that's why I turned +to Gawd and looked down on the young ladies here, as 'as as many +young men as they want; too many sometimes. An' speaking of Gawd, +it's nice to 'ave Someone yer know as cares for you, though you +can't never see 'Im or walk out with 'Im." + +From this time, she tried to do Bella many little kindnesses, but, +saving this one instance, the servant was always on her guard and +never again opened her heart to Mavis. + +Miss Striem did not carry out her threat of charging Mavis for the +extras she refused to eat. In time, Mavis got used to the food +supplied by "Dawes'"; she did not swallow everything that was put +upon her plate, indeed, she did not eat with good appetite at three +consecutive meals; but she could sit at the table in the feeding- +room without overwhelming feelings of repulsion, and, by shutting +her eyes to the unconcealed mastication of the girl opposite, could +often pick enough to satisfy her immediate needs. The evening was +the time when she was most hungry; after the walk which she made a +point of taking in all weathers, she would get quite famished, when +the morsel of Canadian cheese and sour bread supplied for supper was +wholly insufficient. At first, she was tempted to enter the cheaper +restaurants with which the streets about Oxford Street abound; but +these extravagances made serious inroads on her scanty capital and +had to be given up, especially as she was saving up to buy new +boots, of which she was in need. + +She confided in Miss Meakin, who was now looking better and plumper, +since nearly every evening she had taken to supping with her "boy's" +mother, who owned a stationery business in the Holloway Road. + +"I know, it's dreadful. I used to be like that before I met +Sylvester," Miss Meakin answered to Mavis's complaint. + +"But what am I to do?" asked Mavis. + +"Have you ever tried brisket?" + +"What's that?" + +"Beef!" + +"Beef?" + +"You get it at the ham and beef shop. You get quite a lot for five +pence, and when they get to know you they give you good weight." + +"But you must have something with it," remarked Mavis. + +"Then you go to a baker's and buy a penn'orth of bread." + +"But where am I to eat it?" asked Mavis. + +"In some quiet street," replied Miss Meakin. "Why not?" + +"With one's fingers?" + +"There's no one to see you." + +Mavis looked dubious. + +"It's either that or picking up 'boys,'" remarked Miss Meakin. + +"Picking up boys!" echoed Mavis, with a note of indignation in her +voice. + +"It's what the girls do here if they don't want to go hungry." + +"But I don't quite understand." + +"Didn't you come here through old Orgles's influence?" asked Miss +Meakin guardedly. + +"Nothing of the kind; one of the partners got me in." + +"Sorry! I heard it was that beast Orgles. But most of the 'boys' who +try and speak to you in the street are only too glad to stand a girl +a feed." + +"But why should they?" + +"Don't you know?" + +"It would put me under an obligation to the man," remarked Mavis. + +"Of course; that's what the gentlemen want." + +"But it might lead silly girls into all sorts of trouble." + +"I think most of us know how to behave like ladies and drop the +gentleman when he wants to go too far." + +"Good heavens!" cried Mavis, who was taken aback by the vulgarity of +Miss Meakin's point of view. + +Perhaps the latter resented the moral superiority contained in her +friend's exclamation, for she said with aggrieved voice: + +"There's Miss Searle and Miss Bone, who're taken everywhere by a +REEL swell; they even went to Paris with him at Easter; and no +matter what he wants, I'm sure no one can say they're not ladies." + +Mavis thought for a moment before saying: + +"Is that quite fair to the man?" + +"That's his look-out," came the swift retort. + +"I don't fancy the brisket and I don't fancy picking up men. Can't +one get on and get in the showroom and earn more money?" asked +Mavis. + +"One can," replied Miss Meakin, much emphasising the "can." + +"How is it done?" + +"You ask your friend Miss Allen; she'll tell you all about it." + +"She's no friend of mine. Can't you tell me?" + +"I could, but don't want to; you look at things so funny. But, then, +you don't like Browning," replied Miss Meakin. + +Mavis was filled with blind rage at the indifference of "Dawes'" to +the necessities of those they engaged; as long as the firm's big +dividend was made, they were careless to what questionable shifts +and expedients their staff was reduced in order to have sufficient +strength to bring to the daily task of profit-earning. She pondered +on the cruelty and injustice of it all in odd moments; she could not +give much thought to the matter, as Christmas was approaching, which +meant that "Dawes'" would be hard at work to cope with the rush of +custom every minute of the working day, and for some time after the +doors were closed to the public. The class of customer had, also, +changed. When Mavis first went to "Dawes'," the people whom she +served were mostly visitors to London who were easily and quickly +satisfied; then had followed the rough and tumble of a remnant sale. +But now, London was filling with those women to whom shopping is at +once an art, a fetish, and a burden. Mavis found it a trying matter +to satisfy the exigent demands of the experienced shopper. She was +now well accustomed to the rudeness of women to those of their own +sex who were less happily placed; but she was not a little surprised +at a type of customer whom she was now frequently called upon to +serve. This was of the male sex; sometimes young; usually, about +forty; often, quite old; it was a smart, well-dressed type, with +insinuating manners and a quiet, deferential air that did not seem +to know what it came to buy or cared what it purchased so long as it +could engage Mavis in a few moments' conversation. She soon got to +know this type at a glance, and gave it short shrift. Others at +"Dawes'" were not so coy. Many of the customers she got to know by +sight, owing to their repeated visits. One of these she disliked +from the first; later experience of her only intensified this +impression. She was a tall, fine woman, well, if a trifle over- +dressed; her complexion was a little more aggressive than most of +the females who shopped at "Dawes'." Her name was Mrs Stanley; she +appeared well known to the girls for whom Bella the servant declared +she was in the habit of praying. From the first, Mrs Stanley was +attracted by Mavis, into whose past life she made sympathetic and +tactful inquiries. Directly she learned that Mavis was an orphan, +Mrs Stanley redoubled her efforts to win the girl's confidence. But +it was all of no use; Mavis turned a deaf ear to all Mrs Stanley's +insinuations that a girl of her striking appearance was thrown away +in a shop: it was as much as Mavis could do to be coldly civil to +her. Even when Mrs Stanley gave up the girl as a bad job, the latter +was always possessed by an uneasy sensation whenever she was near, +although Mavis might not have set eyes on her. + +Another customer who attracted much attention was the Marquis de +Raffini; he was old, distinguished-looking, and the last survivor of +an illustrious French family. + +Mavis saw him come into "Dawes'" soon after she had commenced work, +when he was accompanied by a showy, over-dressed girl, whom he +referred to as Madame the Marquise, and for whom he ordered a costly +and elaborate trousseau. He seemed well known to the girls, who told +Mavis that he appeared every few months with a different young +woman; also, that when, in the ordinary course of nature, the +condition of the temporary Madame the Marquise could no longer be +concealed, the Marquis was in the habit of providing a lump sum of +some hundreds of pounds as dowry in order to induce someone (usually +a working man) to marry his mistress. Mavis was shocked at what she +heard; it seemed strange to her that such things should exist and be +discussed as if they were the most everyday occurrences. + +Often, while busily engaged in serving customers or in hearing and +seeing things which, before she came to "Dawes'," she would never +have believed to be possible, she had a strong suspicion that old +Orgles was watching her from the top of a flight of stairs or the +tiny window in his room; it seemed that he was a wary old spider, +she a fly, and that he was biding his time. This impression saddened +her; it also made her attend carefully to her duties, it being his +place to deal with those of the staff who were remiss in their work. +It was only of an evening, when she was free of the shop, that she +could be said to be anything like her old, light-hearted self. She +would wash, change her clothes, and scurry off to a ham and beef +warehouse she had discovered in a turning off Oxford Street, where +she would get her supper. The shop was kept by a man named Siggers. +He was an affected little man, who wore his hair long; he minced +about his shop and sliced his ham and beef with elaborate wavings of +his carving knife and fork. Mavis proving a regular customer, he let +her eat her supper in the shop, providing her with knife, fork, +tablecloth, and mustard. Although married and henpecked, he affected +to admire Mavis; while she ate her humble meal, he would forlornly +look in her direction, sigh, and wearily support his shaggy head +with his forefinger; but she could not help noticing that, when +afflicted with this mood, he would often glance at himself in a +large looking glass which faced him as he sat. His demonstrations of +regard never became more pronounced. It was as much as Mavis could +do to stop herself from laughing outright when she paid him, it +being a signal mark of his confidence that he did not exact payment +from her "on delivery of goods in order to prevent regrettable +mistakes," as printed cards, conspicuously placed in the shop, +informed customers--or clients, as Mr Siggers preferred to call +them. + +One night, Mavis, by the merest chance, made a discovery that +gladdened her heart: she lighted upon Soho. She had read and loved +her Fielding and Smollett when at Brandenburg College; the sight of +the stately old houses at once awoke memories of Tom Jones, Parson +Adams, Roderick Random, and Lady Bellaston, She did not immediately +remember that those walls had sheltered the originals of these +creations; when she realised this fact she got from the nearest +lending library her old favourites and carefully re-read them. She, +also, remembered her dear father telling her that an ancestor of +his, who had lived in Soho, had been killed in the thirties of the +eighteenth century when fighting a famous duel; this, and the sorry +dignity of the Soho houses, was enough to stir her imagination. +Night after night, she would elude the men who mostly followed her +and walk along the less frequented of the sombre streets. These she +would people with the reckless beaux, the headstrong ladies of that +bygone time; she would imagine the fierce loves, the daring play, +the burning jealousies of which the dark old rooms, of which she +sometimes caught a glimpse, could tell if they had a mind. Sometimes +she would close her eyes, when the street would be again filled with +a jostling crowd of sedan chairmen, footmen, and linkboys; she could +almost smell the torches and hear the cries of their bearers. It +gave her much of a shock to realise how beauties, lovers, linkboys, +and all had disappeared from the face of the earth, as if they had +never been. She wondered why Londoners were so indifferent to the +stones Soho had to tell. Then she fell to speculating upon which the +house might be where her blood-thirsty ancestor had lived; also, if +it had ever occurred to him that one of his descendants, a girl, +would be wandering about Soho with scarce enough for her daily +needs. In time, she grew to love the old houses, which seemed ever +to mourn their long-lost grandeur, which still seemed full of echoes +of long-dead voices, which were ill-reconciled to the base uses to +which they were now put. Perhaps she, also, loved them because she +grew to compare their fallen state with that of her own family; it +seemed that she and they had much in common; and shared misfortunes +beget sympathy. + +Thus Mavis worked and dreamed. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +SPIDER AND FLY + + +One night, Mavis went back to "Dawes'" earlier than usual. She was +wearing the boots bought with her carefully saved pence; these +pinched her feet, making her weary and irritable. She wondered if +she would have the bedroom to herself while she undressed. Of late, +the queenly Miss Potter had given up going out for the evening and +returning at all hours in the morning. Her usual robust health had +deserted her; she was constantly swallowing drugs; she would go out +for long walks after shop hours, to return about eleven, completely +exhausted, when she would hold long, whispered conversations with +her friend Miss Allen. + +Mavis was delighted to find the room vacant. The odour of drugs +mingled with the other smells of the chamber, which she mitigated, +in some measure, by opening the window as far as she was able. She +pulled off her tight boots, enjoying for some moments a pleasurable +sense of relief; then she tumbled into bed, soon to fall asleep. She +was awakened by the noise of voices raised in altercation. Miss +Potter and Miss Impett were having words. The girls were in bed, +although no one had troubled to turn off the flaring jet. As they +became more and more possessed with the passion for effective +retort, Mavis saw vile looks appearing on their faces: these +obliterated all traces of youth and comeliness, substituting in +their stead a livid commonness. + +"We know all about you!" cried loud-voiced Miss Impett. + +"Happily, that's not a privilege desired in your case," retorted +Miss Potter. + +"And why not?" Miss Impett demanded to know. + +"We might learn too much." + +"What does anyone know of me that I'm ashamed of?" roared Miss +Impett. + +"That's just it." + +"Just what?" + +"Some people have no shame." + +"Do try and remember you're ladies," put in Miss Allen, in an effort +to still the storm. + +"Well, she shouldn't say I ought to wash my hands before getting +into bed," remarked Miss Impett. + +"I didn't say you should," said Miss Potter. + +"What did you say?" + +"What I said was that anyone with any pretension to the name of lady +would wash her hands before getting into bed," corrected Miss +Potter. + +"I know you don't think me a lady," broke out Miss Impett. "But ma +was quite a lady till she started to let her lodgings in single +rooms." + +"Don't say any more and let's all go to sleep," urged pacific Miss +Allen, who was all the time keeping an anxious eye on her friend +Miss Potter. + +Miss Impett, perhaps fired by her family reminiscence, was not so +easily mollified. + +"Of course, if certain people, who're nobodies, try to be'ave as +somebodies, one naturally wants to know where they've learned their +classy manners," she remarked. + +"Was you referring to me?" asked Miss Potter. + +"I wasn't speaking to you," replied Miss Impett. + +"But I was speaking to you. Was you referring to me?" + +"Never mind who I was referring to." + +"Whatever I've done," said Miss Potter pointedly, "whatever I've +done, I've never made myself cheap with a something in the City." + +"No. 'E wouldn't be rich enough for you." + +"You say that I take money from gentlemen," cried Miss Potter. + +"If they're fools enough to give it to you." + +"Ladies! ladies!" pleaded Miss Allen, but all in vain. + +"I've never done the things you've done," screamed Miss Potter. + +"I've done? I've done? I 'ave my faults same as others, but I can +say, I can that--that I've never let a gentleman make love to me +unless I've been properly introduced to him," remarked her opponent +virtuously. + +"For shame! For shame!" cried Miss Potter and Miss Allen together, +as if the proprieties that they held most sacred had been ruthlessly +and unnecessarily violated. + +"No, that I h'ain't," continued irate Miss Impett. "I've watched you +when you didn't know I was by and seen the way you've made eyes at +gentlemen in evening dress." + +Much as Mavis was shocked at all she had heard, she was little +prepared for what followed. The next moment Miss Potter had sprung +out of bed; with clenched fists, and features distorted by rage, she +sprang to Miss Impett's bedside. + +"Say that again!" she screamed. + +"I shan't." + +"You daren't!" + +"I daren't?" + +"No, you daren't." + +"What would you do if I did?" + +"Say it and see." + +"You dare me to?" + +"Yes, you damn beast, to say I'm no better than a street-walker!" + +"Don't you call me names." + +"I shall call you what I please, you dirty upstart, to put yourself +on a level with ladies like us! We always said you was common." + +"What--what's it you dared me to say?" asked Miss Impett +breathlessly, as her face went livid. + +"Don't--don't say it," pleaded Miss Allen; but her interference was +ineffectual. + +"That I picked up gentlemen in evening dress," bawled Miss Potter. +"Say it: say it: say it! I dare you!" + +"I do say it. I'll tell everyone. I've watched you pick up gentlemen +in--" + +She got no further. Miss Potter struck her in the mouth. + +"You beast!" cried Miss Impett. + +Miss Potter struck her again. + +"You beast: you coward!" yelled Miss Impett. + +"It's you who's the coward, 'cause you don't hit me. Take that and +that," screamed Miss Potter, as she hit the other again and again. +"And if you say any more, I'll pull your hair out." + +"I'm not a coward; I'm not a coward!" wept Miss Impett. "And you +know it." + +"I know it!" + +"If anything, it's you who's the coward." + +"Say it again," threatened Miss Potter, as she raised her fist, +while hate gleamed in her eyes. + +"Yes, I do say it again. You are a coward; you hit me, and you know +I can't hit you back because you're going to have a baby." + +There was a pause. Miss Potter's face went white; she raised her +hand as if to strike Miss Impett, but as the latter stared her in +the eyes, the other girl flinched. Then, tears came into Miss +Potter's eyes as she faltered: + +"Oh! Oh, you story!" + +"Story! story!" began Miss Impett, but was at once interrupted by +pacific Miss Allen. + +"Ssh! ssh!" she cried fearfully. + +"I shan't," answered Miss Impett. + +"You must," commanded Miss Allen under her breath. Keeves might +hear." + +"What if she does! As likely as not she herself's in the way," said +Miss Potter. + +Mavis, who had been trying not to listen to the previous +conversation, felt both hot and cold at the same time. The blood +rushed to her head. The next moment she sprang out of bed. + +"How dare you, how dare you say that?" she cried, her eyes all +ablaze. + +"Say what?" asked Miss Potter innocently. + +"That. I won't foul my lips by repeating it. How dare you say it? +How dare you say that you didn't say it?" + +"Well, you shouldn't listen," remarked Miss Potter sullenly. + +Mavis advanced menacingly to the side of the girl's bed. + +"If you think you can insult me like that, you're mistaken," said +Mavis, with icy calmness, the while she trembled in every limb. + +"Haven't you been through Orgles's hands?" asked Miss Potter. + +"No, I have not. I say again, how dare you accuse me of that?" + +"She didn't mean it, dear," said Miss Allen appeasingly; "she's +always said you're the only pretty girl who's straight in 'Dawes'.'" + +"Will you answer my question?" asked Mavis, with quiet persistence. +Then, as the girl made no reply, "Please yourself. I shall raise the +whole question to-morrow, and I'll ask to be moved from this room. +Then perhaps you'll learn not to class me with common, low girls +like yourself." + +It might be thought that Mavis's aspersions might have provoked a +storm: it produced an altogether contrary effect. + +"Don't be down on me. I don't know what's to become of me," +whimpered Miss Potter. + +The next moment, the three girls, other than Mavis, were clinging +together, the while they wept tears of contrition and sympathy. + +Mavis, although her pride had been cruelly wounded by Miss Potter's +careless but base accusation, was touched at the girl's distress; +the abasement of the once proud young beauty, the nature of its +cause, together with the realisation of the poor girl's desperate +case, moved her deeply: she stood irresolute in the middle of the +room. The three weeping girls were wondering when Mavis was going to +recommence her attack; they little knew that her keen imagination +was already dwelling with infinite compassion on the dismal +conditions in which the promised new life would come into the world. +Her heart went out to the extremity of mother and unborn little one; +had not her pride forbade her, she would have comforted Miss Potter +with brave words. Presently, when Miss Potter whimpered something +about "some people being so straitlaced," Mavis found words to say: + +"I'm not a bit straitlaced. I'm really very sorry for you, and I +can't see you're much to blame, as the life we lead here is enough +to drive girls to anything. If I'm any different, it's because I'm +not built that way." + +Mavis was the only girl in the room who got next to no sleep. Long +after the other girls had found repose, she lay awake, wide-eyed; +her sudden gust of rage had exhausted her; all the same, her body +quivered with passion whenever she remembered Miss Potter's insult. +But it was the shock of the discovery of the girl's condition which +mostly kept her awake; hitherto, she had been dimly conscious that +such things were; now that they had been forced upon her attention, +she was dazed at their presence in the person of one with whom she +was daily associated. Then she fell to wondering what mysterious +ends of Providence Miss Potter's visitation would serve. The problem +made her head ache. She took refuge in the thought that Miss Potter +was a sparrow, such as she--a sparrow with gaudier and, at the same +time, more bedraggled plumage, but one who, for all this detriment, +could not utterly fall without the knowledge of One who cared. This +thought comforted Mavis and brought her what little sleep she got. + +The next morning, Mavis was sent to a City warehouse in order to +match some material that "Dawes'" had not in stock. When she took +her seat on the 'bus, a familiar voice cried: + +"There's 'B. C.'" + +"Miss Allen." + +"That's what we all call you, 'cos you're so innocent. If you're off +to the warehouse, it's where I'm bound." + +"We can go together," remarked Mavis. + +"I say, you were a brick last night," said Miss Allen, after the two +girls had each paid for their tickets. + +"I'm only sorry for her." + +"She'll be all right." + +"Will he marry her, then?" asked Mavis. + +"Good old 'B. C.'! Don't be a juggins; her boy's married already." + +"Married!" gasped Mavis. + +"Yes!" laughed Miss Allen. "And with a family." + +When Mavis got over her astonishment at this last bit of +information, she remarked: + +"But you said she would be all right." + +"So she will be, with luck," declared Miss Allen. + +"What--what on earth do you mean?" + +"What I say. Why, if every girl who got into trouble didn't get out +of it, I don't know what would happen." + +Mavis wondered what the other meant. Miss Allen continued: + +"It's all a question of money and knowing where to go." + +"Where to go?" echoed Mavis, who was more amazed than before. + +"Of course, there's always a risk. That's how a young lady at +'Dawes'' died last year. But the nursing home she was in managed to +hush it up." + +Mavis showed her perplexity in her face. + +Miss Allen, unaccustomed to such a fallow ear, could not resist +giving further information of a like nature. + +"You are green, 'B. C.' I suppose you'll be saying next you don't +know what Mrs Stanley is." + +"I don't." + +"Go on!" + +"What is she?" + +"She's awfully well known; she gets hold of pretty young girls new +to London for rich men: that's why she was so keen on you." + +As Mavis still did not understand, Miss Allen explained the nature +of the lucrative and time immemorial profession to which Mrs Stanley +belonged. + +For the rest of the way, Mavis was so astonished at all she had +heard, that she did not say any more; she scarcely listened to Miss +Allen, who jabbered away at her side. + +On the way back, she spoke to Miss Allen upon a more personal +matter. + +"What did your friend mean last night by saying I'd been through +Orgles's hands?" + +"She thought he introduced you here?" + +"What's that to do with it?" + +"He sees all the young ladies who want rises and most of the young +ladies who want work at 'Dawes'.' If he doesn't fancy them, and they +want 'rises,' he tells them they have their latch-keys; if he +fancies them, he asks what they're prepared to pay for his +influence." + +"Money?" asked Mavis. + +"Money, no," replied Miss Allen scornfully. + +"You mean--?" asked Mavis, flushing. + +"Of course. He's sent dozens of girls 'on the game.'" + +"On the game?" + +"On the streets, then." + +Mavis's body glowed with the hot blood of righteous anger. + +"It can't be," she urged. + +"Can't be?" + +"It isn't right." + +"What's that to do with it?" + +"It wouldn't be allowed." + +"Who's to stop it?" + +"But if it's wrong, it simply can't go on." + +"Whose to stop it, I say?" + +It was on the tip of Mavis's tongue to urge how He might interfere +to prevent His sparrows being devoured by hawks; but this was not a +subject which she cared to discuss with Miss Allen. This young +person, taking Mavis's silence for the acquiescence of defeat, went +on: + +"Of course, on the stage or in books something always happens just +in the nick of time to put things right; but that ain't life, or +nothing like it." + +"What is life, then?" asked Mavis, curious to hear what the other +would say. + +"Money: earning enough to live on and for a bit of a fling now and +then." + +"What about love?" + +"That's a luxury. If the stage and books was what life really is, we +shop-girls wouldn't like 'em so much." + +Mavis relapsed into silence, at which Miss Allen said: + +"Of course, in my heart, dear, I think just as you do and would like +to have no 'truck' with Ada Potter or Rose Impett; but one has to +know which side one's bread is buttered. See?" + +Later, when talking over Mavis with the girls she had disparaged, +Miss Allen was equally emphatic in her condemnation of "that stuck- +up 'B. C.,'" as she called the one-time teacher of Brandenburg +College. + +Mavis's anger, once urged to boiling point by what she had learned +of old Orgles's practices, did not easily cool; it remained at a +high temperature, and called into being all the feeling of revolt, +of which she was capable, against the hideous injustice and the +infamous wrongs to which girls were exposed who sought employment at +"Dawes'," or who, having got this, wished for promotion. Luckily, or +unluckily for her, the course of this story will tell which, the +Marquis de Raffini, accompanied by a new "Madame the Marquise," came +into the shop directly she came up from dinner on the same day, and +made for where she was standing. Two or three of the "young ladies" +pressed forward, but the Marquis was attracted by Mavis; he showed +in an unmistakable manner that he preferred her services. + +He wanted a trousseau for "Madame the Marquise." He--ahem!--she was +very particular, very, very particular about her lingerie; would +Mavis show "Madame" "Dawes'" most dainty and elaborate specimens? + +Mavis was no prude; but this request, coming on top of all she had +learned from Miss Allen, fanned the embers of resentment against the +conditions under which girls, helpless as she, worked. The Marquis's +demand, the circumstances in which it was made, seemed part and +parcel of a system of oppression, of which old Orgles's sending +dozens of girls "on the game," who might otherwise have kept +straight, was another portion. The realisation of this fact awoke in +Mavis a burning sense of injustice; it only needed a spark to cause +an explosion. This was not long in coming. The Marquis examined the +things that she set before him with critical eye; his eagerness to +handle them did not prevent his often looking admiringly at Mavis, a +proceeding that did not please "Madame the Marquise," who felt +resentful against Mavis for marring her transient triumph. "Madame +the Marquise" pouted and fretted, but without effect; when her +"husband" presently put his mouth distressingly near Mavis's ear, +"Madame's" feelings got the better of her; she put her foot, with +some violence, upon the Marquis's most sensitive corn, at which it +was as much as Mavis could do to stop herself from laughing. All +might then have been well, had not the Marquis presently asked Mavis +to put her bare arm into one of the open worked garments in order +that he might critically examine the effect. In a moment, Mavis was +ablaze with indignation; her lips tightened. The man repeated his +request, but he may as well have talked to the moon so far as Mavis +was concerned. The girl felt that, if only she resisted this +unreasonable demand, it would be an act of rebellion against the +conditions of the girls' lives at "Dawes'"; she was sure that only +good would come of her action, and that He, who would not see a +sparrow fall to the ground without caring, would aid her in her +single-handed struggle against infamous oppression. + +"I am sorry, sir; but I cannot." + +"Cannot?" + +"No, sir." + +"Anything wrong with your plump, pretty arm?" + +"No, sir." + +"Then why not do as I wish?" + +"Because--because it isn't right, sir." + +"Eh!" + +The man stared at Mavis, who looked him steadfastly in the eyes. In +his heart of hearts, he respected her scruples; he also admired her +spirit. But for "Madame the Marquise," nothing more would have been +said, but this young person was destined to be an instrument of the +fates that ruled Mavis's life. This chit was already resentful +against the strangely beautiful, self-possessed shop-girl; Mavis's +objection to the Marquis's request was in the nature of a reflection +on "Madame the Marquise's" mode of life. She took her lover aside +and urged him to report to the management Mavis's obstinacy; he +resisted, wavered, surrendered. Mavis saw the Marquis speak to a +shopman, of whom he seemed to be asking her name; he was then +conducted upstairs to Mr Orgles's office, from which he issued, a +few minutes later, to be bowed obsequiously downstairs by the man he +had been to see. The Marquis joined "Madame the Marquise" (who, +while waiting, had looked consciously self-possessed), completed his +purchases, and left the shop. + +Mavis waited in suspense, expecting every minute to be summoned to +Orgles's presence. She did not regret what she had done, but, as the +hours passed and she was not sent for, she more and more feared the +consequences of her behaviour. + +When she came upstairs from tea, she received a message saying that +Mr Orgles wished to see her. Nerving herself for the interview, she +walked up the circular stairs leading to his office, conscious that +the eyes of the "young ladies" in the downstair shop were fixed upon +her. As she went into the manager's room, she purposely left the +door open. She found Orgles writing at a table; at his side were +teacups, a teapot, some thinly cut bread and butter and a plate of +iced cake. Mavis watched him as he worked. As her eyes fell on his +stooping shoulders, camel-like face and protruding eyes, her heart +was filled with loathing of this bestial old man, who made the +satisfaction of his lusts the condition of needy girls' securing +work, all the while careless that he was conducting them along the +first stage of a downward journey, which might lead to unsuspected +depths of degradation. She itched to pluck him by the beard, to tell +him what she thought of him. + +"Miss Keeves!" said Mr Orgles presently. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Don't say 'sir.'" + +Mavis started in surprise. Mr Orgles put down his pen. + +"We're going to have a friendly little chat," said the man. "Let me +offer you some tea." + +"No, thank you." + +"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!" + +Mr Orgles poured out the tea; as he did so, he turned his head so +that his glance could fall on Mavis. + +"Bread and butter, or cake?" + +"Neither, thank you." + +"Then drink this tea." + +Mr Orgles brought a cup of tea to where Mavis was standing. On his +way, he closed the door that she had left open. He placed the tea on +a table beside her and took up a piece of bread and butter. + +"No, thank you," said Mavis again. + +"What?" + +He had taken a large bite out of his piece of bread and butter. He +stared at the girl in open-mouthed surprise. + +Mavis was fascinated by the bite of food in his mouth and the tooth- +marks in the piece of bread and butter from which it had been torn. + +"Now we'll have a cosy little chat about this most unfortunate +business." + +Here Mr Orgles noisily sucked up a mouthful of tea. Mavis shivered +with disgust as she watched him churn the mixture of food and drink +in his mouth. + +"Won't you sit down?" he asked presently. + +"I prefer to stand." + +"Now then!" Here he joyously rubbed his hands. "Two months ago, when +we had a little talk, you were a foolish, ignorant little girl. +Perhaps we've learned sense since then, eh?" + +Mavis did not reply. The man went on: + +"Although a proud little girl, I don't mind telling you I've had my +eye on you, that I've watched you often and that I've great hopes of +advancing you in life. Eh!" + +Here he turned his head so that his eyes leered at her. Mavis +repressed an inclination to throw the teapot at his head. He went +on: + +"To-day, we made a mistake; we offended a rich and important +customer. That would be a serious matter for you if I reported it, +but, as I gather, you're now a sensible little girl, you may make it +worth my while to save you." + +Mavis bit her lip. + +"What if you're still a little fool? You will get the sack; and +girls from 'Dawes'' always find it hard to get another job. You will +wear yourself out trapesing about after a 'shop,' and by and by you +will starve and rot and die." + +Mavis trembled with anger. The man went on talking. His words were +no longer coherent, but the phrases "make you manageress"--"four +pounds a week"--"share the expenses of a little flat together," fell +on her ear. + +"Say no more," Mavis was able to cry at last. + +The next moment, Mavis felt the man's arms about her, his hot, +gasping breath on her cheek, his beard brushing against her mouth, +in his efforts to kiss her. The attack took her by surprise. +Directly she was able to recover herself, she clawed the fingers of +her left hand into his face and forced his head away from her till +she held it at arm's length. Orgles's head was now upon one side, so +that one of his eyes was able to glare hungrily at her; his big +nostrils were dilating with the violence of his passion. Mavis +trembled with a fierce, resentful rage. + +"Your answer: your answer: your answer?" gasped the man huskily. + +"This: this: this!" cried Mavis, punctuating each word with a blow +from her right hand upon Orgles's face. "This: this: this! It's men +like you who drag poor girls down. It's men like you who bring them +to horrible things, which they'd never have dreamed of, if it hadn't +been for you. It's men like you who make wickedness. You're the +worst man I ever met, and I'd rather die in the gutter than be +fouled by the touch of a horrible old beast like you." + +Her anger blazed up into a final flame. This gave her strength to +throw the old man from her; he crashed into the grate; she heard his +head strike against the coal-box. Mavis cast one look upon the +shapeless and bleeding heap of humanity and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +AWING + + +Mavis was again workless, this time with a capital of fifteen +shillings and sixpence halfpenny. + +Immediately after her interview with Orgles, she had gone to her +room to change into her out-of-door clothes. + +She disregarded the many questions that several of the girls came +upstairs to ask her. She packed up her things as a preliminary to +leaving "Dawes'" for good. For many hours she paced the streets, +heedless of where her steps led her, her heart seemingly breaking +with rage and shame at the insults to which she had been subjected. + +About eight, she felt utterly exhausted, and turned into the first +shop where she could get refreshment. + +This was a confectioner's. The tea and dry biscuits she ordered +enabled her to marshal her distracted thoughts into something +approaching coherence; she realised that, as she was not going back +to "Dawes'," she must find a roof for the night. + +She had several times called on her old friend Mrs Ellis; she +decided to make for her house. She asked her way to the nearest +station, which was Notting Hill; here she took a ticket to +Hammersmith and then walked to Kiva Street, where she knocked at the +familiar door. A powerful-looking man in corduroy trousers and shirt +sleeves opened it. + +"Mrs Ellis?" asked Mavis. + +"'Orspital." + +"I'm very sorry. What's the matter with her?" + +"Werry bad." + +"I wanted rooms. I used to lodge here." + +At this piece of information the man made as if he would close the +door. + +"Can you tell me where I can get a room for the night?" asked Mavis. + +The man by way of reply muttered something about the lady at the end +of the row wanting a lodger. + +"Which hospital is Mrs Ellis at?" asked Mavis. + +By way of reply, the door was slammed in her face. Mavis dragged her +weary limbs to the end house in the row, where, in reply to her +knock, a tall, pasty-faced, crossed-eyed woman, who carried an empty +jug, answered the door. + +"I thought you was Mrs Bonus," remarked the woman. + +"I want a room for the night. I used to lodge with Mrs Ellis at +number 20." + +"Did yer? There! I do know yer face. Come inside." + +Mavis followed the landlady into a faded and formal little sitting- +room, where the latter sat wearily in a chair, still clasping her +jug. + +"Can I have a room?" asked Mavis. + +"I think so. My name's Bilkins." + +"Mine is Keeves." + +"That's a funny name. I 'ope you ain't married." + +"No." + +"It's only fools who get married. You jest hear what Mrs Bonus +says." + +"I'm very tired," said Mavis. "Can you give me anything to eat?" + +"I've nothing in the 'ouse, but I'll get you something when I go +out. And, if Mrs Bonus comes, ask her to wait, an' say I've jes gone +out to get a little Jacky." + +Mavis waited in the dark room of the deserted house. Had she not +been tired and heartsick, she would have been amused at this strange +experience. A quarter of an hour passed without anyone calling, when +she heard the sound of a key in the latch, and Mrs Bilkins returned. + +"No Mrs Bonus?" + +"No one's been." + +"It isn't her washing day neither, though it would be late for a +lady like 'er to be out all alone. Drink this." + +"But it's stout," said Mavis, as Mrs Bilkins lit the gas. + +"I call it jacky. A glass will do you good." + +Mavis drank some of the liquor and certainly felt the better for it. + +"I bought you a quarter of German," declared Mrs Bilkins, as she +enrolled a paper parcel. + +"You mean German sausage," said Mavis, as she caught sight of the +mottled meat, a commodity which her old friend Mr Siggers sold. + +"I always call it German," remarked Mrs Bilkins, a trifle huffily. + +"But what am I to eat it on?" + +"That is funny. I'm always forgetting," said Mrs Bilkins, as she +faded from the room. + +After some time, she came back with a coarse cloth, a thick plate, a +wooden-handled knife, together with a fork made of some pliant +material; these she put before Mavis. + +The coarse food and more of the stout put fresh heart into the girl. +She got a room from Mrs Bilkins for six shillings a week, on the +understanding that she did not give much trouble. + +"There's only one thing. I suppose you have a bath of some sort?" +said Mavis. + +"That is funny," said Mrs Bilkins. "I've never been asked such a +thing in my life." + +"Don't you wash?" + +"In penny pieces; a bit at a time." + +"But never all over, properly?" + +"You are funny. Why, three years ago, I had the rheumatics; then I +was covered all over with flannel. Now I don't know which is flannel +and which is skin." + +It was arranged, however, that, if Mrs Bilkins could not borrow a +bath from a neighbour in the morning, she would bring Mavis her +washing-tin, which would answer the same purpose. Mavis slept +soundly in a fairly clean room, her wanderings after leaving +"Dawes'" having tired her out. + +The next morning she came down to a breakfast of which the tea was +smoked and her solitary egg was scarcely warm; when she opened this +latter, the yolk successfully eluded the efforts of her spoon to get +it out. It may be said at once that this meal was a piece with the +entire conduct of Mrs Bilkins's house, she being a unit in the vast +army of incapable, stupid women who, sooner or later, drift into the +letting of lodgings as a means of livelihood. After breakfast, Mavis +wrote to "Dawes'," requesting that her boxes might be sent to her +present address. Now that the sun of cold reason, which reaches its +zenith in the early morning, illumined the crowded events of +yesterday, Mavis was concerned for the consequences of the violence +she had offered Orgles. Her faith in human justice had been much +disturbed; she feared that Orgles, moved with a desire for +vengeance, would represent her as the aggressor, himself as the +victim of an unprovoked assault: any moment she feared to find +herself in the clutches of the law. She was too dispirited to look +for work; to ease the tension in her mind, she tried to discover +what had become of Mrs Ellis, but without success. + +About five, two letters came for her, one of these being, as the +envelope told her, from "Dawes'." She fearfully opened it. To her +great surprise, the letter regretted the firm's inability to +continue her temporary engagement; it enclosed a month's salary in +place of the usual notice, together with the money due to her for +her present month's services; it concluded by stating that her +conduct had given great satisfaction to the firm, and that it would +gladly give her further testimonials should she be in want of these +to secure another place. + +Mavis could hardly believe her good fortune; she read and re-read +the letter; she gratefully scanned the writing on the cheque. The +other letter attracted her attention, which proved to be from Miss +Meakin. This told her that, if Mavis could play the piano and wanted +temporary work, she could get this by at once applying at +"Poulter's" Dancing Academy in Devonport Road, Shepherd's Bush, +which Miss Meakin attended; it also said that the writer would be at +the academy soon after nine, when she would tell Mavis how she had +found her address. Mavis put on her hat and cloak with a light +heart. The fact of escaping from the debasing drudgery of "Dawes'," +of being the possessor of a cheque for L2. 12S., the prospect of +securing work, if only of a temporary nature, made her forget her +loneliness and her previous struggles to wrest a pittance from a +world indifferent to her needs. After all, there was One who cared: +the contents of the two letters which she had just received proved +that; the cheque and promise of employment were in the nature of +compensation for the hurt to her pride which she had suffered +yesterday at Orgles's hands. She thought her sudden good fortune +justified a trifling extravagance; she had no fancy for Mrs +Bilkins's smoked tea, so she turned into the first teashop she came +to, where she revelled in scrambled eggs, strong tea, bread, butter, +and jam. She ate these unaccustomed delicacies slowly, deliberately, +hugely enjoying the savour of each mouthful. She then walked in the +direction of Shepherd's Bush. + +The garish vulgarity of the Goldhawk Road, along which a procession +of electric trams rushed and whizzed, took away her breath. +Devonport Road, in which she was to find the academy, was such a +quiet, retiring little turning that Mavis could hardly believe it +joined a noisy thoroughfare like the Goldhawk Road. "Poulter's" +Dancing Academy took some finding; she had no number to guide her, +so she asked the two or three people she met if they could direct +her to this institution, but not one of them appeared to know +anything about it. She walked along the road, keeping a sharp look- +out on either side for door plate or lamp, which she believed was +commonly the out-ward and visible sign of the establishment she +sought. A semicircle of brightly illuminated coloured glass, placed +above an entrance gate, attracted her, but nearer inspection proved +this to be an advertisement of "painless dentistry." + +Further down the road, a gaily coloured lamp caught her eye, the +lettering on which read "Gellybrand's Select Dancing Academy. Terms +to suit all pockets. Inquire within." Mavis was certain that the +name of which she was in search was none other than Poulter: she +looked about her and wondered if it were possible for such a down- +at-heel neighbourhood to support more than one dancing academy. The +glow of a light in an open doorway on the other side of the way next +attracted her. She crossed, to find this light came from a lamp +which was held aloft by a draped female statue standing just inside +the door: beyond the statue was another door, the upper part of +which was of glass, the lower of wood. Written upon the glass in +staring gilt letters was the name "Poulter's." + +Mavis walked up the steps to the front door. Her heart sank as she +noticed that the plaster had worn away and was broken from various +parts of the house, which had a shabby and dilapidated appearance. +Mavis set going a bell, which could be heard faint-heartedly +tinkling in the distance; she employed the time that she was kept +waiting in examining the statue. This was as depressing as the +house: its smile was cracked in the middle; a rude boy had reddened +the lady's nose; its dress cried aloud for some kindly disposed +person to give it a fresh coat of paint. Presently, a drab of a +little servant opened the inner door. + +"'Pectus?" said the girl, directly she caught sight of Mavis. + +"I want to see Mr Poulter." + +"Not a 'pectus?" + +Mavis repeated her request. + +"Come insoide. 'E's 'avin' 'is tea." + +Mavis followed the drab along a passage: at the end of this was a +door, above which was inscribed "Ladies' Cloak Room." + +Opening this, the drab said mechanically: + +"Walk insoide. What nime?" + +"Miss Keeves. I've come from Miss Meakin." + +Mavis walked inside, to find herself in a smallish room, the walls +of which were decorated with rows of hooks, beneath each of which +was a number printed in large type. There were a cracked toilette +glass, a few rickety chairs, a heavy smell of stale toilet powder, +and little else. A few moments later, a little, shrivelled-up, +elderly woman walked into the room with a slight hobble. Mavis +noticed her narrow, stooping shoulders, which, although the weather +was warm, were covered by a shawl; her long upper lip; her snub +nose; also that she wore her right arm in a sling. + +"Was you waiting to see Mr Poulter particular?" she asked. + +"I was rather." + +"'E's 'avin' 'is tea, and--and you know what these artists are at +meal-time," said the little woman confidentially. + +"I'm in no hurry. I can easily wait," said Mavis. + +"Was you come about 'privates'?" asked the little woman wistfully. + +"Privates?" + +"I mean private lessons. 'Poulter's' always calls 'em 'privates.'" + +"I heard you were in want of an accompanist. I came to offer my +services." + +"It won't be for long; my fingers is nearly healed of the +chilblains." + +"Anything is better than nothing," remarked Mavis. + +"Would you mind if I heard you play?" + +"Not at all." + +"My word might go some way with Mr Poulter. See?" said the little +woman confidentially. + +"It's very good of you," remarked Mavis, who was beginning to like +the little, shrivelled-up old thing. + +The woman with the chilblains led the way to a door in a corner of +the cloak-room, which Mavis had not noticed before. Mavis followed +her down an inclined, boarded-in gangway, decorated with coloured +presentation plates from long forgotten Christmas numbers of popular +weeklies, to the ballroom, which was a portable iron building +erected in the back garden of the academy. At the further end was a +platform, which supported a forlorn-looking piano. + +"Be careful not to slip," said Mavis's conductor. + +"Thank you, I won't," replied Mavis, who was not in the least danger +of losing her foothold. + +"'E invented it." + +"Invented what?" + +"This floor wax. It's Poulter's patent," the little woman reverently +informed Mavis. + +"He must be rather clever!" + +"Rather clever! It's plain you've never met 'im." + +Mavis sat down to the piano, but did not do herself justice over the +first waltz she played, owing to the faultiness of the instrument. +As with many other old pianos, the keys were small; also, the treble +was weak and three notes were broken in the bass. + +"Try again!" said the little woman dubiously. + +By this time, Mavis had mastered the piano's peculiarities; she +played her second waltz resonantly, rhythmically. + +"I think you're up to 'Poulter's,'" said the little woman +critically, when Mavis had finished. "And what about terms?" + +"What about them?" asked Mavis pleasantly. + +"It's a great honour being connected with 'Poulter's,'" the little +woman hazarded. + +"No doubt." + +"And what with the undercutting and all, on the part of those who +ought to know better, it makes it 'ard to make both ends meet." + +"I'm sure it does." + +"But there! We'll leave it to Mr Poulter." + +"That's the best thing to do." + +"I'll see if Mr Poulter's finished 'is tea." + +Mavis followed the woman across the ballroom, and back to the cloak- +room, where she was left alone for quite five minutes. Then the +little woman put her head into the room to say: + +"Mr Poulter won't be many minutes now. 'E's come to the cake," at +which Mavis smiled as she said: + +"I can wait any time." + +Mavis already quite liked the odd little woman. She waited some +minutes longer, till at last her friend excitedly re-entered to say, +in the manner of one conveying information of much moment: + +"Mr Poulter is reelly coming on purpose to see you." + +Mavis nerved herself for the ordeal of meeting the dancing-master. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +"POULTER'S" + + +When, a few moments later, Mr Poulter came into the room, his +appearance surprised Mavis. She expected and braced herself to +interview a person with greasy, flowing locks and theatrical +manners; instead, she saw a well-preserved old man with one of the +finest faces she had ever seen. He had a ruddy complexion, soft, +kindly blue eyes, and a noble head covered with snow-white hair. His +presence seemed to infect the coarsely scented air of the room with +an atmosphere of refinement and unaffected kindliness. He was +shabbily dressed. Directly Mavis saw him, she longed to throw her +arms about his neck, to kiss him on the forehead. + +He bowed to Mavis before saying: + +"Have you 'ad your tea?" + +"Yes, thank you," she replied. + +"Miss Nippett has told me of your errand." + +"She has also heard me play." + +"It is now only a question of terms," said Mr Poulter gently. + +"Quite so." + +"The last wish of 'Poulter's' is to appear ungenerous, but, with +remorseless competition in the Bush," here Mr Poulter's kindly face +hardened, "everyone suffers." + +"The Bush?" queried Mavis. + +"Shepherd's Bush," explained Poulter. "Many of 'Poulter's' clients, +who are behindhand with their cheques for family tuition, have +made payment with the commodities which they happen to retail," +remarked Poulter. "Assuming that you were willing, you might care +to take whole or part payment in some of these." + +Mavis was sorry, but money was a necessity to her. + +"I quite understand," said Poulter sympathetically. "On 'Ordinary +Days,' 'Poulter's' would require you from eleven in the morning +till--" Here he turned inquiringly to Miss Nippett. + +"Carriages at ten thirty," put in Miss Nippett promptly. + +"Yes, carriages at ten thirty," repeated Mr Poulter, who took a +simple enjoyment in the reference to the association of vehicles, +however imaginary, with the academy. + +"And on 'Third Saturdays'?" said Poulter, as he again turned to Miss +Nippett, as if seeking information. + +"Special and Select Assembly at the Athenaeum, including the +Godolphin String Band and light refreshments," declared Miss +Nippett. + +"Ah! carriages at twelve," said Mr Poulter with relish. "That means +your getting home very late." + +"I don't mind. I don't live far from here. I can walk." + +It was ultimately arranged that Mavis should be supplied with +dinner, tea, and supper, and receive a shilling a day for five days +of the week; on Saturdays, in consideration of her staying late, she +was to get an extra shilling. + +Mention was made with some pride of infrequent "Long Nights," which +were also held at the Athenaeum, when dancing was kept up till three +in the morning; but, as Miss Nippett's chilblains would probably be +cured long before the date fixed for the next Terpsichorean +Festival, as these special dances were called, no arrangement was +made in respect of these. + +"It is usual for 'Poulter's' to ask for references," declared Mr +Poulter. "But needless to say that one who has pioneered 'Poulter's' +into the forefront of such institutions can read character at a +glance." + +Mavis thanked him for his confidence, but said that she could supply +him with testimonials from her last two employers. Mr Poulter would +not dream of troubling her, and asked Mavis if she could commence +her duties on that evening. Upon Mavis saying that she could, Mr +Poulter looked at his watch and said: + +"It still wants an hour till 'Poulter's' evening classes commence. +As you've joined 'Poulter's' staff, it might be as well if you +shared one of the privileges of your position." + +This particular privilege consisted of Mavis's being taken +downstairs to Mr Poulter's private sitting-room. This was a homely +apartment furnished with much-worn horsehair furniture, together +with many framed and unframed flashlight photographs of various +"Terpsichorean Festivals," in all of which, conspicuous in the +foreground, was Mr Poulter, wearing a big white rosette on the lapel +of his evening coat. + +"Smoke if you want to, won't you?" said Mavis. + +"Thank you," replied Mr Poulter, "but I only smoke after 'Poulter's' +is closed. It might give 'Poulter's' a bad reputation if the young +lady pupils went 'ome smelling of smoke." + +"'E thinks of everything," declared Miss Nippett admiringly. + +"'Poulter's' is not deficient in worldly wisdom," remarked the +dancing-master with subdued pride. + +"I'm sure of that," said Mavis hypocritically, as she looked at the +simple face of the kindly old man. + +"Suppose we have a game of cards," suggested Mr Poulter presently. + +"Promise you won't cheat," said Mavis. + +Mr Poulter laughed uneasily before saying: + +"'Poulter's' would not occupy its present position if it were not +for its straightforward dealing. What shall we play?" + +Mavis, feeling light-hearted, was on the point of saying "Snap," but +feared that the fact of her suggesting such a frivolous game might +set her down as an improper person in the eyes of "Poulter's." + +"Do you know 'Casino'?" asked Mr Poulter. + +"I'm afraid I don't," replied Mavis. + +"A grand old game; we must teach you another time. What do you say +to 'Old Maid'?" + +They played "Old Maid" deliberately, solemnly. After a time, Mavis +had a strong suspicion that Miss Nippett was cheating in order that +Mr Poulter might win; also, that Mr Poulter was manoeuvring the +cards so that Mavis might not be declared "old maid." + +This belief was strengthened when Mavis heard Miss Nippett say to Mr +Poulter, at the close of the game: + +"She ought to 'ave been 'old maid.'" + +"I know, I know," replied Mr Poulter. "But I want her first evening +at 'Poulter's' to be quite 'appy and 'omelike." + +"Did you easily find 'Poulter's'?" asked Mr Poulter presently of +Mavis. + +"I had no number, so I had to ask," she replied. + +"Then, of course, you were directed at once," suggested Mr Poulter +eagerly. + +Mavis's consideration for the old man's feelings was such that she +thought a fib was justified. + +"Yes," she said. + +Mr Poulter's eyes lit with happiness. + +"That's the advantage of being connected with 'Poulter's,'" he said. +"You'll find it a great help to you as you make your way in the +world." + +"I'm sure of it," remarked Mavis, with all the conviction she could +muster. After a few moments' silence, she said: + +"There's another dancing academy on the other side of the road." + +Mavis was surprised to see Mr Poulter's gentle expression at once +change to a look of intense anger. + +"Gellybrand's! Gellybrand's! The scoundrel!" cried Mr Poulter, as he +thumped his fist upon the table. + +"I'm sorry. I didn't know," said Mavis. + +"What? You haven't heard of the rivalry between mushroom +Gellybrand's and old-established 'Poulter's'?" exclaimed Mr Poulter. + +Mavis did not know what to say. + +"Some people is ignorant!" commented Miss Nippett at her silence. + +"Gellybrand is the greatest scoundrel and blackleg in the history of +dancing," continued Poulter. Then, as if to clinch the matter, he +added, "Poulter's 'Special and Select' is two shillings, with +carriages at eleven. Gellybrand's is one and six, with carriages at +eleven thirty." + +"Disgraceful!" commented Mavis, who was anxious to soothe Poulter's +ruffled sensibilities. + +"That is not all. Poulter's oranges, when light refreshments are +supplied, are cut in eights; Gellybrand's"--here the old man's voice +quivered with indignation--"oranges are cut in sixes." + +"An unfair advantage," remarked Mavis. + +"That's not all. Gellybrand once declared that I had actually +stooped so low as to kiss a married pupil." + +"Disgraceful!" said Mavis gravely. + +"Of course, the statement carried its own refutation, as no +gentleman could ever demean himself so much as to kiss another +gentleman's wife." + +"That's what I say," cried Miss Nippett. + +"But Gellybrand foully libelled me," cried Mr Poulter, with another +outburst of anger, "when he stated that I only paid one and +fourpence a pound for my tea." + +This last recollection so troubled Mr Poulter that Miss Nippett +suggested that it was time for him to go and dress. As he left the +room, he said to Mavis: + +"Pray never mention Gellybrand's name in my presence. If I weren't +an artiste, I wouldn't mind; as it is, I'm all of a tremble." + +Mavis promised that she would not, at which the old man's face wore +its usual kindly expression. When he was gone, Miss Nippett +exclaimed: + +"Oh, why ever did you?" + +"How was I to know?" Mavis asked. + +"I thought everyone knew. Don't, whatever you do, don't again. It +makes him angrier than he was when once the band eat up all the +light refreshments." + +"He's a very charming man," remarked Mavis. + +"But his brains! It's his brains that fetches me." + +"Really!" + +"In addition to 'Poulter's Patent Floor Wax,' he's invented the +'Clacton Schottische,' the 'Ramsgate Galop,' and the 'Coronation +Quadrilles.'" + +"He must be clever." + +"Of course; he's on the grand council of the 'B.A.T.D.'" + +"What is that?" + +"What? You don't know what 'B.A.T.D.' is?" cried Miss Nippett in +astonishment. + +"I'm afraid I don't," replied Mavis. + +"You'll be saying you don't know the Old Bailey next." + +"I don't. But I know a lot of people who should." + +"Don't send 'em to 'Poulter's,'" said Miss Nippett. "There's enough +already who're be'ind with their accounts." + +A few minutes later, Mr Poulter entered the room, wearing evening +dress, dancing pumps, and a tawdry-looking insignia in his coat. + +"That's the 'B.A.T.D.,' Grand Council Badge," Miss Nippett informed +Mavis. + +"Wonderful!" exclaimed Mavis, who felt that her hypocrisy was +justified by the pleasure it gave kindly Mr Poulter. + +"Say we enjoy a whiff of fresh air before commencing our labours," +suggested Mr Poulter. + +Upon Mavis and Miss Nippett rising as if to fall in with his +suggestion, Mr Poulter went before them, up the stairs, past the +"Ladies' Cloak Room," along the passage to the front door. + +As Miss Nippett and Mavis followed the dancing-master, the former +said, referring to Mr Poulter: + +"'E once took the 'Olborn Town 'all for an 'All Night,' didn't you, +Mr Poulter?" + +"The night the 'Clacton Schottische' was danced for the first time," +replied Poulter. + +"And what do you think the refreshments was contracted at a 'ead?" +asked Miss Nippett. + +"Give it up," replied Mavis. + +"Why, no less than three shillin's, wasn't it, Mr Poulter?" + +"True enough," replied Mr Poulter. "But I must admit the attendants +did look 'old-fashioned' at you, if you 'ad two glasses of claret- +cup running." + +By this time, they were outside of the front door, where Mr Poulter +paused, as if designing not to go any further into the night air, +which, for the time of year, was close and warm. + +"I don't want to give the 'Bush' the chance of saying Poulter never +shows himself outside the walls of the academy," remarked the +dancing-master complacently. + +"There's so much jealousy of fame in the 'Bush,'" added Miss +Nippett. + +As they stood on the steps, Mavis could not help noticing that +whereas Miss Nippett had only eyes for Mr Poulter, the latter's +attention was fixed on the plaster figure of "Turpsichor" to the +exclusion of everything else. + +"A classic figure"--(he pronounced it "clarsic")--"gives a +distinction to an academy, which is denied to mongrel and mushroom +imitations," he presently remarked. + +"Quite so," assented Mavis. + +"She has been with 'Poulter's' fifteen years." + +"Almost as long as I have," put in Miss Nippett. + +"The figure?" asked Mavis. + +"The statue 'Turpsichor,'" corrected Mr Poulter. + +"Turpsichor," in common with other down-at-heel people, had +something of a history. She was originally the plaster cast model of +a marble statue ordered by a sorrowing widow to grace the last +resting-place of the dear departed, a widow, whose first transports +of grief were as extravagant as the order she gave to the monumental +mason. But when the time came for the statue to be carved, and a +further deposit to be paid, the widow had been fascinated by a man +whom she had met in a 'bus, when on her way to visit the cemetery +where her husband was interred. She was now loth to bear the cost of +the statue and, as she had changed her address, she took no notice +of the mason's repeated applications. "Turpsichor" had then been +sold cheap to a man who had started a tea-garden, in the vain hope +of reviving the glories of those forgotten institutions; when he had +drifted into bankruptcy, she had been knocked down for a song to a +second-hand shop, where she had been bought for next to nothing by +Mr Poulter as "the very thing." Now she stood in the entrance hall +of the academy, where, it can truthfully be said, that no heathen +goddess received so much adoration and admiration as was bestowed on +"Turpsichor" by Mr Poulter and Miss Nippett. To these simple souls, +it was the finest work of art to be found anywhere in the world, +while the younger amongst the pupils regarded the forlorn statue +with considerable awe. + +When a move was made to the ballroom, Miss Nippett whispered to +Mavis: + +"If Mr Poulter wins the great cotillion prize competition 'e's goin' +in for, I 'ope to stand 'Turpsichor' a clean, and a new coat of +paint." + +When all three had waited in the ballroom some minutes, the pupils +for the night classes straggled in, the "gentlemen" bringing their +dancing shoes in their overcoat pockets, the "ladies" theirs, either +in net-bags or wrapped in odd pieces of brown paper. These "ladies" +were much of a type, being either shop-girls or lady clerks, with a +sprinkling of maid-servants and board school teachers. They were +pale-faced, hard-working, over-dressed young women who read Marie +Corelli, and considered her "deep"; who had one adjective with which +to express appreciation of things, this "artistic"; anything they +condemned was spoken of as "awful"; one and all liked to be +considered what they called "up-to-date." Marriage they desired more +than anything else in the world, not so much that they wished to +live in an atmosphere of affection, but because they believed that +state promised something of a respite from their never-ending, +poorly recompensed toil. The "gentlemen" were mostly shopmen or +weekly paid clerks with social aspirations; they carried silver +cigarette cases, which they exhibited on the least provocation. + +Mavis played, whilst Mr Poulter put the pupils through their steps. +She had no eyes for the dancers, these not interesting her; her +attention, of which she had plenty to spare, was fixed upon the +kindly, beaming face and the agile limbs of Mr Poulter. It was a +pleasure to watch him, he so thoroughly enjoyed his work; he could +not take enough pains to instruct his pupils in the steps that they +should take. Miss Nippett sat beside Mavis. Presently, in a few +minutes' interval between the dances, the former said: + +"Don't you ever be a fool an' teach dancing." + +"Why 'a fool'?" asked Mavis. + +"Look at me an' the way I 'obble; it's all the fault of teaching the +'gentlemen.'" + +"Indeed!" + +"The 'gentlemen' is such clumsy fellers; they always tread on my +right foot. I tried wearing flannel, but they come down on it jess +the same, 'arder if anything." + +Soon after nine, Miss Meakin came in, having travelled from "Dawes'" +with all dispatch by the "Tube." She warmly greeted Mavis, +congratulated her on getting employment at "Poulter's," and told her +that, after she (Mavis) had left "Dawes'," the partners had made +every inquiry into her habit of life. Miss Meakin had been summoned +to one of the partner's rooms to say what she knew of the subject, +and had sat near a table on which was lying Mavis's letter; she had +made a note of the address, to write to her directly she was able to +do so. + +"We must have a long talk, dear; but not to-night." + +"Why not to-night?" "Mr Napper, my 'boy,' will be waiting for me +outside." + +"Bring him in and introduce me." + +"He'd never forgive me if I did. He's all brains, dear, and would +never overlook it, if I insisted on his entering a dancing academy." + +"What is he?" + +"He's a lawyer. But his cleverness is altogether outside of that." + +"A barrister?" + +"Scarcely." + +"A solicitor?" + +"Not yet. He works for one." + +After the pupils had gone, Mavis, pressed by Mr Poulter, stayed to a +supper that consisted of bread, cheese, and cocoa. + +When this was over, Mr Poulter said: + +"I don't know of what religious persuasion you may be, but would you +be offended if I asked you to stay for family prayers?" + +"I like you for asking me," declared Mavis. + +"I am overjoyed at a real young lady like you caring to stay," +replied Poulter. + +Mr Poulter read a chapter from the Bible. He then offered up a brief +extempore prayer. He prayed for Miss Nippett, for Mavis, for past +and present pupils, the world at large. The Lord's Prayer, in which +the two women joined, ended the devotions. + +When Miss Nippett had put on her goloshes, bonnet, and cloak, and +Mavis her things, Mr Poulter accompanied them to the door. + +"I live in the 'Bush': where do you?" asked Miss Nippett of Mavis. + +"Kiva Road, Hammersmith." + +"Then we go different ways. Good night, Mr Poulter; good night, Miss +Keeves." + +Mavis wished her and Mr Poulter good night. The two women walked +together to the gate, when Miss Nippett hobbled off to the left. + +As Mavis turned to the right, she glanced at Mr Poulter, who was +still standing on the steps; he was gazing raptly at "Turpsichor." A +few minutes later, when she encountered the insolent glances of the +painted foreign women who flock in the Goldhawk Road, Mavis found it +hard to believe that they and Mr Poulter inhabited the same world. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +MAVIS'S PRAYER + + +The next morning, Mavis was awakened by Mrs Bilkins bringing her a +cup of tea. + +"Bless my soul!" cried Mrs Bilkins, almost spilling the tea in her +agitation. + +"What's the matter?" + +"You've got your window open. It's a wonder you're alive." + +"I always sleep with it open." + +"Well, you are funny. What will you do next?" + +Mrs Bilkins sat on the bed, seemingly inclined to gossip. Mavis did +not discourage her; for some reason, the landlady was looking +different from when she had seen her the day before. Curious to +discover the cause, she let the woman ramble on unchecked about the +way in which "her son, a Bilkins," had "demeaned himself" by +marrying a servant. + +Then it occurred to Mavis that the way in which Mrs Bilkins had done +her hair was the reason for her changed appearance: she had arranged +it in imitation of the manner in which Mavis wore hers. + +Presently, Mavis told the woman how she had got temporary +employment, and added: + +"But it's work I'm quite unaccustomed to." + +To her surprise, Mrs Bilkins bridled up. + +"Just like me. I ain't used to letting lodgin's; far from it." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis. + +"Oh, well, if you don't believe me, ask Mrs Bonus." + +When Mavis came downstairs, she found Mrs Bilkins busy trimming a +hat. The next day, the landlady wore it about the house, when Mavis +was surprised and amused to see that it was a shabby imitation of +her own. At first, she could scarcely believe such emulation to be +possible, but when, after buying a necessary pair of gloves, she +found that her landlady had got a new pair for herself, she saw that +Mrs Bilkins was possessed by jealousy of her lodger. This belief was +strengthened by the fact of Mrs Bilkins making copious reference to +past prosperity directly Mavis made innocent mention of former +events in her life which pointed to her having been better off than +she was at present. It was fourteen days before Miss Nippett's +chilblains were sufficiently healed to allow her to take her place +at "Poulter's" piano. During this time, Mavis became on friendly +terms with the dancing-master; the more she saw of him, the more he +became endeared to the lonely girl. Apart from his vanity where the +academy was concerned (a harmless enough foible, which saddened +quite as much as it amused Mavis), he was the simplest, the +kindliest of men. He was very poor; although his poverty largely +arose from the advantage which pupils and parents took of his +boundless good nature, Mavis did not hear him utter a complaining +word of a living soul, always excepting Gellybrand. + +She learned how Mr Poulter had been happily married, although +childless; also, that his wife had died of a chill caught by walking +home, insufficiently clad, from an "All Night" in bleak weather. For +all the pain that her absence caused in his life, he looked bravely, +confidently forward (sometimes with tears in his eyes) to when they +should meet again, this time never to part. When the evenings were +fine, Mr Poulter would take Miss Nippett and Mavis for a ride on a +tram car, returning in time for the night classes. Upon one of these +excursions, someone in the tram car pointed out Mr Poulter to a +friend in the hearing of the dancing-master; this was enough to make +Mr Poulter radiantly happy for the best part of two days, much to +Mavis's delight. + +Another human trait in the proprietor of "Poulter's" was that he was +insensible to Miss Nippett's loyalty to the academy, he taking her +devotion as a matter of course. + +Miss Nippett and Mavis, also, became friends; the latter was moved +by the touching faith which the shrivelled-up little accompanist had +in the academy, its future, and, above all, its proprietor. If the +rivalry between "Poulter's" and "Gellybrand's" could have been +decided by an appeal to force, Miss Nippett would have been found in +the van of "Poulter's" adherents, firmly imbued with the +righteousness of her cause. She lived in Blomfield Road, Shepherd's +Bush, a depressing, blind little street, at the end of which was a +hoarding; this latter shut off a view of a seemingly boundless +brickfield. Miss Nippett rented a top back room at number 19, where, +on one Sunday afternoon, Mavis, being previously invited, went to +tea. The little room was neat and clean; tea, a substantial meal, +was served on the big black box which stood at the foot of Miss +Nippett's bed. After tea, Miss Nippett showed, with much pride, her +little treasures, which were chiefly pitiful odds and ends picked up +upon infrequent excursions to Isle of Thanet watering-places. Her +devotion to these brought a lump to Mavis's throat. After the girl +had inspected and admired these household gods, she was taken to the +window, in order to see the view, now lit by a brilliant full moon. +Mavis looked over a desert of waste land and brickfield to a +hideous, forbidding-looking structure in the distance. + +"Ain't it beautiful?" asked Miss Nippett. + +"Y--yes," assented Mavis. + +"Almost as good as reel country." + +"Almost." + +"Why, I declare, you can see the 'Scrubbs': you are in luck to-day." + +"What's the 'Scrubbs'?" + +"The 'Scrubbs' prison. Oh, I say, you are ignorant!" + +"I'm afraid I am," sighed Mavis. + +"It ain't often you can see the 'Scrubbs' at this time of year +'cause of the fog," remarked Miss Nippett, whose eyes were still +glued to the window. + +Presently, when she drew the curtains, she looked contentedly round +the little room before saying: + +"I often think that, after all, there's no place like a good 'ome." + +"If you're lucky enough to have one," assented Mavis heartfully. + +"Sometimes I like it even better than 'Poulter's'; you know, when +you've got a waltz in your 'ead, and 'ate it, and 'ave to play it +over and over again. But every bit of this here furniture is mine +and paid for." + +"Really?" asked Mavis, feigning surprise to please her friend. + +"I can show you the receipts if you don't b'lieve me." + +"But I do." + +"Being at the academy makes me business-like. But there! if I +haven't forgotten something; reelly I 'ave." + +"What?" + +"One moment: let me bring the light." + +Miss Nippett led the way to the landing immediately outside her +door, where she unlocked a roomy cupboard, crammed to its utmost +capacity with odds and ends of cheap feminine adornment. Mangy +evening boas, flimsy wraps, down-at-heel dancing shoes, +handkerchiefs, gloves, powder puffs, and odd bits of ribbon were +jumbled together in heaped disorder. + +"D'ye know what they is?" asked Miss Nippett. + +"Give it up," replied Mavis. + +"They're the 'overs.'" + +"What on earth's that?" + +"Oh, I say, you are ignorant; reelly you are. 'Overs' is what's left +and unclaimed at 'Poulter's.'" + +"Really?" + +"They're my 'perk,'" which last word Mavis took to be an +abbreviation of perquisite. + +Mavis looked curiously at the heap of forgotten finery: had she +lately lived among more prosperous surroundings, she might have +glanced contemptuously at this collection of tawdry flummery; but, +if her sordid struggles to make both ends meet had taught her +nothing else, they had given her a keen sympathy for all forms of +endeavour, however humble, to escape, if only for a crowded hour, +from the debasing round of uncongenial toil. Consequently, she +looked with soft eyes at the pile of unclaimed "overs." None knew +better than she of the sacrifices that the purchase of the cheapest +of these entailed; her observation had told her with what pride they +were worn, the infinite pleasure which their possession bestowed on +their owner. The cupboard's contents seemed to Mavis to be eloquent +of pinched meals, walks in bad weather to save 'bus fares, mean +economies bravely borne; to cry aloud of pitiful efforts made by +young hearts to secure a brief taste of their rightful heritage of +joy, of which they had been dispossessed. + +Mavis turned away with a sigh. + +Presently, in the cosiness of the bed-sitting room, Miss Nippett +became confidential. + +"Are you ambitious?" she asked. + +"I don't know," replied Mavis. + +"I mean REELLY ambitious." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Well, like I am. I'm reelly ambitious." + +"Indeed!" + +"I want to be a partner in 'Poulter's.' Not for the money, you +understand, but for the honour. If I was made a partner, I'd die +'appy. See?" + +"I don't see why you shouldn't be some day. Mr Poulter might reward +you that way for your years of faithful service." + +As Mavis walked back to Kiva Street, she asked herself the question +that Miss Nippett had asked her, "Was she ambitious?" + +Now, her chief concern was to earn her daily bread. It was not so +very long ago that her ambition was in some way bound up with the +romantic fancies which she was then so fond of weaving. Now, the +prospect of again having to fight for the privilege of bread-winning +drove all thought from her mind beyond this one desire--to keep +afloat without exhibiting signals of distress to the Devitts. + +Three days before Mavis left "Poulter's," she assisted at a Third +Saturday Night which was held, as usual, on that Saturday of the +month at the Athenaeum, Shepherd's Bush. + +Mavis, dressed in her one evening frock and wearing her few +trinkets, went to the Athenaeum an hour before the public was +expected, in order to rehearse with the "Godolphin Band," which was +always engaged for these occasions. She was in some trepidation at +having to accompany professional musicians on the piano; she hoped +that they would not find fault with her playing. When she got to the +hall, she found Mr Poulter already there in evening dress, vainly +striving to conceal his excitement. + +"Aren't you nervous?" he asked. + +"I am rather," she replied, as she took off her coat. + +"Oh, my dear, may an old man say how beautiful you look?" + +"Why not?" asked Mavis, whose eyes were shining at the +unexpectedness of the compliment. + +Mr Poulter looked at her intently for a few moments before saying: + +"Haven't you a father or mother?" + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Neither kith nor kin?" + +"I'm all alone in the world," she replied sadly. + +A sorrowful expression came over the old man's face as he said with +much fervour: + +"God bless you, my dear. May He keep you from pain and all harm." + +Mavis was seized with a sudden impulse. She took the white head in +her warm arms and kissed him fondly on the forehead. + +Mr Poulter turned away and pretended to have trouble with one of his +dancing pumps. + +A minute or two later, three grimy, uncouth-looking men came into +the hall, whom Mavis took to be gasmen. + +"Here's the 'Godolphin Band,'" said Mr Poulter, as he caught sight +of them. + +"All except Baffy: 'e's always late," remarked one of the men. + +Mavis was introduced to the three members of the band, all of whom +seemed to be somewhat abashed by her striking appearance. + +"What about evening dress?" asked Mr Poulter of the trio. + +Two of the men coughed and hesitated before saying: + +'Very sorry, Mr Poulter, but Christmas coming and all that, sir--" + +"I understand," sighed the dancing-master sympathetically; he then +turned to the tallest of the three to ask: + +"And you, Mr Cheadle?" + +"What a question to ask a cornet-player!" replied Mr Cheadle, as he +undid his overcoat to reveal a much worn evening suit, together with +a frayed, soiled shirt. + +"Excellent! excellent!" cried Mr Poulter on seeing the cornet- +player's garb. + +"One 'ud think I played outside pubs," grumbled Mr Cheadle. + +"Now, if only Mr Baffy would come, you artistes could get to work," +remarked Mr Poulter pleasantly. + +"Let's start without him," suggested Cheadle, who seemed pleased at +being referred to as an artiste. + +A move was made to the platform at the further end of the hall; when +this was reached, a little old man staggered into the hall, bearing +on his shoulders a bass viol. + +"Here's Baffy!" cried the three musicians together. + +When the man disentangled himself from his burden, Mavis saw that +the bass viol player was short, unkempt, greyhaired and bearded; he +stared straight before him with vacant, watery eyes; his mouth was +always agape; he neither greeted nor spoke to anyone present. + +In obedience to Mr Poulter's instructions, two of the band brought a +big screen from a side-room; this was set up by the piano, at which +instrument Mavis took her seat. The screen was arranged so that she +and Cheadle, the cornet-player, would be in full sight of the +dancers; the three musicians not in evening dress were hidden behind +the screen. They commenced a waltz. Mr Baffy did not start with the +others; he was set going by a kick from Mr Cheadle. He played +without music, seemingly at random, vilely, unconcernedly. Mr Baffy +seemed to be ignorant of when a figure was ended, as he went on +scraping after the others had ceased, and only stopped after +receiving a further kick from Cheadle; he then stared feebly before +him, till again set going by a forcible hint from the cornet-player. + +Mavis acquitted herself to the grudging satisfaction of Cheadle. A +few minutes before the doors were open, Miss Nippett approached her, +wearing, besides her usual shawl, a coquettish cap and apron. + +"Have you come to the dance?" asked Mavis. + +"I'm 'ladies cloak-room' to-night? What do you think of Baffy?" + +"I don't know what to think." + +"No class, is 'e?" + +"Do you know anything about him?" + +"I don't 'old with the feller. 'Is presence is a disgrace to the +academy," replied the "ladies' cloak-room." + +A few minutes later, the first of Mr Poulter's patrons self- +consciously entered the room; soon after, dancing commenced. + +As if to give Mavis heart for her unaccustomed task, Mr Poulter kept +an eye upon her; he encouraged her with smiles whenever she looked +in his direction. Mavis's playing was much jeopardised by the +conduct of the other musicians; they did not give the least +attention to what they were at, but performed as if their efforts +were second nature. Soon after the dancing started, Mr Cheadle +brought from a pocket a greasy pack of cards, at which he and the +two musicians who had arrived with him began to play at farthing +"Nap," a game which the most difficult passages of their performance +did not interrupt, each card-player somehow contriving to play +almost directly it came to his turn. Mr Cheadle, playing the cornet, +had one hand always free; he shuffled the cards, dealt them, and put +down the winnings. When Mavis became more used to the vagaries of +their instrumental playing, she was amused at the way in which they +combined business with diversion. Mr Baffy, also, interested her; he +still continued to stare before him, as he played with watery, +purposeless eyes, and with mouth agape. + +Halfway through the programme, there was an interval for +refreshments. Mavis was conducted by Mr Poulter to a table set apart +for the artistes in the room in which the lightest of light +refreshments were served to his patrons. + +Mavis sat down to a plateful of what looked uncommonly like her old +friend, brisket of beef; she was now so hungry that she was glad to +get anything so substantial. + +"'Ow are you gettin' on?" asked a familiar voice over her shoulder. + +Mavis looked up, to see Miss Nippett, who had discarded her cap and +apron; she was now in her usual rusty frock, with her shawl upon her +narrow, stooping shoulders. + +"All right, thank you. Why don't you have some?" + +"No, thank you. I can't spare the time. I'm 'light refreshments.'" + +"But they're all eaten!" remarked Mavis, as her eye ranged along a +length of table-cloth innocent of food or decoration. + +"'Poulter's' ain't such a fool as to stick nothink out; it would all +be 'wolfed' in a second. Let 'em ask." + +"Some people mightn't like to." + +"That's their look-out," snapped Miss Nippett, who had a heart of +stone where the interests of anything antagonistic to "Poulter's" +were concerned. + +At the conclusion of the evening, the band was paid. + +Mr Baffy got a shilling for his services, which he held in his hand +and looked stupidly before him, till he got a cut with a bow from +the second violinist, at which he put the money in his pocket. He +then shouldered his bass viol and plunged out into the darkness. + +Mavis's heart went out to Mr Baffy. She wondered where and how he +lived; how he passed his time; what had reduced him to his present +condition. + +She spoke of him to Mr Poulter, who looked perplexed before +replying: + +"Ah, my dear young lady, it's as well for such as you not to inquire +too closely into the lives of we who are artistes." + +When Mavis had put on her hat and cloak, and was leaving the +Athenaeum, Miss Nippett called out: + +"It's all right; you can sleep sound; 'e's pleased with you." + +"Who?" asked Mavis. + +"Mr Poulter. Who else d'ye think I meant?" + +Three days later, Mavis severed her connection with "Poulter's." +Upon her going, Mr Poulter presented her with a signed photograph of +himself in full war-paint, an eulogistically worded testimonial, +also, an honorarium (this was his word) of five shillings. Mavis was +loth to take it; but seeing the dancing-master's distress at her +hesitation, she reluctantly pocketed the money. + +Miss Nippett also gave her a specially taken photograph of herself. + +"Where's your shawl?" asked Mavis, who missed this familiar adjunct +from the photograph. + +"I took it off to show off me figure. See?" replied Miss Nippett +confidentially. + +Mr Poulter asked Mavis if she had further employment in view. She +knew how poor he was; also, that if she told him she was workless, +he would probably insist on retaining her services, although he +could not afford to do so. Mavis fibbed to Mr Poulter; she hoped +that her consideration for his poverty would atone for the lie. + +For five weeks Mavis vainly tried to get work. She soon discovered +how, when possible employers considered her application, the mere +mention of her being at "Dawes'" was enough to spoil her chances of +securing an engagement. + +She had spent all her money; she was now living on the sum she had +received from a pawnbroker in exchange for two of her least prized +trinkets. Going out in all weathers to look for employment had not +improved her clothes; her best pair of boots let in water; she was +jaded, heartsick, dispirited. As with others in a like plight, she +dared not look into the immediate future, this holding only +terrifying probabilities of disaster; the present moment was all +sufficient; little else mattered, and, although to-morrow promised +actual want, there was yet hope that a sudden turn of fortune's +wheel would remove the dread menace of impending ruin. One evening, +Mavis, dazed with disappointment at failing to secure an all but +promised berth, wandered aimlessly from the city in a westerly +direction. She scarcely knew where she was going or what quarter of +London she had reached. She was only aware that she was surrounded +by every evidence of well-being and riches. The pallid, worried +faces of the frequenters of the city were now succeeded by the well- +fed, contented looks of those who appeared as if they did not know +the meaning of the word care. Splendid carriages, costly motor cars +passed in never-ending procession. As Mavis glanced at the expensive +dresses of the women, the wind-tanned faces of the men, she thought +how, but for a wholly unlooked-for reverse of fortune, these would +be the people with whom she would be associating on equal terms. The +thought embittered her; she quickened her steps in order to leave +behind her the opulent surroundings so different from her own, A +little crowd, consisting of those entering and waiting about the +door of a tea-shop, obstructed her. An idea suddenly possessed her. +Confronted with want, she wondered if she had enough money to snatch +a brief half-hour's respite from her troubles. She looked in her +purse, to find it contained three shillings. The next moment, she +was moving in the direction of the tea-room, her habitual husbandry +making a poor fight against the over-mastering desire possessing +her. + +She walked up a steep, narrow flight of carpeted stairs; this +terminated in a long, low room, the walls of which were of black +oak, and which was nearly filled with a gaily dressed crowd of men +and women. The sensuous music of a string band fell on her ear; the +smell of tea and the indefinable odour of women were borne to her +nostrils. A card was put in her hand, telling her that a palmist +could be consulted on the next floor. In and out among the tables, +attendants, clad in the garb of sixteenth century Flemish peasant +women, moved noiselessly. + +Mavis got a table to herself in a corner by a window which +overlooked the street. She ordered tea and toast. When it was +brought, she did her best to put her extremity out of sight; she +tried hard to believe that she, too, led a happy, butterfly +existence, without anxious thought for the morrow, without a care in +the world. The effort was scarcely a success, but was, perhaps, +worth the making. As she sat, she noticed a kindly-looking old +gentlewoman who was pointing her out to a companion; for all the old +woman's somewhat dowdy garb, she had rich woman stamped all over +her. The old lady kept on looking at Mavis; once or twice, when the +latter caught her eye, the elder woman smiled. When she rose to go, +she came over to Mavis and said: + +"Forgive me, my dear, but your hair looks wonderful against that +imitation oak." + +"Does it? But it isn't imitation too," replied Mavis. + +"Forgive me, won't you?" + +"Of course." + +"May I ask your name?" + +"Keeves. Mavis Keeves." + +"A good name," muttered the old lady. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye." + +Mavis saw her move towards the door; when she reached it, she turned +to smile again to Mavis before going out. + +"What a fool I am!" thought Mavis. "If I'd only told her I wanted +work, she'd have helped me to something. What a fool I am!" + +Mavis rose as if to follow the kindly old soul; but she was too +late. As she got up, she saw her step into a fine carriage, which, +after the footman had closed the door and mounted the box, had +driven away. Mavis sat helplessly. It seemed as if she were as a +drowning person who had been offered the chance of clutching a +straw, but had refused to take it. There was little likelihood of +her getting a second chance. She must resign herself to the worst. +She had forgotten; one hope was still left, one she had, hitherto, +lost sight of: this to pray to her Heavenly Father, to remind Him +that she, as a human sparrow, was in danger of falling; to implore +succour. Although she had knelt morning and evening at her bedside, +it had lately been more from force of habit than anything else; her +heart had not inspired her lips. There had been some reason for +this: every morning she had been devoured by eagerness to get work; +at night, she had been too weary and dispirited to pray earnestly. +Mavis covered her eyes with her hands; she prayed heartfully and +long for help. Words welled from her being; their burden was: + +"I am young; I love life; help me to live, if only for a little +while, in this glorious, wonderful world of Thy making. I only ask +for bread, for which I am eager to work. Help me! Help me! Help me!" + +Mavis uncovered her eyes. The tea-shop, the music, the indefinable +odour of women all seemed bizarre after her communion with the Most +High. She made ready to go. + +"Are you in trouble?" said a voice at her elbow. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"I must help you," said the voice. + +Mavis saw a richly dressed, bejewelled, comfortable-looking woman at +her side. + +She was not in the least surprised; a friend had been sent in answer +to her prayer. + +"Is it over money?" asked the instrument. + +Mavis nodded. + +"I thought as much. I saw you outside the tea-shop and followed you +in. Is your time your own?" + +"Absolutely." + +"No parents or anyone?" + +"I haven't a friend or relation in the world." + +"Ah! I must really help you. Come with me. Let me pay for your tea." + +Mavis, before she went, found time to offer up brief, heartfelt +thanks for having speedily received an answer to her prayer. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +MRS HAMILTON'S + + +Mavis followed her new friend past the pay box, down the carpeted +stairs, into the street. She could not help seeing how bedraggled a +sparrow she appeared when contrasted with the brilliant plumage of +the woman at her side. A superb motor drew up to the pavement, from +which a man got down to open the door. + +"Get inside, dear," said the woman. + +Mavis did as she was bid, hardly realising the good fortune which +had so unexpectedly overtaken her. + +"Telegraph office, then home," said the woman, who had, also, got +into the car. + +The man touched his hat and they were off. The woman did not speak +at first, being seemingly absorbed in anxious thought. Mavis became +conscious of a vague feeling of discomfort like to when--when--she +tried to remember when this uneasy feeling had before possessed her. +She glanced at her companion; she noticed that the woman's eyes were +hard and cold; it was difficult to reconcile their expression with +the sentiments she had professed. Then the woman turned to her. + +"What is your name?" + +"Mavis Weston Keeves." + +"My name's Hamilton; it's really West-Hamilton, but I'm known as Mrs +Hamilton. How old are you?" + +"Eighteen. I'm nineteen in three months." + +"Tell me more of yourself." + +Mavis briefly told her story; as she finished, the car drew up at a +post-office. Mrs Hamilton scanned Mavis's face closely before +getting out. + +"I shan't be a moment; it's only to someone who's coming to dinner." + +Mavis, left alone in the motor, wondered at the strangeness of the +adventure. She knew that Mrs Hamilton was scarcely a gentlewoman-- +even in the broad interpretation nowadays given to the word. But it +was not this so much as the fact of her having such hard eyes which +perplexed the girl. She had little time to dwell on this matter, as, +in a very few moments, Mrs Hamilton was again beside Mavis, and they +were speeding up Oxford Street. + +"The fact is I live alone," said Mrs Hamilton. "I am in need of a +companion, young and nice-looking, like yourself. I wonder if you'd +care for the job." + +"I wonder if you'd care to have me." + +"I entertain a good deal, mostly gentlemen; two gentlemen are coming +to dinner to-night." + +"But you don't expect me--?" + +"Why not?" + +"But my clothes." + +"Is that all? I've some things that will suit you down to the +ground." + +"You're very kind," said Mavis, as the motor, having turned into +Regent Street, whizzed past the Langham Hotel. + +"You play and sing?" asked Mrs Hamilton. + +"A little." + +"That always helps. And as to terms, if we get along well together, +you'll be grateful to me till the day of your death." + +Although the words were spoken without a suspicion of feeling, Mavis +replied: + +"I'm sure I shall." + +"Here we are!" said Mrs Hamilton. + +Mavis was much surprised that no word had been said about +references. + +A man-servant opened the door. Mavis passed in with Mrs Hamilton, +for whom a telegram was waiting. + +"Dinner at eight to-night, Jarvis; an hour earlier than usual. Lay +for four," said Jarvis's mistress, after opening the telegram. + +"Yes, ma'am," replied Jarvis, as Mrs Hamilton walked upstairs to the +drawing-room, followed by Mavis. + +Accustomed as Mavis had been of late to bed-sitting rooms or shabby +lodging-house parlours, her first glimpse of Mrs Hamilton's richly- +furnished drawing-room almost took away her breath. It was not so +much the richness of the furniture which astonished her, as the +daring scheme of decoration and the profusion of expensive nicknacks +scattered about the room; these last were eloquent of Mrs Hamilton's +ability to satisfy any whim, however costly it might be. The walls +were panelled in white; white curtains were drawn across the +windows; black bearskins covered the floor; the furniture was dark, +formal, much of it carved; here and there on the white panelling of +the walls were black Wedgwood plaques; black Wedgwood china stood +audaciously upon and inside cabinets. A large grand piano and the +cheerful blaze of a wood fire mitigated the severity of the room. + +"How beautiful!" exclaimed Mavis. + +"You like it?" + +"It's the loveliest room I've ever been in." + +"It's your home if we hit it off." + +"Do you think we shall?" + +"Up to now I don't see any reason why we shouldn't." + +Mavis again breathed thanks to Heaven for having so generously +answered her prayer. She felt how she would like to tell of her +experience to any who denied the efficacy of personal supplication +to God. + +"Shall I play to you?" asked Mavis, after they had talked for some +minutes. + +"I don't like music," replied Mrs Hamilton. + +"Not?" + +"I don't understand it. Let's go upstairs to my room." + +If she did not care for music, Mavis wondered why she had made a +point of asking if she (Mavis) could play. + +Mrs Hamilton's bedroom was a further revelation to the girl; she +looked wide-eyed at the Louis Seize gilt furniture, the tapestry, +the gilt-edged screens, the plated bath in a corner of the room, the +superb dressing-table bestrewed with gold toilet nicknacks. + +"Do you like my bed?" asked Mrs Hamilton, who was watching the +girl's undisguised wonder. + +"I haven't had time to take in the other things." + +Mavis looked at the bed; it stood in an alcove on the side of the +room furthest from where she was. It was long, low, and gilded; +plum-coloured curtains rose in voluptuous folds till they were +joined near the ceiling by a pair of big silver doves. + +"Do you like it?" asked Mrs Hamilton. + +"Like is scarcely the word. I've never imagined anything like it in +my life." + +"It belonged to Madame du Barri, the mistress of a French king." + +"I've read something about her." + +"He always wished to give her a toilette set of pure gold, but could +never quite afford it. I hope to get one next year if things go +well." + +Mavis stared at Mrs Hamilton in wide-eyed amazement. The rich woman +appeared to take no notice of the girl's surprise, and said: + +"Sit by the fire with me a moment. It will soon be time for you to +dress." + +"Dress! I've only what I've got on with me. My one poor evening +dress would look absurd in this house." + +"I told you I'd see to that," replied Mrs Hamilton. "I've had a +young friend staying with me who was just about your build. She left +one or two of her evening dresses behind her. If they don't quite +fit, my maid will take them in." + +"You are good to me," said Mavis. + +"If you like it, I'll give you one." + +"How can I ever thank you?" + +"You can to-night." + +"To-night?" + +"Listen. I've two old friends coming to dinner. One is a Mr--Mr +Ellis, but he won't interest you a bit." + +"Why not?" + +"He's old and is already infatuated." + +"Isn't the other, then?" asked Mavis lightly. + +"Mr--Mr Williams! No. I wonder if you'd interest him." + +"I don't suppose so for one moment," remarked Mavis. + +"You're too modest. Mr Williams is young, good-looking, rich." + +"Money doesn't interest me." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Really, it doesn't." + +"Not after your wanting work for so long?" + +"Not a bit." + +"Not when you see it can buy things like mine?" + +"Of course money is wonderful, but it isn't everything." + +"You say that because you don't know. Money is power, happiness, +contentment, life. And you know it in your heart of hearts. Every +woman, who is anything at all, knows it. Surely, after all you've +gone through, it appeals to you?" + +Mrs Hamilton anxiously watched Mavis's face. + +"Not a bit like it seems to--to some people," replied Mavis. + +Mrs Hamilton's face fell. She was lost in anxious thought for some +moments. + +"Do you mind?" asked Mavis. + +"Of course not. But we'll talk it over after you've seen Mr +Williams." + +"But is it so necessary for his happiness that he should be +infatuated with anyone?" + +"It might keep him from worse things. He's very impulsive and +romantic. I've quite a motherly interest in the boy. You might +assist me to reclaim him." + +[Footnote: ]Although Mrs Hamilton spoke such maternal sentiments, +Mavis looked in vain for the motherly expression upon her face, +which she felt should inevitably accompany such words. Mrs +Hamilton's face was hard, expressionless, cold. Presently she said: + +"If you would care to go to your room, it's on the next floor, and +the second door you come to on the right. If it isn't good enough, +let me know." + +"It's sure to be," remarked Mavis. + +"Parkins, my maid, will come to you in ten minutes. Rest till then, +as to-night I want you to look your best." + +Mavis thanked and left Mrs Hamilton. She then found her way to her +chamber. She was as surprised and delighted with this as she had +been with the other two rooms, perhaps more so, because she +reflected, with an immense satisfaction, that it might be her very +own. The room was furnished throughout with satinwood; blue china +bowls decorated the tops of cabinets; a painted satinwood spinet +stood in a corner; the hearth was open and tiled throughout with +blue Dutch tiles; the fire burned in a brass brazier which was +suspended from the chimney. + +Thought Mavis, as she looked rapturously about her: + +"Just the room I should love to have had for always, if--if things +had been different." + +A door on the right of the fireplace attracted her. She turned the +handle of this, to find it opened on to a luxuriously fitted +bathroom, in a corner of which a fire was burning. Mavis returned to +the bedroom, still wondering at the sudden change in her fortunes; +even now, with all these tangible evidences of the alteration in her +condition, she could scarcely believe it to be true: it all seemed +like something out of a book or on the stage, two forms of +distraction which, according to Miss Allen, did anything but +represent life as it really was. She was still mentally agape at her +novel surroundings when Parkins, Mrs Hamilton's maid, entered the +room to dress Mavis. + +Parkins's appearance surprised her; she was wholly unlike her +conception of what a lady's-maid should be. Instead of being +unassumingly dressed, quiet, self-effacing, Parkins was a bold, +buxom wench, with large blue eyes and a profusion of fair hair. She +wore white lace underskirts, openwork silk stockings, and showy +shoes. Her manner was that of scarcely veiled familiarity. She +carried upon her arm a gorgeous evening gown. + +Mavis made an elaborate toilette. She bathed, presently to clothe +herself in the many delicate garments which Mrs Hamilton had +provided. Her hair was dressed by Parkins; later, when she put on +the evening frock, she hardly knew herself. The gown was of grey +chiffon, embroidered upon the bodice and skirt with silver roses; +grey silk stockings, grey silver embroidered shoes completed the +toilette. + +"Madam sent you these," said Parkins, returning to the room after a +short absence. + +"Those!" cried Mavis, as her eyes were attracted by the pearl +necklaces and other costly jewels which the maid had brought. + +"Madam entertains very rich gentlemen; she likes everyone about her +to look their best." + +Mavis, with faint reluctance, let Parkins do as she would with her. +The pearl necklaces were roped about her neck; gold bracelets were +put upon her arms; a thin platinum circlet, which supported a large +emerald, was clasped about her head. + +Mavis stood to look at herself in the glass. She could scarcely +believe that the tall, queenly, ardent-looking girl was the same +tired, dispirited creature who had listlessly pinned on her hat of a +morning before tramping out, in all weathers, to search for work. +She gazed at herself for quite two minutes; whatever happened, the +memory of how she looked in all this rich finery was something to +remember. + +"Will I do?" she asked of Mrs Hamilton, when that person, very +richly garbed, came into the room. + +Mrs Hamilton looked her all over before replying: + +"Yes, you'll do." + +"I'm glad." + +"I never make a mistake. You can go, Parkins." + +When the maid had left the room, Mrs Hamilton said: + +"I'm going to introduce you to my friends as Miss Devereux." + +"But--" + +"I wish it." + +"But--" + +Mavis did not at all like this resolve. + +"It was the name of my last companion, and I've got used to it. +Besides, I wish it." + +Mavis resented Mrs Hamilton's sudden assumption of authority; it +quickened the vague feelings of dislike which she had felt in her +presence, the vague feelings of dislike which reminded her of--of-- +ah! She remembered now. It was the same uncomfortable sensation +which she had always experienced when Mrs Stanley stood by her in +"Dawes'." + +This discovery of the identity of the two emotions set Mavis +wondering if either had anything to do with the character of the two +women who had inspired them, and, if so, whether Mrs Hamilton +followed the same loathsome calling as Mrs Stanley. Mavis comforted +her mind's disquiet by reflecting how Miss Allen had, most likely, +not told the truth about Mrs Stanley's occupation; also, by +remembering how her present situation was the result of a direct, +personal appeal to the Almighty, which precluded the remotest +possibility of her being exposed to risk of insult or harm. She had +little time for thinking on the matter, for Mrs Hamilton said: + +"Mr Ellis has already come. Mr Williams will be here any moment. +We'd better go down." + +Mavis followed Mrs Hamilton to the drawing-room, where a man rose at +their entrance, to whom Mavis was introduced as Miss Devereux. + +He scarcely glanced at Mavis, gave her the most formal of bows, and, +as the few remarks he made were directed to Mrs Hamilton, the girl +had plenty of time in which to observe him. He was elderly, tall, +distinguished-looking. He had the indefinable air of being, not only +a man of wealth, but a "somebody." She was chiefly attracted by his +grey eyes, which seemed dead and lifeless. The underlids of these +were pencilled with countless small lines, which, with the weary, +dull eyes, seemed quite out of keeping with the otherwise keenly +intellectual face. + +Mavis secretly resented the man's indifference to her comeliness. A +few minutes later, the servant opened the door to announce Mr +Williams, whereupon a tall, sun-bronzed, smart-looking man sauntered +into the room. Something in his carriage and face suggested soldier +to Mavis's mind. He was by no means handsome, but what might have +been a somewhat plain face was made pleasant-looking by the deep +sunburn and the kindliness of his expression. + +Williams shook hands with Mrs Hamilton, nodded to Ellis, and then +turned to Mavis. Directly he saw her, a look of surprise came into +his face; the girl could not help seeing how greatly he was struck +by her appearance. Mrs Hamilton introduced them, when he at once +came to her side. + +"Just think of it," he said, "I was in no hurry to get here. If I +had only known!" + +"Known what?" asked Mavis. + +"That's asking something. In return I'm going to ask you a +question." + +"Well?" + +"What is it like to be so charming?" + +The same question asked by another man might have offended her. +There was such a note of sincere, boyish admiration in the man's +voice, that she had said, almost before she was aware of it: + +"Rather nice." + +He said more in the same strain. Mavis found herself greatly +enjoying the thinly veiled compliments which he paid her. It was the +first time since she had grown up that she had spoken to a smart +man, who was obviously a gentleman. If this were not enough to thaw +her habitual reserve, there was something strangely familiar in the +young man's face and manner; it almost seemed to Mavis as if she +were talking with a very old friend or acquaintance, which was +enough to justify the unusual levity of her behaviour. + +Once or twice, she caught Mrs Hamilton's eye, when she could not +help seeing how her friend was much pleased at the way in which she +attracted Mr Williams. + +When he was taking the girl down to dinner, he murmured: + +"May I call here often?" + +"There's no charge for admission," replied Mavis. + +"It wouldn't make any difference to me if there were." + +"How nice to be so reckless!" + +"I'm a lot in town for the next three months. I want to get as much +out of life as I can." + +"From school?" + +"Aldershot." + +"Are you in the service?" + +"Eh!" + +"If you are, haven't you any rank at your age?" asked Mavis. + +"How do you know I'm not a Tommy?" he asked. + +"That's what I thought you were," she retorted. + +Mavis and Mrs Hamilton faced each other at table; Williams sat on +her right, Ellis on her left. The conversation at the dinner-table +was, almost exclusively, between the soldier and Mavis. Ellis +scarcely spoke to his hostess, and then only when compelled. + +"What will you drink?" asked Mrs Hamilton of Mavis. + +"Water, please." + +"Water?" echoed Mrs Hamilton. + +Mr Ellis looked keenly at Mavis. + +"Have some champagne," continued Mrs Hamilton. + +"I'd fall under the table if I did. I'll have water. I never drink +anything else," said Mavis. + +"I never drink anything else except champagne," retorted Mrs +Hamilton. "Look here, if Miss Devereux drinks water I shall," +declared Williams. + +"Do. The change will do you good," replied Mavis. + +"See what I've let myself in for," said Williams, as he kept his +word. + +As the servant was about to pour out champagne for Mr Ellis, Mrs +Hamilton said: + +"Stop! I've something special for you." + +She then whispered to the servant, who left the room to bring back a +curious, old bottle. When this was opened, a golden wine poured into +Mr Ellis's glass, where it bubbled joyously, as if rejoicing at +being set free from its long imprisonment. + +As the wine was poured out, Mavis noticed how Mr Ellis's eye caught +Mrs Hamilton's. + +The meal was long, elaborate, sumptuous. Mavis wondered when the +procession of toothsome delicacies would stop. She enjoyed herself +immensely; her unaccustomed personal adornment, the cosy room, the +shaded lights, the lace table-cloth, the manner in which the food +was served, above all, the manly, admiring personality of Mr +Williams, all irresistibly appealed to her, largely because the many +joyous instincts of her being had been starved for so long. + +She surrendered herself body and soul to the exhilaration of the +moment, as if conscious that it was all too good to be true; that +her surroundings might any moment fade; that her gay clothes would +disappear, and that she would again find herself, heartsick and +weary, in her comfortless little combined room at Mrs Bilkins's. At +the same time, her natural alertness took in everything going on +about her. + +As the dinner progressed, she could not help seeing how Mr Ellis's +eyes seemed to awaken from their torpor; but the life that came into +them was such that Mavis much preferred them as they originally +were. They sparkled hungrily; it seemed to the girl as if they had a +fearful, hunted, and, at the same time, eager, unholy look, as if +they sought refuge in some deadly sin in order to escape a far worse +fate. Mavis's and Williams's gaiety was infectious. Ellis frequently +joined in the raillery proceeding between the pair; it was as if +Mavis's youth, comeliness, and charm compelled homage from the +pleasure-worn man of the world. Mrs Hamilton, all this while, said +little; she left the entertaining to Mavis, who was more than equal +to the effort; it seemed to the joy-intoxicated girl as if she were +the bountiful hostess, Mrs Hamilton a chance guest at her table. The +appearance of strawberries at dessert (it was January) made a lull +in Mavis's enjoyment: the out-of-season fruit reminded her of the +misery which could be alleviated with the expenditure of its cost. +She was silent for a few moments, which caused Ellis to ask: + +"I say, Windebank, what have you said to our friend?" + +Mavis looked up quickly, to see a look of annoyance on Mrs +Hamilton's face. + +"Williams, I should have said," corrected Ellis. "I muddled the two +names. What have you said to our friend that she should be so quiet +all at once?" + +"Give it up," replied Williams. "Perhaps she's offended at our +childishness." + +The men talked. Mrs Hamilton, with something of an effort, joined in +the conversation. Mavis was silent; she wondered how Mr Ellis came +to address Mr Williams as "Windebank," which was also the name of +the friend of the far-away days when her father was alive. She +reflected how Archie Windebank would be now twenty-eight, an age +that might well apply to Mr Williams. Associated with these thoughts +was an uneasy feeling, which had been once or twice in her mind, +that the two men at table were far too distinguished-looking to bear +such commonplace names as Ellis and Williams. The others rallied her +on her depression. Striving to believe that she must be mistaken in +her suspicions, she made an effort to end the perplexities that were +beginning to confront her. + +"Are you at Aldershot for long?" asked Mavis of Mr Williams. + +"I scarcely know: one never does know these things." + +"Do you come up often?" + +"I shall now." + +"To see your people?" + +"They live in the west of England." + +"Wiltshire?" + +"How did you know?" + +"I didn't; I guessed." + +"Wherever they are, I don't see so much of them as I should." + +"How considerate of you!" + +"Isn't it? But they're a bit too formidable even for one of my sober +tastes." + +"I see. They're interesting and clever." + +"If Low Church and frumpy clothes are cleverness, they're geniuses," +he remarked. + +"Of course, you prefer High Church and low bodices," retorted Mavis. + +Soon after, Mrs Hamilton and Mavis left the men and went upstairs to +the drawing-room. The girl was uneasy in her mind as to how Mrs +Hamilton would take the fact of her having considerably eclipsed her +employer at table; now that they were alone together, she feared +some token of Mrs Hamilton's displeasure. + +To her surprise and delight, this person said: + +"You're an absolute treasure." + +"You think so?" + +"I don't think; I know. But then, I never make a mistake." + +"I'm glad you're pleased." + +"I'm not pleased; delighted is more the word. You're worth your +weight in gold." + +"I wish I were." + +"But you will be, if you follow my advice. At first, I thought you a +bit of a mug. I don't mind telling you, now I see how smart you +are." + +Mavis looked puzzled; the extravagant eulogy of her conduct seemed +scarcely to be justified. + +"You can see Williams is head over ears in love with you. So far, +he's been beastly stand-offish to anyone I put him on to," continued +Mrs Hamilton. + +"Indeed!" said Mavis coldly. She disliked Mrs Hamilton's coarse +manner of expressing herself. + +Mrs Hamilton did not notice the frown on the girl's forehead, but +went on: + +"As for that idea of drinking water, it was a stroke of genius." + +"What?" + +"My heart went out to you when you insisted on having it, although I +pretended to mind." + +Mavis was about to protest her absolute sincerity in the matter, +when Parkins, the maid who had dressed her, came into the room. She +whispered to her mistress, at which Mrs Hamilton rose hurriedly and +said: + +"I must leave you for a little time on important business." + +"What would you like me to do?" asked Mavis. + +"Particularly one thing: don't leave this room." + +"Why should I?" + +"Quite so. But I want someone here when Mr Williams comes upstairs." + +"I'll stick at my post," laughed Mavis, at which Mrs Hamilton and +the comely-looking maid left the room. + +Left alone, Mavis surrendered herself to the feeling of uneasiness +which had been called into being, not only by her employer's strange +words, but, also, by the fact of Mr Williams having been addressed +by the other man as Windebank. The more she thought of it, the more +convinced was she that Mr Ellis had not made a mistake in calling +the other man by a different name to the one by which she had been +introduced to him. The fact of his having admitted that his home was +in Wiltshire, together with the sense of familiarity in his company, +seemingly begotten of old acquaintance, tended to strengthen this +conviction. On the other hand, if he were indeed the old friend of +her childhood, there seemed a purposed coincidence in the fact of +their having met again. She did not forget how her presence in Mrs +Hamilton's house was the result of an appeal to her Heavenly Father, +who, she firmly believed, would not let a human sparrow such as she +fall to the ground. She was curious to discover the result of this +seemingly preordained meeting. The sentimental speculation +engendered a dreamy languor which was suddenly interrupted by a +sense of acute disquiet. She was always a girl of abnormal +susceptibility to what was going on about her; to such an extent was +this sensibility developed, that she had learned to put implicit +faith in the intuitions that possessed her. Now, she was certain +that something was going on in the house, something that was +hideous, unnatural, unholy, the conviction of which seemed to freeze +her soul. She had not the slightest doubt on the matter: she felt it +in the marrow of her bones. + +She placed her hand on her eyes, as if to shut out the horrid +certainty; the temporary deprivation of sight but increased the +acuteness of her impression, consequently, her uneasiness. She felt +the need of space, of good, clean air. The fine drawing-room seemed +to confine her being; she hurried to the door in order to escape. +Directly she opened it, she found Parkins, the over-dressed maid, +outside, who, directly she saw Mavis, barred her further progress. + +"What is it, miss?" she asked. + +"Mrs Hamilton! I must see her." + +"You can't, miss." + +"I must. I must. There's something going on. I must see her." + +A fearsome expression came over the maid's face as she said: + +"I was coming to remind you from madam of your promise to her not to +leave the drawing-room." + +"I must. I must." + +"If I may say so, miss, it will be as much as your place is worth to +disobey madam." + +These words brought a cold shock of reason to Mavis's fevered +excitement. + +She looked blankly at the servant for a moment or two, before +saying: + +"Thank you, Parkins; I will wait inside." + +If her many weeks of looking for employment had taught her nothing +else, they now told her how worse than foolish it would be to +shatter at one blow Mrs Hamilton's good opinion of her. In +compliance with her employer's request, she returned to the drawing- +room, her nerves all on edge. + +Although more convinced than before of the presence of some +abomination, she made a supreme effort to divert her thoughts into +channels promising relief from her present tension of mind. + +She caught up and eagerly examined the first thing that came to +hand. It was a large, morocco-bound, gold-edged photograph album; +almost before she was aware of it, she was engrossed in its +contents. It was full from cover to cover of coloured photographs of +women. There were dark girls, fair girls, auburn girls, every type +of womanhood to be met with under Northern skies; they ranged from +slim girls in their teens to over-ripe beauties, whose principal +attraction was the redundance of their figures. For all the immense +profusion of varied beauty which the women displayed, they had +certainly two qualities in common--they all wore elaborate evening +dress; they were all photographed to display to the utmost advantage +their physical attractions. Otherwise, thought Mavis, there was +surely nothing to differentiate them from the usual run of comely +womanhood. Always a lover of beauty, Mavis eagerly scanned the +photographs in the book. To her tense imagination, it was like +wandering in a highly cultivated garden, where there were flowers of +every hue, from the timid shrinking violet and the rosebud, to the +over-blown peony, to greet the senses. It was as if she wandered +from one to the next, admiring and drinking in the distinctive +beauty of each. There were supple, fair-petalled daffodils, white- +robed daisies, scarlet-lipped poppies, and black pansies, instinct +with passion, all waiting to be culled. It seemed as if a paradise +of glad loveliness had been gathered for her delight. They were all +dew-bespangled, sun-worshipping, wind-free, as if their only purpose +was to languish for some thirsty bee to come and sip greedily of +their sweetness. As Mavis looked, another quality, which had +previously eluded her, seemed to attach itself to each and all of +the flowers, a quality that their calculated shyness now made only +the more apparent. It was as if at some time in their lives their +petals had been one and all ravaged by some relentless wind; as if, +in consequence, they had all dedicated themselves to decorate the +altars raised to the honour and glory of love. + +Mavis, also, noticed that beneath each photograph was written a +number in big figures. Then the book repelled her. She put it down, +not before she noticed that, scattered about the room, were other +albums filled presumably in the same way as was the other. She had +no mind to look at these, being already surfeited with beauty; also, +she was more than ever aware of the sense of disquiet which had +troubled her before. To escape once more from this, she walked to +the piano, opened it, and let her fingers stray over the keys. She +had not touched a piano for many weeks, consequently her fingers +were stiff and awkward; but in a few minutes they got back something +of their old proficiency: almost unconsciously, she strayed into an +Andante of Chopin's. + +The strange, appealing, almost unearthly beauty of the movement +soothed her jangled nerves; before she was aware of it, she was +enrapt with the morbid majesty of the music. Although she was dimly +conscious that someone had come into the room, she went on playing. + +The next definite thing that she knew was that two strong arms were +placed about her body, that she was being kissed hotly and +passionately upon eyes and lips. + +"You darling; you darling; you perfect darling!" cried a voice. + +Mavis was too overcome by the suddenness of the assault to know what +to be at; her first instinct was to deliver herself from the +defiling touch of her assailant. She freed herself with an effort, +to see that it was Mr Williams who had so grossly insulted her. +Blind rage, shame, outraged pride all struggled for expression; +blind rage predominated. + +"Oh, you beast!" she cried. + +"Eh!" + +"You beast! You beast! To do a thing like that!" Then, as she became +on better terms with the nature of the vulgar insult to which she +had been subjected, her anger blazed out. + +"How dare you insult a defenceless girl?" + +"But--" the man stammered. + +"What have I ever done but try and work to keep away from such +things, and now you come and--Oh, you beast--you cruel beast! You'll +never know what you have done." + +A sense of shame possessed her. She turned away to drop scalding +tears. Anger quickly succeeded this brief fit of dejection. It +caused her inexpressible pain to think that she, a daughter of a +proud family, the girl with the aloof soul, should have been treated +in the same way as any fast London shop-girl. She was consumed with +passion; she feared what form her rage might take. At least she was +determined to have the man turned out of the house. She moved +towards the bell. + +"If I've made a mistake," began the man, who all this time had been +fearfully watching her. + +"If you've made a mistake!" she echoed scornfully. + +"The best of us do sometimes, you know," he continued. + +"Why to me--to me? What have I said or done to encourage you? Why to +me?" she cried. + +"If I've made a mistake, I'm more sorry than I can say, more sorry +than you can guess." + +"What's the use of that to me? You touched my lips. Oh, I could tear +them!" she cried desperately. + +"Will you hear my excuse?" + +"There's no excuse. Nothing--nothing will ever make me forget it. +Oh, the shame of it!" + +Here bitter tears again welled to her eyes. + +The man was moved by her extremity. + +"I am so very sorry. I wouldn't have had it happen for anything. I +didn't know you were in the least like this." + +"Why not? If you had met me as I was before I came here there might +have been the shadow of an excuse. Do you usually behave to girls +you meet at friends' houses like you did to me?" + +"In friends' houses?" he asked, emphasising the word "friends." + +"You heard what I said?" + +"This is scarcely a friend's house." + +"Why not?" + +"Eh?" + +"Why not? Why not? Can't you tell me?" + +"But--" + +"Why not? Why not? Answer!" + +"Is it possible?" + +"Is what possible?" + +"You don't know the house you're in?" + +"What house?" she asked wildly. + +The look of terror, of fear, which accompanied this question was +enough to dissipate any doubts of the girl's honesty which may have +lingered in the man's mind. + +"How long have you been here?" + +"Three hours." + +"And you don't know what Mrs Hamilton is?" + +"No." + +"What?" he cried excitedly. + +"Tell me! Tell me!" + +"Just tell me how you met her." + +She told him in short words; she was reluctant to make a confidant +of the man who had ravished her lips; she was dimly conscious that +he may have had a remote excuse for his behaviour. When she had +done, he said: + +"Mrs Hamilton is one of the worst women in London. She'd have been +'run in' long ago if she weren't so rich and if her clients weren't +so influential." + +Mavis looked at him wide-eyed. + +"That chap at dinner, didn't, you know he was Lord Kegworth? If you +don't, you must have heard of the rotten life he's led." + +"But--" stammered Mavis. + +"Have you seen any photographs since you've been here?" + +"Just now--these." + +"She's their agent, go between. Here! What am I telling you? You can +thank your stars you've met me." + +Mavis's frightened eyes looked into his. + +"I'm going to get you out of it." + +"You?" + +"There's not a moment to lose. Get on your things and clear out." + +"But Mrs Hamilton--" + +"She's busy for a moment. Slip on something over your dress and join +me outside the drawing-room. If anyone interferes with you, shout." + +"But--" + +"Do as I tell you. Hang it! I must do something to try and make up +for my blackguard behaviour." + +Mavis went from the room, her heart beating with fear of discovery. +For the time being, she had forgotten the insult offered her by the +man she had left: her one thought was to put as great a space as +possible between this accursed house and herself in the least +imaginable time. She scarcely knew what she did. She tore off the +pearls, the head circlet with its shining emerald, bracelets and +other costly gee-gaws, and threw them on the table; she was glad to +be rid of them; their touch meant defilement. She kicked off the +grey slippers, tore off the silk stockings, and substituted for +these her worn, down-at-heel shoes and stockings. There was no time +to change her frock, so she pulled the cloak over her evening +clothes; she meant to return these latter to their owner the first +thing in the morning. She turned her back on the room, that such a +short while back she had looked upon as her own, ran down the stairs +and joined the man, who was impatiently waiting for her on the +landing. Without exchanging a word, they descended to the ground +floor. The front door was in sight and Mavis's heart was beating +high with hope, when Mrs Hamilton, who looked tired and heated, +stood in the passage. + +"Where are you going?" she asked. + +"Out for the evening," replied Williams. + +"What time shall I expect you back?" she asked of Mavis. + +"I'm not coming back," replied Mavis. "I wish I'd never come." + +"Then--?" + +"Yes," interrupted Williams, anticipating Mrs Hamilton's question. + +"You believe and trust a notorious seducer like this man?" asked Mrs +Hamilton of Mavis. + +"Whatever I am, I ain't that," cried Williams. + +"To a man who has ruined more girls than anyone else in London?" +continued Mrs Hamilton. "I solemnly warn you that if you go with +that man it means your ruin--ruin body and soul." + +Mrs Hamilton spoke in such a low, earnest voice, that Mavis, who now +recollected Mr Williams's previous behaviour to her, was inclined to +waver. + +Mrs Hamilton saw her advantage and said: + +"Since you disbelieve in me, the least you can do is to go upstairs +and take off my clothes." + +"She'll do nothing of the kind," cried out the man. + +"He doesn't want to lose his prey," Mrs Hamilton remarked to Mavis, +who was inclined to falter a little more. + +Perhaps Williams saw the weakening of the girl's resolution, for he +made a last desperate effort on her behalf. + +"Look here," he said, "I'm not a sneak, but, if you don't own up and +let Miss Devereux go, I'll fetch in the police." + +"You'll what?" cried Mrs Hamilton. + +"Fetch in the police. Not to Mrs Hamilton, but to Mrs Bridgeman, Mrs +Knight, or Mrs Davis." + +Mrs Hamilton's face went white; she looked intently at the man to +see if he were in earnest. His resolute eyes convinced her that he +was. + +The next moment, a torrent of foul words fell from her lips. She +abused Mavis; she reviled the man; she accused the two of sin, the +while she made use of obscene, filthy phrases, which caused Mavis to +put her hands to her ears. + +Mavis no longer wavered. She put her hand on the man's arm; the next +minute they were out in the street. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +MAVIS GOES OUT TO SUPPER + + +"Where now?" asked the man, as the two stood outside in the street. + +"Good night," replied Mavis. + +"Good night?" + +"Good-bye, then." + +"Oh no." + +"I'm grateful to you for getting me out of that place, but I can +never see you or speak to you again." + +"But--" + +"We needn't go into it. I want to try to forget it, although I never +shall. Good-bye." + +"I can't let you go like this. Let me drive you home." + +"Home!" laughed Mavis scornfully. "I've no home." + +"Really no home?" + +"I haven't a soul in the world who cares what becomes of me: not a +friend in the world. And all I valued you've soiled. It made me hate +you, and nothing will ever alter it. Good-bye." + +She turned away. The man followed. + +"Look here, I'll tell you all about myself, which shows my +intentions are straight." + +"It wouldn't interest me." + +"Why not? You liked me before--before that happened, and, when +you've forgiven me, there's no reason why you shouldn't like me +again." + + + + "There's every reason." + +"My name's Windebank--Archibald Windebank. I'm in the service, and +my home is Haycock Abbey, near Melkbridge--" + +"You gave me your wrong name!" cried Mavis, who, now that she knew +that the man was the friend of her early days, seized on any excuse +to get away from him. + +"But--" + +"Don't follow me. Good-bye." + +She crossed the road. He came after her and seized her arm. + +"Don't be a fool!" he cried. + +"You've hurt me. You're capable of anything," she cried. + +"Rot!" + +"Oh, you brute, to hurt a girl!" + +"I've done nothing of the kind. It would almost have served you +right if I had, for being such a little fool. Listen to me--you +shall listen," he added, as Mavis strove to leave him. + +His voice compelled submission. She looked at him, to see that his +face was tense with anger. She found that she did not hate him so +much, although she said, as if to satisfy her conscience for +listening to him: + +"Do you want to insult me again?" + +"I want to tell you what a fool you are, in chucking away a chance +of lifelong happiness, because you're upset at what I did, when, +finding you in that house, I'd every excuse for doing." + +"Lifelong happiness?" cried Mavis scornfully. + +"You're a woman I could devote my life to. I want to know all about +you. Oh, don't be a damn little fool!" + +"You're somebody: I'm a nobody. Much better let me go." + +"Of course if you want to--" + +"Of course I do." + +"Then let me see you into a cab." + +"A cab! I always go by 'bus, when I can afford it." + +"Good heavens! Here, let me drive you home." + +"I shouldn't have said that. I'm overwrought to-night. When I'm in +work, I'm ever so rich. I know you mean kindly. Let me go." + +"I'll do nothing of the kind. It's all very important to me. I'm +going to drive you home." + +He caught hold of her arm, the while he hailed a passing hansom. +When this drew up to the pavement, he said: + +"Get in, please." + +"But--" + +"Get in," he commanded. + +The girl obeyed him: something in the man's voice compelled +obedience. + +He sat beside her. + +"Now, tell me your address." + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Tell me your address." + +"Nothing on earth will make me." + +"The man's waiting." + +"Let him." + +"Drive anywhere. I'll tell you where to go later," Windebank called +to the cabman. + +The cab started. The man and the girl sat silent. Mavis was not +reproaching herself for having got into the cab with Windebank; her +mind was full of the strange trick which fate had played her in +throwing herself and her old-time playmate together. There seemed +design in the action. Perhaps, after all, their meeting was the +reply to her prayer in the tea-shop. + +The cab drove along the almost deserted thoroughfare. It was now +between ten and eleven, a time when the flame of the day seems to +die down before bursting out into a last brilliance, when the houses +of entertainment are emptied into the streets. + +Mavis stole a glance at the man beside her. Her eye fell on his +opera hat, the rich fur lining of his overcoat; lastly, on his face. +His whole atmosphere suggested ample means, self-confidence, easy +content with life. Then she looked at her cloak, the condition of +which was now little removed from shabbiness. The pressure of her +feet on the floor of the cab reminded her how sadly her shoes were +down at heel. The contrast between their two states irked Mavis: she +was resentful at the fact of his possessing all the advantages in +life of which she had been deprived. If he had been visited with the +misfortune that had assailed her, and if she had been left +scathless, it would not have been so bad: he was a man, who could +have fought for his own hand, without being hindered by the +obstacles which weigh so heavily on those of her own sex, who seek +to win for themselves a foothold on the slippery inclines of life. +She found herself hating him more for his prosperity than for the +way in which he had insulted her. + +"Have you changed your mind?" asked Windebank presently. + +"No." + +"Likely to?" + +"No." + +"We can't talk here, and a fog's coming up. Wouldn't you like +something to eat?" + +"I'm not hungry--now." + +"Where do you usually feed?" + +"At an Express Dairy." + +"Eh!" + +"You get a large cup of tea for tuppence there." + +"A tea-shop! But it wouldn't be open so late." + +"Lockhart's is." + +"Lockhart's?" + +"The Cocoa Rooms. In the 'First Class' you find quite a collection +of shabby gentility. And you'd never believe what a lot you can get +there for tuppence." + +"Eh!" + +"I'll tell you, you might find it useful some day; one never knows. +You can get a huge cup of tea or coffee--a bit stewed--but, at +least, it's warm; also, four huge pieces of bread and butter, and a +good, long, lovely rest." + +"Good God!" + +"For tuppence more you can get sausages; sixpence provides a meal; a +shilling a banquet. Can't we find a 'Lockhart'?" + +The man said nothing. The cab drove onward. Mavis, now that her +resentment against Windebank's prosperity had found relief in words, +was sorry that she had spoken as she had. After all, the man's well- +being was entirely his own affair; it was not remotely associated +with the decline in the fortunes of her family. She would like to +say or do something to atone for her bitter words. + +"Poor little girl! Poor little girl!" + +This was said by Windebank feelingly, pityingly; he seemed +unconscious that they had been overheard by Mavis. She was firmly, +yes, quite firmly, resolved to hate him, whatever he might do to +efface her animosity. + +Meanwhile, the cab had fetched something of a compass, and had now +turned into Regent Street. + +"Here we are: this'll do," suddenly cried Windebank. + +"What for?" + +"Grub. Hi, stop!" + +Obedient to his summons, the cabman stopped. Mavis got out on the +pavement, where she stood irresolute. + +"You'll come in?" + +Mavis did not reply. + +"We must have a talk. Please, please don't refuse me this." + +"I shan't eat anything." + +"If you don't, I shan't." + +"I won't--I swear I won't accept the least favour from you." + +She looked at him resentfully: she would go any lengths to conceal +her lessening dislike for him. + +"You'd better wait," he called to the cabman, as he led the way to a +restaurant. + +Two attendants, in gold-laced coats, opened double folding doors at +the approach of the man and the girl. + +Mavis found herself in a large hall, elaborately decorated with red +and gold, upon the floor of which were many tables, that just now +were sparsely occupied. + +Windebank looked from table to table, as if in search of something. +His eye, presently, rested on one, at which an elderly matron was +supping with a parson, presumably her husband. + +"Good luck!" Windebank murmured, adding to the girl, "This way." + +Mavis followed him up the hall to the table next the one where the +elderly couple were sitting. + +"This is about our mark," he said. + +"Why specially here?" she asked. + +"Those elderly geesers are a sort of chaperone for unprotected +innocence; a parson and all that," he remarked. + +She could hardly forbear smiling at his conception of protection. + +A waiter assisted her with her cloak. When she took a seat opposite +to Windebank, he said: + +"I like this place; there's no confounded music to interfere with +what one's got to say." + +"I like music," Mavis remarked. + +"Then let's go where they have it," he suggested, half rising. + +"I want to go straight home, if you'll let me." + +"Then we'll stay here. What are you going to eat?" + +"Nothing." + +"Rot! Here's the waiter chaps. Tell 'em what you want." + +Two waiters approached the table, one with a list of food, the other +with like information concerning wines, which, at a nod from +Windebank, they put before Mavis. + +She glanced over these; beyond noticing the high prices charged, she +gave no attention to the lists' contents. + +"Well?" said Windebank. + +"I'm not hungry and I'm not thirsty," remarked Mavis. + +"You heard what I said, and I'm awfully hungry!" + +"That's your affair." + +"If you won't decide, I'll decide for you." + +The waiters handed him the menus, from which, after much thought, he +ordered an elaborate meal. When the waiters hastened to execute his +orders, he found Mavis staring at him wide-eyed. + +"Are you entertaining your regiment?" she asked. + +"You," he replied. + +"But--" + +"It isn't much, but it's the best they've got. Whatever it is, it's +in honour of our first meeting." + +"I shan't eat a thing," urged Mavis. + +"You won't sit there and see me starve?" + +"There won't be time. I have to get back." + +"But, however much you hate me, you surely haven't the heart to send +me supperless to bed?" + +"You shouldn't make silly resolutions." + +As Windebank did not speak for some moments, Mavis looked at her +surroundings. Men and women in evening dress were beginning to +trickle in from theatres, concerts, and music hall. She noticed how +they all wore a bored expression, as if it were with much of an +effort that they had gone out to supper. + +"Don't move! Keep looking like that," cried Windebank suddenly. + +"Why?" she asked, quickly turning to him. + +"Now you've spoiled it," he complained. + +"Spoiled what?" + +"Your expression. Good heavens!" + +The exclamation was a signal for retrospection on Windebank's part. +When he next spoke, he said: + +"Is your name, by any wonderful chance, Mavis Keeves?" + +"What?" + +"Answer my question. Is your name Mavis Keeves: Mavis Weston Keeves +in full?" + +"You know it isn't. That woman told you what it was." + +"She didn't tell you my name, and I thought she might have done the +same by you. And when I saw that expression in your face--" + +"Who is Mavis Keeves?" + +"A little girl I knew when I was a kid. She'd hair and eyes like +yours, and when I saw you then--but you haven't answered my +question. Is your name Mavis Weston Keeves?" + +Mavis had decided what to reply if further directly questioned. + +"No, it isn't," she answered. + +"Confound! I might have known. It's much too good to be true." + +While Mavis was tortured with self-reproach at having told a lie, +soup, in gilt cups, was set before Windebank and Mavis, the latter +of whom was more than ever resolved to accept no hospitality from +the man who appeared sincerely anxious to befriend her. The fact of +her having told him a lie seemed, in the eyes of her morbidly active +conscience, to put her under an obligation to him, an indebtedness +that she was in no mind to increase. She folded her hands on the +napkin, and again looked about her. + +"Don't you want that stuff?" Windebank asked. + +"No, thank you." + +"Neither do I. Take it away!" + +The waiters removed the soup, to substitute, almost immediately, an +appetising preparation of fish. At the same time an elderly, +important-mannered man poured out wine with every conceivable +elaboration of his office. + +"Don't refuse this. The place is famous for it," urged Windebank. + +"You know what I said. I mean it more than ever." + +"Don't you know that obstinacy is one of the seven deadly sins?" + +"Is it?" + +"If it isn't, it ought to be. Do change your mind." + +"Nothing will make me," she replied icily. + +He signalled to the waiters to remove the food. + +"What a jolly night we're having!" he genially remarked, when the +men were well out of hearing. + +"I'm afraid I've spoiled your evening." + +"Not at all. I like a good feed. It does one good." + +Mavis would have been hard put to it to repress a smile at this +remark, had she not suddenly remembered how she had left her purse +in the pocket of the frock that she had left behind her at Mrs +Hamilton's; she realised that she would have to walk to Mrs +Bilkins's. The fact of having no money to pay a 'bus fare reminded +her how the cab was waiting outside. + +"You've forgotten your cab," she remarked. + +"What cab?" + +"The one you told to wait outside." + +"What of it?" + +"Won't he charge?" + +"Of course. What of it?" + +"What an extravagance!" she commented. + +She could say no more; a procession of dishes commenced: meats, +ices, sweetmeats, fruit, wines, coffee, liqueurs; all of which were +refused, first by Mavis, then by Windebank. + +Mavis, who had been accustomed to consider carefully the spending of +a penny, was appalled at the waste. She had hoped that Windebank, +after seeing how she was resolved to keep her word, would have +countermanded the expensive supper he had ordered; failing this, +that the management of the restaurant would not charge for the +unconsumed meats and wine. Windebank would have been flattered could +he have known of Mavis's consideration for his pocket. + +He and the girl talked when the attendants were out of the way, to +stop conversing when they were immediately about them; the two would +resume where they had left off, directly they were sure of not being +overheard. + +"Just imagine, if you were little Mavis Keeves grown up," began +Windebank. + +"Never mind about her," replied Mavis uneasily. + +"But I do. I loved her, the cheeky little wretch." + +"Was she?" + +"A little flirt, too." + +"Oh no." + +"Fact. I think it made me love her all the more." + +"Are you trying to make me jealous?" she asked, making a sad little +effort to be light-hearted. + +"I wish I could. There was a chap named Perigal, whom the little +flirt preferred to me." + +"Perigal?" + +"Charlie Perigal. We were laughing about it only the week before +last." + +"He loved her too?" + +"Rather. I remember we both subscribed to buy her a birthday +present. Anyway, the week before last, we both asked each other what +had become of her, and promised to let each other know if we heard +anything of her." + +"If I were Mavis Keeves, would you let him know?" + +"No fear." + +Mavis smiled at the reply. + +"Then we come to to-day," continued Windebank. + +"The least said of to-day the better." + +"I'm not so sure; it may have the happiest results." + +"Don't talk nonsense." + +"Do let me go on. Assuming you were little Mavis, where do I find +her--eh?" + +Here Windebank's face hardened. + +"That woman ought to be shot," he cried. "As it is, I've a jolly +good mind to show her up. And to think she got you there!" + +"Ssh!" + +"You've no idea what a house it is. It's quite the worst thing of +its kind in London." + +"Then what were you doing there?" + +"Eh!" + +"What were you doing there?" + +"I'm not a plaster saint," he replied. + +"Who said you were?" + +"And I'm interested in life: curious to see all sides of it. She's +often asked me, but to-night, when she wired to say she'd a paragon +coming to dinner, I went." + +"She wired?" + +"To-night. It all but missed me. I'm no end of glad it didn't." + +"I suppose I ought to be glad too," remarked Mavis. + +"I know you think me a bad egg, but I'm not; I'm not really," he +went on, to add, after a moment's pause, "I believe at heart I'm a +sentimentalist." + +"What's that?" + +"A bit of a bally fool where the heart is concerned. What?" + +"I think all nice people are that," she murmured. + +"Thanks." + +"I wasn't including you," she remarked. + +"Eat that ice." + +"Wild horses wouldn't make me." + +"You'd eat it if you knew what pleasure it would give me." + +"You want me to break my word?" she said, with a note of defiance in +her voice. + +"Have your own way." + +"I mean to," + +The ices were taken away. Windebank went on talking. + +"You've no idea how careful a chap with domestic instincts, who +isn't altogether a pauper, has to be. Women make a dead set at him." + +"Poor dear!" commented Mavis. + +"Fact. You mayn't believe it, but every woman--nearly every woman he +meets--goes out of her way to have a go at him." + +"Nonsense!" + +Windebank did not heed the interruption; he went on: + +"Old Perigal, Charlie Perigal's father, is a rum old chap; lives +alone and never sees anyone and all that. One day he asked me to +call, and what d'ye think he said?" + +"Give it up." + +"Boy! you're commencing life, and you should know this: always bear +in mind the value of money and the worthlessness of most women. +Good-bye." + +"What a horrid old man!" + +"Yes, that's what he said." + +"And do you bear it in mind?" + +"Money I don't worry about. I've more than I know what to do with. +As to women, I'm jolly well on my guard." + +"You're as bad as old Perigal, every bit." + +"But one has to be. Have some of these strawberries?" + +"No, thank you." + +"You ate 'em fast enough at Mrs What's-her-name's." + +"It was different then." + +"Yes, wasn't it? Take 'em away." + +These last words were spoken to the waiters, who were now accustomed +to removing the untasted dishes almost as soon as they were put upon +the table. + +"Have the coffee when it comes. It'll warm you for the fog outside." + +"Thanks, I'm not used to coddling." + +"Then you ought to be. But about what we were saying: then, I quite +thought old Perigal a pig for saying that about women; now, I know +he's absolutely right." + +"Absolutely wrong." + +"Eh!" + +"Absolutely wrong. It's the other way about. It's men who're +worthless, not poor women; and they don't care what they drag us +down to so long as they get their own ends," cried Mavis. + +"Nonsense!" he commented. + +"I've been out in the world and have seen what goes on," retorted +Mavis. + +"It isn't my experience." + +"Men are always in the right. No coffee, thank you." + +"Sure?" + +"Quite." + +"No; it is not my experience," he went on. "Take the case of all the +chaps I know who've married women who played up to them. Without +exception they curse in their hearts the day they met them." + +"If anything's wrong, it's owing to the husband's selfishness." + +"Little Mavis--I'm going to call you that--you don't know what rot +you're talking." + +"Rot is often the inconvenient common sense of other people," +commented Mavis. + +"It isn't as if marriage were for a day," he went on, "or for a +week, or two years. Then, it wouldn't matter very much whom one +married. But it's for a lifetime, whether it turns out all right or +whether it don't. What?" + +"I see; you'd have men choose wives as you would a house or an +umbrella," she suggested. + +"People would be a jolly sight happier if they did," he replied, to +add, after looking intently at Mavis: "Though, after all, I believe +I'm talking rot. When one's love time comes, nothing else in the +world matters; every other consideration goes phut, as it should." + +"Goes what?" + +"Goes to blazes, then, as it should." + +"As it should," echoed Mavis. + +"Dear little Mavis!" smiled Windebank, "But it's big Mavis now." + +He called the waiter, to give him a note with which to pay the bill. + +"What wicked waste!" remarked Mavis in an undertone. + +"When it's been time spent with you?" + +When the bill and the change were brought, Windebank would not look +at either. + +"How can you be so extravagant?" she murmured. + +"When one's with you, it's a crime to think of anything else." + +"What a good thing I'm leaving you!" she laughed. + +He insisted on getting and helping her into her coat. As she put her +arms into the sleeves, he murmured: + +"Where did you get your hair?" + +"Do try and talk sense," she pleaded, not insensible to the man's +ardent admiration. + +Then, with something like a sigh, she left the warmth and comfort of +the restaurant for the bleakness of the street, on which a thick fog +had descended. + +This enveloped the man and the woman. As they stood on the pavement, +it seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +THE SEQUEL + + +"Will you let me drive you home?" + +"No, thank you." + +"Then you must let me walk with you." + +"There's no necessity." + +"I insist. London, at this time of night, isn't the place for a +plain little girl like Mavis." + +"Now you're talking sense." + +"I wish I thought it," he remarked bitterly. + +He paid the cabman and piloted Mavis through the fog to the other +side of Regent Street; they then made for Piccadilly. + +"Am I going right?" he asked. + +"At present," she replied, to ask, after a moment or two, "Why are +you so extravagant?" + +"I'm not." + +"That supper and keeping that cab waiting! It must have run into +pounds." + +"Eh! What if it did?" + +"It's wicked. Just think of the good you could have done with it." + +"Good? Who to?" he asked blankly. + +"You've only to look about you. Don't you know of all the misery +there is in the world?" + +"To tell you the truth, I've never thought very much about it." + +"Then you ought to." + +"You think so?" + +"Most certainly." + +"Then I'll have to." + +They were now in Piccadilly. The pavement on which they walked was +crowded with women of all ages; some walked in pairs, others, +singly. Whatever their age and appearance, all these women had two +qualities in common--artificial complexions and bold, inviting eyes. +It was the nightly market of the women of the town. This mart has +much in common with any other market existing for the buying or +selling of staple commodities. Amongst this assembly of women of all +ages and conditions (many of whom were married), there were regular +frequenters, who had been there almost from time immemorial; +occasional dabblers; chance hucksterers: most were there compelled +by the supreme necessity of earning a living; others displayed their +wares in order to provide luxuries; whilst a few were present merely +for the fun of an infrequent bargain. As at other marts, there were +those who represented the interests of sellers, and extracted a +commission for their pains on all sales effected by their +principals. Also, most of the chaffering was negotiated over drink, +to obtain which adjournment was made to the handiest bar. + +This exchange was as subject to economic laws as ruthlessly as are +all other markets. There were fat times, when money was plentiful; +lean nights, when buyers were scarce or sellers suffered from over- +supply. To complete the resemblance, this mart was sensibly affected +by world events, political happenings, the robustness or weakness of +other markets of industry. + +Men of all ages swarmed on the pavement; some were buyers, others +were attracted by the fun of the fair. The family parties which were +occasionally to be met with, as they scurried home to remote +suburbs, seemed sadly out of place in this seething collection of +vicious men and women. + +An over-dressed black woman was there, as if to prove, if proof were +needed, the universality of sin. + +As the procession of painted faces loomed out of the fog, it seemed +to Mavis as if they were lost souls in the spume of the pit. + +She drew closer to the man at her side. London, life itself, seemed +to the girl's jangled nerves to be a concentrated horror, from +which, so it now appeared, the man beside her was her only +safeguard. He had certainly insulted her, she reflected; but his +conduct was, perhaps, excusable under the circumstances in which he +had found her. Directly he had learned his mistake, he had rescued +her from further contact with infamy, and had been gentle with her. +In return, she had been scarcely civil to him, and had told him a +lie when he had asked her if she were his old playmate. + +As she walked with him, she bitterly reproached herself for her +falsehood; she also tried to hide from herself that her rudeness had +been largely assumed in order to conceal her growing regard for him. +It would seem another world when he was not at her side to protect +her from possible harm. + +As they passed Burlington House, a beggar whined his tale of woe in +their ears. Mavis saw Windebank give the man something, the +handsomeness of which made the recipient open his eyes. A flower- +seller, who had witnessed the generous act, immediately pestered +Windebank to buy of her wares, an example at once followed by others +of her calling. He gave them all money, at which some of them forced +their wired flowers upon him, whilst others overwhelmed him with +thanks. + +"Don't thank me," he protested, as he glanced towards Mavis, who was +the recipient of countless blessings, mechanically uttered. + +Beggars and loafers, with their keen scent for prey, were about him +in less time than it takes to tell. He gave largely, generously; he +was soon the centre of a struggling, unsavoury crowd, which was +growing larger every minute. + +"Whatever are you doing?" protested Mavis. + +"Wasn't it your wish?" he asked. + +"Not this. Please, please get me out and away." + +The next moment, Windebank, dragging Mavis after him, was vigorously +making a passage through those who surrounded them. Once he saw his +way clear, he ran forward, still keeping hold of her, and dragged +her up Bond Street. They were still followed by the more persistent +of the loafers, but a friendly policeman came to their aid, enabling +them to pursue their unmolested way down Piccadilly. + +"It is good of you to let me stay with you all this time," he said +presently. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +"I'll see. Why, I've lost my watch!" + +"Not really?" + +"I suppose it was stolen just now." + +"Stolen?" + +"Yes, you can see where the chain is snapped." + +"Can't we do something?" + +"What's the use?" + +"But it must be got back. If it isn't, I shall feel it's all my +doing." + +"How can that be? Don't talk rot." + +"I talked you into giving money away, and--" + +"If you say any more, I'll be very angry," he interrupted. "What's a +watch!" + +Although she made no further reference to the matter, she thought +the more of the loss he had sustained, which was owing to the +representations she had made upon his duty to the needy. His +indifference to the theft of his property the more inclined her in +his favour. + +As they walked, he was full of kindly anxiety for her present and +future welfare. His ardent sincerity filled her with self- +reproaches, the while he continued to express concern for her well- +being. Presently, when they were passing St George's Hospital, she +said: + +"I wish you wouldn't talk so much about myself." + +"It's so interesting," he pleaded. + +"Why not talk more about yourself?" + +"Never mind me." + +"But I do. What on earth time will you get to bed?" + +"Any time. It doesn't matter." + +"Won't you be tired in the morning?" + +"I shouldn't notice. I should be thinking of you." + +"Nonsense; you'll be thinking about breakfast. Where do you sleep?" + +"When I'm up like this, at a hotel in Jermyn Street." + +"Are you comfortable there?" + +"I only sleep there. I breakfast at the club." + +"Where's that?" + +"We passed it on the way down." + +"How you must have wanted to get away! Your coat's undone." + +"What of it?" + +"Do it up." + +"But--" + +"You'll take cold. Do it up or I'll leave you at once." + +"Don't be so considerate," he said, as he obeyed her behest. "It +isn't kind." + +"Why not?" + +"It makes me fonder--I mean like you ever so much." + +When they reached Sloane Street, he remarked: + +"Do let me drive you. It's a shame to make you walk. You must be +quite tired out." + +"I'll leave you and get a 'bus," she replied. + +"And you won't give me your address?" + +"No." + +Although heavily laden 'buses were constantly passing, she made no +pretence of stopping one; not because she had no money: she had +forgotten for the time being that she was penniless. Her mind was a +welter of emotion. She regretted her sudden tenderness in the matter +of his unbuttoned overcoat; she reproached herself for not leaving +him directly she had got away from Mrs Hamilton's; she knew she +would never forgive him for having insulted her; the fact of his +having kissed her lips seemed in some mysterious way to bind them +together; she hated herself for having denied that she was Mavis +Keeves. The many leanings of her mind struggled for precedence; very +soon, concern for the lie that she had told the man, who it was now +evident wished her well, possessed her to the exclusion of all else. +She suffered tortures of self-reproach, which became all but +unendurable. + +Windebank, who had been walking between her and the curb, suddenly +moved so that she was on the outside. + +"Why did you do that?" she asked. + +"The wind. Little Mavis might take cold." + +She could bear it no longer. + +"Stop!" she cried. + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"I've something to tell you. I can't go on like this." + +"What is it?" he asked, all concern. + +"When you know, you'll never forgive me. I lied to you." + +"Lied?" + +"Yes, lied, lied, lied. But I can't let it go on. I hate myself for +doing it. Why was I so wicked?" + +"Give it up." + +"My name. I told you a lie about it." + +"Is that all?" + +"Isn't that enough? I am Mavis Keeves. I am--" + +"What?" he interrupted. + +"I didn't like to confess it before. Don't, please don't think very +badly of me." + +"YOU--little Mavis after all?" + +"Yes," she answered softly. + +"What wonderful, wonderful luck! I can't believe it even now. You +little Mavis! How did it all come about?" + +"It's simple enough." + +"Simple!" He laughed excitedly. "You call it simple?" + +"Let me tell you. I was very miserable to-day and I prayed and--and- +-" + +She could say no more; her overcharged feelings were such that they +got the better of her self-control. Careless of what he might think, +she leaned against him, as if for protection--leaned against him to +weep bitter-sweet, unrestrained tears upon his shoulder. + +"Poor little girl! Poor little Mavis!" he murmured. + +The remark reinforced her tears. + +The fog again enveloped them and seemed to cut them off from the +observation of passers-by. It was as if their tenderness for each +other had found an oasis in the wilderness of London's +heartlessness. + +Mavis wept unrestrainedly, contentedly, as if secure or sympathetic +understanding. Although he spoke, she gave small heed to his words. +She revelled in the unaccustomed luxury of friendship expressed by a +man for whom she, already, had something in the nature of an +affectionate regard. + +Presently, when she became calmer, she gave more attention to what +he was saying. + +"You must give me your address and I'll write to my people at once," +he said. "The mater will be no end of glad to see you again, and you +must come down. I'll be down often and--and--Oh, little Mavis, won't +it be wonderful, if all our lives we were to bless the day we met +again?" + +Although her sobs had ceased, she did not reply. + +Two obsessions occupied her thoughts: one was an instinct of +abasement before the man who had such a tender concern for her +future; the other, a fierce pride, which revolted at the thought of +her being under a possibly lifelong obligation to the man with whom, +in the far-off days of her childhood, she had been on terms of +economic equality. He produced his handkerchief and gently wiped her +eyes. She did not know whether to be grateful for, or enraged at, +this attention. The two conflicting emotions surged within her; +their impulsion was a cause which threatened to exert a common +effect, inasmuch as they urged her to leave Windebank. + +This sentiment was strengthened by the reflection that she was +unworthy of his regard. She had, of set purpose, lied to him, denied +that she was the friend of his early youth. True, he had previously +insulted her, but, considering the circumstances, he had every +excuse for his behaviour. He certainly led a fast life, but, if +anything, Mavis the more admired him for this symptom of virility; +she also dimly believed that such conduct qualified him to win a +wife who, in every respect, was above reproach. She was poor and +friendless, she again reflected. Above all, she had lied to him. She +was hopelessly unworthy of one who, in obedience to the sentimental +whim she had inspired, seemed contemptuous of his future. She would +be worse than she already was, if she countenanced a course of +action full of such baleful possibilities for himself. Almost before +she knew what she was doing, she kissed him lightly on the cheek, +and snatched the violets he was wearing in his coat, before slipping +away, to lose herself in the fog. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +A GOOD SAMARITAN + + +Mavis heard him calling her name, first one way, then another; once, +he approached and came quite near her, but he changed his direction, +to pass immediately out of her ken. + +She then hurried in the direction of what she believed to be +Hammersmith; she could not know for certain, as the fog increased in +intensity every minute. Her mind was too confused to ask anyone if +she were going the right way, even if she had cared to know, which, +at present, she did not. She was seized with a passion for movement, +anything to distract her mind from the emotions possessing it. One +moment, she blamed herself for having left Windebank as she had +done; the next, she told herself and tried hard to believe that she +had done the best conceivable thing under the circumstances. + +She walked quickly, careless to where her footsteps led her, as if +hurrying from, or to Windebank's side; she was not certain which she +desired. She had walked for quite twenty minutes when she was +brought up short by a blow on the forehead. Light flashed in her +eyes; she put out her arms to save herself from a fall. She had +walked into a tree, contact with which had bruised her face and torn +skin from her forehead. Pain and dizziness brought her to the +realisation of the fact that it was late, and that she was +penniless; also, that she was unaware of her whereabouts. She +resolved to get back to her lodging with as little delay as +possible. She groped about, hoping to find someone who would tell +her where she was and direct her to Kiva Street. After some minutes, +she all but walked into a policeman, who told her how she was near +the King's Road, Chelsea, also how to get to her destination. She +hastened on, doing her utmost to follow his directions. This was not +easy, the fog and the pain in her head both confusing her steps. +Once or twice, she was almost overcome by faintness; then, she was +compelled to cling to railings for support until she had strength to +continue her way. + +There came a time when her legs refused to carry her further; her +head throbbed violently; a dark veil seemed to gradually blot out +things as she knew them. She remembered no more. + +When next she became dimly conscious, she seemed to be in a +recumbent position in a strange room, where she was watching the +doings of a woman who was unknown to her. + +When Mavis first set eyes on this person, she appeared to be a +decent, comely, fair-haired, youngish woman, who was dressed in the +becoming black of one who had recently emerged from the mourning of +widowhood. But as Mavis watched the woman, a startling +transformation took place before her eyes. The woman began by +removing her gloves and bonnet before a dressing glass, which was +kept in position by a mangy hair brush thrust between the frame and +its supports. Then, to the girl's wondering astonishment, the woman +unpinned and took off her fair curls, revealing a mop of tangled, +frowsy, colourless hair, which the wig had concealed. Next, she +removed her sober, well-cut costume, also, her silk underskirt, to +put on a much worn, greasy dressing-gown. Then, she pulled off her +pretty shoes and silk stockings, to thrust her feet into worn +slippers, through which her naked toes showed in more than one +place. + +Mavis rubbed her eyes; she expected every moment to find herself +again in the street, clinging to the railings for support, at which +moment of returning sense she would know that what she was now +witnessing would prove to be an effect of her disordered +imagination. + +If what she saw were the result of a sick brain, it was a +convincing, consistent picture which fascinated her attention. + +The woman had taken up a not over-clean towel, to dip a corner of it +in a jug upon the washstand before applying it to one side of her +face. Mavis suffered her eyes to leave the woman in order to wander +round the room. She was lying on a sofa at the foot of an iron bed. +That part of the wall nearest to her was filled by the fireplace, in +which a cheerful fire was burning; it looked as if it had recently +been made up. Upon the mantelshelf were faded photographs of common, +self-conscious people, the tops of which all but touched a framed +print of the late Mr Gladstone. In the complementary recess to the +one in which the washstand stood, was a table littered with odds and +ends of food, some of which were still wrapped in the paper in which +they had come from the shop. A smoking oil lamp, of which the glass +shade had disappeared, and which was now shaded with the lid of a +cardboard shoe box, cast elongated shadows of the occupier of the +room on walls and ceiling as she moved. The atmosphere of the room +was heavy with the mingled smell of paraffin oil and fugginess. + +"Where--where am I?" asked Mavis. + +"You've come round, then?" said the woman, who had just cleansed one +side of her face of artificial complexion. + +"How did I get here?" + +"I found you outside as I came 'ome. I couldn't very well leave you +like that." + +"You're very kind." + +"'Elp that you may be 'elped is my motto. An' then you didn't smell +of drink. I wouldn't 'ave took you in if you had. Girls who're 'on +the game' who drink ought to know better, and don't deserve +sympathy." + +Mavis stared at her wide-eyed, striving to recalled where she had +heard that expression before, also what it meant. + +"You sit quiet, dear; you'll be better directly," said the woman. +"I've got to wash this stuff off. Beastly nuisance, but, if you +don't, it stains the sheets and pillers, as I daresay you know." + +Had Mavis possessed sufficient strength she would have combated this +suggestion; it was as much as she could do to concentrate her +wandering attention on the doings of the woman who had played good +Samaritan in her extremity. + +Mavis saw her cleanse the other side of her face and remove two +false teeth from her mouth, actions which completed the +transformation from that of a comely, interesting-looking, youngish +woman to that of an elderly, extremely commonplace person with foxy, +shifty eyes. + +"Now I'm 'done.' I never feel reely at home till I get into my +shirt sleeves, as you might say," remarked the woman. + +Mavis sat up. + +"'Ave a drink?" asked her benefactor. + +"No, thank you." + +"I don't mind a drop out of business hours, when I feel I've earned +it, as you might say. I've got a quartern in a bottle. If I'd +expected visitors, I'd have got more, but I'll go 'alves." + +"No, thank you," repeated Mavis. + +"Ah! Don't mind if I do?" said the woman, in the manner of one +relieved of the possibility of parting with something that she would +prefer to keep. + +"Not at all." + +The woman heated some water in a tin kettle, before mixing herself +hot gin and water in a tooth glass, the edge of which was smudged +with tooth powder. + +"Smoke?" + +"I do, sometimes," replied Mavis. + +"Have a fag? A gentleman brought me these to-night." + +Mavis somewhat reluctantly took and lit a cigarette. The woman did +likewise, sipped her grog, and then brought a chair in order that +she might sit by Mavis. + +"What might your name be?" + +"Keeves," answered Mavis shortly. + +"Mine's Ewer--'Tilda Ewer. Miss, thank Gawd." + +"You wear a wedding ring." + +"Eh! That's business. And 'ow did you come to be overtook outside +this 'ouse?" + +"I walked far and was very tired." + +"Rats!" + +"I beg your pardon." + +"Don't tell me. 'Ad a row with your boy, an' 'e biffed you on the +'ead. That's nearer the truth. And that's the worst of gentlemen in +drink; but then, at other times, they're generous enough when +they're in liquor, and don't mind if you help yourself to any spare +cash they may 'appen to 'ave about them. It's as long as it's +broad." + +"You're quite wrong in thinking--" began Mavis. + +"Don't come the toff with me," interrupted the woman. "If you was a +reel young lady, you wouldn't be out on such a night, and alone. So +don't tell me. I ain't lived forty--twenty-six years for nothink." + +Mavis did not think it worth while to argue the point. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +"'Alf-past two. I suppose I shall 'ave to keep you till the +morning." + +"I'll go directly. I can knock my landlady up." + +"She's one of the right sort, eh? Ask no questions, but stick it on +the rent!" + +"If my head wasn't so bad, I'd go at once," remarked Mavis, who +liked Miss Ewer less and less. + +The woman took no notice of Mavis' ungracious speech: she was +staring hard at Mavis' shoes. + +"Fancy wearin' that lovely dress with them tuppenny shoes!" cried +Miss Ewer suddenly. + +"They are rather worn." + +"Oh, you young fool! Beginner, I s'pose." + +"I beg your pardon." + +"Must be. No one else could be such a fool. Don't you know the +gentlemen is most particular about underclothes, stockings and +shoes?" + +"It's a matter of utter indifference to me what the 'gentlemen' +think," said Mavis with conviction. + +"Go on!" + +"Very well, if you don't believe me, you needn't." + +"Here, I say, what are you?" asked Miss Ewer. "Tell me, and then +we'll know where we stand." + +"Tell you what?" + +"Are you a naughty girl or a straight girl?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Straight girls is them as only takes presents like silk stockings +an' gloves from the gentlemen, like them girls in 'Dawes'." + +"Girls in 'Dawes'!" echoed Mavis. + +"They do a lot of 'arm; but yet you can't blame 'em: gentlemen will +pay for anything rather than plank money down to them naughty girls +as live by it." + +"While I'm here, do you mind talking about something else?" asked +Mavis angrily. + +"I 'ave it. I 'ave it," cried Miss Ewer triumphantly. "You're one of +the lucky ones. You're kep'." + +"I beg your pardon." + +"And good luck to you. Don't drink, keep him loving and generous, +and put by for a rainy day, my dear: an' good luck to you." + +"I'm well enough to go now," said Mavis, as she rose with something +of an effort. + +"Eh!" + +"Thank you very much. Would you kindly show me the way out?" + +"You've forgotten something, ain't yer?" + +"What?" + +"A little present for me." + +"I've no money on me: really I haven't." + +"Go on!" + +"See!" cried Mavis, as she turned out the pockets of her cloak. + +To her great surprise, many gold coins rolled on to the floor. + +"Gawd in 'Eaven!" cried Miss Ewer, as she stooped to pick them up. + +Mavis wondered how they had got there, till it occurred to her how +Windebank, pitying her poverty, must have taken the opportunity of +putting the money in her pocket when he insisted upon getting and +helping her into her coat at the restaurant. + +She at once told herself that she could not touch a penny piece of +it, indeed the touch of it would seem as if it burnt her fingers. +Her present concern was to get away as far from the money as +possible. + +"'Ow much can I 'ave?" cried Miss Ewer, who was on her knees +greedily picking up the coins. + +"All." + +"All? Gawd's trewth!" + +"Every bit. Only let me go; at once." + +"'Ere, if you're so generous, ain't you got no more?" said Miss +Ewer, the while her eyes shone greedily. + +"I'll see," said Mavis, as she thoroughly turned out her pockets. + +Another gold piece fell out; also, a bunch of violets. + +"Vilets!" laughed Miss Ewer. + +"Don't touch those. No one else shall have them," cried Mavis, as +she wildly snatched them. + +"You're welcome to that rubbage, and as you've given me all this, in +return I'll give you a tip as is worth a king's money box." + +"You needn't bother." + +"You shall 'ave it. I've never told a soul. It's 'ow you can earn a +living on the streets like me, and keep, like me, as good a maid as +any lady married at St George's, 'Anover Square." + +"Thank you, but--". + +"Listen; listen; listen! It's dress quiet, pick up soft-looking +gents, refuse drink, and pitch 'em a Sunday school yarn," said Miss +Ewer impressively. + +"But--". + +"It's four pound a week I'm giving away. Tell 'em it's the first +time you're going wrong; talk about your dead 'usband in 'is grave, +an' the innocent little lovely baby girl in 'er cot (the gentlemen +like baby girls better'n boys), as prayed for 'er mummy before she +went to sleep. Then, squeeze a tear an' see if that don't touch +their 'earts an' their pockets." + +"Let me go! Let me go!" cried Mavis, horrified at the woman's +communication. + +"I thought I'd astonish you," said Miss Ewer complacently. + +"Let me go. This way?" + +"Too grateful to thenk me! Never mind; leave it till nex' time we +meet. You can thenk me then. I thought I'd take your breath away." + +"Let me out! Let me out!" cried Mavis, as she fumbled at the chain +of the front door. + +"Lemme. Good night, and Gawd bless yer," said Miss Ewer, furtively +counting the gold pieces in her pocket. + +Mavis did not reply. + +"Thought I'd astonish yer. Fer Gawd's sake, don't whisper what I +told you to a livin' soul. An' work 'ard and keep virtuous like me. +Before Gawd, I'm as good a maid--" + +These were the last words Mavis heard as she hurried away from Miss +Ewer. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +SURRENDER + + +Four weeks later, Mavis got out of the train at Melkbridge. She +breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched the platform; her +one regret was that she was not leaving London further away than the +hundred miles which separated Melkbridge from the metropolis. It +seemed to her as if the great city were exclusively peopled with Mr. +Orgles', Mrs Hamiltons, Miss Ewers, and their like. Ignorant of +London's kindness, she had only thought for its wickedness. With the +exception of one incident, she had resolved to forget as much as +possible of her existence since she had left Brandenburg College; +also, to see what happiness she could wrest from life in the +capacity of clerk in the Melkbridge boot manufactory, a position she +owed to her long delayed appeal to Mr Devitt for employment. The one +incident that she cared to dwell upon was her meeting with Windebank +and the kindly concern he had exhibited in her welfare. The morning +following upon her encounter with him, she had long debated, without +arriving at any conclusion, whether she had done well, or otherwise, +in leaving him as she had done. As the days passed, if things seemed +inclined to go happily with her, she was glad that she had put an +end to their budding friendship, to regret her behaviour when vexed +by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. + + + + Her few hours' acquaintance with Windebank had ruffled the surface +of the deep, unexplored waters of the girl's passion, which, rightly +or wrongly, caused her to surrender her personal preferences and to +regard the matter entirely from the man's point of view. This self- +abasement was, largely, the result of the girl's natural instincts +where her affections were concerned; these had been reinforced by +the sentimental pabulum which enters so much into the fiction that +is devoured by girls of Mavis' age and habit of thought. She argued +how it would be criminally selfish of her to presume on his boyish +attachment of the old days, which might lead him to believe that it +was a duty for him to extend to his old-time playmate the lifelong +protection of marriage. + +Her lack of personal vanity was such that it never once occurred to +her that she was eminently desirable in his eyes; that he wished for +nothing better than for her to bestow herself, together with her +affections, upon him for lifelong appreciation. She resolved to +stifle her inclinations in order that the man's career should not +suffer from legal companionship with a portionless, friendless girl. + +Her unselfish resolutions faltered somewhat when, in resuming the +weary search for chances of employment in the advertising columns of +the newspapers, she came across the following, which was every day +repeated for the remainder of the week:-- + +"To M...s, who foolishly lost herself in the fog on the night of +last Thursday. She is earnestly urged to write to me, care of Taylor +& Wintle, 43 Lincoln's Inn Fields. Do not let foolish scruples delay +you from letting me hear from you." + +She had got as far as writing a reply, but could never quite bring +herself to post it. + +A miserable Sunday had urged her to send it to its destination; the +chance purchase of a Sunday paper decided the letter's, and, +incidentally, her own fate. In it she read how, owing to threatened +disturbance on the Indian frontier, Sir Archibald Windebank, D.S.O., +would shortly leave Aldershot by S.S. Arabia with a reinforcing +draft of the Rifle Brigade. + +Mavis tore up her letter, to write another, which she addressed to +the steamer which was to carry him the greater part of his long +journey. She did not give her address; she told him how she believed +it would be for his advantage not to encumber his noble career with +concern for her. She had added that, if it were destined for them to +meet, nothing would give her greater pleasure than to see him again. +She ended by wishing him God-speed, a safe return, a successful and +happy life. As the days passed, with all the indignities and +anxieties attending the quest for employment, the girl's thoughts +more and more inclined to Melkbridge. She longed to breathe its air, +tread its familiar ways, steep herself in the scarcely awakened +spirit of the place. She constantly debated in her mind whether or +not she should write to Mr. Devitt to ask for employment. She told +herself how, in doing what she had resolved upon doing only in the +last extremity, she was giving no more hurt to her pride than it +received, several times daily, in her hopeless search for work. A +startling occurrence had put the fear of London into her heart and +decided her to write to Melkbridge. She had been walking down +Victoria Street, raging with anger at the insult that a rich +photographer had offered her, to whom, in reply to an advertisement, +she had applied for work, when her attention was attracted by a knot +of people gathered about a hospital nurse, a girl, and a policeman. + +The nurse, a harsh, forbidding-looking woman, was endeavouring to +coax the girl into a waiting cab. The girl was excitedly appealing +for release to the policeman, to the knot of spectators, to passers- +by. When anyone displayed a sign of active interest in the matter, +the nurse had put her finger to her forehead to signify that her +charge was insane. + +Mavis was about to avoid the gathering by crossing the road, when +she caught a glimpse of the girl's face, to recognise it as +belonging to Miss Meakin. Wondering what it could mean, she hastened +to her old acquaintance, who, despite her protests, was being urged +towards the cab. + +"It's all a mistake. Let me go! Oh! won't anyone help?" Miss Meakin +had cried as Mavis reached her side. + +"What is it? What has happened?" asked Mavis. + +"It's you: it's you! Thank Heaven!" cried Miss Meakin. + +"What has happened? I insist on knowing," Mavis had asked, as she +glanced defiantly at the forbidding-looking nurse. + +"It's not a nurse. It's a man. I know he is. He's followed me, and +now he's trying to get me away," sobbed the girl. + +Mavis turned to the nurse, who put her finger to her forehead, as if +to insist that Miss Meakin's mind was unhinged. + +Mavis had appealed to the policeman, to declare there must be some +mistake, as she knew Miss Meakin to be of sound mind; but this man +had replied that it was not his place to interfere. Mavis, feeling +anxious for her friend, was debating in her mind whether she should +get into the cab with the girl and the nurse, when a keen-faced- +looking man, who had listened to all that had been said, came +forward to tell the policeman that if he did not interfere, his +remissness, together with his number, would be reported to Scotland +Yard. + +The policeman, stirred to action, stepped forward, at which the +nurse had sprung into the cab, to be driven away, when Miss Meakin +had gone into hysterics upon Mavis' shoulder. + +Later, after she had come to herself in a chemist's shop, she had +told Mavis that she had left "Dawes'," and was now keeping house for +an aunt who was reduced to taking in paying guests somewhere in +North Kensington. She had been to Vincent Square to look up a late +paying guest of her aunt's, who had taken with her some of the +household linen by mistake. Upon her setting out for home, she had +met with the uncanny adventure from which Mavis' timely arrival had +released her. + +Directly Mavis reached home, she had written to Mr Devitt. Four days +passed, during which she heard nothing in reply. The suspense filled +her soul with a sickening dread. Work at Melkbridge now promised +alluring possibilities, qualities that had never presented +themselves to her mind in the days when she believed that a letter +from her would secure from Mr Devitt what she desired. To her +surprised delight, the fifth morning's post had brought her a letter +from Mr Devitt, which told her that, if she would start at once for +Melkbridge, she could earn a pound a week in the office of a boot +manufactory, of which he was managing director; the letter had also +contained postal orders for three pounds to pay the expenses of her +moving from London to Wiltshire. Mavis could hardly believe her +eyes. She had already pawned most of her trinkets, till now there +alone remained her father's gifts, from which she was exceedingly +loath to part. The three pounds, in relieving her of this necessity, +was in the nature of a godsend. + +Now she stood on the platform at Melkbridge. Her luggage had been +put out of the train, which had steamed away. Mavis thought that she +would ask the station-master if he knew of a suitable lodging. The +man whom she judged to be this person was, at present, engaged with +the porters. While she waited till he should be at liberty, her mind +went back to the time when she had last stood on the same platform. +It had been on the day when she had come down to Melkbridge fully +confident of securing work with the Devitt family. This had only +been a few months ago, but to Mavis it seemed long years: she had +experienced so much in the time. Then it occurred to her how often +Archie Windebank had walked on the same platform--Archie Windebank, +who was now on the sea so many hundreds of miles from where she +stood. She wondered if he ever found time to think of her. She +sighed. + +Seeing that the station-master was disengaged, she approached the +spectacled, dapper little man and told him of her wants. + +"Would it be for long?" he asked. + +"Possibly for years. I'm coming to work here." + +"Work!" + +"In the office of one of Mr Devitt's companies." + +The man assumed an air of some deference. + +"Mr Devitt! Our leading inhabitant--sings baritone," remarked the +station-master. + +"Indeed!" + +"A fair voice, but a little undisciplined in the lower register. +This is quite between ourselves." + +"Of course. Do you think you can help me to find rooms?" + +"I wish I could. Let me think." + +Mr Medlicott, as he was called, put the tips of his fingers +together, while he reflected. Mavis watched his face for something +in the nature of encouragement. + +"Dear! dear! dear! dear!" he complained. + +"Don't bother. It's good of you to think of it at all," said Mavis. + +"Stay! I have it. Why didn't I think of it before? Mrs Farthing: the +very thing." + +"Where does she live?" + +"The Pennington side of Melkbridge--over a mile from here; but I +know you'd find there everything that you desire." + +"Thanks. I'll leave my boxes here and walk there." + +"I can save you the trouble. Her husband is guard on the 4.52. If +you can fill up the time till then, it will save you walking all +that way, perhaps, for no purpose." + +Mavis thanked the station-master, left her luggage in his care and +walked to the town, where the unmistakable London cut of her well- +worn clothes attracted the attention of the female portion of the +population. She had a cup of tea in a confectioner's, and felt +better for it. She then set out to walk to her old favourite nook on +the banks of the river, a spot rich with associations of her +childhood. Her nearest way was to walk across the churchyard to the +meadows, the third of which bordered the Avon. It only needed a +quarter of an hour's walk along its banks to find the place she +wanted. Unconsciously, her steps led her in a contrary direction +from that in which she had purposed going. Almost before she knew +what she had done, she had taken the road to Haycock Abbey, which +was Windebank's Wiltshire home. It required something of an effort +to enable her to retrace her steps. She reached and crossed the +churchyard, where long forgotten memories crowded upon her; it was +with heavy heart that she struck across the meadows. + +When she reached the Avon, she found the river to be swollen with +the winter's rain. The water, seamed with dark streaks, flowed +turbulently, menacingly, past her feet. She walked along the river's +deserted bank to the place that she had learned to look upon as her +own. Its discovery gave her much of a shock. She had always pictured +it in her mind as when she had last seen it. Then, it had been in +early July. The river had lazily flowed past banks gaily decorated +with timid forget-me-nots and purple veitch; the ragged robin had +looked roguishly from the hedge. Such was the heat, that the trees +of her nook had looked longingly towards the cool of the water, +while the scent of lately mown hay seemed to pervade the world. That +was then. + +Now, a desolation had invaded the spot. In place of summer gaiety +there was only dreariness. The flowers had gone; a raw wind soughed +along the river's banks; instead of the scent of the hay there was +only the smell of damp earth, as if to proclaim to the girl that +such desolation was the certain heritage of all living things. + +Mavis could not get rid of the impression that the contrast between +the place as she remembered it and as it was now resembled her own +life. She made her way, with all dispatch, to the station. Here she +learned that Mrs Farthing could not take her in until the following +day, as her present "visitors" were not leaving till then. Mavis +pricked up her ears at the mention of visitors; she did not think +such polite euphemisms had penetrated so far afield. + +She had little thought to give the matter, as she was concerned to +know where she was going to spend the night. Mr Medlicott solved her +perplexity; he insisted upon Mavis seeing Mrs Medlicott, who proved +to be a simple, kindly countrywoman, who dropped an old-fashioned +curtsey directly she set eyes on the girl. The station-master's wife +showed Mavis a little room and told her that she was welcome to the +use of it for the night, if she were not afraid of being kept awake +by the passing and shunting of trains. Mavis jumped at the offer, +whereat Mrs Medlicott insisted on her sitting down to a solid, +homely tea, a meal which was often interrupted by Mr Medlicott +getting up to attend to his duties upon the platform. When tea was +over, there was yet another hour's daylight. Mrs Medlicott suggested +to Mavis that it might be as well for her to call on Mrs Farthing, +to see if she liked her; she mentioned that Mr Farthing was a very +nice man, but that his wife was not a person everyone could get on +with. + +Mavis set out for the Pennington end of Melkbridge, where, after +some inquiry, she found that Mrs Farthing lived in an old-world +cottage, which was situated next door to a farm. + +The girl's knock brought Mrs. Farthing, first to the window, then to +the door, whereupon Mavis explained her errand, not forgetting to +mention who had recommended her to come. + +"Please to come inside," said Mrs. Farthing. + +Mavis followed the woman, who was little and sharp-eyed, into a +clean, orderly living room, where she was asked to take a seat. She +was surprised to see her prospective landlady also sit, for all the +world as if she were entertaining a guest. + +"Did you say you were taking up church work?" asked Mrs Farthing. + +"No, I did not." + +"I thought you did," said Mrs Farthing, as her face fell. + +"You see, my father was a sea captain, so I have to be so careful to +whom I let my rooms." + +"If I thought they weren't respectable, I shouldn't have come here," +retorted Mavis. + +Mrs Farthing winced, but recovered herself. + +"Since I have been resident at Pennington Cottage, one colonel, +three doctors, two lawyers, seven reverends, and one banker have +visited here." + +"I'm glad to see others appreciate you," remarked Mavis. + +"Professional gentlemen and their ladies take to me at once. Did you +tell me your uncle was a reverend?" + +"No, I did not," replied Mavis, who was beginning to lose patience. + +"You see, my father being a sea captain--" + +"I can't see how that's anything to do with letting lodgings," said +Mavis. + +"Pardon me, it raises the question of references." + +"Of course, I must have yours. I have only your word for the sort of +people you've had here." + +Mrs Farthing looked at Mavis in astonishment; she was unaccustomed +to being tackled in this fashion. + +"Perhaps, perhaps you'd like to see the sitting-room?" she faltered. + +"I should," said Mavis. + +Mrs Farthing led the way to a quaint little room, the window of +which overlooked the neighbouring farmyard. + +Mavis, although she took a fancy to it at once, was sufficiently +diplomatic to say: + +"It might, perhaps, suit me." + +Mrs. Farthing pointed out the beauty of the view, a recommendation +to which Mavis subscribed. + +The girl's acquiescence emboldened Mrs Farthing to say: + +"Did you say that your mother would sometimes visit you?" + +Mavis trembled with indignation. + +"I did nothing of the kind, and you know it," she cried. "If you +wish to know, I'm employed by Mr Devitt, and should probably have +stayed here for years. If you can't see at a glance what I am, all I +can say is that you've been used to a tenth-rate lot of lodgers." + +Mrs. Farthing capitulated. + +"Wouldn't you like to see the bedroom?" + +"If you don't ask any more silly questions." + +"It's hard to forget my father was a sea captain," explained Mrs +Farthing. + +A door in the passage opened on to winding stairs, up which +vanquished and victor walked. + +From the first floor, a sort of gangway led to the door of a room +that was raised some three feet from the level of where the two +women stood. + +"Now we ascend the Kyber Pass," cried Mrs Farthing gaily, as she set +foot on the gangway. + +As Mavis followed, it occurred to her how this remark might be +invariably retailed to prospective lodgers by Mrs Farthing. + +The bedroom's neat appointments made it even more attractive in +Mavis' eyes than the sitting-room. + +Mrs. Farthing wanted eight shillings a week for a permanency, but +Mavis stuck out for seven. The issue was presently compromised by +the landlady's agreeing to accept seven and sixpence. + +"There's only one thing," said Mrs Farthing, as she sat on the bed; +"and that's my husband." + +"What about him?" asked Mavis, who had believed that everything was +settled. + +"He simply can't abide my letting rooms; he's on to me about it +morning, noon, and night." + +"I'm sorry." + +"To think," as he says, "the daughter of a sea captain--" Here Mrs +Farthing caught Mavis' eye, to substitute for what she was about to +say: "But there," he says, "work your fingers to the bone; go and +commit suicide by overdoing it; kill yourself outright with making +other people comfortable, so long as you get your own way." + +"Really!" + +"That's what he says every minute of the time that he's at home." + +When Mavis left Mrs Farthing to walk to the station, she could not +help noticing how the rough and tumble of her experiences had had a +hardening effect upon her once soft heart. It was not so long ago +that, although presumption on a landlady's part would have goaded +Mavis into making an apposite retort, she would have bitterly +regretted the pain that her words may have inflicted. Now, she was +indifferent to any annoyance that she may have caused Mrs Farthing. +If anything, she was rather pleased with herself for having shown +the woman her place. + +It was something of an experience for Mavis to spend the evening in +the sitting-room of a country railway station. Stillness violently +alternated with the roar and rush of the trains. Mr Medlicott spent +his spare time in the sitting-room, where his eyes never deserted +the faded, uncanny-looking cabinet piano, which spread its expanse +of faded green silk at one end of the room. + +Mavis noticed his preoccupation. + +"I wonder if you would do me a favour?" she asked. + +"And what might that be?" + +"If you would sing?" + +"Delighted!" he cried, as he excitedly sprang to his feet. + +"How nice of you!" + +"Stay! What about the accompaniment?" + +"I can manage that." + +"At sight?" + +"I think so." + +"You're an acquisition to Melkbridge. There's one other thing." + +"I knew you'd disappoint me. What is it?" + +"The 7.53," replied the station-master, looking at his watch. "It's +almost due." + +"We can make a start," suggested Mavis. + +Mr Medlicott quickly produced a collection of old-fashioned ballads, +the covers of many of which were decorated with strange, pictorial +devices. + +"Stay! What say to 'Primrose Farm'?" + +"Anything, so long as you sing," replied Mavis. + +Mr Medlicott delightedly cleared his throat. It did not take Mavis +long to discover that the station-master had little ear for music; +he sang flat, although Mavis did her best to assist him by including +in her accompaniment the notes of the vocal score. The song was no +sooner concluded than the station-master caught up his braided cap +and ran downstairs to meet the 7.53. Upon his return, he sang many +songs. No sooner was one ended than he commenced another; they were +only interrupted by the arrival of trains. + +The room became insupportably hot. During one of Mr Medlicott's +absences, Mavis asked his wife if she might open the window that +overlooked the platform. Where Mavis sat by it, she could see Mr +Medlicott performing his duties below. Once or twice, she fancied +her ear caught strange sounds, which could be heard above the shouts +of the porters and the noises of escaping steam; they proceeded from +where Mr Medlicott stood. The noises became more insistent, when it +occurred to Mavis that the station-master was taking advantage of +the din to practise the more uncertain of his notes. + +The next morning, when Mavis wanted to pay Mrs Medlicott, the +station-master's wife would not hear of it. She declared that she +was amply repaid by Mavis' accompanying her husband's songs, which +was enough to make him happy for many weeks to come. Mrs Medlicott +also observed that her husband would like to take singing lessons +from Mavis, if the latter cared to teach him. + +Mavis walked the good mile necessary to take her to the Melkbridge +boot manufactory with a light heart. She reached it at nine, to find +a square, unlovely building, enclosed by a high stone wall of the +usual Wiltshire type, broken slabs of oolitic formation loosely +thrown together. She explained her errand to the first person she +met inside the gate, and was told to await the arrival of Mr Gaby, +the manager, who was due in half an hour, the time, she afterwards +learned, at which the lady clerks were expected. When Mr Gaby came, +she found him to be a nervous, sandy-haired man, who blushed like +any school-girl when he addressed Mavis. A few minutes later, two +colleagues arrived, to whom she was formally introduced. The elder +of these was Miss Toombs, a snub-nosed, short, flat-chested, +unhealthy-looking woman, who was well into the thirties. She took +Mavis' proffered hand limply, to drop it quickly and set about +commencing her work. Her conduct was in some contrast to the other +girl's, who was introduced to Mavis as Miss Hunter. She was tallish, +dark, good-looking, with a self-possessed manner. The first two +things Mavis noticed about her were that she was neatly and +becomingly dressed, also that her eyebrows met above her nose. She +looked at Mavis critically for a few moments, and gave the latter +the impression that she had taken a dislike to her. Then Miss Hunter +advanced to Mavis with outstretched hand to say: + +"I hope we shall all be great friends and work together +comfortably." + +"Thank you," replied Mavis, at which Miss Hunter proceeded to +instruct her in her duties. These were of the kind usually allotted +to clerical beginners, and consisted of the registering, indexing, +and sorting of all letters received in the course of the day. + +Mavis worked with a will; her bold, unaffected handwriting +emphasised the niggling scrawliness of Miss Hunter's previous +entries in the book. + +"Don't work so fast," said Miss Hunter presently, at which Mavis +looked up in surprise. + +"If you do, you won't have anything to go on with," continued Miss +Hunter. + +About eleven, Mavis learned from Mr Gaby that Mr. Devitt would like +to see her. The manager conducted Mavis to the board room, where she +found Mr Devitt standing before the fire. Directly he saw her, he +came forward with outstretched hand. + +"Good morning, Miss Keeves. Why--" He paused, to look at her with +some concern. + +"What's the matter?" she asked. + +"You're different. If I may say so, you look so much more grown up." + +"I've had rather a rough time since I last saw you." + +"I can well believe it to look at you. Why didn't you write?" + +"I didn't like to. It's good of you to do what you've done." + +Mr Devitt appeared to think for a few moments before saying: + +"I'm sorry I can't do more; but one isn't always in a position to do +exactly what one would like." + +"Quite so," assented the girl. + +More was said to the same effect, although Mavis could not rid +herself of the impression that he was patronising her. A further +thing that prejudiced her against Devitt was his absence of self- +possession. While speaking, he gesticulated, moved his limbs, and +seemed incapable of keeping still. + +"I'll pay you back the three pounds you so kindly sent me, +gradually," said Mavis presently. + +"Wouldn't hear of it; nothin' to me; only too happy to oblige you," +declared Devitt, showing by his manner that he considered the +interview at an end. + +As she walked towards the door, he said: + +"By the way, where are you stayin'?" + +"At Mrs Farthing's; it's quite near here." + +"Quite two miles from us," remarked Devitt, as if more pleased than +otherwise at the information. + +"Quite," answered Mavis. + +"Well, good-bye! Let me know if I can ever do any-thin' for you," he +cried from the fireplace. + +Mavis went back to her work. She had an hour's liberty at one, which +she spent at Mrs Farthing's, who provided an appetising meal of +stewed steak and jam roly-poly pudding. + +About three, Miss Toombs made tea on the office fire; she asked +Mavis if she would like to join the tea club. + +"What's that?" asked Mavis. + +"You pay fourpence a week for tea and biscuits. We take it in turn +to make the tea and wash up: profits equally divided at Christmas." + +"I shall be delighted," said Mavis, as she produced her purse. + +"Not till tomorrow. Today you're a guest," remarked Miss Toombs +listlessly. + +About four, there was so little to do that Miss Toombs produced a +book, whilst Miss Hunter rather ostentatiously opened the Church +Times. Mavis scribbled on her blotting paper till Miss Toombs +brought out a brown-paper-covered book from her desk, which she +handed to Mavis. + +"It's 'Richard Feverel'; if you haven't read it, you can take it +home." + +"Thanks. I'll take great care of it. I haven't read it." + +"Not read Richard Feverel?" asked Miss Toombs, as she raised her +eyebrows, but did not look at Mavis. + +"Is it always easy like this?" Mavis asked of Miss Hunter, as they +were putting on their things at half-past four. + +"You call it easy?" + +"Very. Is it always like this?" + +"Always, except just before Christmas, when there's a bit of a rush, +worse luck," replied Miss Hunter, to add after a moment: "It +interferes with one's social engagements." + +Mavis walked to her rooms with a light heart. It was good to tread +the hard, firm roads, with their foundation of rock, to meet and be +greeted by the ruddy-faced, solidly built Wiltshire men and women, +many of whom stopped to stare after the comely, graceful girl with +the lithe stride. + +When Mavis had had tea and had settled herself comfortably by the +fire with her book, she felt wholly contented and happy. Now and +again, she put down Richard Feverel to look about her, and, with an +immense satisfaction, to contrast the homely cleanliness of her +surroundings with the dingy squalor of Mrs Bilkins's second floor +back. It was one of the happiest evenings she ever spent. She often +looked back to it with longing in her later stressful days. + +About seven, she heard a knock at her door. She called out "Come +in," at which, after much fumbling at the door handle, a big fair +man, with wide-open blue eyes, stood in the doorway. He looked like +a huge, even-tempered child; he carried two paper-covered books in +his hand. + +"I'm Farthing, miss," the man informed her. + +"Good evening," said Mavis, who would scarcely have been surprised +if Farthing had brought out a handful of marbles and started playing +with them. + +"The driver's out, miss, so--" + +"The driver?" interrupted Mavis. + +"Mrs Farthing, miss. I be only fireman when her be about," he humbly +informed her. + +"Won't you sit down?" + +"I? No, thankee, miss. I thought you might want summat to read, so I +brought you these." + +Here Mr Farthing handed Mavis a Great Western Railway time table, +together with "Places of Interest on the Great Western Railway." + +"How kind of you! I shall be delighted to read them," declared Mavis +untruthfully. + +Then, as Mr Farthing was about to leave the room, she said: + +"I'm afraid I'm in your bad books." + +"Bad what, Miss?" he asked, perplexed. + +"Books--that you're offended with me." + +"I, miss?" + +"For coming here as your lodger?" + +Mr Farthing stared at her in round-eyed amazement. + +"I understood from Mrs Farthing that you object to her taking +lodgers," explained Mavis. + +Mr Farthing's jaw dropped; he seemed dumbfounded. + +"That you're complaining about Mrs Farthing overworking herself +every minute you're at home," continued Mavis. + +Mr Farthing backed to the door. + +"And you tell her she's only killing herself by doing it." + +Hopelessly bewildered, Mr Farthing clumped downstairs. + +Mavis laughed long and softly at this refutation of Mrs Farthing's +pretensions. Before she again settled down to the enjoyment of her +book, she looked once more about the cleanly, comfortable room, +which had an indefinable atmosphere of home. + +"Yes, yes," thought Mavis, "it is--it is good to be alive." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +SPRINGTIME + + +Days passed swiftly for Mavis; weeks glided into months, months into +seasons. When the anniversary of the day on which she had commenced +work at the boot factory came round, she could not believe that she +had been at Melkbridge a year. When she had padded the streets of +London in quest of work, she had many times told herself that she +had only to secure a weekly wage in order to be happy. Now this +desire was attained, she found (as who has not?) that satisfaction +in one direction breeds hunger in another. Although her twenty +shillings a week had been increased to twenty-five, and she +considerably augmented this sum by teaching music to pupils to whom +Mr Medlicott recommended her, Mavis was by no means content. Her +regular hours, the nature of her employment, the absence of +friendship in the warm-hearted girl's life, all irked her; she +fearfully wondered if she were doomed to spend her remaining days in +commencing work at nine-thirty and leaving off at half-past four +upon five days of the week, and one on Saturdays. If the fifty-two +weeks spent in Melkbridge had not brought contentment to her mind, +the good air of the place, together with Mrs Farthing's wholesome +food, had wrought a wondrous change in her appearance. The tired +girl with the hunted look in her eyes had developed into an +amazingly attractive young woman. Her fair skin had taken on a +dazzling whiteness; her hair was richer and more luxuriant than of +yore; but it was her eyes in which the chief alteration had +occurred. These now held an unfathomable depth of tenderness, +together with a roguish fear that the former alluring quality might +be discovered. If her figure were not as unduly stout as the skinny +virgins of Melkbridge declared it to be, there was no denying the +rude health apparent in the girl's face and carriage. + +So far as her colleagues at the boot factory were concerned, Miss +Toombs hardly took any notice of her, whilst Miss Hunter gave her +the impression of being extremely insincere, all her words and +actions being the result of pose rather than of conviction. + +The only people Mavis was at all friendly with were Mr and Mrs +Medlicott, whom she often visited on Sunday evenings, when they +would all sing Moody and Sankey's hymns to the accompaniment of the +cabinet piano. + +When she had been some months at Melkbridge, a new interest had come +into her life. One day, Mr Devitt, who, with his family, had showed +no disposition to cultivate Mavis's acquaintance, sent for her and +asked her if she would like to have a dog. + +"Nothing I should like better," she replied. + +"There's only one objection." + +"One can't look gift dogs in the mouth." + +"It's a she, a lady dog: there's risk of an occasional family." + +"I'll gladly take that." + +"She's rather a dear, but she's lately had pups, and some people +might object to her appearance." + +"I know I should love her." + +"She's a cocker spaniel--her name's Jill. She belongs to my boy, +Harold. But as he's away--" + +"Then we've already met. I saw her the day I came down to see you +from London. You're right--she is a dear." + +"My boy, who is still away for his health--" + +"I am sorry," Mavis interrupted. + +"Thanks. He wrote to say that, as we--some of us--appeared to find +her a nuisance, we'd better try and find her a happy home." + +"I'm sure she'd be happy with me." + +"What about your landlady?" + +"I'd forgotten her. I must ask." + +"If she doesn't mind, Jill's licence is paid till the end of the +year." + +"I do hope Mrs Farthing won't mind," declared Mavis hopefully. + +Rather to her surprise, Mrs Farthing made little objection to Jill's +coming to live with Mavis, her surrender being partly due to the +fact of the girl's winsome presence having softened the elder +woman's heart, but largely because it had got about Melkbridge that +Mavis came of a local county family. + +Mr Devitt, being told of this decision, sent Jill up in charge of a +maid, who asked that its collar and chain might be returned to +Melkbridge House. + +Mavis took Jill in her arms, when it would seem by the dog's +demonstrations of delight as if it had long been a stranger to +affectionate regard. + +"Be you agoing to keep un?" asked the maid. + +"Why not?" + +"I shouldn't. Hev a good look at un." + +Mavis looked, to see that Jill's comparatively recent litter had +been responsible for the temporary abnormal development of the parts +of her body by which she had nourished her young. + +"It's why Mrs Devitt wouldn't have un in the house. I don't blame +her. I call it disgusting," continued this chip of Puritanical +stock. + +"I see nothing to object to. It's nature," retorted Mavis, who +inwardly smiled to see how the Puritanical-minded young woman, who +had looked askance at Jill's appearance, did not hesitate to grab +the girl's proffered shilling. + +Jill and Mavis were at once fast friends. The dog accompanied her +mistress in all her rambles, where its presence routed the forces of +loneliness which were beginning to lay siege to the girl's peace of +mind. Jill slept on Mavis's bed, pined when she left her in the +morning, madly rejoiced at her mistress' return from work, when the +vigorous wagging of Jill's tail, together with the barks of delight +which greeted Mavis, gave her a suggestion of home which she had +never experienced since the days of Brandenburg College. + +This year, spring came early, like a beautiful mistress who joins an +enraptured lover before he dares to hope for her coming. With the +lengthening days Mavis knew an increasing distress of mind. She +became unsettled: outbreaks of violent energy alternated with spells +of laziness, which, more often than not, were accompanied by +headaches. Books of historical memoirs, hitherto an unfailing +solace, failed to interest her. Love stories she would avoid for +weeks on end, as if they were the plague, suddenly to fall to and +devour them with avidity, when the inclination seized her. + +It was not yet warm enough for her to sit in her nook; it was +doubtful if she would have done so if the weather had been +sufficiently propitious. The reason for her present indifference to +the spot, which she had always loved, was that it bordered the Avon, +and just now the river was swollen and turbulent with spring rains. +Her soul ached for companionship with something stable, soothing, +still. Perhaps this was why she preferred to walk by the canal that +touched Melkbridge in its quiet and lonely course. The canal had a +beauty of its own in Mavis' eyes: its red-brick, ivy-grown bridges, +its wooden drawbridges, deep locks, and deserted grass-grown tow- +paths were all eloquent of the waterways having arrived at a certain +philosophic repose, which was in striking contrast to the girl's +unquiet thoughts. Soon, as if in celebration of spring, both banks +were gay with borders of great yellow butter-cups. It seemed to +Mavis as if they decorated the tables of a feast to which she had +not been asked. The great awakening in the heart of life proceeded +exquisitely, inevitably. Mavis believed that, as the sun's rays had +no real meaning for her, it was only by some cruel mischance that +she was enabled to bear witness to their daily increasing warmth. +She would tell the troubles of her disturbed mind to Jill, who tried +to show her sympathy by licking her face. At night, she would often +waken out of a deep sleep with a start, when her eagerly +outstretched arms would grasp a vast emptiness. The sight of lovers +walking together would bring hot blood to her head; the proximity of +a young man would make her heart beat strangely. + +She frequently found herself wondering why intercourse between man +and woman was hedged about by innumerable restrictions. It seemed to +her that what people called the conventionalities were a device of +the far-seeing eye of the Most High to regulate the relations of His +children. If any of these appeared to escape the ends for which they +were made, she put down the failure to the imperfect construction of +the human organism, the constant aberrations of which necessitated +the restraints imposed by religion and morality. + +Mavis soon descended from the general to the particular. Her mind +continually dwelt on every incident of her brief acquaintance with +Windebank: she found that it was as much as she could do to justify +the exigent scruples which had made her repel the man's approaches. +One day, the scales fell from her eyes. She had deserted the canal +and was sitting in a field, some two miles from the town, where the +few trees it contained were disposed as if they were continually +setting to partners, in some arboreous quadrille. The surrounding +fields were tipped at all angles, as if in petulant discontent of +one-time flatness. With an effort she could discern, Jill's tail +wagging delightedly from a hole in a ditch, where she was hunting a +rabbit. The voice, the sights, the sounds of nature, all served to +obliterate the effect of life, as she had, hitherto, regarded it, +upon her processes of thought. Archie Windebank's wealth, social +position and career were as nought to her; he appealed to her only +as a man, and her conceivable relationship to him was but as female +to male. + +All other considerations, which she had before believed of +importance, now seemed trivial and inept. She wondered how she could +have been blinded for so long. She bitterly reproached herself for +her high-flown scruples, which now savoured of unwholesome +affectation; but for these, she might not only have been a happy +wife, but she might, also, have proved the means of conferring +happiness upon another, and he a dearly loved one. + +She called to Jill and sorrowfully went home. Three weeks later was +Whit Monday, a day which, being a holiday, she was able to devote to +her own uses. She had planned to walk to the village of Preen, an +ancient hamlet set upon a hill that overlooked Salisbury Plain, +which was distant some five miles from Melkbridge; but, at the last +moment, her distress of mind was such that she abandoned the +excursion. Lethargy had succeeded to her disturbed thoughts-- +lethargy that made her look on life through grey spectacles. Instead +of setting out for Preen, she walked aimlessly about the town, +accompanied by Jill. Presently she went up Church Walk, at the top +of which she saw that the church door was open. She had a fancy for +walking by the grave-stones, so Mavis tied Jill up to the gate of +the churchyard with the lead which she usually carried. + +As Mavis wandered among the moss-grown stones, which bore almost +undecipherable inscriptions, she wondered if those they covered had +led happy, contented lives, or if they were afflicted with unquiet +thoughts, unsatisfied longings, and dull despair, as she was. The +church was empty and cool; she walked inside, to sit in the first +pew she chanced upon. It was the first time that she had sat all +alone in the church; its venerable appearance now cried aloud for +recognition and appreciation. As if to accentuate its antiquity, +some of the aisles and walls bore the disfiguring evidences of an +unfinished electric light and electric organ-blowing installation, +which was in the process of being made, despite the protests of the +more conservative among the worshippers. She did not know whether to +stay or to go; she seemed incapable of making up her mind. Then, +almost before she was aware of it, the organ commenced to play +softly, appealingly; very soon, the fane was filled with majestic +notes. Mavis was always acutely sensitive to music. In a moment, her +troubles were forgotten; she listened enrapt to the soaring melody. +The player was not the humdrum organist of the church, neither did +his music savour of the ecclesiastical inspiration which makes its +conventional appeal on Sundays and holy days. Instead, it spoke to +Mavis of the travail, the joy of being, the night, sunlight, sea, +air, the gay and grey pageant of life: the player appeared to be +moved by all these influences. Not only was he eloquent of life, but +he seemed to read and understand Mavis' soul and the perplexities +with which it was confronted. Her heart went out to this sympathetic +and intimate understanding of her needs; body and soul, she +surrendered herself to the musician's mood. Very soon, he was +playing upon her being as if she were but another instrument, of +which he had acquired the mastery. Her imagination, stirred to its +depths, took instant wing. It seemed as if the hand of time were put +back for many hundreds of years to a day in a remote century. The +building, bare of memorial inscriptions, was crowded with +ecclesiastics, monks, nobles and simple; she could see the gorgeous +ceremonial incidental to the occasion; the chanting of monks filled +her ears; the rich scent of incense lay heavy on the air; lights +flickered on the altar. Night came, when silence seemed to have +forever enshrouded the world; many nights, till one on which the +moonlight shone upon the figure of a young man keeping his vigil +beside his armour and arms. Then, in a moment, the church was filled +with sunlight, and gay with garlands and bright frocks. The knight +and his bride stood before the altar, while the world seemed to +laugh for very joy. As the newly-made man and wife left the church, +old-world wedding music sounded strangely in Mavis' ears. The best +part of a year passed. A little group stood about the font, where +the life, that love had called into being, was purged of taint of +sin by holy church. + +Next, martial music rent the air; a venerable ecclesiastic blessed +the arms and aims of a goodly company of stout-hearted men. When the +echoes of the martial music had died away, the fane was deserted, +save for one lone woman, who offered up continual supplication for +her absent lord. + +Cries and lamentations fell on Mavis' ears: to the music of a +military march, the brave young knight was borne to burial. Soon, +the moonlight fell upon the church's first monument, beside which +the tearless and kneeling figure of a woman often prayed. It was not +so very long before the widow was carried to rest beside her +husband; it seemed but little longer when the offspring of her love +stood before the altar with the bride of his choice. + +The foregoing scenes were many times repeated, as, thus, life moved +down the centuries, differing not at all but for changes in +personality and dress. The church looked on, unmoved, unaltered, +save for signs of age and an increasing number of memorials raised +to the dead. The procession of life began by fascinating and ended +by paining Mavis. + +It was as if she were the spectator of a crowd in which her heart +ached to mix, despite the distressing penalties of pain to which +those she envied were, at all times, subject. It was as if she were +forever cut off from the pleasures of her kind, to gain which the +risk of mental and physical torments was well worth the running. It +seemed as if her youth, sweetness, and immense capacity for loving, +were doomed to wither unsought, unappreciated in the desert of her +destiny. As if to save herself from such an unkind fate, she +involuntarily fell on her knees; but she did not pray, indeed, she +made no attempt to formulate prayer in her heart. Perhaps she +thought that her dumb, bruised loneliness was more eloquent than +words. She remained on her knees for quite a long time. When she got +up, the music stopped. The contrast between the sound and the +succeeding silence was such that the latter seemed to be more +emphatic than the melody. + +When she, presently, rose to go, she saw a man standing just behind +her in the aisle; he was elderly and homely-looking, with soft, far- +away eyes. + +"Good morning, miss," said the man. + +"Good morning," replied Mavis, wondering who he could be. + +"I hoped--you zeemed to like my playing." + +"Was it you who played so beautifully?" + +"I was up there practising just now." + +"Do you often practise like that?" + +"It isn't often I get the chance; I'm mostly busy varming." + +"Farming?" + +"That's it. And what with bad times, one doesn't get much time for +the organ. And when one does, one's vingers run away with one." + +"You a farmer?" + +"At Pennington Varm. My name's Trivett, miss. If ever you would come +in to tea, Mrs Trivett would be proud to welcome 'ee." + +"I should be delighted. Perhaps, if you would like to teach me, I'd +have organ lessons." + +"I get so little time, miss. What day will 'ee come to the varm?" + +"Next Saturday, if I may," + +"That's zettled. I'm glad you be coming zoon; the colour of the +young grass be wonderful." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, as she looked at him, surprised. + +"That's the advantage of varming," continued Trivett: "you zee natur +in zo many colours and zo many moods." + +Thus talking, they reached the churchyard gates, where Mavis +released Jill, who was delighted at being set at liberty. + +Mavis said goodbye to Trivett and recrossed the churchyard on her +way to the river. As she walked, she wondered at Trivett's strange +conjunction of pursuits; also, if he were as good a farmer as he was +a musician. + +She found the part of the river nearest to the church crowded with +holiday bathers, so turned aside in the direction of her nook, where +she was tolerably certain of getting quiet. Arrived there, she found +her expectation was not belied. She felt dazed and tired with the +emotions she had experienced; she reclined on the ground to look +lazily at the beauty spread so bountifully about her. + +Nature was now at her best. She was like a fair young mother radiant +with the joys attaching to the birth of her firstborn. The striking +of the quarter on the church clock was borne to her on the light +wind; she heard a rumble and caught a glimpse through the young +foliage of the white panelled carriages of a train speeding to +Weymouth. + +She settled herself for a repose of suspended thought, thankful that +there was no prospect of her peace being interfered with. She had +not lain long when she was disturbed by a plashing of water, at +which Jill was vigorously barking. + +She raised her head to see a man swimming; her eyes were fascinated +by the whiteness of the man's flesh. After a while, he returned, to +pass and repass her two or three times. Then, to her consternation, +he approached the bank near to where she lay. She sat up; a few +moments later, the man's head and shoulders appeared among the +grasses upon the river bank. + +"Good morning," said the man. + +Mavis took no notice, but called to Jill. + +"Good morning," repeated the man, who was young and pleasant- +looking. + +Mavis did not reply. + +"Would little Mavis mind moving a little further up the bank?" +continued the man. + +Mavis looked at him in astonished anger. + +"Because I can't get to my clothes until you do." + +Mavis got up, called to Jill, and turned her back on the nook, +wondering how on earth the man could have known her name; also, why +he had the impertinence to address her so familiarly. + +She did not get very far, because, call as she might to Jill, the +spoiled dog took no notice of her summons, but remained about the +place that her mistress had left. + +Mavis called vainly for some minutes, till, at last, Jill appeared, +carrying the man's collar in her mouth. Mavis tried to induce the +dog to come to her, but, instead, Jill raced madly round and round, +delighted with her find. + +Very soon the man appeared, now dressed in a flannel suit, but +collarless; a bath towel was thrown over his shoulder. He advanced +to Mavis in leisurely fashion. + +"Bother the man!" she thought. + +"May I introduce myself?" he asked, as he lifted his hat. + +"No, thank you," she replied coldly. + +"There's no occasion. We've already met," he continued. + +"I'm sure we haven't, and I haven't the least wish to know you." + +"Rot! I'm Charlie Perigal." + +"Charlie Perigal!" + +"Yes. And how is little Mavis after all these years? But there's +little need to ask." + +Here he stared at her with an immense admiration in his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + +CHARLIE PERIGAL + + +Mavis looked at the friend of her youth. As she saw him now, he was, +in appearance, but a grown-up replica of the boy she remembered. +There were the same steely blue eyes, curly hair, and thin, almost +bloodless lips. With years and inches, the man had acquired a +certain defiant self-possession which was not without a touch of +recklessness; this last rather appealed to Mavis; she soon forgot +the resentment which his earlier familiarity had excited. + +"You haven't altered a bit!" she declared. + +"But you have." + +"I know. I'm quite an old woman." + +"That's what I was going to say." + +"Thanks." + +"I knew you'd be pleased. May I have my collar?" + +"It's that naughty Jill. I am so sorry." + +Mavis rescued the collar from the dog's unwilling mouth. + +"How did you know it was me?" + +"I guessed." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Why nonsense?" + +"You aren't clever enough." + +"Quite right. The pater told me you were to be found in Melkbridge." + +"Your father! How did he know?" + +"He knows everything that goes on here, although he never goes +anywhere. And then, when I asked one or two people about you, they +said you were always about with a black cocker." + +"Is this the first time you've seen me?" + +"Why shouldn't it be?" + +"I've been here fifteen months." + +"Working for old Devitt. I've only been back a week." + +"From where?" + +"Riga." + +"In Russia! How interesting!" + +"Don't you believe it. Beastly hole." + +"It's abroad." + +"Any place is beastly when one has to be there. And you've been here +a whole fifteen months. Think what I've missed!" + +Mavis had, by now, got over her first excitement at meeting her old +friend: her habitual prudence essayed to work--essayed, because its +customary vigour was just now somewhat impaired. + +"I'm glad to have met you again. Good-bye," she said. + +"Eh!" + +"It's time I got back." + +The man stared at her in some astonishment. + +"Perhaps you're right," he remarked presently. + +"Right!" she echoed, faintly surprised. + +"I'm only a waster. Nobody wants anything to do with me." + +Something in the tone of the man's voice stirred her heart to pity. + +"I'm not a bit like that," she said. + +"Rot! All women are alike. When a chap's down, they jump on him. +After all, you can't blame 'em." + +Mavis stood irresolute. + +"Good-bye," said Perigal. + +"One moment!" + +"I can't wait. I must be off too." + +"I want to ask you something." + +"What is it? Remember, I didn't ask you to wait." + +"Who has given you a bad name, and why?" + +"Most people who know me." + +"I read the other day that majorities are always wrong," she +remarked. + +"Majorities are always right, just the same as minorities and +everybody else." + +"Everybody right!" + +"According to their lights. We are as we are made, and, whatever +some people say, we can never be anything else. And that's the devil +of it. It's all so unfair." + +"Why unfair?" + +"It's just one's confounded luck what temperament one's inflicted +with. I should think you were to be congratulated. You look as if +you could be infernally happy." + +"Aren't you?" + +"Who is?" + +"Loads of people," she declared emphatically. + +"The very vain and the very stupid. Who else?" + +Mavis was beginning to be interested. It amused and, at the same +time, touched her to notice the difference between the dreary nature +of the sentiments and the youthful, comely face of the speaker. + +"I'm going now," she said. + +"Frightened of being seen with me?" he asked. + +"When I've Jill for a chaperone?" + +"Why don't you come as far as Broughton with me?" + +"Across the river?" + +"I've a punt moored not far from here." + +"But I've got to get back to a meal." + +"We can get something to eat there." + +"I don't think I will." + +"Is it too far?" + +"I can walk any distance." + +"Someone was asking about you the other day." + +"Who?" + +"Archie Windebank. He wrote from India." + +"What did he say?" asked Mavis, striving to conceal the interest she +felt. + +"I forget, for the moment, what it was. If I remember, I'll tell +you." + +"Don't forget." + +"He's rather keen on you, isn't he?" + +"How should I know?" + +"He's a fool if he isn't." + +"What makes you think he is?" + +"I'd only an idea. Are you coming to Broughton?" + +"I'll compromise. I'll come as far as your punt." + +"Spoken like a good little Mavis." + +They followed the course of the river. The stream's windings were so +vigorous that, when they had walked for some way, they had made +small progress in the direction in which Perigal was going. + +Mavis was strangely happy. With the exception of her brief +acquaintance with Windebank, she had never before enjoyed the +society of a man, who was a gentleman, on equal terms. And Windebank +was coming home unharmed from the operations in which he had won +distinction; she had read of his brave doings from time to time in +the papers: she rejoiced to learn that he had not forgotten her. + +"Thinking of Windebank?" asked Perigal, noticing her silence. + +"Yes." + +"Lucky chap! But he's an awfully good sort, straight-forward and all +that." + +Mavis again assented. + +"A bit obvious, though." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Eh! Oh, well, you always know what his opinions are going to be on +any given subject." + +"I think he's delightful." + +"So do I," assented Perigal, to add, as a qualifying afterthought, +"A bit tiring to live with." + +"I'm sorry, but I can't speak from experience," retorted Mavis, who +disliked Perigal to criticise her friend. + +They had now reached the spot where the punt was moored. It was a +frail craft; the bows seemed disposed to let in water. + +"Is it goodbye?" asked Perigal. + +"Of course," replied Mavis irresolutely. + +"Then it isn't good-bye," smiled Perigal. + +"Why?" + +"Because you're going to do what I wish." + +Mavis was sure that she was going to do nothing of the kind, but as +Perigal looked at her and smiled she became conscious of a weakening +in her resolution: it was as if he had fascinated her; as if, for +his present purpose, she were helpless in his hands. Consequently, +she said: + +"To disappoint you, I'll come as far as the other side of the +river." + +"What did I tell you? But it's only fair to let you know the river +runs a bit just here, and it's too deep to pole, so you have to hit +the opposite bank when you can." + +"Is there any danger?" + +"Nothing to speak of." + +"I'd love to cross." + +"Jump in, then." + +"You don't mind if I leave you on the other side?" + +"Yes, I do. You hang on to Jill." + +Mavis enticed Jill into the punt, where the dog sat in the stern in +her usual self-possessed manner. Perigal struggled with the rope by +which the punt was moored to the stump of a tree. Very soon, they +were all adrift on the stream. They made little progress at first, +merely scraping along the overhanging branches of pollard willows; +now and again, the punt would disturb long-forgotten night lines, +which, more often than not, had hooked eels that had been dead for +many days. Mavis began to wonder if they would ever get across. + +"Stand by!" cried Perigal suddenly, at which Mavis gripped both +sides of the punt. + +It was well she did so, for the next moment the punt swerved +violently, to blunder quickly down stream as it felt the strength of +the current. + +"Are you frightened?" asked Perigal. + +"Not a bit." + +"Hold tight to the bank if your end strikes first." + +"Right you are." + +Perigal did his best to steer the punt, but without much success. +Presently, the bows hit the side, at which Perigal clutched at the +growth on the bank. + +"Step ashore quickly," he cried. "It's beginning to let in water." + +"How exciting!" remarked Mavis, as she stepped on to the bank. + +"Just wait till I tie her up." + +"Where's Jill?" asked Mavis suddenly. + +"Isn't she with you?" + +"See if she's in the river." + +"If she is, the punt striking the bank must have knocked her +overboard." + +They looked, but no sign could be seen of the dog. Mavis called her +name loudly, frantically, but no Jill appeared. + +"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" she cried helplessly. + +"Look!" cried Perigal suddenly. "Look, those weeds!" + +Mavis looked in the direction indicated. About six feet from the +bank was a growth of menacing-looking weeds under the water, which +just now were violently agitated. + +"I'll bet anything it's Jill. She's caught in the weeds," said +Perigal. + +"Let me come. Let me come," cried Mavis. + +"It's ten feet deep. You're surely not going in?" + +"I can't let her drown." + +"Let me--" + +"But--" + +"I'm going in. I can swim." + +Perigal had thrown off his coat, kicked off his boots. + +The next moment, he had dived in the direction in which he believed +Jill to be. + +Mavis was all concern for her pet. Although she knew that, more +likely than not, she would never see her alive again, she scarcely +suffered pain at all. Although incapable of feeling, her mind noted +trivial things with photographic accuracy--a bit of straw on a bush, +a white cloud near the sun, the lonely appearance of an isolated +pollard willow. Meantime, Perigal had unsuccessfully dived once; the +second time, he was under the water for such a long time that Mavis +was tempted to cover her eyes with her hands. Then, to her +unspeakable relief, he reappeared, much exhausted, but holding out +of the water a bedraggled and all but drowned Jill. + +"Bravo! bravo!" cried Mavis. + +"Give me a hand, or have Jill!" gasped Perigal. + +Mavis put one foot in the punt in order to take Jill. She held her +beloved friend for a moment against her heart, to put her on the +floor of the punt and extend a helping hand to Perigal. + +"How can I ever thank you?" she asked, as he stood upon the bank +with the water dripping from his clothes. + +"Easily." + +"How?" + +"By coming with me to Broughton." + +"But Jill!" + +"She'll be all right. See, she's better already." + +He spoke truly. Jill was alternately licking her paws and feebly +shaking herself. + +"But what about you? You ought to go home at once and run all the +way." + +"I shall be all right. Are you going to Broughton?" + +"On one condition." + +"And what might that be--that I don't go with you?" + +"That you run all the way and, when you get there, you borrow a +change of clothes." + +"Then you'll really come?" + +"Since you wish it. I couldn't do less." + +"What did I tell you? But there's an inn on the left, the first one +you come to. Wait for me there; if they can't lend me a change I'll +have to get one somewhere else and come back there." + +"Only if you go at once. You've waited too long already." + +Perigal started, carrying his dry boots and coat. + +"Faster! faster!" cried Mavis, seeing that he was inclined to +linger. + +She followed behind; she did not move with her customary swinging +stride, Jill's extremity having sapped her strength. Directly +Perigal was out of sight, she caught Jill in her arms, to smother +her wet head and body with kisses. + +"Oh, my darling! my darling!" she murmured. "To think how nearly we +were parted forever!" + +It was with something of an effort that she pursued her way to +Broughton. Her steps dragged; her mind was filled with a picture of +her dearly loved Jill, cold, lifeless, unresponsive to her caress. + +When she reached the inn, she learned that Perigal was upstairs +changing into the landlord's clothes. When he came down, clad in +corduroys, with a silk handkerchief about his throat, she was +surprised to see how handsome he looked. + +"So you've got here!" he remarked, as he saw Mavis. + +"Didn't I say I was coming?" she asked, as she sank on a seat in the +tiny sitting-room. + +"You look bad. You must have something." + +"I'd like a little milk, please." + +"Rot! You must have brandy." + +"I'd prefer milk." + +"You do as you're told," replied Perigal. + +Fortunately, the inn had a spirit licence, so Mavis sipped the stuff +that Perigal brought her, to feel better at once. She then soaked a +piece of biscuit in the remainder of the brandy, to force it down +Jill's throat. Next, she turned to Perigal. + +"Have you had any?" she asked. + +"What do you think?" + +"I don't know how to thank you for saving Jill's life." + +"Rot!" + +"If you won't let me thank you, perhaps you'll let Jill." + +Mavis held Jill in Perigal's face, when, to the girl's surprise, +Jill growled angrily. + +"What wicked ingratitude!" cried Mavis. "Oh, you naughty Jill!" + +"Perhaps she's sorry I didn't let her drown," remarked Perigal. + +"What!" cried Mavis. + +"She may have wanted to commit suicide." + +"Jill want to leave me?" + +"She felt unworthy of you. I suppose she growls because she sees +right through me." + +"Don't be so fond of disparaging yourself. It was very brave of you +to dive in as you did." + +"I'm going to ask you to do something really brave." + +"What's that?" + +"Tackle eggs and bacon for lunch. It's all they've got." + +"I'll be very brave. I'm hungry." + +A red-cheeked, bright-eyed young woman laid a coarse cloth, and, +upon this, black-handled knives and forks. + +"What will you have to drink?" asked Perigal. + +"Milk." + +"Have some wine." + +"I always drink milk." + +"Not in honour of our meeting?" + +"You seem to forget I've got to walk home." + +"Perhaps you're right. Goodness knows what they'd give you here. Not +like the Carlton or the Savoy." + +"I've never been to such places." + +"Not?" he asked, in some surprise, to remain silent till the fried +eggs and bacon were brought in. + +"You ought to drink something warm," said Mavis, as he piled food on +her plate. + +"I've ordered ginger brandy. It's the safest thing they've got." + +The food enabled Mavis to recover her spirits. It appeared to have a +contrary effect on Perigal; the little he ate seemed to incline him +to gloomy thoughts. + +"I'm afraid you're going to be ill," she remarked. + +"I'm all right. Don't worry about me." + +"I won't. I'll worry the eggs and bacon instead." + +Presently, he raised the glass of ginger brandy in his hands. + +"Here's to the unattainable!" he said. + +"And that?" + +"Happiness." + +"Nonsense! Everyone can be happy if they like." + +"Little Mavis, let me tell you something." + +"Something dismal?" + +"No one ever was, is, or can be really happy: it's a law of nature." + +"I've come across people who're absolutely happy." + +"Listen. Nature, for her own ends, the survival of the fittest, has +arranged matters so that we're always, always striving. We think +that a certain end will bring happiness, and struggle like blazes to +get it, to find that satisfaction is a myth; to discover that, no +sooner do we possess a thing than we weary of what was once so +ardently desired, and immediately crave for something else which, if +obtained, gives no more satisfaction than the last thing hungered +for." + +"I don't believe it for a moment. Besides, why should it be?" + +"Because it's necessary to keep the species going. By constantly +fighting with others for some goal, it sharpens our faculties and +makes us more fitted to hold our own; if it weren't for this +struggle, we should stagnate and very soon go under." + +"Even if some of what you say is true, there's the pleasure of +getting." + +"At first. But if one 'spots' this clever trick of nature and one is +convinced that nothing, nothing on earth is worth struggling for-- +what then?" + +"That it's a very foolish state of mind to get into, and the sooner +you get out of it the better." + +"You said just now there was the pleasure of getting. I know +something better." + +"And that?" + +"The pleasure of forgetting." + +He glanced meaningly at her. + +"Are you forgetting now?" she asked. + +"Can you ask?" + +Mavis blushed; she bent down to pat Jill in order to conceal the +pleasure his words gave her. + +"Tell me what Archie Windebank said about me," she presently said. + +"Blow Windebank!" + +"I want to know." + +"Then I suppose I must tell you." + +"Of course: out with it and get it over." + +"You met him once in town, didn't you?" + +"Only once." + +"Where?" + +"Quite casually. Tell me what he said." + +"He wanted to know if I'd ever run across you, and, if I did, I was +at once to wire to him and let him know." + +"Are you going to?" + +"No fear," replied Perigal emphatically. + +"Aren't men very selfish?" she asked. + +"They are where those women they admire are concerned." + +At the conclusion of the meal, they sat in the inn garden. They +spoke of old times, old associations. Mavis gave Perigal an abridged +account of her doings since she had last seen him, omitting to +mention her experience with Mr Orgles, Mrs Hamilton, and Miss Ewer. + +"I suppose you've run across a lot of chaps in London?" he presently +remarked. + +"No, I haven't run against any 'chaps', as you call them." + +"Rot!" + +"It's a fact." + +"Do you mean to say you've never yet had a love affair?" + +"That's a business that requires two, isn't it?" + +"Usually." + +"Well, I've always made a point of standing out." + +"Eh!" + +"I suppose it's vanity--call it that if you like--but I think too +much of myself to be a party to a mere love affair, as you would +call it." + +Perigal glanced at her as if to see if she were speaking seriously. +Then he was lost in thought for some minutes, during which he often +looked in her direction. + +"What are you thinking of?" she asked. + +"That, to a decent chap, little Mavis would be something of a find, +as women go." + +"You don't think much of women, then?" + +"What's it my pater's always saying?" + +"I can tell you: Always learn the value of money and the +worthlessness of most women." + +"Eh!" + +"Don't look so astonished. It's the advice he gave to Archie +Windebank." + +"I see: and he told you. But the pater's right over that." + +"How do you know?" + +"That's telling." + +Later in the afternoon, at tea, Mavis learned from Perigal much of +his life since they had last met. It appeared that he had been to +Oxford, to be sent down during his first term; that he had tried +(and failed) for Sandhurst; also a variety of occupations, all +apparently without success, until his father, angered at some scrape +he had got into, had packed him off to Riga, where he had secured +some sort of a billet for his son. Finally, in defiance of parental +orders, he had left that "beastly hole" and was living at home until +his father should turn him out. + +"Isn't it all rather a pity?" Mavis asked. + +"All what?" + +"Your wasted life? And you've had so many good chances." + +"I've had some fun out of it all. And, after all, what's the use of +trying?" + +"Just think of the thousands who would give their eyes for your +chances," she urged. + +"If their fathers had plenty of money like mine, they'd probably do +as I." + +"Your father wants to see you worthy of it." + +"I am. I've all sorts of expensive tastes." + +Later, when they walked in the direction of Melkbridge, it seemed to +Mavis as if she were talking to a friend of many years; he seemed to +comprehend her so intimately that she felt wholly at home with him. +He had changed into his flannel suit, which had been dried before +the inn kitchen fire. He walked with his careless stride, his cap +thrust into his pocket. Now and again, Mavis found herself glancing +at his fair young face, his steely blue eyes, the wind-disturbed +curls upon his head. Their way led them past a field carpeted with +cowslips. + +"Oh, look!" she cried, delightedly. + +"Cowslips! Are you keen on wildflowers?" + +"They're the only ones I care for." + +"I only care for artificial ones. Shall I get you some cowslips?" + +"If you wouldn't mind. We'll both go." + +They gathered between them a big bunch. Now and again they would +race like children for a promising clump. + +"This bores you awfully," she remarked presently. + +"I don't believe I've ever been so happy in my life," he replied +seriously. + +"Nonsense!" + +"A fact. Am I not with you?" + +Mavis did not reply. + +"And, again, it's all so natural, you and I being here alone with +nature; it's all so wonderful; one can forget the beastly worries of +life." + +He spoke truly. Although it was getting late, the light persisted, +as if reluctant to leave the gladness of newborn things. All about +her, Mavis could see the trees were decked in fresh green foliage, +virginal, unsoiled; everywhere she saw a modest pride in unaffected +beauty. Human interests and emulations seemed to have no lot in this +serenity: no habitation was in sight; it was hard for Mavis to +believe how near she was to a thriving country town. Strange +unmorality, with which immersion in nature affects ardent spirits, +influenced Mavis; nothing seemed to matter beyond present happiness. +She made Perigal carry the cowslips, the while she frolicked with +Jill. He watched her coolly, critically, appraisingly; she had no +conception how desirable she appeared in his eyes. Lengthening +shadows told them that it was time to go home. They left the cowslip +field regretfully to walk the remaining two miles to Melkbridge. + +"I want you to promise me something," she said, after some moments +of silence. + +"What?" + +"To promise me to do something with your life." + +"Why should you wish that?" + +"You saved Jill's life. If you hadn't, I should now be miserable and +heart-broken, whereas--Will you promise me what I ask?" + +He did not speak immediately; she put her hand on his arm. + +"I was wondering if it were any use promising," he said, "I've had +so many tries." + +"Will you promise you'll try once more?" + +"Yes." + +"Thank you." + +"I promise I'll try, for your sake." + +They talked till they were within half a mile of the town. Then he +said: + +"I'm going to leave you here." + +"Ashamed of being seen with me?" + +"Why should I be ashamed?" he asked. + +"I'm only a clerk in a boot factory." + +"You needn't rub it in. No, I was thinking how people in Melkbridge +would talk if they saw you with me or any other chap." + +"People aren't quite so bad as that," she urged. + +"No woman would ever forgive you for your looks." + +"Well, goodbye; thank you for saving Jill's life, and thank you for +a very happy day." + +"Rot! It's I who should be thankful. You've taken me out of myself." + +Neither of them made any move. Mavis caught hold of Jill and held +her towards Perigal as she said: + +"Thank him for saving your life, you ungrateful girl." + +Jill growled at Perigal even more angrily than before. + +"Oh, you naughty Jill!" cried Mavis. + +"Not a bit of it; she's cleverer than you; she's a reader of +character," said Perigal. + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + +THE MOON GODDESS + + +"Do you know anything of Mr. Charlie Perigal?" asked Mavis of Miss +Toombs and Miss Hunter the following day, as they were sipping their +afternoon tea. + +"Why?" asked Miss Hunter. + +"I met him yesterday," replied Mavis. + +"Do you mean that you were introduced to him?" asked Miss Hunter +calmly. + +"There was no occasion. I knew him when I was a girl." + +"I can't say I knew him when I was a girl," retorted Miss Hunter. +"But I know this much: he never goes to church." + +"What of that?" snapped Miss Toombs. + +Miss Hunter looked at the eldest present, astonished. + +"Is that you talking?" she asked. + +"Why, what did I say?" + +"You spoke as if it were a matter of no consequence, a man not going +to church." + +"I can't have been thinking what I said," remarked Miss Toombs, as +she put aside her teacup to go on with her work. + +"I thought not," retorted Miss Hunter. + +"You haven't told me very much about him," said Mavis. + +"I've never heard much good of him," declared Miss Hunter. + +"Men are scarcely expected to be paragons," said Mavis. + +"When he was last at home, he was often about with Sir Archibald +Windebank." + +"I know him too," declared Mavis. + +"Nonsense!" + +"Why shouldn't I? His father was my father's oldest friend." + +Miss Hunter winced; she stared fixedly at Mavis, with eyes in which +admiration and envy were expressed. Later, when Mavis was leaving +for the day, Miss Hunter fussed about her with many assurances of +regard. + +To Mavis's surprise, Miss Toombs joined her outside the factory-- +surprise, because the elder woman rarely spoke to her, seeming to +avoid rather than cultivate her acquaintance. + +"I can say here what I can't say before that little cat," remarked +Miss Toombs. + +Mavis stared at the plainly clad, stumpy little figure in +astonishment. + +"I mean it," continued Miss Toombs. "She's a designing little +hypocrite. I know you're too good a sort to give me away." + +"I didn't know you liked me well enough to confide in me," remarked +Mavis. + +"I don't like you." + +"Why not?" asked Mavis, surprised at the other woman's candour. + +"Look at you!" cried Miss Toombs savagely, as she turned away from +Mavis. "But what I was also going to say was this: don't have too +much to do with young Perigal." + +"I'm not likely to." + +"Don't, all the same. You're much too good for him." + +"Why? Is he fast?" asked Mavis. + +"It wouldn't matter if he were. But he is what some people call a +'waster.'" + +"He admits that himself." + +"He's a pretty boy. But I don't think he's the man to make a woman +happy, unless--" + +"Unless what?" + +"She despised him or knocked him about." + +"I won't forget," laughed Mavis. + +"Good day." + +"Won't you come home to tea?" + +"No, thanks," said Miss Toombs, as she made off, to leave Mavis +gazing at the ill-dressed, squat figure hurrying along the road. + +As might be expected, Miss Hunter's and Miss Toombs' disparagement +of Charlie Perigal but served to incline Mavis in his favour. She +thought of him all the way home, and wondered how soon she would see +him again. When she opened the door of her room, an overpowering +scent of violets assailed her nostrils; she found it came from a +square cardboard box which lay upon the table, having come by post +addressed to her. The box was full of violets, upon the top of which +was a card. + +She snatched this up, to see if it would tell her who had sent the +flowers. It merely read, "With love to Jill." + +Her heart glowed with happiness to think that a man had gone to the +trouble and expense of sending her violets. Before sitting down to +her meal, she picked out a few of the finest to pin them in her +frock; the others she placed in water in different parts of the +room. If Mavis were inclined to forget Perigal, which she was not, +the scent of the violets was enough to keep him in her mind until +they withered. + +She did not write to acknowledge the gift; she reserved her thanks +till their next meeting, which she believed would not long be +delayed. The following Saturday (she had seen nothing of Perigal in +the meantime) she called on Mrs. Trivett at Pennington Farm. The +farmyard, with its poultry, the old-world garden in which the house +was situated, the discordant shrieks which the geese raised at her +coming, took the girl's fancy. While waiting for the door to be +opened, she was much amused at the inquisitive way in which the +geese craned their heads through the palings in order to satisfy +their curiosity. + +The door was opened by a homely, elderly woman, who dropped a +curtsey directly when she saw Mavis, who explained who she was. + +"You're kindly welcome, miss, if you'll kindly walk inside. Trivett +will be in soon." + +Mavis followed the woman to the parlour, where her hostess dusted +the chair before she was allowed to sit. + +"Do please sit down," urged Mavis, as Mrs Trivett continued to +stand. + +"Thank you, miss. It isn't often we have such a winsome young lady +like you to visit us," said Mrs Trivett, as she sat forward on her +chair with her hands clasped on the side nearest to Mavis, a manner +peculiar to country women. + +"I can't get over your husband being a farmer as well as a +musician," remarked Mavis. + +Mrs Trivett shook her head sadly. + +"It's a sad pity, miss; because his love of music makes him forget +his farm." + +"Indeed!" + +"And since you praised his playing in church, he's spent the best +part of the week at the piano." + +"I am sorry." + +"At least, he's been happy, although the cows did get into the hay +and tread it down." + +Mavis expressed regret. + +"You'll stay to tea and supper, miss?" + +"Do you know what you're asking?" laughed Mavis. + +"It's the anniversary of the day on which I first met Trivett, and +I've made a moorhen and rabbit-pie to celebrate it," declared Mrs +Trivett. + +Mavis was a little surprised at this piece of information, but she +very soon learned that Mrs Trivett's life was chiefly occupied with +the recollection and celebration of anniversaries of any and every +event which had occurred in her life. Custom had cultivated her +memory, till now, when nearly every day was the anniversary of +something or other, she lived almost wholly in the past, each year +being the epitome of her long life. When Trivett shortly came in +from his work, he greeted Mavis with respectful warmth; then, he +conducted his guest over the farm. Under his guidance, she inspected +the horses, sheep, pigs and cows, to perceive that her conductor was +much more interested in their physical attributes than in their +contributive value to the upkeep of the farm. + +"Do 'ee look at the roof of that cow barton," said Trivett +presently. + +"It is a fine red," declared Mavis. + +"A little Red Riding Hood red, isn't it? But it's nothing to the +roof of the granary. May I ask you to direct your attention to +that?" + +Mavis walked towards the granary, to see that thatch had been +superimposed upon the tiles; this was worn away in places, revealing +a roof of every variety of colour. She looked at it for quite a long +time. + +"Zomething of an artist, miss?" said Trivett. + +"Quite uncreative," laughed Mavis. + +"Then you're very lucky. You're spared the pain artists feel when +their work doesn't meet with zuccess." + +They returned to the kitchen, where Mavis feasted on newly-baked +bread smoking hot from the oven, soaked in butter, home-made jam, +and cake. + +"I've eaten so much, you'll never ask me again," remarked Mavis. + +"I'm glad you've a good appetite; it shows you make yourself at +home," replied Mrs Trivett. + +After tea, they went into the parlour, where it needed no second +request on Mavis' part to persuade Mr Trivett to play. He +extemporised on the piano for the best part of two hours, during +which Mavis listened and dreamed, while Mrs Trivett undisguisedly +went to sleep, a proceeding that excited no surprise on the +musician's part. Supper was served in the kitchen, where Mavis +partook of a rabbit and moorhen pie with new potatoes and young +mangels mashed. She had never eaten the latter before; she was +surprised to find how palatable the dish was. Mr and Mrs Trivett +drank small beer, but their guest was regaled with cowslip wine, +which she drank out of deference to the wishes of her kind host and +hostess. + +After supper, Mr Trivett solemnly produced a well-thumbed "Book of +Jokes," from which he read pages of venerable stories. Although Mrs +Trivett had heard them a hundred times before, she laughed +consumedly at each, as if they were all new to her. Her appreciation +delighted her husband. When Mavis rose to take her leave, Trivett, +despite her protest, insisted upon accompanying her part of the way +to Melkbridge. She bade a warm goodbye to kindly Mrs Trivett, who +pressed her to come again and as often as she could spare the time. + +"It do Trivett so much good to see a new face. It help him with his +music," she explained. + +"We might walk back by the canal," suggested Trivett. "It look zo +zolemn by moonlight." + +Upon Mavis' assenting, they joined the canal where the tow-path is +at one with the road by the railway bridge. + +"How long have you been in Pennington?" asked Mavis presently. + +"A matter o' ten years. We come from North Petherton, near Tarnton." + +"Then you didn't know my father?" + +"No, miss, though I've heard tark of him in Melkbridge." + +"Do you know anything of Mr Perigal?" she asked presently. + +"Which one: the old or the young un?" + +"Th--the old one." + +"A queer old stick, they zay, though I've never set eyes on un. He +don't hit it off with his zon, neither." + +"Whose fault is that?" + +"Both. Do 'ee know young Mr Charles?" + +"I've met him." + +"H'm!" + +"What's the matter with him?" + +Mr Trivett solemnly shook his head. + +"What does that mean?" + +"It's hard to zay. But from what I zee an' from what I hear tell, he +be a deal too clever." + +"Isn't that an advantage nowadays?" + +"Often. But he's quarrelled with his feyther and zoon gets tired of +everything he takes up." + +Trivett's remarks increased Mavis' sympathy for Perigal. The more he +had against him, the more necessary it was for those who liked him +to make allowance for flaws in his disposition. Kindly encouragement +might do much where censure had failed. + +Days passed without Mavis seeing more of Perigal. His indifference +to her existence hurt the little vanity that she possessed. At the +same time, she wondered if the fact of her not having written to +thank him for the violets had anything to do with his making no +effort to seek her out. Her perplexities on the matter made her +think of him far more than she might have done had she met him +again. If Perigal had wished to figure conspicuously in the girl's +thoughts, he could not have chosen a better way to achieve that +result. + +Some three weeks after her meeting with him, she was sitting in her +nook reading, when she was conscious of a feeling of helplessness +stealing over her. Then a shadow darkened the page. She looked up, +to see Perigal standing behind her. + +"Interesting?" he asked. + +"Very." + +"Sorry." + +He moved away. Mavis tried to go on with her book, but could not fix +her attention upon what she read. Her heart was beating rapidly. She +followed the man's retreating figure with her eyes; it expressed a +dejection that moved her pity. Although she felt that she was +behaving in a manner foreign to her usual reserve, she closed her +book, got up and walked after Perigal. + +He heard her approaching and turned round. + +"There's no occasion to follow me," he said. + +"I won't if you don't wish it." + +"I said that for your sake. You surely know that I didn't for mine." + +"Why for my sake?" + +"I've a beastly 'pip.' It's catching." + +"Where did you catch it?" + +"I've always got it more or less." + +"I'm sorry. I've to thank you for those violets." + +"Rot!" + +"I was glad to get them." + +"Really, really glad?" he asked, his face lightening. + +"Of course. I love flowers." + +"I see," he said coldly. + +She made as if she would leave him, but, as before, felt a certain +inertness in his presence which she was in no mood to combat; +instead of going, she turned to him to ask: + +"Anything happened to you since I last saw you?" + +"The usual." + +"What?" + +"Depression and rows with my father." + +"I thought you'd forget your promise." + +"On the contrary, that's what all the row was about." + +"How was that?" + +"First of all, I told him that I had met you and all you told me +about yourself." + +"That made him angry?" + +"And when I told him I wanted to have another shot at something, a +jolly good shot this time, he said, 'I suppose that means you want +money?'" + +"What did you say?" + +"One can't make money without. That's what all the row's been about. +He's a fearful old screw." + +"As well as I remember, my father always liked him." + +"That was before I grew up to sour his life." + +"Did you tell him how you saved Jill's life?" asked Mavis. + +"I'd forgotten that, and I'm also forgetting my fishing." + +"May I come too?" + +"I've a spare rod if you care about having a go." + +"I should love to. I've often thought I'd go in for it. It would be +something to do in the evenings." + +She walked with him a hundred yards further, where he had left two +rods on the bank with the lines in the water; these had been carried +by the current as far as the lengths of gut would permit. + +"Haul up that one. I'll try this," said Perigal. + +Mavis did as she was told, to find there was something sufficiently +heavy at the end of her line to bend the top joint of her rod. + +"I've got a fish!" she cried. + +"Pull up carefully." + +She pulled the line from the water, to find that she had hooked an +old boot. + +Perigal laughed at her discomfiture. + +"It is funny, but you needn't laugh at me," she said, slightly +emphasising the "you." + +"Never mind. I'll bait your hook, and you must have another shot." + +Her newly baited line had scarcely been thrown in the water when she +caught a fine roach. + +"You'd better have it stuffed," he remarked, as he took it off the +hook. + +"It's going to stuff me. I'll have it tomorrow for breakfast." + +In the next hour, she caught six perch of various sizes, four roach, +and a gudgeon. Perigal caught nothing, a fact that caused Mavis to +sympathise with his bad luck. + +"Next time you'll do all the catching," she said. + +"You mean you'll fish with me again?" + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"Really, with me?" + +"I like fish for breakfast," she said, as she turned from the ardour +of his glance. + +Presently, when they had "jacked up," as he called it, and walked +together across the meadows in the direction of the town, she said +little; she replied to his questions in monosyllables. She was +wondering at and a little afraid of the accentuated feeling of +helplessness in his presence which had taken possession of her. It +was as if she had no mind of her own, but must submit her will to +the wishes of the man at her side. They paused at the entrance to +the churchyard, where he asked: + +"And what have you been doing all this time?" + +She told him of her visit to the Trivetts. + +His face clouded as he said: + +"Fancy you hobnobbing with those common people!" + +"But I like them--the Trivetts, I mean. Whoever I knew, I should go +and see them if I liked them," she declared, her old spirit +asserting itself. + +He looked at her in surprise, to say: + +"I like to see you angry; you look awfully fine when that light +comes into your eyes." + +"And I don't like you at all when you say I shouldn't know homely, +kindly people like the Trivetts." + +"May I conclude, apart from that, you like me?" he asked. "Answer +me; answer me!" + +"I don't dislike you," she replied helplessly. + +"That's something to go on with. But if I'd known you were going to +throw yourself away on farmers, I'd have hung after you myself. Even +I am better than that." + +"Thanks. I can do without your assistance," she remarked. + +"You think I didn't come near you all this time because I didn't +care?" + +"I don't think I thought at all about it." + +"If you didn't, I did. I was longing, I dare not say how much, to +see you again." + +"Why didn't you?" she asked. + +"For once in my life, I've tried to go straight." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You're the sort of girl to get into a man's blood; to make him mad, +reckless, head over ears--" + +"Hadn't we better go on?" she asked. + +"Why--why?" + +She had not thought him capable of such earnestness. + +"Because I wish it, and because this churchyard is enough to give +one the blues." + +"I love it, now I'm talking to you." + +"Love it?" she echoed. + +"First of all, you in your youth, and--and your attractiveness--are +such a contrast to everything about us. It emphasises you and--and-- +it tells me to snatch all the happiness one can, before the very +little while when we are as they." + +Here he pointed to the crowded graves. + +"I'm going home," declared Mavis. + +"May I come as far as your door?" + +"Aren't you ashamed of being seen with me?" + +"I'm very, very proud, little Mavis, and, if only my circumstances +were different, I should say much more to you." + +His vehemence surprised Mavis into silence; it also awoke a strange +joy in her heart; she seemed to walk on air as they went towards her +lodging. + +"What are you thinking of?" he asked presently. + +"You." + +"Really?" + +"I was wondering why you went out of your way to give people a bad +opinion of you." + +"I wasn't aware I was especially anxious to do that." + +"You don't go to church." + +"Are you like that?" + +"Not particularly; but other people are, and that's what they say." + +"Church is too amusing nowadays." + +"I'm afraid my sense of humour isn't sufficiently developed." + +"It's the parsons I'm thinking of. Once upon a time, when people +went in for deadly sins, it gave 'em something to preach about. Now +we all lead proper, discreet lives, they have to justify their +existence by inventing tiny sins for their present congregations." + +"What sins?" asked Mavis. + +"Sins of omission: any trifles they can think of that a more robust +race of soul-savers would have laughed at. No. It's the parsons who +empty the churches." + +"I don't like you to talk like that." + +"Why? Are you that way?" + +"Sometimes more than others." + +"I congratulate you." + +She looked at him, surprised. + +"I mean it," he went on. "People are much the happier for believing. +The great art of life is to be happy, and, if one is, nothing else +matters." + +"Then why don't you believe?" + +"Supposing one can't." + +"Can't?" + +"It isn't given to everyone, you know." + +"Then you think we're just like poor animals--" + +"Don't say 'poor' animals," he interrupted. "They're ever so much +happier than we." + +"Nonsense! They don't know." + +"To be ignorant is to be happy. When will you understand that?" + +"Never." + +"I know what you're thinking of--all the so-called mental +development of mankind--love, memory, imagination, sympathy--all the +finer susceptibilities of our nature. Is it that what you were +thinking of?" + +"Vaguely. But I couldn't find the words so nicely as you do." + +"Perhaps I read 'em and got 'em by heart. But don't you see that all +the fine things I mentioned have to be paid for by increased +liability to mental distress, to forms of pain to which coarse +natures are, happily, strangers?" + +"You talk like an unpleasant book," she laughed. + +"And you look like a radiant picture," he retorted. + +"Ssh! Here we are." + +"The moon's rising: it's full tonight. Think of me if you happen to +be watching it," he said. + +"I shall be fast asleep." + +"And looking more charming than ever, if that be possible. I shall +be having a row with my father." + +"I daresay you can hold your own." + +"That's what makes him so angry." + +Mrs. Farthing, upon opening the door, was surprised to see Mavis +standing beside young Mr Perigal. + +"I think you can get home safely now," he remarked, as he raised his +straw hat. + +"Thanks for seeing me home." + +"Don't forget your fish. Good night." + +Mavis thought it well not to enter into any explanation of Perigal's +presence to her landlady. She asked if supper were ready, to sit +down to it directly she learned that it was. But she did not eat; +whether or not her two hours spent in Perigal's company were +responsible for the result, it did not alter the fact that her mind +was distracted by tumult. The divers perplexities and questionings +that had troubled her with the oncoming of the year now assailed her +with increased force. She tried to repress them, but, finding the +effort unavailing, attempted to fathom their significance, with the +result of increasing her distress. The only tangible fact she could +seize from the welter in her mind was a sense of enforced isolation +from the joys and sorrow of everyday humanity. More than this she +could not understand. + +She picked her food, well knowing that, if she left it untouched, +Mrs Farthing would associate her loss of appetite with the fact of +her being seen in the company of a man, and would lead the landlady +to make ridiculously sentimental deductions, which would be +embarrassing to Mavis. + +When she went upstairs, she did not undress. She felt that it would +be useless to seek sleep at present. Instead, she stood by the open +window of her room, and, after lighting a cigarette and blowing out +the candle, looked out into the night. + +It was just another such an evening that she had looked into the sky +from the window of Mrs Ellis' on the first day of her stay on Kiva +Street. Then, beyond sighing for the peace of the country, she had +believed that she had only to secure a means of winning her daily +bread in order to be happy. Now, although she had obtained the two +desires of her heart, she was not even content. Perigal's words +awoke in her memory: + +"No sooner was a desire satisfied, than one was at once eager for +something else." + +It would almost seem as if he had spoken the truth--"almost," +because she was hard put to it to define what it was for which her +being starved. + +Mavis looked out of the window. The moon had not yet emerged from a +bank of clouds in the east; as if in honour of her coming, the edge +of these sycophants was touched with silver light. The stars were +growing wan, as if sulkily retiring before the approach of an +overwhelming resplendence. Mavis's cigarette went out, but she did +not bother to relight it; she was wondering how she was to obtain +the happiness for which her heart ached: the problem was still +complicated by the fact of her being ignorant in which direction lay +the promised land. + +Her windows looked over the garden, beyond which fields of long +grasses stretched away as far as she could see. A profound peace +possessed these, which sharply contrasted with the disquiet in her +mind. + +Soon, hitherto invisible hedges and trees took dim, mysterious +shape; the edge of the moon peeped with glorious inquisitiveness +over the clouds. Calmly, royally the moon rose. So deliberately was +she unveiled, that it seemed as if she were revealing her beauty to +the world for the first time, like a proud, adored mistress unrobing +before an impatient lover, whose eyes ached for what he now beheld. + +Mystery awoke in the night. Things before unseen or barely visible +were now distinct, as if eager for a smile from the aloof loveliness +soaring majestically overhead. + +Mavis stood in the flood of silver light. For the moment her +distress of soul was forgotten. She gazed with wondering awe at the +goddess of the night. The moon's coldness presently repelled her: to +the girl's ardent imaginings, it seemed to speak of calm +contemplation, death--things which youth, allied to warm flesh and +blood, abhorred. + +Then she fell to thinking of all the strange scenes in the life +history of the world on which the moon had looked--stricken fields, +barbaric rites, unrecorded crimes, sacked and burning cities, the +blackened remains of martyrs at the stake, enslaved nations sleeping +fitfully after the day's travail, wrecks on uncharted seas, +forgotten superstitions, pagan saturnalias--all the thousand and one +phases of life as it has been and is lived. + +Although Mavis' tolerable knowledge of history told her how +countless must be the sights of horror on which the moon had gazed, +as indifferently as it had looked on her, she recalled, as if to +leaven the memory of those atrocities (which were often of such a +nature that they seemed to give the lie to the existence of a +beneficent Deity), that there was ever interwoven with the web of +life an eternal tale of love--love to inspire great deeds and noble +aims; love to enchain the beast in woman and man; love, whose +constant expression was the sacrifice of self upon the altar of the +loved one. + +Then her mind recalled individual lovers, famous in history and +romance, who were set as beacon lights in the wastes of oppression +and wrong-doing. These lovers were of all kinds. There were those +who deemed the world well lost for a kiss of the loved one's lips; +lovers who loved vainly; those who wearied of the loved one. + +Mavis wondered, if love were laid at her feet, how it would find +her. + +She had always known that she was well able to care deeply if her +heart were once bestowed. She had, also, kept this capacity for +loving unsullied from what she believed to be the defilement of +flirtation. Now were revealed the depths of love and tenderness of +which she was possessed. They seemed fathomless, boundless, +immeasurable. + +The knowledge made her sick and giddy. She clung to the window sill +for support. It pained her to think that such a treasure above price +was destined to remain unsought, unbestowed. She suffered, the while +the moon soared, indifferent to her pain. + +Suffering awoke wisdom: in the twinkling of an eye, she learned that +for which her being starved. The awakening caused tremors of joy to +pass over her body, which were succeeded by despondency at realising +that it is one thing to want, another to be stayed. Then she was +consumed by the hunger of which she was now conscious. + +She seemed to be so undesirable, unlovable in her own eyes, that she +was moved in her passionate extremity to call on any power that +might offer succour. + +For the moment, she had forgotten the Source to which in times of +stress she looked for help. Instead, she lifted her voice to the +moon, the cold wisdom of which seemed to betoken strength, which +seemed enthroned in the infinite in order to listen to and to +satisfy yearnings, such as hers. + +"It's love I want--love, love. I did not know before; now I know. +Give me--give me love." + +Then she cried aloud in her extremity. She was so moved by her +emotions that she was not in the least surprised at the sound of her +voice. After she had spoken, she waited long for a sign; but none +came. Mavis looked again on the night. Everything was white, cold, +silent. + +It was as if the world were at one with the deathlike stillness of +the moon. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + +THE WAY OF ALL FLESH + + +Mavis invested a fraction of her savings in the purchase of rod, +fishing tackle, landing net, and bait can; she also bought a yearly +ticket from the Avon Conservancy Board, entitling her to fish with +one rod in the river at such times as were not close seasons. Most +evenings, her graceful form might be seen standing on the river +bank, when she was so intent on her sport that it would seem as if +she had grown from the sedge at the waterside. Womanlike, she was +enthusiastic over fishing when the fish were on the feed and biting +freely, to tire quickly of the sport should her float remain for +long untroubled by possible captures nibbling at the bait. She +avoided those parts of the river where anglers mostly congregated; +she preferred and sought the solitude of deserted reaches. Perigal, +at the same time, developed a passion for angling. Most evenings, he +would be found on the river's bank, if not in Mavis' company, at +least near enough to be within call, should any assistance or advice +be required. It was remarkable how often each would want help or +counsel on matters piscatorial from the other. Sometimes Mavis would +want a certain kind of hook, or she would be out of bait, or she +would lose one of the beaded rings on her float, all being things +which she had no compunction in borrowing from Perigal, inasmuch as +he always came to her when he wanted anything himself. It must also +be admitted that, as the days flew by, their excuses for meeting +became gradually more slender, till at last they would neglect their +rods to talk together for quite a long time upon any and every +subject under the sun, save fishing. + +Once or twice, when owing to Perigal's not making an appearance, +Mavis spent the evening alone, she would feel keenly disappointed, +and would go home with a strong sense of the emptiness of life. + +During her day at the office, or when in her lodgings, she was +either absent-minded or self-conscious; she was always longing to +get away with only her thoughts for company. She would sometimes +sigh for apparently no reason at all. Then Miss Toombs lent her a +volume of Shelley, the love passages in which Mavis eagerly +devoured. Her favourite time for reading was in bed. She marked, to +read and reread, favourite passages. Often in the midst of these she +would leave off, when her mind would pursue a train of thought +inspired by a phrase or thought of the poet. Very soon she had +learned 'Love's Philosophy' by heart. The next symptom of the +ailment from which she was suffering was a dreamy languor +(frequently punctuated by sighs), which disposed her to offer +passionate resentment to all forms of physical and mental effort. +This mood was not a little encouraged by the fact of the hay now +lying on the ground, to the scent of which she was always +emotionally susceptible. + +Perigal renounced fishing at the same time as did Mavis. He had a +fine instinct for discovering her whereabouts in the meadows +bordering the river. + +For some while, she had no hesitation in suffering herself to +cultivate his friendship. If she had any doubts of the wisdom of the +proceeding, there were always two ample justifications at hand. + +The first of these was that her association with him had effected a +considerable improvement in his demeanour. He was no longer the +mentally down-at-heel, soured man that he had been when Mavis first +met him. He had taken on a lightness of heart, which, with his slim, +boyish beauty, was very attractive to Mavis, starved as she had been +of all association with men of her own age and social position. She +believed that the beneficent influence she exercised justified the +hours she permitted him of her society. + +The other reason was that she deluded herself into believing that +her sighs and Shelley-inspired imaginings were all because of +Windebank's imminent return. She thought of him every day, more +especially since she had met Perigal. She often contrasted the two +men in her thoughts, when it would seem as if Windebank's presence, +so far as she remembered it, had affected her life as a bracing, +health-giving wind; whereas Perigal influenced her in the same way +as did appealing music, reducing her to a languorous helplessness. +She had for so long associated Windebank with any sentimental +leanings in which she had indulged, that she was convinced that her +fidelity to his memory was sufficient safeguard against her becoming +infatuated with Perigal. + +Thus she travelled along a road, blinding herself the while to the +direction in which she was going. But one day, happening to obtain a +glimpse of its possible destination, she resolved to make something +of an effort, if not to retrace her way (she scarcely thought this +necessary), to stay her steps. + +Perigal had told her that if he could get the sum he wanted from his +father, he would shortly be going somewhere near Cardiff, where he +would be engaged in the manufacture of glazed bricks with a partner. +The news had frightened her. She felt as if she had been dragged to +the edge of a seemingly bottomless abyss, into which it was +uncertain whether or not she would be thrown. To escape the fate +that threatened, she threw off her lethargy, to resume her fishing +and avoid rather than seek Perigal. Perhaps he took the hint, or was +moved by the same motive as Mavis, for he too gave up frequenting +the meadows bordering the river. His absence hurt Mavis more than +she could have believed possible. She became moody, irritable; she +lost her appetite and could not sleep at night. To ease her distress +of mind, she tried calling on her old friends, the Medlicotts, and +her new ones, the Trivetts. The former expressed concern for her +altered appearance, which only served to increase her despondency, +while the music she heard at Pennington Farm told of love dreams, +satisfied longings, worlds in which romantic fancy was unweighted +with the bitterness and disappointment of life, as she now found it, +all of which was more than enough to stimulate her present +discontent. + +She had not seen or heard anything of Perigal for two weeks, when +one July evening she happened to catch the hook of her line in her +hand. She was in great pain, her efforts to remove the hook only +increasing her torment. She was wondering what was the best way of +getting help, when she saw Perigal approaching. Her first impulse +was to avoid him. With beating heart, she hid behind a clump of +bushes. But the pain in her hand became so acute that she suddenly +emerged from her concealment to call sharply for assistance. He ran +towards her, asking as he came: + +"What's the matter?" + +"My hand," she faltered. "I've caught the hook in it." + +"Poor dear! Let me look." + +"Please do something. It hurts," she urged, as she put out her hand, +which was torn by the cruel hook. + +"What an excellent catch! But, all the same, I must get it out at +once," he remarked, as he produced a pocket knife. + +"With that?" she asked tremulously. + +"I won't hurt you more than I can help, you may be sure. But it must +come out at once, or you'll get a bad go of blood poisoning." + +"Do it as quickly as possible," she urged. + +She set her lips, while he cut into the soft white flesh. + +However much he hurt her, she resolved not to utter a sound. For all +her fortitude, the trifling operation pained her much. + +"Brave little Mavis!" he said, as he freed her flesh from the hook, +to ask, as she did not speak, "Didn't it hurt?" + +"Of course it did. See how it's bleeding!" + +"All the better. It will clear the poison out." + +Mavis was hurt at the indifference he exhibited to her pain. + +"Would you please tie my handkerchief round it?" she asked. + +"Let it bleed. What are you thinking of?" + +"I want to get back." + +"Where's the hurry?" + +"Only that I want to get back." + +"But I haven't seen you for ages." + +"Haven't you?" she asked innocently. + +"Cruel Mavis! But before you go back you must wash your hand in the +river." + +"I'll do nothing of the kind." + +"Not if it's for your good?" + +"Not if I don't wish it." + +"As it's for your good, I insist on your doing what I wish," he +declared, as he caught her firmly by the wrist and led her, all +unresisting, to the river's brink. She was surprised at her +helplessness and was inclined to criticise it impersonally, the +while Perigal plunged her wounded hand into the water. Her +reflections were interrupted by a sharp pain caused by the contact +of water with the torn flesh. + +"It's better than blood poisoning," he hastened to assure her. + +"I believe you do it on purpose to hurt me," she remarked, upon his +freeing her hand. + +"I'm justified in hurting you if it's for your good," he declared +calmly. "Now let me bind it up." + +While he tied up her hand, she looked at him resentfully, the colour +heightening on her cheek. + +"I wish you'd often look like that," he remarked. + +"I shall if you treat me so unkindly." + +He took no notice of the accusation, but said: + +"When you look like that it's wonderful. Then certain verses in the +'Song of Solomon' might have been written to you." + +"The 'Song of Solomon'?" + +"Don't you read your Bible?" + +"But you said some of them might have been written to me. What do +you mean?" + +"They're the finest love verses in the English language. They might +have been written to you. They're quite the best thing in the +Bible." + +She was perplexed, and showed it in her face; then, she looked +appealingly to him for enlightenment. He disregarded the entreaty in +her eyes. He looked at her from head to foot before saying: + +"Little Mavis, little Mavis, why are you so alluring?" + +"Don't talk nonsense. I'm not a bit," she replied, as something +seemed to tighten at her heart. + +"You are, you are. You've soul and body, an irresistible +combination," he declared ardently. + +His words troubled her; she looked about her, large-eyed, afraid; +she did not once glance in his direction. + +Then she felt his grasp upon her wrist and the pressure of his lips +upon her wounded hand. + +"Forgive me: forgive me!" he cried. "But I know you never will." + +"Don't, don't," she murmured. + +"Are you very angry?" + +"I--I--" she hesitated. + +"Let me know the worst." + +"I don't know," she faltered ruefully. + +His face brightened. + +"I'm going to ask you something," he said earnestly. + +Mavis was filled with a great apprehension. + +"If I weren't a bad egg, and could offer you a home worthy of you, I +wonder if you'd care to marry me?" + +An exclamation of astonishment escaped her. + +"I mean it," he continued, "and why not? You're true-hearted and +straight and wonderful to look at. Little Mavis is a pearl above +price, and she doesn't know it." + +"Ssh! ssh!" she murmured. + +"You're a rare find," he said, to add after a moment or two, "and I +know what I'm talking about." + +She did not speak, but her bosom was violently disturbed, whilst a +delicious feeling crept about her heart. She repressed an +inclination to shed tears. + +"Now I s'pose your upset, eh?" he remarked. + +"Why should I be?" she asked with flashing eyes. + +It was now his turn to be surprised. She went on: + +"It's a thing any woman should be proud of, a man asking her to +share her life with him." + +His lips parted, but he did not speak. + +She drew herself up to her full, queenly height to say: + +"I am very proud." + +"Ah! Then--then--" + +His hands caught hers. + +"Let me go," she pleaded. + +"But--" + +"I want to think. Let me go: let me go!" + +His hands still held hers, but with an effort she freed herself, to +run from him in the direction of her lodging. She did not once look +back, but hurried as if pursued by danger, safety from which lay in +the companionship of her thoughts. + +Arrived at Mrs Farthing's, she made no pretence of sitting down to +her waiting supper, but went straight upstairs to her room. She felt +that a crisis had arisen in her life. To overcome it, it was +necessary for her to decide whether or not she loved Charlie +Perigal. She passed the best part of a sleepless night endeavouring, +without success, to solve the problem confronting her. Jill, who +always slept on Mavis' bed, was alive to her mistress' disquiet. The +morning sun was already high in the heavens when Jill crept +sympathetically to the girl's side. + +Mavis clasped her friend in her arms to say: + +"Oh, Jill, Jill! If you could only tell me if I truly loved him!" + +Jill energetically licked Mavis' cheek before nestling in her arms +to sleep. + +The early morning post brought a letter from Perigal to Mavis, which +she opened with trembling hands and beating heart. It ran:-- + +"For your sake, not for mine, I'm off to Wales by the early morning +train. If you care for me ever so little (and I am proud to believe +you do), in clearing out of your life, I am doing what I conceive to +be the best thing possible for your future happiness. If it gives +you any pleasure to know it, I should like to tell you I love you. +My going away is some proof of this statement, C. P. + +"P.S.--I have written by the same post to Windebank to give him your +address." + +Mavis looked at her watch, to discover it was exactly half-past +seven. She ran downstairs, half dressed as she was, to look at the +time-table which Mr Medlicott presented to her on the first of every +month. After many false scents, she discovered, that for Perigal to +catch the train at Bristol for South Wales, he must leave Melkbridge +for Dippenham by the 8.15. Always a creature of impulse, she +scrambled into her clothes, swallowed a mouthful of tea, pinned on +her hat, caught up her gloves, and, almost before she knew what she +was doing, was walking quickly towards the station. She had a little +under twenty minutes in which to walk a good mile. Her one concern +was to meet, say something (she knew not what) to Perigal before he +left Melkbridge for good. She arrived breathless at the station five +minutes before his train started. He was not in the booking office, +and she could see nothing of him on the platform. She was beginning +to regret her precipitancy, when she saw him walking down the road +to the station, carrying a much worn leather brief bag. Her heart +beat as she went out to meet him. + +"Little Mavis!" he cried. + +"Good morning." + +"What are you doing here at this time?" + +"I came out for a walk." + +"To see me off?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Well, I will say this, you will bear looking at in the morning." + +"Why, who won't?" + +"Lots of 'em." + +"How do you know?" + +"Eh! But we can't talk here. It will be all over the town that we +were--were--" + +"Going to elope!" she interrupted. + +"I wish we were. But, seriously, you got my letter?" + +"It's really why I came." + +"What?" he asked, astonished. + +"It's really why I came." + +"What have you to say to me?" + +"I don't know." + +"Don't you want me to go to Wales?" + +"I don't know." + +"I must decide soon. Here's the train." + +They mechanically turned towards the platform. + +"Must you go?" she impulsively asked. + +"I could either chuck it or I could put it off till tomorrow." + +"Why not do that?" + +"But would you see me again?" + +"Yes." + +"And will you decide then?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Then I'll see you tonight," he said, as he raised his hat, as if +wishing her to leave him. + +Mavis bit her lip as she turned to leave Perigal. + +"Goodbye till tonight, little Mavis!" + +"Goodbye," she called back curtly. + +"One moment," he cried. + +She paused. + +He went on: + +"It was charming of you to come. It's like everything to do with +you--beautiful." + +"There's still time for you to get your train," she said, feeling +somewhat mollified by his last words. + +"And miss seeing you tonight!" he replied. + +Mavis walked to the factory wondering how many people had seen her +talking to Perigal. During her morning's work, her mind was in a +turmoil of doubt as to the advisability of meeting Perigal in the +evening. She could not help believing that, should she see him, as +was more or less arranged, it would prove an event of much moment in +her life, holding infinite possibilities of happiness or disaster. +She knew herself well enough to know that if she were wholly +possessed by love for him she would be to him as clay in the hands +of the potter. She could come to no conclusion; even if she had, she +could not be certain if she could keep to any resolve she might +arrive at. During her midday meal she remembered how Perigal had +said that the "Song of Solomon" might have been written to her. She +opened her Bible, found the "Song" and greedily devoured it. In her +present mood its sensuous beauty entranced her, but she was not a +little perplexed by the headings of the chapters. As with so many +others, she found it hard to reconcile the ecclesiastical claims +here set forth at the beginning of each chapter with the passionate +outpourings of the flesh which followed. She took the Bible with her +to the office, to read the "Song" twice during the interval usually +allotted to afternoon tea. + +When she got back to Mrs Farthing's, she was long undecided whether +she should go out to meet Perigal. The leanings of her heart +inclined her to keep the appointment, whilst, on the other hand, her +strong common sense urged her to decide nothing until Windebank came +back. Windebank she was sure of, whereas she was not so confident of +Perigal; but she was forced to admit that the elusive and more +subtle personality of the latter appealed more to her imagination +than the other's stability. Presently, she left her lodgings and +walked slowly towards the canal, which was in a contrary direction +to that in which lay the Avon. The calm of the still water inclined +her to sadness. She idled along the towpath, plucking carelessly at +the purple vetch which bordered the canal in luxuriant profusion. +More than once, she was possessed by the idea that someone was +following her. Then she became aware that Perigal was also idling +along the towpath some way behind her. The sight of him made her +heart beat; she all but decided to turn back to meet him. Common +sense again fought for the possession of her mind. It told her that +by dawdling till she reached the next bend, she could be out of +sight of Perigal, without exciting his suspicions, when it would be +the easiest thing in the world to hurry till she came to a track +which led from the canal to the town. She was putting this design +into practice, and had already reached the bend, when odd verses of +the "Song of Solomon" occurred to her: + +"Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast +doves' eyes. + +"As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. + +"Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee. + +"Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast +ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy +neck. + +"Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are +under thy tongue. + +"A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a +fountain sealed. + +"How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights! + +"And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that +goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to +speak. + +"I am my beloved's, and his desire is towards me. + +"I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine." + +The influence of air, sky, evening sun, and the peace that lay over +the land reinforced the unmoral suggestions of the verses that had +leapt in her memory. Her blood quickened; she sighed, and then sat +by the rushes that, just here, invaded the towpath. + +As Perigal strolled towards her, his personality caused that old, +odd feeling of helplessness to steal over her. She, almost, felt as +if she were a fly gradually being bound by a greedy spider's web. + +He stood by her for a few moments without speaking. + +"You've broken your promise," he presently remarked. + +"Haven't you, too?" she asked, without looking up. + +"No." + +"Sure?" + +"I was so impatient to see you, I hung about in sight of your house, +so that I could catch sight of you directly when you came out." + +"What about Melkbridge people?" + +"What do I care!" + +"What about me?" + +He turned away with an angry gesture. + +"What about me?" she repeated more insistently. + +"You know what I said to you, asked you last night." + +Mavis hung her head. + +"What did you tell Windebank in your letter?" she asked presently. + +"Don't talk about him." + +"I shall if I want to. What did you say about me?" + +"Shall I tell you?" he asked suddenly, as he sat beside her. "I told +him how wholesome and how sweet you were. That's what I said." + +"Ssh!" + +"Do you know what I should have said?" + +Mavis made a last effort to preserve her being from the thraldom of +love. It was in her heart to leave Perigal there and then, but +although the spirit was all but willing, the flesh was weak. As +before in his presence, Mavis was rendered helpless by the odd +fascination Perigal exercised. + +"Do you know what I should have said?" he repeated. + +Mavis essayed to speak; her tongue would not give speech. + +"I'll tell you. I should have said that I love you, and that nothing +in heaven or earth is going to stop my getting you." + +"I must go," she said, without moving. + +"When I love you so? Little Mavis, I love you, I love you, I love +you!" + +She trembled all over. He seized her hand, covered it with kisses, +and then tried to draw her lips to his. + +"My hand was enough." + +"Your lips! Your lips!" + +"But--" + +"I love you! Your lips!" + +He forced his lips to hers. When he released them, she looked at him +as if spellbound, with eyes veiled with wonder and dismay--with eyes +which revealed the great awakening which had taken place in her +being. + +"I love little Mavis. I love her," he whispered. + +The look in her eyes deepened, her lips trembled, her bosom was +violently disturbed. Perigal touched her arm. Then she gave a little +cry, the while her head fell helplessly upon his shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + +THE AWAKENING + + +Mavis was in love, consequently the world was transformed. All her +previous hesitations in surrendering to her incipient love for +Perigal were forgotten; the full, flowing current of her passion +disregarded the trifling obstacles which had once sought to obstruct +its progress. Life, nature, the aspect of things took on the +abnormally adorable hues of those who love and are beloved. Such was +the rapture in her heart, that days, hours, moments were all too +fleeting for the enjoyment of her newborn felicity. The radiant +happiness which welled within her, in seemingly inexhaustible +volume, appeared to fill the universe. Often, with small success, +she would attempt to realise the joy that had come into her life. At +other times, when alone, she would softly shed tears--tears with +which shy, happy laughter mingled. She would go about all day +singing snatches of gay little songs. There was not a happier girl +in the world. As if, perhaps, to give an edge to her joy, the summer +sky of her gladness was troubled by occasional clouds. She would +wake in the night with a great presage of fear, which nothing she +could do would remove. At such times, she would clasp with both +hands a ring that her lover had given her, which at night she wore +suspended from her neck, so that it lay upon her heart. At other +times, she would be consumed by a passion for annihilating all +thoughts and considerations for self in her relations with Perigal; +she was urged by every fibre in her body to merge her being with +his. When thus possessed, she would sometimes, if she were at home +when thus moved, go upon her knees to pray long and fervently for +the loved one's welfare; as likely as not her thoughts would wander, +when thus engaged, to be wholly concerned with the man she adored. + +Thus, she abandoned herself whole-heartedly, unreservedly to the +ecstasy of loving. + +Mavis and Perigal were to be quietly married by special licence in +London, in five weeks' time, which would be in the early days of +September. Perigal urged Mavis not to speak to anyone of the +wedding, saying, as a reason for this silence, that his father had +not yet quite decided upon giving him the money he wanted, and the +news of the engagement and early marriage might cause him to harden +his heart. The honeymoon was to be spent in the retirement of +Polperro, a Cornish village, the beauty and seclusion of which +Perigal never tired of describing. As far as they could both see at +present, Mavis was to keep on with her work at the office (the +honeymoon was to consist of her fortnight's annual holiday), till +such time as he could prepare a home for her in Wales. Although not +welcoming, she did not offer the least objection to this +arrangement, as she saw that it was all that could be done under +their present circumstances. She wrote out and placed over her bed a +list of dates, which culminated in the day on which she was to throw +in her lot with the loved one; every day, as soon as she awoke, she +crossed off one more of the slowly dwindling days. Nearly every +Saturday she took the train to Bathminster, where she spent a +considerable fraction of the forty pounds she had saved in buying a +humble equivalent for a trousseau. + +As boxes and parcels of clothes began to arrive at her lodgings, she +would try on the most attractive of these, the while her eyes shone +with happiness. Those with whom she was commonly brought in contact +noticed the change in her demeanour. Mrs Farthing smiled +mysteriously, as if guessing the cause. Miss Hunter made many +unsuccessful efforts to worm confidences from Mavis; while plain +Miss Toombs showed her displeasure of the alteration that had +occurred in her by scarcely ever addressing her, and then only when +compelled. + +"You look like a bride," she remarked one day, when Mavis was +glowing with happiness. + +Mavis saw something of Perigal pretty well every day. Sometimes, +they would meet quite early of a morning by the canal; if they did +not see each other then, they made a point of getting a few minutes +together of an evening, usually by the river. So that no hint of +their intentions should reach Major Perigal, the lovers met +furtively, a proceeding which enhanced the charm of their +intercourse. + +At all times, Mavis was moved by an abiding concern for his health. +There was much of the maternal in her love, leading her frequently +to ask if his linen were properly aired and if he were careful to +avoid getting damp feet; she also made him solemnly promise to tell +her immediately if he were not feeling in the best of health. Mavis, +with a great delight, could not help noticing the change that had +taken place in her lover ever since their betrothal. He, too, was +conscious of the difference, and was fond of talking about it. + +"I never thought I'd grow young again!" he would remark. + +"What about second childhood?" laughed the irrepressible Mavis. + +"Seriously, I didn't. I always felt so old. And it's little Mavis +who has done it all." + +"Really, sweetheart?" + +"All, dear." + +She rewarded him with a glance of love and tenderness. + +He went on: + +"The past is all over and done with. I made a fresh start from the +day you promised to throw in your exquisite self with me." + +Thus he would talk, expressing, at the same time, boundless +confidence in the future, forgetful or ignorant of what has been +well said, "That the future is only entering the past by another +gate." + +One evening, when he had made bitter reference to the life that he +had led, before he had again met with her, she asked: + +"What is this dreadful past you're always regretting so keenly?" + +"You surely don't want to know?" + +"Haven't I a right to?" + +"No. Not that it's so very terrible. Far from it, it isn't. There's +an awful sameness about it. The pleasure of to day is the boredom of +tomorrow. It all spells inherent incapacity to succeed in either +good or evil." + +"Good or evil?" she queried. + +"It's going to be good now, since I've little Mavis and her glorious +hair to live for." + +One evening, he brought a brick to show her, which was a sample of +those he intended manufacturing, should he get the assistance he now +daily expected from his father. She looked at it curiously, fondly, +as if it might prove the foundation stone of the beloved one's +prosperity; a little later, she begged it of him. She took it home, +to wrap it carefully in one of her silk handkerchiefs and put it +away in her trunk. From time to time, she would take the brick out, +to have it about her when she was at her lodgings. She also took an +acute interest in bricks that were either built into houses, or +heaped upon the roadside. She was proudly convinced there were no +bricks that could compare with the one she prized for finish or +durability. Perigal was much diverted and, perhaps, touched by her +interest in his possible source of success. + +The clamourings of Mavis' ardent nature had been so long repressed, +that the disturbing influences of her passion for Perigal were more +than sufficient to loose her pent up instincts. Her lover's kisses +proved such a disturbing factor, that, one evening when he had been +unusually appreciative of her lips, she had not slept, having lain +awake, trembling, till it was time for her to get up. For the +future, she deemed it prudent to allow one kiss at meeting, and a +further one at parting. + +Perigal protested against this arrangement, when he would say: + +"I love to kiss you, little Mavis, because then such a wistful, +faraway look comes into your eyes, which is one of the most +wonderful things I've seen." + +Mavis, with an effort, resisted Perigal's entreaties. + +One August evening, when it was late enough for her to be conscious +that the nights were drawing in, she was returning from a happy hour +spent with her lover. It now wanted but a week to their marriage; +their hearts were delirious with happiness. + +"Don't you miss all the bridesmaids and all the usual thing-uma-jigs +of a wedding?" he had asked her. + +"Not a bit." + +"Sure, darling?" + +"Quite. I only want one thing. So long as I get that, nothing else +can possibly matter." + +"And that?" + +"You," she had replied, at which Perigal had said after a moment or +two of silence: + +"I will, I really will do all I know to make my treasure of a little +Mavis happy." + +Mavis was walking home with a light step and a lighter heart: more +than one red-cheeked, stolid, Wiltshire man and woman turned to look +after the trimly-built, winsome girl, who radiated distinction and +happiness as she walked. + +A familiar voice sounded in Mavis's ear. "At last," it said +heartfully. + +She turned, to see Windebank standing before her, a Windebank +stalwart as ever, with his face burned to the colour of brick red, +but looking older and thinner than when she had last seen him. +Mavis' heart sank. + +"At last," he repeated. He looked as if he would say more, but he +did not speak. She wondered if he were moved at seeing her again. + +Mavis, not knowing what to say, put out her hand, which he clasped. + +"Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked. + +"Of course." + +"And you're not going to run away again?" + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +"I mean as you did before, into the fog!" + +"There's no fog to run into," she remarked feebly. + +"Little Mavis! Little Mavis! I'd no idea you could look so well and +wonderful as you do." + +"Hadn't we better walk? People are staring at us already." + +"I can't see you so well walking," he complained. + +They strolled along; as they walked, Windebank half turned, so that +his eyes never left her face. + +"What a beautiful girl you are!" he said. + +"You mustn't say that." + +"But it's true. And to think of you working for that outsider +Devitt!" + +"He means well. And I've been very happy there." + +"You won't be there much longer! Do you know why?" + +"Tell me about yourself," she said evasively, as she wondered if +talking to Windebank were unfair to Perigal. + +"Do you remember this?" he asked, as he brought out a crumpled +letter for her inspection. + +"It's my writing!" she cried. + +"It's the foolish, dear letter you wrote to me." + +She took it, to recall the dreary day at Mrs Bilkins's on which she +had penned the lines to Windebank, in which she had refused to +hamper his career by acceding to his request. + +"Give it back," he demanded. + +"You don't want it?" + +"Don't I! A girl who can write a letter like that to a chap isn't +easily forgotten, I can tell you." + +Mavis did not reply. Windebank, seeing how she was embarrassed, told +her of his more recent doings; how, after getting Perigal's letter, +he had set out for England as soon as he could start; how he had +saved three days by taking the overland route from Brindisi (such +was his anxiety to see his little Mavis, who had never been wholly +out of his thoughts), to arrive home before he was expected. + +"I had an early feed and came out hoping to see you," he concluded. + +Mavis did not speak. She was deliberating if she should tell +Windebank of her approaching marriage; if he cared seriously for +her, it was only fair that he should know her affections were +bestowed. + +"Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked. + +"Of course, but--" + +"There are no 'buts.' You're coming home with me." + +"Home!" + +"To meet my people again. They're just back from Switzerland. It +isn't your home--yet." + +This decided her. She told him, first enjoining him to silence. To +her relief, also to her surprise, he took it very calmly. His face +went a shade whiter beneath his sun-tanned skin; he stood a trifle +more erect than before; and that was all. + +"I congratulate you," he said. "But I congratulate him a jolly sight +more. Who is he?" + +Mavis hesitated. + +"You can tell me. It won't go any further." + +"Charlie Perigal." + +"Charlie Perigal?" he asked in some surprise. + +"Why not?" she asked, with a note of defiance in her voice. + +"But he's upside down with his father, and has been for a long +time." + +"What of that?" + +"What are you going to live on?" + +"Charlie is going to work." + +"Charlie work!" The words slipped out before he could stop them. "Of +course, I'd forgotten that," he added. + +"You're like a lot of other people, who can't say a good word for +him, because they're jealous of him," she cried. + +He did not reply for a moment; when he did, it was to say very +gravely: + +"Naturally I am very, very jealous; it would be strange if it were +otherwise. I wish you every happiness from the bottom of my heart." + +"Thank you," replied Mavis, mollified. + +"And God bless you." + +He took off his cap and left her. Mavis watched his tall form turn +the corner with a sad little feeling at her heart. But love is a +selfish passion, and when Mavis awoke three mornings later, when it +wanted four days to her marriage, she would have forgotten +Windebank's existence, but for the fact of his having sent her a +costly, gold-mounted dressing-case. This had arrived the previous +evening, at the same time as the frock that she proposed wearing at +her wedding had come from Bathminster. She looked once more at the +dressing-case with its sumptuous fittings, to turn to the wrappings +enclosing her simple wedding gown. She took it out reverently, +tenderly, to kiss it before locking the door and trying it on again. +With quick, loving hands she fastened it about her; she then looked +at the reflection of her adorable figure in the glass. + +"Will he like me in it? Do you think he will love me in it?" she +asked Jill, who, blinking her brown eyes, was scarcely awake. She +then took Jill in her arms to murmur: + +"Whatever happens, darling, I shall always love you." + +Mavis was sick with happiness; she wondered what she had done to get +so much allotted to her. All her struggles to earn a living in +London, the insults to which she had been subjected, the disquiet +that had troubled her mind throughout the spring, were all as +forgotten as if they had never been. There was not a cloud upon the +horizon of her joy. + +As if to grasp her present ecstasy with both hands, she, with no +inconsiderable effort, recalled all the more unhappy incidents in +her life, to make believe that she was still enduring these, and +that there was no prospect of escape from their defiling recurrence. +She then fell to imagining how envious she would be were she +acquainted with a happy Mavis Keeves who, in three days' time, was +to belong, for all time, to the man of her choice. + +It was with inexpressible joy that she presently permitted herself +to realise that it was none other than she upon whom this great gift +of happiness unspeakable had been bestowed. The rapture born of this +blissful realisation impelled her to seek expression in words. + +"Life is great and noble," she cried; "but love is greater." + +Every nerve in her body vibrated with ecstasy. And in four days-- + +Two letters, thrust beneath her door by Mrs Farthing, recalled her +to the trivialities of everyday life. She picked them up, to see +that one was in the well-known writing of the man she loved; the +other, a strange, unfamiliar scrawl, which bore the Melkbridge +postmark. Eager to open her lover's letter, yet resolved to delay +its perusal, so that she could look forward to the delight of +reading it (Mavis was already something of an epicure in emotion), +she tore open the other, to decipher its contents with difficulty. +She read as follows:-- + +"SHAW HOUSE, MELKBRIDGE. + +"MADAM,--My son has told me of his intentions with regard to +yourself. This is to tell you that, if you persist in them, I shall +withdraw the assistance I was on the point of furnishing in order to +give him a new start in life. It rests with you whether I do my +utmost to make or mar his future. For reasons I do not care to give, +and which you may one day appreciate, I do what may seem to your +unripe intelligence a meaningless act of cruelty.--I remain, dear +Madam, Your obedient servant, + +"JOHN VEZEY PERIGAL." + +The sun went out of Mavis' heaven; the gorgeous hues faded from her +life. She felt as if the ground were cut from under her feet, and +she was falling, falling, falling she knew not where. To save +herself, she seized and opened Perigal's letter. + +This told her that he knew the contents of his father's note; that +he was still eager to wed her as arranged; that they must meet by +the river in the evening, when they could further discuss the +situation which had arisen. + +Mavis sank helplessly on her bed: she felt as if her heart had been +struck a merciless blow. She was a little consoled by Perigal's +letter, but, in her heart of hearts, something told her that, +despite his brave words, the marriage was indefinitely postponed; +indeed, it was more than doubtful if it would ever take place at +all. She suffered, dumbly, despairingly; her torments were the more +poignant because she realised that the man she loved beyond anything +in the world must be acutely distressed at this unexpected +confounding of his hopes. Her head throbbed with dull pains which +gradually increased in intensity; these, at last, became so violent +that she wondered if it were going to burst. She felt the need of +action, of doing anything that might momentarily ease her mind of +the torments afflicting it. Her wedding frock attracted her +attention. Mavis, with a lump in her throat, took off and folded +this, and put it out of sight in a trunk; then, with red eyes and +face the colour of lead, she flung on her work-a-day clothes, to +walk mechanically to the office. The whole day she tried to come to +terms with the calamity that had so suddenly befallen her; a heavy, +persistent pressure on the top of her head mercifully dulled her +perceptions; but at the back of her mind a resolution was +momentarily gaining strength--a resolution that was to the effect +that it was her duty to the man she loved to insist upon his falling +in with his father's wishes. It gave her a certain dim pleasure to +think that her suffering meant that, some day, Perigal would be +grateful to her for her abnegation of self. + +Perigal, looking middle-aged and careworn, was impatiently awaiting +her arrival by the river. Her heart ached to see his altered +appearance. + +"My Mavis!" he cried, as he took her hand. + +She tried to speak, but a little sob caught in her throat. They +walked for some moments in silence. + +"I told him all about it; I thought it better," said Perigal +presently. "But I never thought he'd cut up rough." + +"Is there any chance of his changing his mind?" + +"Not the remotest. If he once gets a thing into his head, as he has +this, nothing on earth will move him." + +"I won't let it make any difference to you," she declared. + +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. + +"That nothing, nothing will persuade me to marry you on Thursday." + +"What?" + +"I mean it. I have made up my mind." + +"But I've set my mind on it, darling." + +"I'm doing it for your good." + +He argued, threatened, cajoled, pleaded for the best part of two +hours, but nothing would shake her resolution. To all of his +arguments, she would reply in a tone admitting no doubt of the +unalterable nature of her determination: + +"I'm doing it for your good, beloved." + +Shadows grew apace; light clouds laced the west; a hush was in the +air, as if trees, bushes, and flowers were listening intently for a +message which had evaded them all the day. + +Perigal's distress wrung Mavis' heart. + +"I can bear it no longer," she presently cried. + +"Bear what, sweetheart?" + +"Your pain. My heart isn't made of stone. I almost wish it were. +Listen. You want me?" + +"What a question!" + +"Then you shall have me." + +He looked at her quickly. She went on: + +"We will not get married. But I give you myself." + +"Mavis!" + +"Yes; I give you myself." + +Perigal was silent for some minutes; he was, evidently, in deep +thought. When he spoke, it was to say with deliberation: + +"No, no, little Mavis. I may be bad; but I'm not up to that form-- +not yet." + +"I love you all the more for saying that," she murmured. + +"Since I can't move you, I'll go to Wales tomorrow," he said. + +"Then that means--" + +"Wait, wait, little Mavis; wait and hope." + +"I shall never love anyone else." + +"Not even Windebank?" + +She cried out in agony of spirit. + +"Forgive me, darling," he said. "I will keep faithful too." + +They walked for some moments in silence. + +"Do one thing for me," pleaded Mavis. + +"And that?" + +"We are near my nook--at least I call it that. Let us sit there for +just three minutes and think Thursday was--was going to be our--" +She could not trust her voice to complete the sentence. + +"If you wish it." + +"Only--" + +"Only what?" + +"Promise--promise you won't kiss me." + +"But--" + +"I'm not myself. Promise." + +He promised. They repaired to Mavis' nook, where they sat in +silence, while night enwrapped them in gloom. Instinctively, their +hands clasped. Mavis had realised that she was with her lover +perhaps for the last time. She wished to snatch a moment of +counterfeit joy by believing that the immense happiness which had +been hers was to continue indefinitely. But her imaginative effort +was a dismal failure. Her mind was a blank with the promise of +unending pain in the background. + +Perigal felt the pressure of Mavis's hand instinctively tighten on +his; it gripped as if she could never let him go: tears fell from +her eyes on to his fingers. With an effort he freed himself and, +without saying a word, walked quickly away. With all her soul, she +listened to his retreating steps. It seemed as if her life were +departing, leaving behind the cold shell of the Mavis she knew, who +was now dead to everything but pain. His consideration for her +helplessness illumined her suffering. The next moment, she was on +her knees, her heart welling with love, gratitude, concern for the +man who had left her. + +"Bless him! Bless him, oh God! He's good; he's good; he's good! He's +proved it to a poor, weak girl like me!" + +Thus she prayed, all unconscious that Perigal's consideration in +leaving her was the high-water mark of his regard for her welfare. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + +O LOVE, FOR DELIGHTS! + + +"Beloved!" + +"My own!" + +"Are you ready to start?" + +"I'll see if they've packed the luncheon." + +"One moment. Where are we going today?" + +"Llansallas; three miles from here." + +"What's it like?" she asked. + +"The loveliest place they knew of." + +"How wonderful! And we'll have the whole day there?" + +"Only you and I," he said softly. + +"Be quick. Don't lose a moment, sweetheart. I dislike being alone-- +now." + +"Why?" he asked. + +Mavis dropped her eyes. + +"Adorable, modest little Mavis," he laughed. "I'll see about the +grub." + +"You've forgotten something," she pouted, as he moved towards the +door. + +"Your kiss!" + +"Our kiss." + +"I hadn't really. I wanted to see if you'd remember." + +"As if I'd forget," she protested. + +Their lips met; not once, but many times; they seemed reluctant to +part. + + * * * * * * * + +Mavis was alone. She had spoken truly when she had hinted how she +was averse to the company of her own thoughts. It was then that +clouds seemed disposed to threaten the sun of her joy. + +She went to the window of the hotel sitting-room, which overlooked +the narrow road leading to Polperro village; beyond the cottages +opposite was bare rock, which had been blasted to find room for +stone habitations; above the naked stone was blue sky. Mavis tried +to think about the sky in order to exclude a certain weighty matter +from her mind. She had been five days in Cornwall, four of which had +been spent with Perigal in Polperro. Mavis did her best to +concentrate her thoughts upon the cerulean hue of the heavens; she +wondered why it could not faithfully be matched in dress material +owing to the peculiar quality of light in the colour of the sky. It +was just another such a blue, so she thought, as she had seen on the +morning of what was to have been her wedding day, when, heavy-eyed +and life-weary, she had crept to the window of her room; then the +gladness of the day appeared so indifferent to her sorrow that she +had raged hopelessly, helplessly, at the ill fortune which had over- +ridden her. This paroxysm of rebellion had left her physically +inert, but mentally active. She had surveyed her life calmly, +dispassionately, when it seemed that she had been deprived by cruel +circumstance of parents, social position, friends, money, love: +everything which had been her due. She had been convinced that she +was treated with brutal injustice. The joyous singing of birds +outside her window, the majestic climbing of the sun in the heavens +maddened her. Her spirit had been aroused: she had wondered what she +could do to defy fate to do its worst. The morning's post had +brought a letter from Perigal, the envelope of which bore the +Polperro postmark. This had told her that the despairing writer had +gone to the place of their prospective honeymoon, where the contrast +between his present agony of soul and the promised happiness, on +which he had set so much store, was such, that if he did not +immediately hear from Mavis, he was in danger of taking his life. +There had been more to the same effect. Immediately, all thought of +self had been forgotten; she had hurried out to send a telegram to +Perigal, telling him to expect a surprise to-day. + +She had confided her dear Jill to Mrs Farthing's care. After telling +her wondering landlady that she would not be away for more than one +night, she had hurried (with a few belongings) to the station, +ultimately to get out at Liskeard, where she had to take the local +railway to Looe, from which an omnibus would carry her to Polperro. +Perigal had met her train at Liskeard, her telegram having led him +to expect her. + +He was greatly excited and made such ardent love to her that, upon +her arrival at Looe, she already regretted her journey and had +purposed returning by the next train. But there was nothing to take +her back before morning; against her wishes, she had been +constrained to spend the night at Looe. + +Here Perigal insisted on staying also. + +Mavis, as she looked back on the last four days, and all that had +happened therein, could not blame herself. She now loved Perigal +more than she had ever believed it possible for woman to love man; +she belonged to him body and soul; she was all love, consequently +she had no room in her being for vain regrets. + +When she was alone, as now, her pride was irked at the fact of her +not being a bride; she believed that the tenacious way in which she +had husbanded her affections gave her every right to expect the +privilege of wifehood. It was, also, then she realised that her very +life depended upon the continuance of Perigal's love: she had no +doubt that he would marry her with as little delay as possible. +Otherwise, the past was forgotten, the future ignored: she wholly +surrendered herself to her new-born ecstasy begotten of her +surrender. He was the world, and nothing else mattered. So far as +she was concerned, their love for each other was the beginning, be- +all, and end of earthly things. + +It was a matter of complete indifference to her that she was living +at Polperro with her lover as Mrs and Mr Ward. + +It may, perhaps, be wondered why a girl of Mavis's moral +susceptibilities could be so indifferent to her habit of thought as +to find such unalloyed rapture in a union unsanctified by church and +unprotected by law. The truth is that women, as a sex, quickly +accommodate themselves to such a situation as that in which Mavis +found herself, and very rarely suffer the pangs of remorse which are +placed to their credit by imaginative purists. The explanation may +be that women live closer to nature than men; that they set more +store on sentiment and passion than those of the opposite sex; also, +perhaps, because they instinctively rebel against a male- +manufactured morality to which women have to subscribe, largely for +the benefit of men whose observance of moral law is more "honoured +in the breach than in the observance." Indeed, it may be regarded as +axiomatic that with nine hundred and ninety-nine women out of a +thousand the act of bestowing themselves on the man they love is +looked upon by them as the merest incident in their lives. The +thousandth, the exception, to whom, like Mavis, such a surrender is +a matter of supreme moment, only suffers tortures of remorse when +threatened by the loss of the man's love or by other inconvenient +but natural consequences of sexual temerity. + +Mavis was recalled to the immediate present by an arm stealing about +her neck; she thrilled at the touch of the man who had entered the +room unobserved; her lips sought his. + +"Ready, darling?" he asked. + +"If you are." + +She caught up her sunbonnet, which had been thrown on one side, to +hand it to him. + +"You put it on me," she said. + +When he had expended several unnecessary moments in adjusting the +bonnet, they made as if they would start. + +"Got everything you want?" he asked, looking round the room. + +"I think so. Take my sunshade." + +"Right o'." + +"My gloves." + +"I've got 'em." + +"My handkerchief." + +"I've got it." + +"Now kiss me." + +His all too eager lips met on hers. + +"Now we can start," she remarked. + +She stood on the steps of the little hotel, while Perigal grasped a +luncheon basket. + +"Quick march!" he cried. + +"Wait one moment. I so love the sunlight," she replied. + +"Little pagan!" + +She stood silent, while the rays of the September sun warmly +caressed her face and neck. + +She looked about her, to see that the sky was on all sides a +faultless blue, with every prospect of its continuance. + +"One of the rare days I love," she murmured. + +She shut her eyes to appreciate further the sun's warmth. + +"If it were only like this all the year round," she thought. + +"This is going to be all my day," she said to Perigal, who was +impatiently awaiting her. "I want to enjoy every moment of it for +all I am worth." + +They turned to the left, walking up the road to the hamlet of +Crumplehorn; when they reached the mill, worked by the stream which +crosses the road, they turned sharp to the left and continued to +ascend. Their progress was accompanied by the music of moving water, +the singing of larks. When they emerged on the Fowey road, they +caught frequent glimpses of the sea, which they lost as they +approached Llansallas. Arrived at this tiny, forgotten village, +there was not a sign of the sea, although Perigal had been told at +the inn that he would find it here. He asked the way, to be directed +to a corner of the churchyard from which a track led to the shore. +To their surprise, this path proved to be a partially dry +watercourse which, as it wound in a downward direction, was +presently quite shut in by an overgrowth of bushes. Mavis, sorry to +lose the sunlight, if only for a few minutes, was yet pleased at +exploring this mysterious waterway. Now and again, where the water +had collected in wide pools, she had, with Perigal's assistance, to +make use of stepping stones, to espy which was often difficult. They +picked their way down and down for quite a long time, till Mavis +began to wonder if they would ever discover an outlet. When, at +last, the passage was seen to emerge into a blaze of sunlight, they +ran like children to see who would be out first. In a few moments +they were blinking their eyes to accustom these to the sudden +sunlight. It was hard to believe that the sun had been shining while +their way had been steeped in gloom. When they were shortly able to +look about them, they glanced at one another, to see if the spot +they reached had made anything of an impression. There was occasion +for surprise. The lovers were now in an all but land-locked stretch +of water, shut in by tall rocks or high ground. Before the water of +the inlet could reach the sea, it would have to pass sheer, sentinel +rocks which seemed to guard jealously the bay's seclusion. + +From several places very high up in the ground on either side of +them, water gushed out in continuous currents, making music the +while, presently to merge by divers channels into a stream which +straggled down to the sea. The surface of this stream was covered +with watercress: this was green where the water was fresh, a bright +yellow as far as the salt tide had prevailed. Between where they +stood and the distressed waters of the bay was a stretch of yellow +sand. A little to their right was a dismantled, tumble-down cottage, +which served to emphasise the romantic remoteness of the place. + +"Isn't it--isn't it exquisite?" cried Mavis. + +"It might have been made for us," Perigal remarked. + +"It was. Say it was." + +"Of course it was. Let me make my darling comfortable. She must be +tired after her walk." + +"She isn't a bit--but--" + +"But what, sweetheart?" + +"It's a long time since she had a kiss." + +Perigal insisted upon making Mavis comfortable, with her back to a +conveniently situated hummock of earth. He lit a cigarette, to pass +it on to her before lighting one for himself. + +Mavis lay back with the cigarette between her red lips, the while +her eyes lazily took in the strange loveliness about her. The joy +that burned so fiercely in her heart seemed to have been +communicated to the world. Sea, cliff, waterfalls were all +resplendent in the bountiful sunlight. + +"It's not real: it's not real," she presently murmured. + +"What isn't real?" he asked. + +"This: you: love." + +He reassured her with kisses. + +"If it would only go on for ever!" she continued. "I'm so hungry for +happiness." + +"Why shouldn't it?" he laughed. + +"Will it be just the same when we're married?" + +"Eh! Of course." + +"Sure?" + +"So long as you don't change," he declared. + +She laughed scornfully, while he sauntered down to the sea, +cigarette in mouth. Mavis settled herself luxuriously to watch the +adored one through lazy, half-closed eyelids. He had previously +thrown away his straw hat; she saw how the wind wantoned in his +light curls. All her love seemed to well up into her throat. She +would have called to him, but her tongue refused speech; she was +sick with love; she wondered if she would ever recover. As he idled +back, her eyes were riveted on his face. + +"What's up with little Mavis?" he asked carelessly, as he reached +her side. + +"I love you--I love you--I love you!" she whispered faintly. + +He threw himself beside her to exclaim: + +"You look done. Is it the heat?" + +"Love--love for you," she murmured. + +He kissed her neck, first lifting the soft hair behind her ear. Her +head rested helplessly on his shoulder. + +"I'll see about luncheon when little Mavis will let me," he +remarked. + +"Don't fidget: I want to talk." + +"I'll listen, provided you only talk about love." + +"That's what I wanted to talk about." + +"Good!" + +"No one's ever loved as we do?" she asked anxiously. + +"No one." + +"Or ever will?" + +"Never." + +"Sure?" + +"Quite." + +"I'm sure too. And nothing's ever--ever going to change it." + +"Nothing. What could?" + +"I love you. Oh, how I love you!" she whispered, as she nestled +closer to him. + +"Don't you believe I love you?" he asked hoarsely. + +"Prove it." + +"How?" + +"By kissing my eyes." + +As they sat, her arms stole about him; she wished that they were +stronger, so that she could press him closer to her heart. +Presently, he unpacked the luncheon basket, spread the cloth, and +insisted on making all the preparations for their midday meal. She +watched him cut up the cold chicken, uncork the claret, mix the +salad--this last an elaborate process. + +"It's delicious," she remarked, when she tasted his concoction. + +"That's all I'm good for, Tommy rotten things of no real use to +anyone." + +"But it is of use. It's added to the enjoyment of my lunch." + +"But there's no money in it: that's what I should have said." + +He filled her glass and his with claret. Before either of them +drank, they touched each other's glasses. + +"Suggest a toast!" said Mavis. + +"Love," replied Perigal. + +"Our love," corrected Mavis, as she gave him a glance rich with +meaning. + +"Our love, then: the most beautiful thing in the world." + +"Which, unlike everything else, never dies," she declared. + +They drank. Mavis presently put down her knife and fork, to take +Perigal's and feed him with tid-bits from her or his plate. She +would not allow him to eat of anything without her sanction; she +stuffed him as the dictates of her fancy suggested. Then she mixed +great black berries with the Cornish cream. When they had eaten +their fill, she lit a cigarette, while her lover ate cheese. When he +had finished, he sat quite close to her as he smoked. Mavis +abandoned herself to the enjoyment of her cigarette; supported by +her lover's arm, she looked lazily at the wild beauty spread so +bountifully about her. The sun, the sea, the sky, the cliff, the day +all seemed an appropriate setting to the love which warmed her body. +The man at her side possessed her thoughts to the exclusion of all +else; she threw away her half-smoked cigarette to look at him with +soft, tremulous eyes. Suddenly, she put an arm about his neck and +bent his face back, which accomplished, she leant over him to kiss +his hair, eyes, neck, and mouth. + +"I love you! I love you! I love you!" she murmured. + +"You're wonderful, little Mavis--wonderful." + +Her kisses intoxicated him. He closed his eyes and slept softly. She +pulled him towards her, so that his head was pillowed on her heart; +then, feeling blissfully, ecstatically happy, she closed her eyes +and turned her head so that the sunlight beat full on her face. She +lost all sense of surroundings and must have slept for quite two +hours. When she awoke, the sun was low in the heavens. She shivered +slightly with cold, and was delighted to see the kettle boiling for +tea on a spirit-lamp, which Perigal had lit in the shelter of the +luncheon basket. + +"How thoughtful of my darling!" she remarked. + +"It's just boiling. I won't keep you a moment longer than I can +help." + +She sipped her tea, to feel greatly refreshed with her sleep. They +ate heartily at this meal. They were both so radiantly happy that +they laughed whenever there was either the scantiest opportunity or +none at all. The most trivial circumstance delighted them; sea and +sky seemed to reflect their boundless happiness. The sea had, by +now, crept quite close to them: they amused themselves by watching +the myriads of sand-flies which were disturbed by every advancing +wave. + +"We must soon be thinking of jacking up," said Perigal. + +"Surely not yet, dearest." + +"But it's past six." + +"Don't let us go a moment sooner than is necessary," she pleaded. +"It's all been too wonderful." + +As the September sun had sunk behind the cliffs, they no longer felt +his warmth. When Perigal had packed the luncheon basket, they walked +about hand in hand, exploring the inmost recesses of their romantic +retreat. It was only when it was quite dusk that they regretfully +made a start for home. + +"Go on a moment. I must take a last look of where I have been so +happy," said Mavis. + +"Alone?" + +"If you don't mind. I want to see what it's like without you. I want +to carry it in my mind all my life." + +It was not long before Mavis rejoined her lover. When she had looked +at the spot where she had enjoyed a day of unalloyed rapture, it +appeared strangely desolate in the gathering gloom of night. + +"Serve you right for wishing to be without me," he laughed, when she +told him how the place had presented itself to her. + +"You're quite right. It does," she assented. + +They had some difficulty in finding foothold on the covered way, but +Perigal, by lighting matches, did much to dissipate the gloom. + +"Isn't it too bad of me?" asked Mavis suddenly, "I've forgotten all +about dear Jill." + +"But you were talking about her a lot yesterday." + +"I mean to-day. She'd never forgive me if she knew." + +"You must explain how happy you've been when you see her." + +When they got out by the churchyard, they found that the night was +spread with innumerable stars. She nestled close to his side as they +walked in the direction of Polperro. Now and again, a thick growth +of hedge flowers would fill their pathway with scent, when Mavis +would stop to drink her fill of the fragrance. + +"Isn't it delicious?" she asked. + +"It knew you were coming and has done its best to greet you." + +"It's all too wonderful," she murmured. + +"Like your good-night kisses," he whispered. + +A love tremor possessed her body. + +"Say I love you," she said at another of their frequent halts. + +"I love you! I love you! I love you!" + +"I love music. But there's no music like that." + +He placed his arm caressingly about her soft, warm body. + +"Don't!" she pleaded. + +"Don't!" he queried in surprise. + +"It makes me love you so." + +She spoke truly: from her lips to her pretty toes her body was +burning with love. Her ecstasy was such that one moment she felt as +if she could wing a flight into the heavens; at another, she was +faint with love-sickness, when she clung tremulously to her lover +for support. + +Above, the stars shone out with a yet greater brilliance and in +immense profusion. Now and again, a shooting star would dart swiftly +down to go out suddenly. The multitude of many coloured stars +dazzled her brain. It seemed to her love-intoxicated imagination as +if night embraced the earth, even as Perigal held her body to his, +and that the stars were an illumination and were twinkling so +happily in honour of the double union. For all the splendid egotism +born of human passion, the immense intercourse of night and earth +seemed to reduce her to insignificance. She crept closer to +Perigal's side, as if he could give her the protection she needed. +He too, perhaps, was touched with the same lowliness, and the same +hunger for the support of loving sympathy. His hand sought hers; and +with a great wonder, a great love and a great humility in their +hearts, they walked home. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + +THE CURSE OF EVE + + +A little one was journeying to Mavis. A great fear, not unmixed with +a radiant wonder, filled her being. It was now three months since +her joyous stay with Perigal at Polperro. At the expiration of an +all-too-brief fortnight, she had gone back, dazed, intoxicated with +passion, to her humdrum work at the Melkbridge boot factory; while +Perigal, provided by his father with the sinews of war, had departed +for Wales, there to lay siege to elusive fortune. During this time, +Mavis had seen him once or twice, when he had paid hurried visits to +Melkbridge, and had heard from him often. Although his letters made +copious reference to the never-to-be-forgotten joys they had +experienced at Polperro, she scanned them anxiously, and in vain, +for any reference to his marrying her now, or later. The omission +caused her many painful hours; she realised more and more that, +after the all-important part she had suffered him to play in her +life, it would not be meet for her to permit any other man to be on +terms other than friendship with her. It was brought home to her, +and with no uncertain voice, how, in surrendering herself to her +lover, she was no longer his adored Mavis, but nothing more nor less +than his "thing," who was wholly, completely in his power, to make +or mar as he pleased. + +During these three months, she had seen or heard nothing of +Windebank, so concluded that he was away. + +* + +She was much perturbed with wondering what she should do with the +sumptuous dressing-case he had given her for a wedding present. + +Directly there was no longer room for doubt that her union with +Perigal would, in the fulness of time, bear fruit, she wrote telling +him her news, and begging him to see her with as little delay as +possible. In reply, she received a telegram, curtly telling her to +be outside Dippenham station on Saturday afternoon at four. + +This was on a Wednesday. Mavis's anxiety to hear from Perigal was +such that her troubled blood set up a raging abscess in the root of +a tooth that was scarcely sound. The least movement increased her +torments; but what troubled her even more than the pain, was that, +when the latter began to subside, one of her cheeks commenced to +swell. She was anxious to look her very best before her lover: her +lopsided face gave her a serio-comic expression. The swelling had +diminished a little before she set out on the bleak December +afternoon to meet her lover. Before she went, she looked long and +anxiously in the glass. Apart from the disfigurement caused by the +swelling, she saw (yet strove to conceal from herself) that her +condition was already interfering with her fresh, young comeliness: +her eyes were drawn; her features wore a tense, tired expression. As +she looked out of the carriage window on her train journey to +Dippenham, the gloom inspired by the darkening shadows of the day, +the dreariness of the bleak landscape, chilled her to the heart. She +comforted herself by reflecting with what eager cheerfulness Perigal +would greet her; how delighted he would be at receiving from her +lips further confirmation of her news; how loyally he would fulfil +his many promises by making the earliest arrangements for their +marriage. Arrived at her destination, she learned she would have to +wait twelve minutes till the train arrived that would bring her +lover from Wales. She did not stay in the comparative comfort of the +waiting-room, but, despite the pain that movement still gave her, +preferred to wander in the streets of the dull, quaint town till his +train was due. A thousand doubts assailed her mind: perhaps he would +not come, or would be angry with her, or would meet with an accident +upon the way. Her mind travelled quickly, and her body felt the need +of keeping pace with the rapidity of her thoughts. She walked with +sharp, nervous steps down the road leading from the station, to be +pulled up by the insistent pain in her head. She returned so +carefully that Perigal's train was steaming into the station as she +reached the booking office. She walked over the bridge to get to his +platform, to be stopped for a few moments by the rush, roar, and +violence of a West of England express, passing immediately under +where she stood. The disturbance of the passing train stunned and +then jarred her overwrought nerves, causing the pain in her face to +get suddenly worse. As she met those who had got out of the train +Perigal would come by, she wondered if he would so much as notice +the disfigurement of her face. For her part, if he came to her one- +armed and blind, it would make no difference to her; indeed, she +would love him the more. Perigal stepped from the door of a first +class compartment, seemingly having been aroused from sleep by a +porter; he carried a bag. + +Mavis noticed, with a great concern, how careworn he was looking--a +great concern, because, directly she set eyes on him, she realised +the immensity of her love for him. At that moment she loved him more +than she had ever done before; he was not only her lover, to whom +she had surrendered herself body and soul, but also the father of +her unborn little one. Faintness threatened her; she clung to the +handle of a weighing machine for support. + +"More trouble!" he remarked, as he reached her. + +She looked at him with frightened eyes, finding it hard to believe +the evidence of her ears. + +"W-what?" she faltered. + +"Heavens!" + +"What's the matter, dear?" + +"What have you done to your face?" + +"I--I hoped you wouldn't notice. I've had an abscess." + +"Notice it! Haven't you looked in the glass?" + +Mavis bit her lip. + +"I shouldn't have thought you could look so--look like that," he +continued. + +"What trouble did you mean?" she found words to ask. + +"This. Why you sent for me." + +She felt as if he had stabbed her. She stopped, overwhelmed by the +blow that the man she loved so whole-heartedly had struck her. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"Nothing--only--" + +"Only what?" + +"You don't seem at all glad to see me." + +She spoke as if pained at and resentful of his coldness. He looked +at her, to watch the suffering in her eyes crystallise into a +defiant hardness. + +"I am, no end. But I'm tired and cold. Wait till we've had something +to eat," he said kindly. + +Mavis melted. Her love for him was such that she found it no easy +matter being angry with him. + +"How selfish of me! I ought to have known," she remarked. "Let +someone take your bag." + +"I don't know where I'm going to stop. I'll leave it at the station +for the present." + +"Aren't you going home?" she asked in some surprise. + +"We'll talk over everything when I've got warm." + +She waited while he left his bag in the cloak-room. When he joined +her, they walked along the street leading from the station. + +"I could have seen what's up with you without being told," he +remarked ungenially. + +"It won't be for so very long. I shall look all right again some +day," she declared, with a sad little laugh. + +"That's the worst of women," he went on. "Just when you think +everything's all right, this goes and happens." + +His words fired her blood. + +"I should have thought you would have been very proud," she cried. + +"Eh!" + +"However foolish I've been, I'm not the ordinary sort of woman. +Where I've been wrong is in being too kind to you." + +She paused for breath. She was also a little surprised at her bold +words; she was so completely at the man's mercy. + +"I do appreciate it. I'd be a fool if I didn't. But it's this +development that's so inconvenient." + +"Inconvenient! Inconvenient you call it--!" + +"This will do us," he interrupted, pausing at the doorway of the +"King's Arms Hotel." + +"I'm not sure I'll come in." + +"Please yourself. But it's as well to have a talk, so that we can +see exactly where we stand." + +His words voiced the present desire of her heart. She was burning to +put an end to her suspense, to find out exactly where she stood. The +comparative comfort of the interior of the hotel thawed his +coldness. + +"Rather a difficult little Mavis," he smiled as they ascended the +stairs. + +"I'm all right till I'm roused. Then I feel capable of anything." + +"The sort of girl I admire," he admitted. + +He engaged a sitting-room and bedroom for the night. Mavis did not +trouble to consider what relation to Perigal the hotel people +believed her to be. Her one concern was to discover his intentions +with regard to the complication which had arisen in her life. She +ordered tea. While it was being got ready, she sat by the newly-lit +fire, a prey to gloomy thoughts. The pain in her face had, in a +measure, abated. She was alone, Perigal having gone to the bedroom +to wash after his journey. She contrasted her present misery with +the joyousness that had possessed her when last she had been under +the same roof as her lover. Tears welled into her eyes, but she held +them back, fearing they would further contribute to the undoing of +her looks. + +When the tea was brought, she made the waiter wheel the table to the +fire; she also took off her cloak and hat and smoothed her hair in +the glass. She put the toast by the fire in order to keep it warm. +She wanted everything to be comfortable and home-like for her lover. +She then poked the fire into a blaze and moved a cumbrous arm chair +to a corner of the tea table. When Perigal came in, he was smoking a +cigarette. + +"Trying to work up a domestic atmosphere," he laughed, with a faint +suggestion of a sneer in his hilarity. + +Mavis bit her lip. + +"It was the obvious thing to do. Don't be obvious, little Mavis. It +jars." + +"Won't you have some tea?" she faltered. + +"No, thanks. I've ordered something a jolly sight better than tea," +he said, warming his hands at the fire. + +Mavis was too stunned to make any comment. She found it hard to +believe that the ardent lover of Polperro and the man who was so +indifferent to her extremity, were one and the same. She felt as if +her heart had been hammered with remorseless blows. They waited in +silence till a waiter brought in a bottle of whisky, six bottles of +soda water, glasses, and a box of cigarettes. + +"Have some whisky?" asked Perigal of Mavis. + +"I prefer tea!" + +"Have some in that?" + +"No, thank you." + +While Mavis sipped her tea, she watched him from the corner of her +eyes mix himself a stiff glass of whisky and soda. She would have +given many years of her life to have loved him a little less than +she did; she dimly realised that his indifference only fanned the +raging fires of her passion. + +"I feel better now," he said presently. + +"I'm glad. I must be going." + +"Eh!" + +Mavis got up and went to get her hat. + +"I wish you to stay for dinner." + +"I'm sorry. But I must get back," she said, as she pinned on her +hat. + +"I wish you to stay," he declared, as he caught her insistently by +the arm. + +The touch of his flesh moved her to the marrow. She sat helplessly. +He appeared to enjoy her abject surrender. + +"Now I'll have some tea, little Mavis," he said. + +She poured him out a cup, while he got the toast from the fender to +press some on her. He began to recover his spirits; he talked, +laughed, and rallied her on her depression. She was not insensible +to his change of mood. + +When the tea was taken away, he pressed a cigarette on her against +her will. + +"You always get your own way," she murmured, as he lit it for her. + +"Now we'll have a cosy little chat," he said, as he wheeled her +chair to the fire. He brought his chair quite near to hers. + +Mavis did not suffer quite so much. + +"Now about this trouble," he continued. "Tell me all about it." + +She restated the subject of her last letter in as few words as +possible. When she had finished, he asked her a number of questions +which betrayed a familiar knowledge of the physiology of her +extremity. She wondered where he could have gained his information, +not without many jealous pangs at this suggestion of his having been +equally intimate with others of her sex. + +"Hang it all! It's not nearly so bad as it might be," he said +presently. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why that, if every woman who got into the same scrape did nothing +to help herself, the world would be over-populated in five minutes." + +Mavis sat bolt upright. Her hands grasped the arms of her chair; her +eyes stared straight before her. There arose to her quick fancy the +recollection of certain confidences of Miss Allen, which had hinted +at hideous malpractices of the underworld of vice, affecting women +in a similar condition to hers. + +"Well?" said Perigal. + +The sound of his voice recalled her to the present. + +Mavis rose, placed a hand on each arm of Perigal's chair, and leant +over so as to look him full in the eyes, as she said icily: + +"Do you know what you are saying?" + +"Eh! Dear little Mavis. You take everything so seriously," he +remarked, as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. + +She sat back in her chair, uneasy, troubled: vague, unwholesome, +sordid shadows seemed to gather about her. + +"Ever gone in for sea-fishing?" Perigal asked, after some minutes of +silence. + +"No." + +"I'm awfully keen. I'm on it all day when the wind isn't east." + +This enthusiasm for sea-fishing struck a further chill to Mavis's +forlorn heart. She could not help thinking that, if he had been +moved by a loving concern for her welfare, he would have devoted his +days to the making of a competence on which they could live. + +"Now about this trouble," said Perigal, at which Mavis listened with +all her ears. He went on: "I know, of course, the proper thing, the +right thing to do is to marry you at once." Here he paused. + +Mavis waited in suspense for him to go on; it seemed an epoch of +time till he added: + +"But what are we going to live upon?" + +She kept on repeating his words to herself. She felt as if she were +drowning in utter darkness. + +"I can tell you at once that there's precious little money in +bricks. I'm fighting against big odds, and if I were worrying about +you--if you had enough to live upon and all that--I couldn't give +proper attention to business." + +"It would be heaven for me," she remarked. + +"So you say now. All I ask you to do is to trust implicitly in me +and wait." + +"How long?" she gasped. + +"I can't say for certain. It all depends." + +"On what?" + +"Circumstances." + +She did not speak for some moments, the while she repressed an +impulse to throw herself at his feet, and implore him to reconsider +his indefinite promise. + +"Will you pour me out a little whisky?" she said presently. + +"What about your face? It might make it throb." + +"I'll chance that." + +"Aren't you well, little Mavis?" he asked kindly. + +"Not very. It must be the heat of the room." + +She gulped down the spirit, to feel the better for it. It seemed to +give her heart to face her misfortunes. She could say no more just +then, as a man came into the room to lay the table. + +Whilst this operation was in progress, she thought of the unlooked- +for situation in which she found herself. It was not so very long +since Perigal was the suppliant, she the giver; now, the parts were +reversed, except that, whereas she had given without stint, he +withheld that which every wholesome instinct of his being should +urge him to bestow without delay. + +She wondered at the reason of the change, till the words he had +spoken on the day of their jaunt to Broughton occurred to her: + +"No sooner was one want satisfied than another arose to take its +place. It's a law of nature that ensures the survival of the +fittest, by making men always struggle to win the desire of the +moment." + +She had been Perigal's desire, but, once won, another had taken its +place, which, so far as she could see, was sea-fishing. She smiled +grimly at the alteration in his taste. Then, an idea illuminated, +possessed her mind. + +"Why not make myself desirable so that he will be eager to win me +again," she thought. + +So Mavis, despite the pain in her face, which owing to the spirit +she had drunk was beginning to trouble her again, set out on the +most dismal of all feminine quests--that of endeavouring to make a +worldly, selfish man pay the price of his liberty, and endure +poverty for that which he had already enjoyed to the full. With a +supreme effort of will, she subdued her inclination to unrestrained +despair; with complete disregard of the acute pain in her head, she +became gay, light-hearted, irresponsible, joyous. There was an +undercurrent of suffering in her simulated mirth, but Perigal did +not notice it; he was taken by surprise at the sudden change in her +mood. He responded to her supposititious merriment; he laughed and +joked as irrepressibly as did Mavis. + +"Quite like the old Polperro days," he replied to one of Mavis' +sallies. + +His remark reduced her to momentary thoughtfulness. The staple dish +of the extemporised meal was a pheasant. Perigal, despite her +protests, was heaping up her plate a second time, when he said: + +"Do you know what I was dreading the whole way up?" + +"That you'd got into the right train!" + +"Scarcely that. I was funky you'd do the obvious sentimental thing, +and wear the old Polperro dress." + +"As if I would!" + +"Anyway, you haven't. Besides, it's much too cold." + +He ordered champagne. Further to play the part of Circe to his +Ulysses, she drank a little of this, careless of the pain it might +inflict. Although she was worn down by her anxieties and the pain of +her abscess, it gave her an immense thrill of pleasure to notice how +soon she recovered her old ascendancy over him. Now, his admiring +eyes never left her face. Once, when he got up to hand her +something, he went out of his way to come behind her to kiss her +neck. + +"Little Mavis is a fascinating little devil," he remarked, as he +resumed his seat. + +"That's what you thought when I met you at the station." + +"I was tired and worried, and worry destroys love quicker than +anything. Now--" + +"Now!" + +"You've gone the shortest way to 'buck' me up." + +Thus encouraged, Mavis made further efforts to captivate Perigal, +and persuade him to fulfill the desire of her heart. Now, he was +constantly about her on any and every excuse, when he would either +kiss her or caress her hair. After dinner, they sat by the fire, +where they drank coffee and smoked cigarettes. Presently, Perigal +slipped on the ground beside her, where he leaned his head against +her knee, while he fondled one of her feet. Her fingers wandered in +his hair. + +"Like old times, sweetheart!" he said, + +"Is it?" she laughed. + +"It is to me, little Mavis. I love you! I love you! I love you!" + +Mavis's heart leapt. Life held promise of happiness after all. + +"What have you arranged about tonight?" he asked, after a few +moments' silence. + +"Nothing unusual. Why?" + +"Must you go back?" + +"Why?" she asked, wondering what he was driving at. + +"I thought you might stay here." + +"Stay here!" she gasped. + +"With me--as you did in Polperro." Then, as she did not speak: +"There's no reason why you shouldn't!" + +A great horror possessed Mavis. This, then, was all she had laboured +for; all he thought of her. She had believed that he would have +offered immediate marriage. His suggestion helped her to realise the +hopelessness of her situation; how, in the eternal contest between +the sexes, she had not only laid all her cards upon the table, but +had permitted him to win every trick. She fell from the summit of +her blissful anticipations into a slough of despair. She had little +or no hope of his ever making her the only possible reparation. +Ruin, disgrace, stared her in the face. And after all the fine hopes +with which she had embarked on life! Her pride revolted at this +promise of hapless degradation. Anything rather than that. There was +but one way to avoid such a fate, not only for her, but for the new +life within her. The roar and rush of the express, when she had +crossed the footbridge at the station, sounded hopefully in her +ears. + +"There's no reason why you shouldn't!" he repeated. + +"Indeed?" she said mechanically. + +"Is there? After all that's happened, what difference can it make?" +he persisted, as he reached for a cigarette. + +"What difference can it make?" she repeated dully. + +"Good! Dear little Mavis! Have another cigarette." + +Unseen by him, she had caught up coat, gloves, and hat, and moved +towards the door. Here she had paused, finding it hard to leave him +whom she loved unreservedly for other women to caress and care for. + +The words, "What difference can it make?" decided her. They spurred +her along the short, quick road which was to end in peaceful +oblivion. She opened the door noiselessly, and slipped down the +stairs and out of the front door with out being seen by any of the +hotel people. Once in the street, where a drizzle was falling, she +turned to the right in the direction of the station. It seemed a +long way. She would have liked to have stepped from the room, in +which she had been with Perigal, on to the rails before the passing +express. She hurried on. Although it was Saturday night, there were +few people about, the bad weather keeping many indoors who would +otherwise be out. She was within a few paces of the booking office +when she felt a hand on her arm. + +"Don't stop me! Let me go!" she cried. + +"Where to?" asked Perigal's voice. + +She pressed forward. + +"Don't be a little fool. Are you mad? Stop!" + +He forced her to a standstill. + +"Now come back," he said. + +"No. Let me go." + +"Are you so mad as to do anything foolish?" + +By way of reply, she made a vain effort to free herself. He tried to +reason with her, but nothing he urged could change her resolution. +Her face was expressionless; her eyes dull; her mind appeared to be +obsessed by a determination to take her life. He changed his +tactics. + +"Very well, then," he said, "come along." + +She looked at him, surprised, as she started off. + +"Where you go, I go; whatever you do, I do." + +She paused to say: + +"If you'd let me have my own way, I should be now out of my misery." + +"You only think of yourself," he cried. "You don't mind what would +happen to me if you--if you--!" + +"A lot you'd care!" she interrupted. + +"Don't talk rot. It's coming down worse than ever. Come back to the +hotel." + +"Never that," she said, compressing her lip. + +"You'll catch your death here." + +"A good thing too. I can't go on living. If I do, I shall go mad," +she cried, pressing her hands to her head. + +Passers-by were beginning to notice them. + +Without success, Perigal urged her to walk. + +She became hysterically excited and upbraided him in no uncertain +voice. She seemed to be working herself into a paroxysm of frenzy. +To calm her, perhaps because he was moved by her extremity, he +overwhelmed her with endearments, the while he kissed her hands, her +arms, her face, when no one was by. + +She was influenced by his caresses, for she, presently, permitted +herself to walk with him down the street, where they turned into the +railed-in walk which crossed the churchyard. + +He redoubled his efforts to induce in her a more normal state of +mind. + +"Don't you love me, little Mavis?" he asked. "If you did, you +wouldn't distress me so." + +"Love you!" she laughed scornfully. + +"Then why can't you listen and believe what I say?" + +He said more to the same effect, urging, begging, praying her to +trust him to marry her, when he could see his way clearly. + +Perhaps because the mind, when confronted with danger, fights for +existence as lustily as does the body, Mavis, against her +convictions, strove with some success to believe the honeyed +assurances which dropped so glibly from her lover's tongue. His +eloquence bore down her already enfeebled resolution. + +"Go on; go on; go on!" she cried. "It's all lies, no doubt; but it's +sweet to listen to all the same." + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"Your love-words, I mean. They're all I've got to live for now. What +you can't find heart to say, invent. You've no idea what good it +does me." + +"Mavis!" he cried reproachfully. + +"It seems to give me life," she declared, to add after a few moments +of silence: "Situated as I am, they're like drops of water to a man +dying of thirst." + +"But you're not going to die: you're going to live and be happy with +me!" + +She looked at him questioningly, putting her soul into her eyes. + +"But you must trust me," he continued. + +"Haven't I already?" she asked. + +He took no notice of her remark, but gave utterance to a platitude. + +"There's no love without trust," he said. + +"Say that again." + +"There's no love without trust," he repeated. "What are you thinking +of?" he asked, as she did not speak. + +A light kindled in her eyes; her face was aglow with emotion; her +bosom heaved convulsively. + +"You ask me to trust you?" she said. + +He nodded. + +"Very well, then: I love you; I will." + +"Mavis!" he cried. + +"More, I'll prove it. You asked me to stay here with you. I refused. +I love you--I trust you. Do with me as you will." + +"Mavis!" + +"I distrusted you. I did wrong, I atone." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + +SNARES + + +The Sunday week after Mavis' meeting with Perigal at Dippenham, she +left the train at Paddington a few minutes after six in the evening. +She got a porter to wheel her luggage to the cloak-room, reserving a +small handbag for her use, which contained her savings. + +She then made for the refreshment room, where she ordered and sipped +a cup of tea. She would have liked more, but as she had so much to +do with her money, she did not think she dare afford the threepence +which she would have to pay for another cup. As she rested for some +moments in the comparative seclusion of the refreshment room, she +derived satisfaction from the fact that she had got away from +Melkbridge before any suspicions had arisen of her condition. Upon +her return to her lodging after seeing Perigal, she had, at his +instigation, written to Mr Devitt, telling him that she would be +leaving his employment in a week's time. She gave no reason for +throwing up her work, beyond saying that the state of her health +necessitated a change of occupation. She had also given notice to +Mrs Farthing, and had spent her spare time in packing up and saying +goodbye to her few friends. Her chief difficulty was with her dear +Jill, as she knew how many London landladies objected to having dogs +in lodgings. At last, she arranged for Mrs Trivett to look after her +pet till such time as she could be sent for. Mavis had offered the +farmer's wife a shilling or two a week for Jill's keep, but her kind +friend would not hear of any such arrangement being made. Then had +followed Mavis' goodbye to her dog, a parting which had greatly +distressed her. Jill had seemed to divine that something was afoot, +for her eyes showed a deep, pleading look when Mavis had clasped her +in her arms and covered her black face with kisses. She thought of +her now as she sat in the waiting room; tears welled to her eyes. +With a sigh she realised that she must set about looking for a +lodging. She left the waiting room in order to renew the old +familiar quest. Mavis walked into the depressing ugliness of +Eastbourne Terrace, at the most dismal hour of that most dismal of +all days, the London Sunday in winter. The street lamps seemed to +call attention to the rawness of the evening air. The roads, save +for a few hurrying, recently released servants, were deserted; every +house was lit up--all factors that oppressed Mavis with a sense of +unspeakable loneliness. She became overwhelmed with self- +consciousness; she believed that every passer-by, who glanced at +her, could read her condition in her face; she feared that her +secret was known to a curious, resentful world. Mavis felt +heartsick, till, with something of an effort, she remembered that +this, and all she had to endure in the comparatively near future, +should be and were sacrifices upon the shrine of the loved one. She +had walked some distance along Praed Street, and was now in the +wilderness of pretentious, stucco-faced mansions, which lie between +Paddington and the north side of Hyde Park. She knew it was useless +to seek for lodgings here, so pressed on, hoping to arrive at a +humbler neighbourhood, where she would be more likely to get what +she wanted. As she walked, the front doors of the big houses would +now and again open, when she was much surprised at the vulgar +appearance of many of those who came out. It seemed to her as if the +district in which she found herself was largely tenanted by well-to- +do, but self-made people. After walking for many minutes, she +reached the Bayswater Road, which just now was all but deserted. The +bare trees on the further side of the road accentuated the +desolation of the thoroughfare. She turned to the left and pressed +on, fighting valiantly against the persistent spirit of loneliness +which seemed to dog her footsteps. Men and girls hurried by to keep +appointments with friends or lovers. Buses jogged past her, loaded +with people who all had somewhere to go, and probably someone who +looked for their coming. She was friendless and alone. Ever since +her interview with Perigal she had realised how everything she +valued in life, if not life itself, depended on her implicit faith +in him. He had told her that there could be no love without trust; +she had believed in this assertion as if it had been another +revelation, and it had enabled her to go through the past week with +hardly a pang of regret (always excepting her parting from Jill) at +breaking with all the associations that had grown about her life +during her happy stay at Melkbridge. + +Now doubts assailed her mind. She knew that if she surrendered to +them it meant giving way to despair; she thought of any and all of +Perigal's words which she could honestly construe into a resolve on +his part to marry her before her child was born. As she thus +struggled against her unquiet thoughts, two men (at intervals of a +few minutes) followed and attempted to speak to her. Their unwelcome +attentions increased her uneasiness of mind; they seemed to tell her +of the dubious ways by which men sought to entangle in their toils +those of her own sex who were pleasing to the eye: just now, she +lumped all men together, and would not admit that there was any +difference between them. Arrived in the neighbourhood of the Marble +Arch, she was sure of her ground. She was reminded of her wanderings +of evenings from "Dawes'," when, if not exploring Soho, she had +often walked in this direction. Memories of those long-forgotten +days, which now seemed so remote, assailed her at every step. Then +she had believed herself to be unhappy. Now she would have given +many years of her life to be able to change her present condition +(including her trust in Perigal) to be as she was before she had met +him. Directly she crossed Edgware Road, the pavement became more +crowded. Shop-girls (the type of young woman she knew well) and +hobbledehoyish youths, the latter clad in "reach-me-down" frockcoat +suits, high collars, and small, ready-made bow ties, thronged about +her. She could not help contrasting the anaemic faces, the narrow, +stooping shoulders of these youths with the solidly-built, ruddy- +cheeked men whom she had seen in Wiltshire. She was rapidly losing +her old powers of physical endurance; she felt exhausted, and turned +into the small Italian restaurant on the left, which she had +sometimes gone to when at "Dawes'." + +"It hasn't changed one bit," she thought, as she entered and walked +to the inner room. There was the same bit of painted canvas at the +further end of the place, depicting nothing in particular. There +were the same shy, self-conscious, whispering couples seated at the +marble-topped tables, who, after critically looking over the soiled +bill of fare, would invariably order coffee, roll and butter, or, if +times were good, steak and fried potatoes. The same puffy Italian +waiter stood by the counter, holding, as of old, coffee-pot in one +hand and milk-pot in the other. Mavis always associated this man +with the pots, which he never relinquished; she remembered wondering +if he slept, still holding them in his grasp. + +She ordered a veal cutlet and macaroni, for which the place was +famous among the epicures of "Dawes'." While it was being prepared, +she brought notepaper, envelope, and pencil from her bag, to write a +short note to Perigal. + +The morning post had brought her a letter from him, which had +enclosed notes to the value of ten pounds towards the expenses of +her enforced stay in London. Her reply told him that, as she had +enough for present needs, she returned his money. She suggested that +if he had no use for it, he could put it towards the expenses of +providing their home; that she had arrived safely in London; that +she was about to look for a lodging. She ended with passionately +affectionate wishes for his wellbeing. When she had put the money +and letter into the envelope, and this into her bag, her meal was +banged down before her. She ordered a bottle of stout, for had she +not to nourish another life beside her own? After Mavis had +finished, she did not feel in the least disposed to go out. She sat +back on the dingy plush seat, and enjoyed the sensation of the food +doing her good. It was seven o'clock when she paid the waiter and +joined the crowd now sauntering along Oxford Street. She walked +towards Regent Circus, hoping to find a post-office, where she could +get a stamp for Perigal's letter. She wondered if she should go to +church, if only for a few minutes, but decided to keep away from a +place of worship, feeling that her thoughts were too occupied with +her troubles to give adequate attention to the service. A new, yet +at the same time familiar dread, oppressed her. She seemed to get +relief from hurrying along the crowded pavement. She longed to get +settled for the night, but was still uncertain where to seek a +lodging. She had some thought of taking the Tube, and looking about +her in the direction of Hammersmith, but her one thought now was to +get indoors with as little delay as possible. She remembered that +there was a maze of private houses along the Tottenham Court Road, +in many of which she had often noticed that there was displayed a +card, announcing that apartments were to let. She took a 'bus to the +Tottenham Court Road. Arrived there, she got out and walked along +it, to turn, presently, to the right. Most of the houses, for all +their substantial fronts, had an indefinable atmosphere of being +down at heel, perhaps because many were almost in darkness. They +looked like houses that were in no sense of the word homes. She +selected one of the least forbidding and knocked at the door. After +waiting some time, she heard footsteps scuffling along the passage. +A blowsy, elderly, red-faced woman opened the door. She was clad in +a greasy flannel dressing gown; unbrushed hair fell on her +shoulders; naked, unclean toes protruded through holes in her +stockings and slippers. + +"Good evening, dear," said the woman. Mavis turned to go. + +"Was you wanting rooms, my dear?" + +"I was." + +"I've the very thing you want. Don't run away." + +Mavis hesitated. + +"Don't judge of 'em by me. I ain't been quite myself, as you, being +another lady, can quite understand, an' I overslep' myself a bit; +but if you'll walk inside, you'll be glad you didn't go elsewhere." + +Mavis was so tired, that she persuaded herself that the landlady's +appearance might not be indicative (as it invariably is) of the +character of the rooms. + +"One moment. Oo sent yer?" asked the woman. + +"No one. I saw--" + +"Didn't Foxy?" + +"No one did. I saw the card in the window." + +"Please to walk upstairs." + +Mavis followed the woman up unswept stairs to the first floor, where +the landlady fumbled with a key in the lock of a door. + +"S'pose you know Foxy?" she queried. + +"No. Who is he?" + +"'E goes about the West End and brings me lady lodgers." + +"I'm from the country," remarked Mavis. + +"You a dear little bird from far away? You've fallen on a pretty +perch, my dear, an' you can thank Gawd you ain't got with some as I +could mention." + +By this time, they had got into the room, where the landlady lighted +one jet of a dirty chandelier. + +"There now!" cried the landlady triumphantly. + +Mavis looked about her at the gilt-framed glass over the +mantelpiece, the table, the five chairs (including one arm), the +sofa and the chiffonnier, which was pretty well all the furniture +that the room contained. The remains of a fire untidied the grate; +the flimsiest curtains were hung before the windows. The landlady +was quick to notice the look of disappointment on the girl's face. + +"See the bedroom, my dear, before you settle." + +This proved to be even less inviting than the sitting-room: hardly +any of the furniture was perfect; a dirty piece of stuff was pinned +across the window; dust lay heavy on toilet glass and mantel. +Happily contrasted with this squalor was the big bed, which was +invitingly comfortable and clean. + +Mavis was very tired; she looked longingly at the bed, with its +luxurious, lace-fringed pillows. The landlady marked her indecision. + +"It's very cheap, miss." + +"What do you call cheap?" + +"Two guineas a week; light an' coals extry." + +"Two guineas a week!" + +"You've perfec' liberty to bring in who you like." + +Mavis stared at her in astonishment. + +"An' no questions asked, my dear." + +Mavis wondered if the woman were in her right senses. + +"I thought you'd jump at it," she went on. "I could see it when you +saw the bed. The gentlemen like a nice clean bed." + +Mavis understood; clutching her bag, she walked to the door. + +"Not goin' to 'ave 'em?" screeched the landlady. + +Mavis hurried on. + +"Guinea a week and what extries you like. There!" + +Mavis ran down the stairs. + +"Won't they give you more than five shillings?" shouted the woman +over the banisters as Mavis reached the door. + +"I s'pose your beat is the Park," the woman shrieked, as Mavis ran +down the steps. + +Mavis ran a few yards, to stop short. She trembled from head to +foot; tears scalded her eyes, which, with a great effort, she kept +back. She was crushed with humiliation and shame. At once she +thought of the loved one, and how deeply he would resent the +horrible insult to which his tenderly loved little Mavis had been +subjected. But there was no time for vain imaginings. With the +landlady's foul insinuations ringing in her ears, she set about +looking for a house where she might get what she wanted. The rain, +that had been threatening all day, began to fall, but her umbrella +was at Paddington. She was not very far from the Tottenham Court +Road. Fearful of catching cold in her present condition, she hurried +to this thoroughfare, where she thought she might get shelter. When +she got there, she found that places of vantage were already +occupied to their utmost capacity by umbrellaless folk like herself. +She hurried along till she came to what, from the pseudoclassic +appearance of the structure, seemed a place of dissenting worship. +She ran up the steps to the lobby, where she found the shelter she +required. A door leading to the chapel was open, which enabled her +to overhear the conclusion of the sermon. As the preacher's words +fell on her ears, she listened intently, and edged nearer to the +door communicating with the chapel. His message seemed meant +expressly for her. It told her that, despite anything anyone might +presume to urge to the contrary, God was ever the loving Father of +His children; that He rejoiced when they rejoiced, suffered when +they sorrowed; however much the faint-hearted might be led to +believe that the world was ruled by remorseless law, that much faith +and a little patience would enable even the veriest sinner to see +how the seemingly cruellest inflictions of Providence were for the +sufferer's ultimate good, and, therefore, happiness. + +Presently, when the rain stopped, Mavis came away feeling mentally +refreshed. As is usual with those in trouble, she applied anything +pertinent she read or heard about sorrow to herself. The fact of her +intercourse with Perigal having been in the nature of deadly sin did +not trouble her so much as might have been expected. She felt that +God would understand, and believed that to know all was to forgive +all. Also, try as she might, she could not see that her sin was of +such a deadly nature as it is made out to be by the Church. It +seemed that her surrender to her lover at Polperro had been the +natural and inevitable consequence of her love for him, and that, if +the one were condemned, so also should love be itself, inasmuch as +it was plainly responsible for what had happened. Now, she was glad +to learn, on the authority of the pulpit, that, however much she +suffered from her present extremity, it would be for her ultimate +happiness. + +She started afresh to look for a lodging. She needed all the +resolution she could muster. Repulsive-looking foreign women opened +most of the doors at which she knocked, whilst surly-looking men +hovered in the background. + +Mavis wished she had started earlier for Hammersmith, to see what +she could find there. At last she went into a chemist's shop which +she saw open, to ask if she could be recommended to any rooms. A +burly, blotchy-faced, bearded man stood behind the bottle-laden +counter. Mavis stated her wants. + +"Married?" asked the man. + +"Y--yes--but I'm living by myself for the present." + +"Of course. But your husband would visit you," remarked the man with +a leer. + +Mavis looked at him in surprise. + +"Well, we'll call it your husband," suggested the chemist. + +Mavis walked from the shop. + +It seemed that everyone was in league to insult her. Her heart was +heavy with grief. She could not help thinking how the presence of +the loved one, a word of encouragement from him, would instantly +dissipate her soreness of heart and growing physical exhaustion. + +She gave up the idea of looking for rooms in this disreputable +corner of London. Her only concern was to get lodging for the night, +so that she could resume her quest on the morrow in a more likely +part of the great city. She stopped a policeman and asked to be +directed to a reasonable hotel. The man told her that she would find +what she wanted in the Euston Road. She walked along this depressing +and sordid thoroughfare, where what were once front gardens before +comfortable houses were now waste spaces, given over to the display +of dilapidated signboards of strange and unfamiliar trades. Here she +dragged herself up the steps of the hotels that abound in this road, +to learn at each one she applied at that they were full for the +night. If she had not been so tired, she would have wondered if they +were speaking the truth, or if they divined her condition and did +not consider her to be a respectable applicant. At the last at which +she called, she was asked to write her name in the hotel book. She +commenced to write Mavis Keeves, but remembered that she had decided +to call herself Mrs Kenrick while in London. She crossed out what +she had written, to substitute the name she had elected to bear. +Whether or not this correction made the hotel people suspicious, she +was soon informed that she could not be accommodated. Mavis, +heartsore and weary, went out into the night. A different class of +person to the one that she had met earlier in the evening began to +infest the streets. Bold-eyed women, dressed in cheap finery, +appeared here and there, either singly or in pairs. The vague, yet +familiar fear, which she had experienced when she began to look for +rooms, again took possession of her with gradually increasing force. +She was soon on such familiar terms with this obsession, that she +remembered when and how it had first originated in her mind. It was +after her adventure with Mrs Hamilton and her chance meeting with +the never-to-be-forgotten Mrs Ewer, when a horrid fear of London had +possessed her soul. Now she saw, even plainer than before, the deep +pitfalls and foul morasses which ever menace the feet of unprotected +girls in London who have to earn their daily bread. If it were an +effort for her to snatch a living from the great industrial machine +when she was last in London, now, in her condition, it was +practically hopeless to look for work. Mind and body were paralysed +by a great fear. To add to her discomfiture, the rain again began to +fall. Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she walked up a pathway, +running parallel with the road, which flanked a row of forlorn- +looking houses. Here she felt so faint that she was compelled to +cling to the railings to save herself from falling. Two children +passed, one of whom carried a jug, who stopped to stare at her. + +"Please!" called Mavis weakly, at which one of the children +approached her. + +"Can you tell me where I can get a room?" + +"I'll ask fader," replied the child, who spoke with a German accent. + +Mavis remembered little beyond waiting an eternity of suspense, and +then of being assisted into a house, up a flight of stairs to a room +where she sank on the nearest thing handy. She opened her frock to +clutch, as if for protection, the ring Perigal had given her, and +which she always wore suspended on her heart. Then she was overtaken +by unconsciousness. + +When she awoke, she rubbed her eyes again and again, whilst a +horrible pungent smell affected her nostrils. She could scarcely +believe that she had got to where she found herself. She saw by the +morning light, which was feebly straggling into the room, that she +was lying, fully dressed, on an untidy, dirty bed. The room looked +so abjectly wretched that she sprang from her resting-place and +attempted to draw the curtains, in order to take complete stock of +her surroundings--attempted, because the dark, cheap cretonne, of +which they were made, refused to move, their tops being nailed to +the upper woodwork of the window by tintacks. She tried the second +window (the room boasted two), with the same result, owing to a like +cause. For her safety's sake, she was relieved to find that the room +overlooked the Euston Road. + +After turning back the chintz curtains, she looked about her. She +had never been in such a truly awful-looking room before. She had +never imagined that any four walls could enclose such hopeless, +dejected desolation as she saw. A round table stood in the middle of +the carpetless room. There were several other tables about this one. +Upon one stood a basin, in which was water that had some time ago +been used for the ablutionary purposes of someone sadly in need of a +wash. Thick rims of dirt encrusted the sides of the basin where the +water had not reached. The looking glass was pimpled with droppings +from lighted candles. Upon a further table was a tumbler filthy to +look upon. The bed was painted iron; it wanted a leg, and to supply +the deficiency a grocer's box had been thrust underneath. The +blankets of the bed (which contained two pillows) were as grubby as +the sheets. The pillows beside the one on which she had slept bore +the impress of somebody's head. Over everything, walls, furniture, +ceiling, and floor, lay a thick deposit of dust and grime. Misspelt +lewd words were fingered on the dirt of the window-panes. The horror +of the room seemed to grip Mavis by the throat. She coughed, to +sicken at a foul feeling in her mouth, which seemed to be gritty +from the unclean air of the room. This atmosphere was not only as if +the windows had not been opened for years; it was as if it had been +inhaled over and over again by alcohol-breathing lungs; also, the +horrid memories of sordid lusts, of unnumbered bestial acts, seemed +to lie heavy on the polluted fuggy air. To get away from the all- +pervading stench, Mavis hurried to the door. This, she could not +help noticing, hung loosely on its hinges; also, that about the +doorplate were innumerable lock marks and screw holes, as if the +door had been furnished with fastenings, times out of number, till +the rotten wood refused to support any more. Mavis pulled open the +door and walked on to a carpetless landing and stairs. She stamped +with her foot, but this not attracting any attention, she called +aloud. Her voice echoed as if she were in a vault. After some time, +she heard a door unbolted, and a rough, unkempt man came up the +stairs. + +"How much?" asked Mavis. + +"Five shillin'." + +"For that?" + +"Five shillin'," repeated the man doggedly. + +Mavis did not further argue the point, as, when she opened her +mouth, the stench of the room she had quitted seemed to fasten on +her throat. + +She paid the money and was about to fly down the stairs. Then she +remembered her precious bag. Again holding her nose, she hurried +back into the room where she had unwittingly passed the night. The +bag was nowhere to be seen, although its outline was to be easily +traced in the dust on the table where she had put it. + +"My bag! my bag!" she cried. + +"Vot bag?" + +"The one I had last night. Here's its mark upon the table." + +"I know nodinks about it," replied the man, as he disappeared down +the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + +A NEW ACQUAINTANCE + + +Mavis' heart seemed to stop. She knew the bag contained her +trinkets, her reserve capital of twenty-three pounds, Perigal's +letters, her powder-puff, and other feminine odds and ends. What she +could not remember was if she had posted her note to Perigal, which +contained the money she was returning to him. As much as her +consternation would permit, she rapidly passed over in her mind +everything that had happened since she had left the restaurant in +Oxford Street. For the life of her, she could not recall going into +a postoffice to purchase the stamp of which she had been in need. +Her next thought was the quickest way to get back her property, at +which the word police immediately suggested itself. Once outside the +house, she made careful note of its number; she then walked quickly +till she came upon a policeman, to whom she told her trouble. + +"Was you there alone?" asked the constable. + +Mavis looked at him inquiringly. + +"I mean was you with a gentleman?" + +Mavis bit her lip, but saw it would not help her to be indignant. +She told the man how she got there, a statement which made him civil +and sympathetic. + +"It's a bad place, and we've had many complaints about it. You'd +better complain to the inspector at the station, miss." + +He directed her to where she should go. Exhausted with hunger and +the fear of losing all her possessions, she followed the policeman's +instructions, till she presently found herself telling an inspector +at the station of the theft; he advised her to either make a charge, +or, if she disliked the publicity of the police court, to instruct a +solicitor. Believing that making a charge would be more effectual, +besides speedier, she told the inspector of her decision. + +"Very well. Your name, please?" + +"Mavis Kenrick." + +"Mrs," he wrote, as he glanced at the wedding ring which she now +wore on her finger. + +"What address, please?" was his next question. + +"I haven't one at present." + +The man looked at her in surprise, at which Mavis explained how she +had come from Melkbridge the day before. + +"At least you can give us your husband's address." + +"He's abroad," declared Mavis, with as much resolution as she could +muster. + +"Then you might give me the address of your friends in Melkbridge." + +"To write to?" asked Mavis. + +"In case it should be necessary." + +Mavis was at once aware of the inconvenient consequences to which an +application for references to anyone at Melkbridge would give rise, +especially as her name and state were alike incorrectly given. She +hesitated for a few moments before telling the inspector that, +disliking the publicity of the police court, she would prefer to +instruct a solicitor. As she left the station, she would have felt +considerably crestfallen, had she not been faint from want of food. +She dragged her way to a tea-shop, to feel the better for a cup of +tea and some toast. The taste of the room in which she had passed +the night still fouled her mouth; its stench clung to her clothes. +She asked her way to the nearest public baths, where she thought a +shilling well spent in buying the luxury of a hot bath. Her next +concern was to seek out a solicitor who would assist her to recover +her stolen property. She had a healthy distrust of the tribe, and +was wondering if, after all, it would not have been better to have +risked the inspector's writing to any address she may have given at +Melkbridge, rather than trust any chance lawyer with the matter, +when she remembered that her old acquaintance, Miss Meakin, was +engaged to a solicitor's clerk. She resolved to seek out Miss +Meakin, and ask her to get her betrothed's advice and assistance. As +she did not know Miss Meakin's present address, she thought the +quickest way to obtain it was to call on her old friend Miss Nippett +at Blomfield Road, Shepherd's Bush, who kept the register of all +those who attended "Poulter's." + +She had never quite lost touch with the elderly accompanist; they +had sent each other cards at Christmas and infrequently exchanged +picture postcards, Miss Nippett's invariably being a front view of +"Poulter's," with Mr Poulter on the steps in such a position as not +to obscure "Turpsichor" in the background. + +Mavis travelled by the Underground to Shepherd's Bush, from where it +was only five minutes' walk to Miss Nippett's. The whole way down, +she was so dazed by her loss that she could give no thought to +anything else. The calamities that now threatened her were +infinitely more menacing than before her precious bag had been +stolen. It seemed as if man and circumstance had conspired for her +undoing. Her suspense of mind was such that it seemed long hours +before she knocked at the blistered door in the Blomfield Road where +Miss Nippett lived. + +Miss Nippett was in, she learned from the red-nosed, chilblain- +fingered slut who opened the door. + +"What nyme?" + +"Mrs Kenrick, who was Miss Keeves," replied Mavis. + +"Will you go up?" said the slut when, a few minutes later, she came +downstairs. + +Mavis went upstairs, past the cupboard containing Miss Nippett's +collection of unclaimed "overs," to the door directly beyond. + + + + "Come in" cried a well-remembered voice, as Mavis knocked. + +She entered, to see Miss Nippett half rising from a chair before the +fire. She was startled by the great change which had taken place in +the accompanist's appearance since she had last seen her. She looked +many years older; her figure was quite bent; the familiar shawl was +too ample for the narrow, stooping shoulders. + +"Aren't you well?" asked Mavis, as she kissed her friend's cheek. + +"Quite. Reely I am but for a slight cold. Mr Poulter, 'e's well too. +Fancy you married!" + +"Yes," said Mavis sadly. + +But Miss Nippett took no notice of her dejection. + +"I've never 'ad time to get married, there's so much to do at +'Poulter's.' You know! Still, there's no knowing." + +Mavis, distressed as she was, could hardly restrain a smile. + +"I've news too," went on Miss Nippett. + +"Have you?" asked Mavis, who was burning to get to the reason of her +call. + +"Ain't you heard of it?" + +"I can't say I have." + +By way of explanation, Miss Nippett handed Mavis one of a pile of +prospectuses at her elbow; she at once recognised the familiar +pamphlet that extolled Mr Poulter's wares. + +"See! 'E's got my name on the 'pectus. 'All particulars from +Poulter's or Miss Nippett, 19 Blomfield Road, W.' Isn't that +something to talk about and think over?" + +Mavis hastily assented; she was about to ask for Miss Meakin's +address, but Miss Nippett was too quick for her. + +"D'ye think he'll win?" + +"Who?" + +"Mr Poulter, of course. 'Aven't you 'eard?" + +"Tell me." + +"Oh, I say, you are ignorant! He's competing for the great cotillion +prize competition. I thought everybody knew about it." + +"I think I've heard something. But could you tell me Miss Meakin's +address?" + +"11 Baynham Street, North Kensington, near Uxbridge Road station," +Miss Nippett informed Mavis, after referring to an exercise book, to +add: "This is the dooplicate register of 'Poulter's.' I always keep +it here in case the other should get lost. Mr. Poulter, like all +them great men, is that careless." + +"Come again soon," said Miss Nippett, as Mavis rose to go. + +Mavis promised that she would. + +"How long have you been married?" + +"Not long. Three months." + +"Any baby?" + +"After three months!" blushed Mavis. + +"Working so at 'Poulter's' makes one forget them things. No +offence," apologised Miss Nippett. + +"Good-bye. I'll look in again soon." + +"If you 'ave any babies, see they're taught dancing at 'Poulter's.'" + +Between Notting Hill and Wormwood Scrubbs lies a vast desert of +human dwellings. Fringing Notting Hill they are inhabited by lower +middle-class folk, but, by scarcely perceptible degrees, there is a +declension of so-called respectability, till at last the frankly +working-class district of Latimer Road is reached. Baynham Street +was one of the ill-conditioned, down-at-heel little roads which +tenaciously fought an uphill fight with encroaching working-class +thoroughfares. Its inhabitants referred with pride to the fact that +Baynham Street overlooked a railway, which view could be obtained by +craning the neck out of window at risk of dislocation. A brawny man +was standing before the open door of No. 11 as Mavis walked up the +steps. + +"Is Bill coming?" asked the man, as he furtively lifted his hat. + +Mavis looked surprised. + +"To chuck out this 'ere lodger for Mrs. Scatchard wo' won't pay +up," he explained. + +"I know nothing about it," said Mavis. + +"Ain't you Mrs Dancer, Bill's new second wife?" + +Mavis explained that she had come to see Miss Meakin, at which the +man walked into the passage and knocked at the first door on the +left, as he called out: + +"Lady to see you!" + +"Who?" asked Miss Meakin, as she displayed a fraction of a scantily +attired person through the barely opened door. + +"Have you forgotten me?" asked Mavis, as she entered the passage. + +"Dear Miss Keeves! So good of you to call!" cried Miss Meakin, not a +little affectedly, so Mavis thought, as she raised her hand high +above her head to shake hands with her friend in a manner that was +once considered fashionable in exclusive Bayswater circles. + +She then opened the door wide enough for Mavis to edge her way in. +Mavis found herself in an apartment that was normally a +pretentiously furnished drawing-room. Just now, a lately vacated bed +was made up on the sofa; a recently used washing basin stood on a +chair; whilst Miss Meakin's unassumed garments strewed the floor. + +"And what's happened to you all this long time?" asked Miss Meakin, +as she sat on the edge of a chair in the manner of one receiving a +formal call. + +"To begin with, I'm married," said Mavis hurriedly, at which piece +of information her friend's face fell. + +"Any family?" she asked anxiously. + +"N-no--not yet." + +"I could have married Mr Napper a month ago--in fact he begged me on +his knees to," bridled Miss Meakin. + +"Why didn't you?" + +"We're going to his aunt's at Littlehampton for the honeymoon, but +I'm certainly not going till it's the season there." + +Mavis smiled. + +"Would you?" asked Miss Meakin. + +"Not if that sort of thing appealed to me." + +When Miss Meakin had explained that she had got up late because she +had been to a ball the night before, Mavis told her the reason of +her visit, at which Miss Meakin declared that Mr Napper was the very +man to help her. Mavis asked for his address. While her friend was +writing it down, a violent commotion was heard descending the stairs +and advancing along the passage. Mavis rightly guessed this was +caused by the forcible ejection of the lodger who had failed with +his rent. + +To Mavis' surprise, Miss Meakin did not make any reference to this +disturbance, but went on talking as if she were living in a refined +atmosphere which was wholly removed from possibility of violation. + +"There's one thing I should tell you," said Miss Meakin, as Mavis +rose to take her leave. "Mr Napper's employer, Mr Keating, besides +being a solicitor, sells pianos. Mr N. is expecting a lady friend, +who is thinking of buying one 'on the monthly,' so mind you explain +what you want." + +"I won't forget," said Mavis, making an effort to go. But as voices +raised in angry altercation could be heard immediately outside the +front door, Miss Meakin detained Mavis, asking, in the politest +tone, advice on the subject of the most fashionable material to wear +at a select dinner party. + +"I've quite given up 'Browning,'" she told Mavis, "he's so old- +fashioned to up-to-date people. Now I'm going to be Mrs Napper, when +the Littlehampton season comes round, I'm going in exclusively for +smartness and fashion." + +Mavis making as if she would go, and the disturbance not being +finally quelled, Miss Meakin begged Mavis to stay to lunch. She +repeatedly insisted on the word lunch, as if it conveyed a social +distinction in the speaker. + +Mavis had got as far as the door, when it burst open and an elderly +woman of considerable avoirdupois broke into the room, to sink +helplessly upon a flimsy chair which creaked ominously with its +burden. + +Miss Meakin introduced this person to Mavis as her aunt, Mrs +Scatchard, and reminded the latter how Mavis had rescued her niece +from the clutches of the bogus hospital nurse in Victoria Street so +many months back. + +"That you should call today of all days!" moaned the perspiring Mrs +Scatchard. + +"Why not today?" asked her niece innocently. + +"The day I'm disgraced to the neighbourhood by a 'visitor' being +turned out of doors." + +"I knew nothing of it," protested Miss Meakin. + +"And Mr Scatchard being a government official, as you might say." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, who was itching to be off. + +"Almost a pillar of the throne, as you might say," moaned the poor +woman. + +"True enough," murmured her niece. + +"A man who, as you might say, has had the eyes of Europe upon him." + +"Ah!" sighed Miss Meakin. + +"And me, too, who am, as it were, an outpost of blood in this no- +class neighbourhood," continued Mrs Scatchard. + +Mavis wondered when she would be able to get away. + +"My father was a tax-collector," Mrs Scatchard informed Mavis. + +"Indeed!" said the latter. + +"And in a most select London suburb. Do you believe in blood?" + +"I think so." + +"Then you must come here often. Blood is so scarce in North +Kensington." + +"Thank you." + +"Why not stay and have a bit of dinner?" + +"Lunch," corrected Miss Meakin with a frown. + +"We've a lovely sheep's heart and turnips," said Mrs Scatchard, +disregarding her niece's pained interruption. + +Mavis thanked kindly Mrs Scatchard, but said she must be off. She +was not permitted to go before she promised to let Miss Meakin know +the result of her visit to Mr Napper. + +Mavis spent three of her precious pennies in getting to the office +of Mr Keating, which was situated in a tiny court running out of +Holborn. Upon the first door she came to was inscribed "A.F. +Keating, Solicitor, Commissioner for Oaths," whilst upon an adjacent +door was painted "Breibner, Importer of Pianofortes." She tried the +handle of the solicitor's door, to find that it was locked. She was +wondering what she should do when a tall, thin, podgy-faced man came +in from the court. Mavis instinctively guessed that he was Mr +Napper. + +"'Ave you been waiting long, madam?" he asked. + +"I've just come. Are you Mr Napper?" + +"It is. Everybody knows me." + +"I've come from Miss Meakin." + +"Today?" he asked, as his white face lit up. + +"I've come straight from her." + +"And after what I said at last night's 'light fantastic,' she has +sent you to me!" he cried excitedly, as he opened the door on which +was inscribed "Breibner + +"RE consultation, madam. If you will be good enough to step this +way, I shall be 'appy to take your instructions." + +Mavis, despite her distress of mind, was not a little amused at this +alteration in Mr Napper's manner. She followed him into Mr Keating's +office, where she saw a very small office-boy, who, directly he set +his eyes on Mr Napper, made great pretence of being busy. She was +shown into an inner room, where she was offered an armchair. Upon +taking it, Mr Napper gravely seated himself at a desk and said: + +"Mr Keating is un'appily absent. Any confidence made to me is the +same as made to 'im." + +Mavis recited her trouble, of which Mr Napper put down the details. + +When he had got these, Mavis waited in suspense. Mr Napper looked at +his watch. + +"Do you think you can do anything?" Mavis asked. + +"I'm going to do my best, quite as much for Miss Meakin's sake as +for the dignity of my profession," replied Mr Napper. "Please read +through this, and, if it is correct, kindly sign." + +Here he handed Mavis a statement of all she had told him in respect +of her loss. After seeing that it was rightly set down, she signed +"Mavis Kenrick" at the foot of the document. + +"Vincent!" cried Mr Napper, as Mavis handed it back. + +"Yessur," answered the tiny office-boy smartly, as he made the most +of his height in the doorway. + +"I am going out on important business." + +"Yessur." + +"I shan't be back for the best part of an hour." + +"Yessur." + +"If this lady cares to, she will wait till my return." + +"Yessur." + +Mr Napper dismissed Vincent and then turned to Mavis. + +"If I may say so, I can see by your face that you're fond of +literature," he said. + +"I like reading." + +"Law and music is my 'obby, as you might say. The higher literature +is my intellect." + +"Indeed!" + +"Let me lend you something to read while you're waiting." + +"You're very kind. But I've had nothing to eat. Would you mind if I +took it out with me?" + +"Delighted! What do you say to Locke's Human Understanding?" he +asked, as he produced a book. + +"Thank you very much." + +"Or here's Butler's Anatomy of Melancholy." + +"But--" + +"Or 'Obbes's Leviathan," he suggested, producing a third volume. + +"Thank you, but Locke will do to begin upon." + +"Ask me to explain anything you don't understand," he urged. + +"I won't fail to," she replied, at which Mr Napper took his leave. + +Mavis went to a neighbouring tea-shop, where she obtained the food +of which she was in need. When she returned to Mr Keating's office, +she was shown into the inner room by Vincent, who shut the door as +he left her. She was still a prey to anxiety, and succeeded in +convincing herself how comparatively happy she would be if only she +could get back her stolen goods. To distract her thoughts from her +present trouble, she tried to be interested in the opening chapter +of the work that Mr Napper had lent her. But it proved too +formidable in her present state of mind. She would read a passage, +to find that it conveyed no meaning; she was more interested in the +clock on the mantel-piece and wondering how long it would be before +she got any news. One peculiarity of Mr Napper's book attracted her +attention: she saw that, whereas the first few pages were dog's- +eared and thumb-marked, the succeeding ones were as fresh as when +they issued from the bookseller's hands. + +While she was thus waiting in suspense, she heard strange sounds +coming from the office where Vincent worked. She went to the door, +to look through that part of it which was of glass. She saw Vincent, +who, so far as she could gather, was talking as if to an audience, +the while he held an inkpot in one hand and the office cat in the +other. When he had finished talking, he caused these to vanish, at +which he acknowledged the applause of an imaginary audience with +repeated bows. After another speech, he reproduced the cat and the +inkpot, proceedings which led Mavis to think that the boy had +conjuring aspirations. + +Her heart beat quickly when Mr Napper re-entered the office. + +"It's all right!" he hastened to assure her. "You're to come off +with me to the station to identify your property." + +Mavis thanked him heartfully when she learned that the police, +having received a further complaint of the house where she had spent +the night, had obtained a warrant and promptly raided the place, +with the result that her bag (with other missing property) had been +recovered. As they walked in the direction of the station, Mr. +Napper asked her how she had got on with Locke's Human +Understanding. Upon her replying that it was rather too much for her +just then, he said: + +"Just you listen to me." + +Here he launched into an amazing farrago of scientific terms, in +which the names of great thinkers and scientists were mingled at +random. There was nothing connected in his talk; he seemed to be +repeating, parrot fashion, words and formulas that he had chanced +upon in his dipping into the works that he had boasted of +comprehending. + +Mavis looked at him in astonishment. He mistook her surprise for +admiration. + +"I'm afraid you haven't understood much of what I've been saying," +he remarked. + +"Not very much." + +"You've paid me a great compliment," he said, looking highly pleased +with himself. + +Then he spoke of Miss Meakin. + +"You'll tell her what I've done for you?" + +"Most certainly." + +"Last night, at the 'light fantastic' I told you of, we had a bit of +a tiff, when I spoke my mind. Would you believe it, she only danced +twenty hops with me out of the twenty-three set down?" + +"What bad taste!" + +"I'm glad you think that. Her sending you to me shows she isn't +offended at what I said. I did give it her hot. I threw in plenty of +scientific terms and all that." + +"Poor girl!" remarked Mavis. + +"Yes, she was to be pitied. But here we are at the station." + +Mavis went inside with Mr Napper, where she proved her title to her +stolen property by minutely describing the contents of her bag, from +which she was rejoiced to find nothing had been taken. Her unposted +letter to Perigal was with her other possessions. + +As they were leaving the station, Mr Napper remarked: + +"The day before yesterday I had the greatest compliment of my life +paid me." + +"And what was that?" asked Mavis. + +"A lady told me that she'd known me three years, and that all that +time she never understood what my scientific conversation was +about." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX + +TRAVAIL + + +If Mavis had believed that the recovery of her property would give +her peace of mind, she soon discovered how grievously she was +mistaken. + +Directly she left the police station with Mr Napper, all her old +fears and forebodings for the future resumed sway over her thoughts. +As before, she sought to allay them by undiminished faith in her +lover. She accepted Mr Napper's hospitality in the form of tea and +toast at a branch of the Aerated Bread Company, where she asked him +how much she was in his debt for his services. To her surprise, he +replied, "Nothing at all," and added that he was only too glad to +assist her, not only for Miss Meakin's sake, but because he felt +that Mavis dimly appreciated his intellectuality. Upon Mavis +untruthfully replying that she did, Mr Napper gave a further effort +to impress, not only her, but others seated about them; he talked +his jargon of scientific and philosophical phrases at the top of his +voice. She was relieved when she was rid of his company. She then +took train to Shepherd's Bush, where she called on Miss Meakin as +promised. Much to her surprise, Miss Meakin, who was now robed in a +flimsy and not too clean teagown, had not the slightest interest in +knowing if Mavis had recovered her property; indeed, she had +forgotten that Mavis had lost anything. She was only concerned to +know what Mavis thought of Mr Napper, and what this person had said +about herself: on this last matter, Mavis was repeatedly cross- +questioned. Mavis then spoke of a matter she had thought of on the +way down: that of engaging a room at Mrs Scatchard's if she had one +to let. Miss Meakin, however, protested that she had nothing to do +with the business arrangements of the house, and declared that her +aunt had better be consulted. + +Upon Mavis interviewing Mrs Scatchard on the matter, the latter +declared that her niece had suggested the subject to her directly +after Mavis had left in the morning, a statement which Miss Meakin +did not appear to overhear. Mrs Scatchard showed Mavis a clean, +homely little room. The walls were decorated with several +photographs of celebrations, which, so far as she could see, were +concerned with the doings of royalty. When it came to the discussion +of terms, Mrs Scatchard pointed out to Mavis the advantage of being +in a house rented by a man like Mr Scatchard, who was "so mixed up +with royalty," as she phrased it; but, partly in consideration of +the timely service which Mavis had once rendered Miss Meakin, and +largely on the score that Mavis boasted of blood (she had done +nothing of the kind), Mrs Scatchard offered her the room, together +with use of the bathroom, for four-and-sixpence a week. Upon Mavis +learning that the landlady would not object to Jill's presence, she +closed with the offer. At Mrs Scatchard's invitation, she spent the +evening in the sitting-room downstairs, where she was introduced to +Mr Scatchard. If, as had been alleged, Mr Scatchard was a pillar of +the throne, that august institution was in a parlous condition. He +was a red-headed, red-eyed, clean-shaven man, in appearance not +unlike an elderly cock; his blotchy face, thick utterance, and the +smell of his breath, all told Mavis that he was addicted to drink. +Mavis wondered how this fuddled man, whose wife let lodgings in a +shabby corner of Shepherd's Bush, could be remotely associated with +Government, till it leaked out that he had been for many years, and +still was, one of the King's State trumpeters. + +Mavis was grateful to the Scatchards for their humble hospitality, +if only because it prevented her mind from dwelling on her +extremity. She was so tired with all she had gone through, that, +directly she got to bed, she fell asleep, to awake about five with a +mind possessed by fears for the future. Try as she could, faith in +her lover refused to supply the relief necessary to allow her +further sleep. + +About seven, kindly Mrs Scatchard brought her up some tea, her +excuse for this attention being that "blood" could not be expected +to get up without a cup of this stimulant. Mrs Scatchard, like most +stout women, was of a nervous, kindly, ingenuous disposition. It +hurt Mavis considerably to tell her the story she had concocted, of +a husband in straitened circumstances in America, who was struggling +to prepare a home for her. Mrs Scatchard was herself a bereaved +mother. Much moved by her recollections, she gave Mavis needed and +pertinent advice with reference to her condition. + +"There is kindness in the world," thought Mavis, when she was alone. + +After breakfast, that was supplied at a previously arranged charge +of fourpence, Mavis, fearing the company of her thoughts, betook +herself to Miss Nippett in the Blomfield Road. + +She found her elderly friend in bed, a queer, hapless figure in her +pink flannel nightgown. + +"I haven't heard anything," said Miss Nippett, as soon as she caught +sight of Mavis. + +"Of what?" + +"What luck Mr Poulter's had at the dancing competition! Haven't you +come about that?" + +"I came to see how you were." + +"Don't you worry about me. I shall be right again soon; reely I +shall." + +Mavis tried to discover if Miss Nippett were properly looked after, +but without result, Miss Nippett's mind being wholly possessed by +"Poulter's" and its chief. + +"He promised to send me a postcard to say how he got on, but I +suppose he was too busy to remember," sighed Miss Nippett. + +"Surely not!" + +"He's like all these great men: all their 'earts in their fame, with +no thought for their humble assistants," she complained, to add +after a few moments' pause, "A pity you're married." + +"Why?" + +"'Cause, since I've been laid up, he's been in want of a reliable +accompanist." + +Mavis explained that she would be glad of some work, at which her +friend said: + +"Then off you go at once to the academy. He's often spoken of you, +and quite nicely, and he's asked for you in family prayers. If he's +won the prize, it's as sure as 'knife' that he'll give you the job. +And mind you come and tell me if he's won." + +Mavis thanked her wheezing, kind-hearted friend, and promised that +she would return directly she had any news. Then, with hope in her +heart, she hurried to the well-remembered academy, where she had +sought work so many eventful months ago. As before, she looked into +the impassive face of "Turpsichor" while she waited for the door to +be answered. + +A slatternly servant of the charwoman species replied to her +summons. Upon Mavis saying that she wanted to see Mr Poulter +immediately, she was shown into the "Ladies' Waiting Room," from +which Mavis gathered that Mr Poulter had returned. + +After a while, Mr Poulter came into the room with a shy, self- +conscious smile upon his lovable face. + +"You've heard?" he asked, as she shook hands. + +Mavis looked at him in surprise. + +"Of course you have, and have come to congratulate me," he +continued. + +"I'm glad you've been successful," said Mavis, now divining the +reason of his elation. + +"Yes" (here he sighed happily), "I've won the great cotillion prize +competition. Just think of it!" Here he took a deep breath before +saying, "All the dancing-masters in the United Kingdom competed, +even including Gellybrand" (here his voice and face perceptibly +hardened), "but I won." + +"I congratulate you," said Mavis. + +Mr Poulter's features weakened into a broad smile eloquent of an +immense satisfaction. + +"You can tell people you've been one of the first to congratulate +me," he remarked. + +"I won't forget. I was sorry to see that Miss Nippett is so unwell." + +"It's most unfortunate; it so interferes with the evening classes." + +"But she may get well soon." + +"I fear not." + +"Really?" asked Mavis, genuinely concerned for her friend's health. + +"It's a great pity. Accompanists like her are hard to find. Besides, +she was well acquainted with all the many ramifications of the +academy." + +Mavis recalled that, in the old days of her association with +"Poulter's," she had noticed that otherwise kindly Mr Poulter took +Miss Nippett's body and soul loyalty to him quite as a matter of +course. Time, apparently, had not caused him to think otherwise of +the faithful accompanist than as a once capable but now failing +machine. + +Mr Poulter asked Mavis what had happened to her since he had last +seen her. She told him the fiction of her marriage; it hurt her to +see how glibly the lie now fell from her lips. + +After Mr Poulter had congratulated her and her absent husband, he +said: + +"I fear you would not care to undertake any accompanying." + +"But I should." + +"As you did before?" + +"Certainly!" + +It was then arranged that Mavis should commence work at the academy +on that day, for much the same terms she was paid before. This +matter being settled, she asked for notepaper and envelope, on which +she wrote to Mrs Farthing, asking her to be so good as to send Jill +at once, and to be sure to let her know by what train she would +arrive at Paddington. Mavis was careful to head the notepaper with +the address of the academy; she did not wish anyone at Melkbridge to +know her actual address. After taking leave of Mr Poulter and +posting her letter, she repaired to Miss Nippett's as arranged. The +accompanist was now out of bed, in a chair before the fire. Directly +she caught sight of Mavis, she said: + +"'As he won?" + +"Yes, he's won the great cotillion prize competition." + +A look of intense joy illumined Miss Nippett's face. + +"Isn't he proud?" she asked. + +"Very!" + +"An' me not there to see him in his triumph." A cloud overspread +Miss Nippett's features. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mavis. + +"Did he--did he send and tell you to tell me as 'ow he'd won." + +The wistful old eyes were so pleading, that Mavis fibbed. + +"Of course he sent me." + +"I thought he wouldn't forget his old friend," she remarked with a +sigh of relief. "'E'd surely know I was anxious to know." + +Mavis told Miss Nippett of her engagement to play at "Poulter's" +during the latter's absence. + +"Don't you count on it being for long," said Miss Nippett. + +"I hope it won't be, for your sake." + +"I'm counting the minute' till I shall be back again at the +academy," declared Miss Nippett. + +Mavis, as she looked at the eager, pinched face, could well believe +that she was speaking the truth. + +"I shall buy you a bottle of port wine," said Mavis. + +"What say?" + +Mavis repeated her words. + +"Oh, I say! Fancy me 'avin' port wine! I once 'ad a glass; it did +make me feel 'appy." + +Two days later, in accordance with the contents of a letter she had +received from Mrs Farthing, Mavis met the train at Paddington that +was to bring her dear Jill from Melkbridge. She discovered her +friend huddled in a corner of the guard's van; her grief was piteous +to behold, her eyes being full of tears, which the kindly attentions +of the guard had not dissipated. Directly she saw her mistress, Jill +uttered a cry that was almost human in its gladness, and tried to +jump into Mavis' arms. + +When Jill was released, Mavis hugged her in her arms, careless of +the attention her devotion attracted. + +With her friend restored to her, that evening was the happiest she +had spent for some time. + +For many succeeding weeks, Mavis passed her mornings with Jill, or +Miss Nippett, or both; and most of her afternoons and all of her +evenings at the academy. The long hours, together with the +monotonous nature of the work, greatly taxed her energies, lessened +as these were by the physical stress through which she was passing. + +She obtained infrequent distraction from the peculiarities of the +pupils. One, in particular, who was a fat Jewess, named Miss Hyman, +greatly amused her. This person was desperately anxious to learn +waltzing, but was handicapped by bandy legs. As she spun round and +round the room with Mr Poulter, or any other partner, she would +close her eyes and continually repeat aloud, "One, two, three; one, +two, three," the while her feet kept step with the music. + +Otherwise, her days were mostly drab-coloured, the only thing that +at all kept up her spirits being her untiring faith in Perigal--a +faith which, in time, became a mechanical action of mind. Strive as +she might to quell rebellious thoughts, now and again she would rage +soul and body at the web that fate, or Providence, had spun about +her life. At these times, it hurt her to the quick to think that, +instead of being the wife she deserved to be, she was in her present +unprotected condition, with all its infinite possibilities of +disaster. Again and again the thought would recur to her that she +might have been Windebank's wife at any time that she had cared to +encourage his overtures, and if she were desirable as a wife in his +eyes, why not in Charlie Perigal's! Gregarious instincts ran in her +blood. For all her frequent love of solitude, there were days when +her soul ached for the companionship of her own social kind. This +not being forthcoming-indeed (despite her faith in Perigal) there +being little prospect of it--she avoided as much as possible the +sight of, or physical contact with, those prosperous ones whom she +knew to be, in some cases, her equals; in most, her social +inferiors. + +It was at night when she was most a prey to unquiet thoughts. Tired +with her many hours' work at the piano, she would fall into a deep +sleep, with every prospect of its continuing till Mrs Scatchard +would bring up her morning cup of tea, when Mavis would suddenly +awaken, to remain for interminable hours in wide-eyed thought. She +would go over and over again events in her past life, more +particularly those that had brought her to her present pass. The +immediate future scarcely bothered her at all, because, for the +present, she was pretty sure of employment at the academy. On the +very rare occasions on which she suffered her mind to dwell on what +would happen after her child was born, should Perigal not fulfil his +repeated promises, her vivid imagination called up such appalling +possibilities that she refused to consider them; she had enough +sense to apply to her own case the wisdom contained in the words, +"sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." + +In these silent watches of the night, so protracted and awesome was +the quiet, that it would seem to the girl's preternatural +sensibilities as if the life of the world had come to a dead stop, +and that only she and the little one within her were alive. Then she +would wonder how many other girls in London were in a like situation +to hers; if they were constantly kept awake obsessed by the same +fears; also, if, like her, they comforted themselves by clasping a +ring which they wore suspended on their hearts--a ring given them by +the loved one, even as was hers. Then she would fall to realising +the truth of the saying, "How easily things go wrong." It seemed +such a little time since she had been a happy girl at Melkbridge (if +she had only realised how really happy she was!), with more than +enough for her everyday needs, when her heart was untrammelled by +love; when she was healthful, and, apart from the hours which she +was compelled to spend at the office, free. Now--An alert movement +within her was more eloquent than thought. + +Sometimes she would believe that her present visitation of nature +was a punishment for her infringement of God's moral law; whilst at +others she would rejoice with a pagan exultation that, whatever the +future held in store, she had most gloriously lived in these crowded +golden moments which were responsible for her present plight. + +Once or twice her distress of mind was such that she could no longer +bear the darkness; she would light the candle, when the confinement +of the walls, the sight of the orderly and familiar furniture of the +room, would suggest an imprisoning environment from which there was +no escape. As if to make a desperate effort to free herself, she +would jump out of bed, and, throwing the window up, would look out +on the night, as if to implore from nature the succour that she +failed to get elsewhere. If the night were clear, she would gaze up +at the heavens, as if to wrest from its countless eyes some solution +of, or, failing that, some sympathy for her extremity of mind. But, +for all the eagerness with which her terror-stricken eyes would +search the stars, these looked down indifferently, unpityingly, +impersonally, as if they were so inured to the sight of sorrow that +they were now careless of any pain they witnessed. Then, with a pang +at her heart, she would wonder if Perigal were also awake and were +thinking of her. She convinced herself again and again that her +agonised communing with the night would in some mysterious way +affect his heart, to incline it irresistibly to hers, as in those +never-to-be-forgotten nights and days at Polperro. + +She heard from him fairly regularly, when he wrote letters urging +her for his sake to be brave, and telling of the many shocks he had +received from the persistent ill luck which he was seeking to +overcome. If he had known how eagerly she awaited the familiar +writing, how she read and re-read, times without number, every line +he wrote, how she treasured the letters, sleeping with them under +her pillow at night, he would have surely written with more +persistency and at greater length than he did. Occasionally he would +enclose money; this she always returned, saying that, as she was now +in employment, she had more than enough for her simple needs. Once, +after sending back a five-pound note he had sent her, she received a +letter by return of post--a letter which gave a death blow to +certain hopes she had cherished. She had long debated in her mind if +she should apply the gold-mounted dressing case which Windebank had +sent her for a wedding present to a purchase very near to her heart. +She knew that, if he could know of the purpose to which she +contemplated devoting it, and of her straightened circumstances, he +would wish her to do as she desired. Having no other money +available, she was tempted to sell or pawn the dressing case, to buy +with the proceeds a handsome outfit for the expected little life, +one that should not be unworthy of a gentlewoman's child. She felt +that, as, owing to the unconventional circumstances of its birth, +the little one might presently be deprived of many of life's +advantages, it should at least be appropriately clad in the early +days of its existence. She had already selected the intended +purchase, and was rejoicing in its richness and variety, when the +reply came to her letter to Perigal that returned the five-pound +note. This told Mavis what straitened circumstances her lover was +in. He asked what she had done with the gold-mounted dressing case, +and, if it were still in her possession, if she could possibly let +him have the loan of it in order to weather an impending financial +storm. With a heart that strove valiantly to be cheerful, Mavis +renounced further thought of the contemplated layette, and sent off +the dressing case to her lover. It was a further (and this time a +dutiful) sacrifice of self on the altar of the loved one. Most of +her spare time was now devoted to the making of the garments, which, +in the ordinary course of nature, would be wanted in about two +months. Sometimes, while working, she would sing little songs that +would either stop short soon after they were started, or else would +continue almost to the finish, when they would end abruptly in a +sigh. Often she would wonder if the child, when born, would resemble +its father or its mother; if her recent experiences would affect its +nature: all the thousand and one things that that most holy thing on +earth, an expectant, loving mother, thinks of the life which love +has called into being. + +At all times she told herself that, if her wishes were consulted, +she would prefer the child to be a boy, despite the fact that it was +a more serious matter to launch a son on the world than a daughter. +But she knew well that, if anything were to happen to her lover +(this was now her euphemism for his failing to keep his promise), a +boy, when he came to man's estate, might find it in his heart to +forgive his mother for the untoward circumstances of his birth, +whereas a daughter would only feel resentment at the possible +handicap with which the absence of a father and a name would inflict +her life. Thus Mavis worked with her needle, and sang, and thought, +and travailed; and daily the little life within her became more +insistent. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN + +THE NURSING HOME + + +A day came when Mavis's courage failed. Acting on the advice of +kindly Mrs Scatchard, she had bought, for the sum of one guinea, a +confinement outfit from a manufacturer of such things. She unpacked +her purchase fearfully. Her heart beat painfully at the thought of +the approaching ordeal that the sight of the various articles +awakened. + +At the same time, she saw Perigal's conduct in the cold light of +reason. She was surprised to find how bitter she was with herself +for loving a man who could behave as selfishly as he had done. While +the mood possessed her, she went to a post-office and sent a reply- +paid telegram to Perigal, telling him to come to town at once, and +asking him to wire the train by which he would arrive. After sending +the telegram, she somewhat repented of her precipitancy, and waited +in much suspense to see what the answer would be. When, some two +hours later, she heard the double knock of a telegraph boy at the +door, her heart was filled with nervous apprehension, in which +reawakened love for Perigal bore no inconsiderable part. She opened +his reply with trembling hands. "Why? Wire or write reason--love-- +Charles," it ran. + +In reply, she sat down and wrote a long letter, in which she told +him how she was situated, reminded him of his promises, which, if he +still loved her, as he had professed times out of number in his +letters, it was now more than ever incumbent on him to fulfil; she +concluded by imploring him to decide either one way or the other and +put an end to her suspense. Two days later, the first post brought a +letter from Wales. By the time it arrived Mavis had, in some +measure, schooled her fears and rebellious doubtings of her lover; +therefore, she was not so disappointed at its contents as she would +otherwise have been. The letter was written in much the same strain +as his other communications. While expressing unalterable love for +Mavis, together with pride at the privileges she had permitted him +to enjoy, it told her how he was beset by countless perplexities, +and that directly he saw his way clear he would do as she wished: in +the meantime, she was to trust him as implicitly as before. + +Mavis sighed as she finished the letter; she then became lost in +troubled thought, during which she was uncertain whether to laugh +for joy or sorrow. She laughed for joy, perhaps because her mind, as +once before when similarly confronted, had chosen the easier way of +self-preservation, an instinct specially insistent in one of Mavis's +years. She laughed for very happiness and persuaded herself that she +was indeed a lucky girl to be loved so devotedly. + +Although the colour soon went out of the blue sky of her joy-world, +and its trees and flowers lacked much of their one-time freshness, +she was not a little grateful for her short experience of its +delights. It helped her to bear the slights and disappointments of +the following days, of which she had no inconsiderable share. + +As the year grew older, it became increasingly necessary for Mavis +to discover a place where she might stay during, and for a while +after, her confinement. Mrs Scatchard had told her from the first, +that however much she might be disposed to let Mavis remain in the +house for this event, Mr Scatchard strongly objected, at his age, to +the inconvenience of a baby under the same roof. Mavis filled many +weary hours in dragging herself up and down front-door steps in the +quest for accommodation; but she spent her strength in vain. +Directly landladies learned of the uses to which Mavis would put the +room she wished to engage, they became resentful, and sullenly told +her that they could not accommodate her. Little as Mavis was +disposed to find harbourage for herself and little one in the +unhomely places she inspected, she was hurt by the refusals +encountered. It seemed to her that the act of gravely imperilling +life in order to confer life was a situation which demanded loving +care and devoted attention, necessities she lacked: the refusal of +blowsy landladies to entertain her application hurt her more than +the other indignities that she had, so far, been compelled to +endure. One Sunday afternoon Mrs Scatchard brought up the People, in +the advertising columns of which was a list of nursing homes. Mavis +eagerly scanned the many particulars set forth, till she decided +that "Nurse G.," who lived at New Cross, made the most seductive +offer. This person advertised a comfortable home to married ladies +during and after confinement; skilled care and loving attention were +furnished for strictly moderate terms. + +Mavis decided to call on Nurse G. the following day. + +The atmosphere of the Scatchards' had recently been highly charged, +as if in preparation for an event of moment. Whenever Mr Scatchard +took his walks abroad, he was always accompanied by either his wife +or niece, who, when they finally piloted him home, would wear a look +of self-conscious triumph. When Mavis came down to breakfast, before +setting out for New Cross, there was a hum of infinite preparation. +Mr Scatchard was greasing his hair; gorgeous raiment was being +packed into a bag; the final polish was being given to a silver +trumpet. Both Mrs Scatchard and her niece, besides being cloaked and +bonneted, wore an expression of grim resolution. Mr Scatchard had +the look of a hunted animal at bay. Little was said, but just before +Mavis started, Miss Meakin came to her and whispered: + +"Wish us luck, dear." + +"Luck?" queried Mavis. + +"Don't you know of uncle and to-day's great doings?" + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Uncle and the King Emperor," explained Miss Meakin. "There's a +royal kick up to-day, and uncle and the King Emperor will be there." + +"Have you and your aunt had an invitation too?" asked Mavis +mischievously. + +"Not into the palace, as you might say. But we're both going as far +as the gates with uncle, to see he gets there safely and isn't +tempted by the way." + +Soon after, Mr Scatchard left with the two women, looking, for all +the world, like a prisoner in charge of lynx-eyed warders. Then +Mavis made the long and tiring journey to New Cross. Nurse G. had +advertised her nursing home as being at No. 9 Durley Road. This +latter she found to be a depressing little thoroughfare of two- +storeyed houses, all exactly alike. She could discover nothing +particularly inviting in the outside appearance of No. 9. Soiled, +worn, cotton lace curtains hung behind not over-clean windows; +behind these again were dusty, carefully closed Venetian blinds. +Mavis passed and repassed the house, uncertain whether or not to +call. Before deciding which to do, she made a mental calculation +(she was always doing this now) of exactly how much she would have +left after being paid by Mr Poulter and settling up with Mrs +Scatchard. As before, she reckoned to have exactly seven pounds +fifteen shillings. She had no intention of asking Perigal for help, +as in his last letter he had made copious reference to his +straitened circumstances. Any debasing shifts and mean discomforts +to which her poverty might expose her she looked on as a yet further +sacrifice upon the altar of the loved one, faith in whom had become +the cardinal feature of her life. The terms "strictly moderate" +advertised by Nurse G. decided her. She opened the iron gate and +walked to the door. Directly she knocked, she heard two or three +windows thrown up in neighbouring houses, from which the bodies of +unkempt women projected, to cast interested glances in Mavis's +direction. As she waited, she could hear the faint puling of a baby +within the house. Next, she was conscious that a lath of a Venetian +blind was pulled aside and that someone was spying upon her from the +aperture. She waited further, the while two of the curious women who +leaned from the windows were loudly deciding the date on which +Mavis's baby would be born. Then, the door of No. 9 was suspiciously +opened about six inches. Mavis found herself eagerly scanned by a +fraction of a woman's face. The next moment, the woman, who had +caught sight of Mavis's appearance, which was now very indicative of +her condition, threw the door wide open and called cheerily: + +"Come in, my dear; come in." + +"I want Nurse G.," said Mavis. + +"That's me: G--Gowler. Come inside." + +"But--" hesitated Mavis, as she glanced at the repulsive face of the +woman. + +"Do either one thing or the other: come right in or keep out. The +neighbours do that talk." + +Mavis walked into the passage, at which the woman sharply closed the +door. The puling of the baby was distinctly louder. + +"We'll 'ave to talk 'ere," continued the woman, with some weakening +of her previous cordiality, "we're that full up: two in a room an' +all expectin'. But then it never rains but it pours, as you might +say." + +Mavis resisted an impulse to fly from the house. The more she saw of +Mrs Gowler (the woman wore a wedding ring), the less she liked her. +To begin with, her appearance had given Mavis much of a shock. Her +alert fancy had conjured up a vision of a kindly, motherly woman, +with soft eyes and voice, whose mere presence would have spoken of +the sympathy and tenderness for which the lonely heart of Mavis +ached. Nurse Gowler was short, fat, and puffy, with her head sunk +right into her shoulders. Her pasty face, with its tiny eyes, +contained a mouth of which the upper lip was insufficient to cover +her teeth when her jaws were closed; some of these teeth were +missing, but whole ones and stumps alike were discoloured with +decay. It was her eyes which chiefly repelled Mavis: pupil, iris, +and the part surrounding this last, were all of the same colour, a +hard, bilious-looking green. Her face suggested to Mavis a flayed +pig's head, such as can be seen in pork butchers' shops. As if this +were not enough to disgust Mavis, the woman's manner soon lost the +geniality with which she had greeted her; she stood still and +impassively by Mavis, who could not help believing that Mrs Gowler +was attentively studying her from her hat to her shoe leather. + +Mavis began her story, to be interrupted by a repressed cry of pain +proceeding from the partly open door on the right. Mrs Gowler +quickly closed it. + +Mavis resumed her story. When she got to the part where her supposed +husband was in America, Mrs Gowler impatiently interrupted her by +saying: + +"Where 'e's making a 'ome for you." + +"How did you know?" asked the astonished Mavis. + +"It's always the way; we've lots of 'em like that here, occasionals +and regulars." + +"Occasionals and regulars!" + +"Lor' bless you, some of 'em comes as punctual as the baked potato +man in October. When was you expectin'?" + +"I'm not quite certain," replied Mavis, at which Mrs Gowler plied +her with a number of questions, leading the former to remark +presently: + +"I guess you're due next Friday two weeks. To prevent accidents, +you'd better come on the Wednesday night. If you like to book a bed, +I'll see it's kep'." + +"But what are your charges?" + +"'Ow much can you afford?" + +After discussion, it was arranged that, if Mavis decided to stay +with Mrs Gowler for three weeks certain, she was to pay twenty-two +shillings a week, this sum to include the woman's skilled attendance +and nursing, together with bed and board. In the event of Mavis +wanting medical advice, Mrs Gowler had an arrangement with a doctor +by which he charged the moderate fee of a shilling a visit to any of +her patients that required his services. The extreme reasonableness +of the terms inclined Mavis to decide on going to Mrs Gowler's. + +"There's only one thing," she said: "I've a dog; she's a great pet +and quite clean. If you wouldn't object to her coming, I might--" + +"Bring her: bring her. Is she having dear little puppies?" + +"Oh dear, no." + +"A pity. The more the merrier. I love work." + +This decided Mavis. With considerable misgiving, but spurred by +poverty, she told the woman that she was coming. + +"An' what about binding our bargain?" asked Mrs Gowler. + +"How much do you want?" asked Mavis, as she produced her purse. +"Will five shillings do?" + +"It'll do," admitted Mrs Gowler grudgingly, although the deposit she +usually received was half a crown. + +"I feel rather faint. Is there anywhere I can sit down for a +minute?" asked Mavis. + +"If you don't mind the kitchen. P'raps you'd like a cup of tea. I +always keep it ready on the fire." + +Mavis thanked her and followed Mrs Gowler to the room indicated. +Although it was late in May, a roaring fire was burning in the +kitchen, about which, on various sized towel-horses, numerous +articles of babies' attire were airing. + +"Too 'ot for yer?" asked Mrs Gowler. + +"I don't mind where it is so long as I sit down." + +"'Ow do you like your tea?" asked her hostess. "Noo or stooed?" + +"I'd like fresh tea if it isn't any trouble," replied Mavis. + +The tea was quickly made, there being a plentiful supply of boiling +water. Whilst Mavis was gratefully sipping hers, a noise of +something falling was heard in the scullery behind. + +"It's that dratted cat," cried Mrs Gowler, as she caught up a broom +and waddled from the kitchen. She returned, a moment later, with +something remotely approaching a look of tenderness in her eyes. + +"It's awright; it's my Oscar," she remarked. + +Then what appeared to be a youth of eighteen years of age entered +the kitchen. He was dark, with a receding forehead; his chin, much +too large for his face, seemed as if it had been made for somebody +else. His absence of expression, together with the feeling of +discomfort that at once seized Mavis, told her that he was an idiot. + +"Go an' shake hands with the lady, Oscar." + +Mavis shuddered to feel his damp palm upon hers. + +"You wouldn't believe it, but 'e's six fingers on each 'and, and +'e's twenty-eight: ain't yer, Oscar?" remarked his mother proudly. + +Oscar turned to grin at his mother, whilst Mavis, with all her +maternal instinct aroused, avoided looking at or thinking of the +idiot as much as possible. + +Mrs Gowler waxed eloquent on the subject of her Oscar, to whom she +was apparently devoted. She was just telling Mavis how he liked to +amuse himself by torturing the cat, when a sharp cry penetrated into +the kitchen, as if coming from the neighbourhood of the front door. + +"Bella's coming on," she said, as she caught up an apron before +leaving the kitchen. "Be nice to the lady, Oscar, and see her out, +like the gent you are," cried Mrs Gowler, before shutting the door. + +Alone with the grinning idiot, Mavis shut her eyes, the while she +finished her tea. She did not want her baby to be in any way +affected by the acute mental discomfort occasioned to its mother by +the presence of Mrs Gowler's son, a contingency she had understood +could easily be a reality. When she looked about for her hat and +umbrella, she discovered, to her great relief, that she was alone, +Oscar having apparently slipped out after his mother, the kitchen +door being ajar. Mavis drew on her gloves, stopped her ears with her +fingers as she passed along the passage, opened the door and hurried +away from the house. + +Once outside, the beauty of the sweet spring day emphasised the +horror of the house she had left. + +She set her lips grimly, thought lovingly of Perigal, and resolved +to dwell on her approaching ordeal as little as possible. Before +returning to Mrs Scatchard's, she looked in to see Miss Nippett, +who, with the coming of summer, seemed to lose strength daily. She +now hardly ever got up, but remained in bed all day, where she would +talk softly to herself. She always brightened up when Mavis came +into the room, and was ever keenly interested in the latest news +from the academy, particularly in Mr Poulter's physical and economic +wellbeing. Seeing how make-believe inquiries of Mr Poulter after his +accompanist's health cheered the lonely old woman, Mavis had no +compunction in employing these white lies to brighten Miss Nippett's +monotonous days. + +She raised herself in bed and nodded a welcome as Mavis entered the +room. After assuring Mavis "that she was all right, reely she was," +she asked: + +"When are you going to 'ave your baby?" + +"Very soon now," sighed Mavis. + +"I don't think I shall ever 'ave one," remarked Miss Nippett. + +"Indeed!" + +"They're a great tie if one has a busy life," she said, to add +wistfully, "Though it would be nice if one could get Mr Poulter for +a godfather." + +"Wouldn't it!" echoed Mavis. + +"Give it a good start in the world, you know. It 'ud be something to +talk about 'avin' 'im for a godfather." + +Presently, when Mavis stooped to kiss the wan face before going, +Miss Nippett said: + +"If I was to die, d'ye know what 'ud make me die 'appy?" + +"Don't talk such nonsense: at your age, too." + +"If I could just be made a partner in 'Poulter's,'" continued Miss +Nippett. "Not for the money, you understand, reely not for that; but +for the honour, as you might say." + +"I quite understand." + +"But there, one mustn't be too ambitious. That's the worst of me. +And it's the way to be un'appy," she sighed. + +Mavis walked with heavy heart to her lodging; for all her own +griefs, Miss Nippett's touching faith in "Poulter's" moved her +deeply. + +When Mavis got back, she found Mrs Scatchard and her niece in high +feather. They insisted upon Mavis joining them at what they called a +knife and fork tea, to which Mr Napper and two friends of the family +had been invited. Mr Scatchard was not present, but no mention was +made of his absence, it being looked upon as an inevitable +relaxation after the work and fret of the day. The room was littered +with evening papers. + +"It all went off beautiful, my dear," Mrs Scatchard remarked to +Mavis. + +"I'm glad," said Mavis. + +"We left him safe at the palace, and as there's nothing in the +papers about anything going wrong, it must be all right." + +"Of course," Mavis assented. + +"We know Mr Scatchard has his weaknesses; but then, if he hadn't, he +wouldn't be the musical artiste he is," declared his wife, at which +Mavis, who was just then drinking tea, nearly swallowed it the wrong +way. + +Mr Napper soon dropped in, to be closely followed by a Mr Webb and a +Miss Jennings, who had never met the solicitor's clerk before. Mr +Webb and Miss Jennings were engaged to be married. As if to proclaim +their unalterable affection to the world, they sat side by side with +their arms about each other. + +The presence of strangers moved Mr Napper to talk his farrago of +philosophical nonsense. It did not take long for Mavis to see that +Miss Jennings was much impressed by the flow of many-syllabled words +which issued, without ceasing, from the lawyer's clerk's lips. The +admiration expressed in the girl's eyes incited Mr Napper to further +efforts. + +He presently remarked to Miss Jennings: + +"I can tell your character in two ticks." + +Miss Jennings, who had been wholly resigned to the fact of her +insignificance, began to take herself with becoming seriousness. + +"How?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with interest. + +"By your face or by your 'ead." + +"Do tell me," she pleaded. + +"'Ead or face?" + +"Try the head," she said, as she sought to free herself from her +lover's entangling embrace. But Mr Webb would not let her go; he +grasped her firmly by the waist, and, despite her entreaties, would +not relax his hold. Mr Napper made as if he would approach Miss +Jennings, but was restrained by Miss Meakin, who stamped angrily on +his corns, and, when he danced with pain, stared menacingly at him. +When he recovered, Miss Jennings begged him to tell her character by +her face. + +Mr Napper, looking out of the corner of one eye at Miss Meakin, +stared attentively at Miss Jennings, who was now fully conscious of +the attention she was attracting. Mr Webb waited in suspense, with +his eye on Mr Napper's face. + +"You're very fond of draughts," said the latter presently. + +"Right!" cried Miss Jennings, as she smiled triumph antly at her +lover. + +"But I shouldn't say you was much good at 'huffing,'" he continued. + +"Right again!" smiled the delighted Miss Jennings. + +"I should say your 'eart governed your 'ead," came next. + +"Quite right!" cried Miss Jennings, who was now quite perked up. + +"You're very fond of admiration," exclaimed Mr Napper, after a +further pause. + +"She isn't; she isn't," cried Mr Webb, as his hold tightened on the +loved one's form. + +More was said by Mr Napper in the same strain, which greatly +increased not only Miss Jennings's sense of self-importance, but her +interest in Mr Napper. + +As Mavis perceived how his ridiculous talk captivated Miss Jennings, +it occurred to her that the vanity of women was such, that this +instance of one of their number being impressed by a foolish man's +silly conversation was only typical of the manner in which the rest +of the sex were fascinated. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT + +MISS 'PETT'S APOTHEOSIS + + +Mavis was seriously alarmed for Miss Nippett. Her friend was so ill +that she insisted upon a doctor being called in. After examining the +patient, he told her that Miss Nippett was suffering from acute +influenza; also, that complications were threatening. He warned +Mavis of the risk of catching the disease, which, in her present +condition, might have serious consequences; but she had not the +heart to leave her friend to the intermittent care of the landlady. +With the money that Miss Nippett instructed her to find in queer +hiding-places, Mavis purchased bovril, eggs, and brandy, with which +she did her best to patch up the enfeebled frame of the sick woman. +Nothing that she or the doctor could do had any permanent effect; +every evening, Miss Nippett's temperature would rise with alarming +persistence. + +"I wonder if she's anything on her mind that might account for it," +the doctor said to Mavis, when leaving one evening. + +"I don't see what she could have, unless--" + +"Unless?" + +"I believe she worries about a matter connected with her old +occupation. I'll try and find out," said Mavis. + +"'Ow did 'e say I was?" asked Miss Nippett, as Mavis rejoined her. + +"Much better." + +"I ain't." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Reely I ain't. If 'e says I'm better, 'e'd better stay away. That's +the worst of these fash'nable 'Bush' doctors; they make fortunes out +of flattering people they're better when they're not." + +Mavis had more than a suspicion that Miss Nippett's retarded +convalescence was due to not having attained that position in the +academy to which she believed her years of faithful service entitled +her. Mavis made reference to the matter; the nature of Miss +Nippett's replies converted suspicion into certainty. + +The next morning, Mavis called on Mr Poulter, whom she had not seen +for two weeks, the increasing physical disabilities of her condition +compelling her to give up work at the academy. She found him engaged +in the invention of a new country dance for a forthcoming +competition. Mavis explained her errand, but had some difficulty in +convincing even kindly Mr Poulter of Miss Nippett's ambitious +leanings: in the course of years, he had come to look on his devoted +accompanist very much as he regarded "Turpsichor" who stood by the +front door. Mavis's request surprised him almost as much as if he +had been told that "Turpsichor" herself ached to waltz with him in +the publicity of a long night. + +"I don't believe she's very long to live," said Mavis. "If you could +make her a partner, merely in an honorary sense, it would make her +last days radiantly happy." + +"It might be done, my dear," mused Mr Poulter. + +"But, whatever you do, don't let her think I suggested it to you." + +"'Poulter's' can be the soul of tact and discretion," he informed +her. + +After more conversation on the subject, Mavis was about to take her +leave when the postman brought a parcel addressed to her at the +academy, from her old Pennington friend, Mrs Trivett. It contained +eggs, butter, and cream, together with a letter. This last told +Mavis that things were in a bad way at the farm; in consequence, her +husband was thinking of sub-letting his house, in order to migrate +to Melkbridge, where he might earn a living by teaching music. It +closed with repeated wishes for Mavis's welfare. + +"These people will send things in my maiden name," said Mavis, as +she wondered if Mr Poulter's suspicions had been aroused by similar +packages having occasionally arrived for her addressed in the same +way. + +"It was only to be expected. From your professional association with +the academy, they would think it only proper to address you by +'Miss' and your maiden name," remarked guileless Mr Poulter. + +Upon Mavis's third visit to Miss Nippett after her interview with Mr +Poulter, she noticed a change in the sick woman's appearance; she +was sitting up in bed with a face wreathed in smiles. + +"'Ave you 'eard?" she cried excitedly, when she saw Mavis. + +"Heard what?" asked Mavis innocently. + +"'Bout me an' 'Poulter's.' You don't mean to say you 'aven't 'eard!" + +"I hope it's good news." + +"Good! Good! It's wonderful! Jest you throw your eye over that." + +Mavis read a formally worded letter from Mr Poulter, in which he +informed Miss Nippett "that, in consideration of her many years' +faithful service, he could think of no more fitting way to reward +her than by taking her into partnership: in accordance with this +resolve, what was formerly known as 'Poulter's' would in future be +described for all time as 'Poulter and Nippett's.'" + +"What d'ye think of that?" asked Miss Nippett. + +"It's only what you deserved." + +"There's no going back on it now it's in black and white." + +"He wouldn't wish to." + +"It's proof, ain't it, legal an' all that?" + +"Absolute. I congratulate you," said Mavis, as she took the wan +white hand in hers. + +"Even now I can't b'lieve it's true," sighed the accompanist, as she +sank exhausted on her pillows. + +"You're overdoing it," said Mavis, as she mixed some brandy and +milk. + +"I 'ate the muck," declared Miss Nippett, when Mavis besought her to +drink it. + +"But if you don't do what you're told, you'll never get well." + +"Reely!" + +"Of course not. Take this at once," Mavis commanded. + +"Here, I say, who are you talking to? Have you for gotten I'm a +partner in--" Here the little woman broke off, to exclaim as she +burst into tears: "It's true: it's true: it's reely, reely true." + +Before Mavis went home, she soothed Miss Nippett's tears; she left +her in a condition of radiant, enviable happiness. She had never +seen anyone so possessed by calm abiding joy as the accompanist at +her unlooked-for good fortune. + +On her way back, Mavis marvelled at what she believed to be the all- +wise arrangements of Providence, by which happiness was parcelled +out to the humblest of human beings. With the exception of +Windebank, she had not been friendly with a rich person since she +had been a child, so could not, at present, have any opinion of how +much happiness the wealthy enjoyed; but she could not help remarking +how much joy and contentment she had encountered in the person +seemingly most unlikely to be thus blessed. At this period of her +life, it did not occur to her that the natural and proper egoism of +the human mind finds expression in a vanity, that, if happily +unchastened by knowledge or experience, is a source of undiluted joy +to the possessor. + +If time be measured by the amount of suffering endured, it was a +little later that Mavis realised that to be ignorant is to be often +happy, enlightenment begetting desires that there is no prospect of +staying, and, therefore, discontentment ensues. + +When Mavis next visited Miss Nippett, she rummaged, at her friend's +request, in the cupboard containing the unclaimed "overs" for finery +with which the accompanist wished to decorate her exalted state. If +Miss Nippett had had her way and had appeared in the street wearing +the gaudy, fluffy things she picked out, she would have been put +down as a disreputable old lady. But, for all Miss Nippett's +resolves, it was written in the book of fate that she was to take +but one more journey out of doors, and that in the simplest of +raiment. For all her prodigious elation at her public association +with Mr Poulter, her health far from improved; her strength declined +daily; she wasted away before Mavis' dismayed eyes. She did not +suffer, but dozed away the hours with increasingly rare intervals in +which she was stark awake. On these latter occasions, for all the +latent happiness which had come into her life, she would fret +because Mr Poulter rarely called to inquire after her health. Such +was her distress at this remissness on the part of the dancing +master, that more often than not, when Miss Nippett, after waking +from sleep, asked with evident concern if Mr Poulter had been, Mavis +would reply: + +"Yes. But he didn't like to come upstairs and disturb you." + +For five or six occasions Miss Nippett accepted this explanation, +but, at last, she became skeptical of Mavis' statements. + +"Funny 'e always comes when I'm asleep!" she would say. "S'pose he +was too busy to send up 'is name an' chance waking me. Tell those +stories to them as swallers them." + +But a time came when Miss Nippett was too ill even to fret. For +three days she lay in the dim borderland of death, during which the +doctor, when he visited her, became more and more grave. A time came +when he could do no more; he told Mavis that the accompanist would +soon be beyond further need of mortal aid. + +The news seemed to strike a chill to Mavis' heart. Owing to their +frequent meetings, Miss Nippett had become endeared to her: she +could hardly speak for emotion. + +"How long will it be?" she asked. + +"She'll probably drag through the night. But if I were you, I should +go home in the morning." + +"And leave her to die alone?" + +"You have your own trouble to face. Hasn't she any friends?" + +"None that I know of." + +"No one she'd care to see?" + +"There's one man, her old employer. But he's always so busy." + +"Where does he live?" + +Mavis told him. + +"I'll find time to see him and ask him to come." + +"It's very kind of you." + +But the kindly doctor did not seem to hear what she said; he was +sadly regarding Miss Nippett, who, just now, was dozing uneasily on +her pillows. Then, without saying a word, he left the room. + +Thus it came about that Mavis kept the long, sad night vigil beside +the woman whom death was to claim so soon. As Miss Nippett's +numbered moments remorselessly passed, the girl's heart went out to +the pitiful, shrivelled figure in the bed. It seemed that an unfair +contest was being fought between the might and majesty of death on +the one hand, and an insignificant, work-worn woman on the other, in +which the ailing body had not the ghost of a chance. Mavis found +herself reflecting on the futility of life, if all it led to were +such a pitifully unequal struggle as that going on before her eyes. +Then she remembered how she had been taught that this world was but +a preparation for the joyous life in the next; also, that directly +Miss Nippett ceased to breathe it would mean that she was entering +upon her existence in realms of bliss. Somehow, Mavis could not help +smiling at the mental picture of her friend which had suddenly +occurred to her. In this, she had imagined Miss Nippett with a crown +on her head and a harp in her hand, singing celestial melodies at +the top of her voice. The next moment, she reproached herself for +this untimely thought; her heart ached at the extremity of the +little old woman huddled up in the bed. Mavis had always lived her +life among more or less healthy people, who were ceaselessly +struggling in order to live; consequently, she had always +disregarded the existence of death. The great destroyer seemed to +find small employment amongst those who flocked to their work in the +morning and left it at night; but here, in the meagre room, where +human clay was, as it were, stripped of all adornments, in order not +to lose the smallest chance in the fell tussle with disease, it was +brought home to Mavis what frail opposition the bodies of men and +women alike offer to the assaults of the many missioners of death. +Things that she had not thought of before were laid bare before her +eyes. The inevitable ending of life bestowed on all flesh an +infinite pathos which she had never before remarked. The impotence +of mankind to escape its destiny made life appear to her but as a +tragic procession, in which all its distractions and vanities were +only so much make-believe, in order to hide its destination from +eyes that feared to see. The helplessness, the pitifulness of the +passing away of the lonely old woman gave a dignity, a grandeur to +her declining moments, which infected the common furniture of the +room. The cheap, painted chest of drawers, the worn trunk at the +foot of the bed, the dingy wall-paper, the shaded white glass lamp +on the rickety table, all seemed invested with a nobility alien to +their everyday common appearance, inasmuch as they assisted at the +turning of a living thing, who had rejoiced, and toiled, and +suffered, into unresponsive clay. Even the American clock on the +mantelpiece acquired a fine distinction by reason of its measuring +the last moments of a human being, with all its miserable +sensibility to pain and joy--a distinction that was not a little +increased, in Mavis' eyes, owing to the worldly insignificance of +the doomed woman. + +After Mavis had got ready to hand things that might be wanted in the +night, she settled herself in a chair by the head of the bed in +order to snatch what sleep she might. Before she dozed, she wondered +if that day week, which she would be spending at Mrs Gowler's, would +find her as prostrated by illness as was her friend. Two or three +times in the dread silent watches of the night, she was awakened by +Miss Nippett's continually talking to herself. Mavis would interrupt +her by asking if she would take any nourishment; but Miss Nippett, +vouchsafing no answer, would go on speaking as before, her talk +being entirely concerned with matters connected with the academy. +And all the time, the American clock on the mantelpiece +remorselessly ticked off the accompanist's remaining moments. + +Mavis, heartsick and weary, got little sleep. She watched the night +grow paler and paler outside the window, till, presently, the shaded +lamp at the bedside seemed absurdly wan. Birds greeted with their +songs the coming of the day. The sun rose in another such a blue sky +as that on which she and Charlie Perigal had enjoyed their never-to- +be-forgotten visit to Llansallas Bay. Mavis was not a little jarred +by the insensibility of the June day to Miss Nippett's approaching +dissolution. She reflected in what a sad case would be humanity, if +there were no loving Father to welcome the bruised and weary +traveller, arrived at the end of life's pilgrimage, with loving +words or healing sympathy. In her heart of hearts, she envied Miss +Nippett the heavenly solace and divine compassion which would soon +be hers. Then her heart leapt to the glory of the young June day; +she devoutly hoped that she would be spared to witness many, many +such days as she now looked upon. + +"Mrs Kenrick!" said a voice from the bed. + +"Are you awake?" asked Mavis. + +"Do draw that there blind. I can't stand that there sun." + +"Does it worry you?" + +"Give me the 'lectric, same as they have at the Athenaeum on long +nights." + +Mavis did as she was bid: the light of the lamp at once became an +illumination of some importance. + +"Now I want me shawl on again; the old one." "Don't you want any +nourishment?" asked Mavis, as she fastened the familiar shawl about +Miss Nippett's shoulders. + +"What's the use?" + +"To get better, of course." + +"No getting better for me. I know: reely I do." + +"Nonsense!" + +Miss Nippett shook her head as resolutely as her bodily weakness +permitted. + +"What's the time?" she asked presently. + +Mavis told her. + +"Whatever 'appens, I shall go down to posterity as a partner in +'Poulter's'!" + +"You've no business to think of such things," faltered Mavis. + +"It's no use codding me. I know; reely I do." + +"Then, if you don't believe me, wouldn't you like to see a +clergyman?" + +"There's someone else I'd much sooner see." + +"Mr Poulter?" + +"You've guessed right this time. Is there--is there any chance of +his coming?" asked Miss Nippett wistfully. + +"There's every chance. The doctor was going to tell him how ill you +were." + +"But you don't understand; these great, big, famous men ain't like +me and you. They--they forget and--" Tears gathered in the red rims +of Miss Nippett's eyes. Mavis wiped them gently away and softly +kissed the puckered brow. + +"There's somethin' I'd like to tell you," said Miss Nippett, some +minutes later. + +"Try and get some sleep," urged Mavis. + +"But I want to tell someone. It isn't as if you was a larruping girl +who'd laugh, but you're a wife, an' ever so big at that, with what +you're expectin' next week." + +"What is it?" asked Mavis. + +"Bend over: you never know oo's listening." + +Mavis did as she was asked. + +"It's Mr Poulter--can't you guess?" faltered Miss Nippett. + +"Tell me, dear." + +"I b'lieve I love him: reely I do. Don't laugh." + +"Why should I?" + +"There was nothing in it--don't run away thinking there was--but how +could there be, 'im so great and noble and famous, and me--" + +Increasing weakness would not suffer Miss Nippett to finish the +sentence. + +Mavis forced her to take some nourishment, after which, Miss Nippett +lay back on her pillow, with her eyes fixed on the clock. Mavis sat +in the chair by the bedside. Now and again, her eyes would seek the +timepiece. Whenever she heard a sound downstairs (for some time the +people of the house could be heard moving about), Miss Nippett would +listen intently and then look wistfully at Mavis. + +The girl divined how heartfully the dying woman hungered for Mr +Poulter's coming. + +Thrice Mavis offered to seek him out, but on each occasion Miss +Nippett's terrified pleadings not to be left alone constrained her +to stay. + +It wanted a few minutes to eight when Miss Nippett fell into a +peaceful doze. Mavis took this opportunity of making herself a much- +needed cup of tea. Whilst she was gratefully sipping it, Miss +Nippett suddenly awoke to say: + +"There! There's something I always meant to do." + +"Never mind now," said Mavis soothingly. + +"But I do. It is something to mind about--I never stood 'Turpsichor' +a noo coat of paint." + +"Don't worry about it." + +"I always promised I would, but kep' putting it off an' off, an' now +she'll never get it from me. Poor old 'Turpsichor'!" + +Miss Nippett soon forgot her neglect of "Turpsichor" and fell into a +further doze. + +When she next awoke, she asked: + +"Would you mind drawing them curtains?" + +"Like that?" + +"You are good to me: reely you are." + +"Nonsense!" + +"But then you ought to be: you've got a good man to love you an' +give you babies." + +"What is it you want?" asked Mavis sadly. + +"Can you see the 'Scrubbs'?" + +"The prison?" + +"Yes, the 'Scrubbs.' Can you see 'em?" + +"Yes." + +"Quite distinct?" + +"Quite." + +"That's awright." + +Miss Nippett sighed with some content. + +"If 'e don't come soon, 'e'll be too late," murmured Miss Nippett +after an interval of seeming exhaustion. + +Mavis waited with ears straining for the sound of the knocker on the +front door. Miss Nippett lay so that her weakening eyes could watch +the door of the bedroom. Now and again, Mavis addressed one or two +remarks to her, but the old woman merely shook her head, as if to +convey that she had neither the wish nor the strength for further +speech. Mavis, with a great fear, noted the failing light in her +friend's eyes, but was convinced that, for all the weakening of the +woman's physical processes, she desired as ardently as ever a sight +of Mr Poulter before she died. A few minutes later, a greyness crept +into Miss Nippett's face. Mavis repressed an inclination to fly from +the room. Then, although she feared to believe the evidence of her +ears, a knock was heard at the door. After what seemed an interval +of centuries, she heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Mavis +glanced at Miss Nippett. She was horrified to see that her friend +was heedless of Mr Poulter's possible approach. She moved quickly to +the door. To her unspeakable relief, Mr Poulter stood outside. She +beckoned him quickly into the room. He hastened to the bedside, +where, after gazing sadly at the all but unconscious Miss Nippett, +he knelt to take the woman's wan, worn hand in his. To Mavis's +surprise, Miss Nippett's fingers at once closed on those of Mr +Poulter. As the realisation of his presence reached the dying +woman's understanding, a smile of infinite gladness spread over her +face: a rare, happy smile, which, as if by magic, effaced the +puckered forehead, the wasted cheeks, the long upper lip, to +substitute in their stead a great contentment, such as might be +possessed by one who has found a deep joy, not only after much +travail, but as if, till the last moment, the longed-for bliss had +all but been denied. The wan fingers grasped tighter and tighter; +the smile faded a little before becoming fixed. + +Another moment, and "Poulter's" had lost the most devoted servant +which it had ever possessed. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE + +THE ORDEAL + + +Mavis and Jill stood outside Mrs Gowler's, in the late evening of +the Wednesday after the day on which Miss Nippett had commenced her +long, long rest. Mavis had left the trunk she was bringing at the +station (a porter was trundling it on), but before opening the gate +of No. 9 Durley Road, she instinctively paused to take what she +thought might prove a last look at the world. + +The contented serenity of the summer night enhanced the meanness of +the little street; but Mavis's imagination soared over the roofs, +not only of the road in which she stood, but of countless other +roofs, till it winged its way to Melkbridge. Instead of the +depressing road, with its infrequent down-at-heel passers-by, Mavis +saw only the Avon as she had known it a year ago. The river flowed +lazily beneath the pollard willows, as if complaisant enough to let +these see their reflection in the water. Forget-me-nots jewelled the +banks; ragged robin looked roguishly from, clumps of bushes; the +scent of hay seemed to fill the world. That was then. + +Now--! Before she had set out for Durley Road, she had penned a +little note to Perigal. In this she had told him of the +circumstances in which she was writing it, and had said that if it +proved to be the last letter she should send him, that she would +never cease to love and trust him in any world to which it might +please God to take her. This was all she had written; but the moving +simplicity of her words might have touched even Perigal's heart. +Besides writing to her lover, Mavis had given Mrs Scatchard the +address to which she was going, and had besought her, in the event +of anything untoward happening, either to take Jill for her own or +to find her a good home. Mrs Scatchard's promise to keep and cherish +Jill herself, should anything happen to her mistress, cheered Mavis +much. + +Mavis took a last long look of the June night, sighed and entered +the gate of No. 9: her nerves were so disordered that it seemed as +if it shut behind her with a menacing clang. She knocked at the +door, but, upon no one coming, she knocked again and again. She knew +there was someone in the house, for the wailing of babies could be +heard within. For all anyone cared, her baby might have been born on +the step. After knocking and waiting for quite a long time, the door +was opened by a sad-faced girl, who, with the remains of a fresh +complexion, looked as if she were countryborn and bred. + +"Mrs Gowler?" asked Mavis wearily. + +Without making any reply, the young woman left the door open and +disappeared up the stairs. Mavis, followed by Jill, dragged herself +into the passage. The puling and smell of unwashed babies assailed +her ears and nostrils to such an extent, that, to escape from these, +she walked into the kitchen and closed the door. This room was +empty, but, as on her last visit, a fire roared in the kitchener, +before which innumerable rows of little garments were airing. +Overpowered by the stifling heat, Mavis sank on a chair, where a +horde of flies buzzed about her head and tried to settle on her +face. She was about to seek the passage in preference to the stuffy +kitchen, when she heard a loud single knock at the front door. +Believing this to be the porter with her luggage, she went to the +door, to find that her surmise was correct. + +"Which room shall I take it to, miss?" + +"It will do if you put it in the hall," replied Mavis. + +When she had paid the man and shut the door, she sat upon her box in +the passage. Jill nestled beside her, whilst Mavis rested with her +fingers pressed well against her ears, to deaden the continual +crying of babies which came from various rooms in the house. + +As Mavis thus waited, disconsolate and alone, her heart sank within +her. Her present case seemed to foreshadow the treatment she would +receive at Mrs Gowler's hands during her confinement, which might +now occur at any moment. As she waited, she lost all count of time; +her whole being was concerned with an alteration in her habits of +thought, which had been imminent during the last few months, but +which needed a powerful stimulus to be completely effected. This was +now supplied. Hitherto, when it became a question whether she should +consider others before herself, she had, owing to an instinct in her +blood, chosen the way of self-abnegation. She often suspected that +others took advantage of this unselfishness, but found it hard to do +otherwise than she had always done. Whether it was owing to all she +had lately endured, or because her maternal instinct urged her to +think only of her as yet unborn little one, she became aware of a +hardening of heart which convinced her of the expediency of fighting +for her own hand in the future. Mrs Gowler's absence was the +immediate cause of this manifestation. Had she not loved Perigal so +devotedly and trusted him so completely, she would have left the +miserable house in Durley Road and gone to an expensive nursing +home, to insist later upon his meeting the bill. For all her +awakened instinct of self, the fact of her still deciding to remain +at Mrs Gowler's was a yet further sacrifice on the altar of the +loved one. Perhaps this further self-effacement where her lover was +concerned urgently moved her to stand no trifling in respect of +others. Consequently, when about half-past ten Mrs Gowler opened the +door, accompanied by her idiot son, Oscar, who looked more imbecile +than ever in elaborate clothes, she was not a little surprised to be +greeted by Mavis with the words: + +"What does this mean?" + +"What does what mean?" replied Mrs Gowler, bridling. + + + + "Keeping me waiting like this." + +"Wot do you expect for wot you're payin'--brass banns and banners?" + +"I don't expect impertinence from you!" cried Mavis. + +"Imperence! imperence! And oo's Mrs Kenrick to give 'erself such +airs! And before my Oscar too!" + +"Listen to me," said Mavis. + +"I wonder you don't send for your 'usband to go for me." + +"But--" + +"Your lovin' 'usband wot's in Ameriky a-making a snug little 'ome +for you." + +Mavis was, for the moment, vanquished by the adroitness of Mrs +Gowler's thrust. + +"I'm not well enough to quarrel. Please to show me my room." + +"That's better. An' I'll be pleased to show you what you call 'my +room' when I've given my Oscar 'is supper," shouted Mrs Gowler, as +she sailed into the kitchen, followed by her gibbering son, who +twice turned to stare at Mavis. + +Alone in the unlit, stuffy passage, Mavis whispered her troubles to +Jill. Tears came to her eyes, which she held back by thinking +persistently of the loved one. While she waited, she heard the +clatter of plates and the clink of glasses in the kitchen. Mavis +would have gone for a short walk, but she had a superstitious fear +of going out of doors again till after her baby was born. + +The sharp cry, as of one suddenly assailed by pain, came from the +floor overhead. Then a door opened, and footsteps came to the top of +the first flight of stairs. + +"Mrs Gowler! Mrs Gowler!" cried a woman's voice frantically. But the +woman had to call many times before her voice triumphed over the +thickness of the kitchen door and the noise of the meal. + +"Oo is it?" asked Mrs Gowler, when she presently came from the +kitchen, with her mouth full of bread, cheese, stout, and spring +onions. + +"Liz--Mrs Summerville!" replied the woman. + +"'Arf a mo', an' I'll be up," grumbled Mrs Gowler, as she returned +to the kitchen, to emerge a few seconds later pinning on her apron. + +"You finish yer supper, Oscar, but don't drink all the stout," she +called to her son, as she went up the stairs. Before she had got to +the landing, the cry was heard again and yet again. It sounded to +Mavis like some wounded animal being tortured beyond endurance. The +cries continued, to seem louder when a door was opened, and to be +correspondingly deadened when this was closed. Mavis shuddered; +anticipation of the torment she would have to endure chilled the +blood in her veins; cold shivers coursed down her back. It was as if +she were imprisoned in a house of pain, from which she could only +escape by enduring the most poignant of all torture inflicted by +nature on sensitive human bodies. The cries became continuous. Mavis +placed her fingers in her ears to shut them out. For all this +precaution, a scream of pain penetrated to her hearing. A few +moments later, when she had to use her hands in order to prevent +Jill from jumping on to her lap, she did not hear a sound. Some +quarter of an hour later, Mrs Gowler descended the stairs. + +"A quick job that," she remarked to Mavis, who did not make any +reply. "Let's 'ope you'll be as sharp," added the woman, as she +disappeared into the kitchen. + +Mavis gathered from these remarks that a mother had been delivered +of a child during Mrs Gowler's brief sojourn upstairs. The latter +confirmed this surmise by saying a little later, when she issued +from the kitchen drying her hands and bared arms on a towel: + +"The worst of these here nursing 'omes is that yer never knows when +you're going to be on the job. I didn't expect Liz till termorrer." + +Mavis made no reply. + +"Would you like a glass of stout?" asked Mrs Gowler. + +"No, thank you." + +"I'm going to open another bottle an' thought you'd join, jes' +friendly like, as you might say. What with the work an' the 'eat of +the kitchen, I tell yer, I can do with it." + +"I'm tired of sitting in this horrible passage. I wish you would +show me to my room." + +"Wait till it's ready," retorted Mrs Gowler, angry at her +hospitality being refused. + +"It ought to be ready. What else did I arrange to come for?" + +"You can go up if you like, but Mrs May is bathing her baby, an' +there's no room to move." + +"Does--does that mean that you haven't given me a room to myself?" +cried Mavis. + +"Wot more d'ye expect for wot you're payin'?" + +Mavis made up her mind. + +"If you don't give me a room to myself, I shall go," declared Mavis. + +"And 'ave yer baby in the street?" + +"That's my affair." + +Mavis rose as if to make good her words. + +Seeing that she was in earnest, Mrs Gowler said: + +"Don't be a mug. I'll see what I can do." + +Mavis was much relieved when Mrs Gowler waddled up the stairs, +taking with her an evil-smelling oil lamp. The woman's presence was +beginning to inspire her with a nameless dread, which was alien to +the repulsion inspired by her appearance and coarse speech. Now and +again, Mavis caught a glimpse of terrifying depths of resolution in +the woman's nature; then she seemed as if she would stick at nothing +in order to gain her ends. + +"This way, please, Mrs 'Aughty," Mrs Gowler presently called from +the landing above Mavis's head. + +Mavis walked up the two flights of stairs, followed by Jill, where +she found Mrs Gowler in the passage leading to the two top-back +rooms of the house. One of these was small, being little larger than +a box-room, but to Mavis's eyes it presented the supreme advantage +of being untenanted by any other patient. + +"We'd better 'ave most of the furniture out, 'ceptin' the bed and +washstand," declared Mrs Gowler. + +"But where am I to keep my things?" asked Mavis. + +"Can't you 'ave your box jes' outside the door? If there ain't no +space, you might pop off before I could hop round the bed." + +"Is it often dangerous?" faltered Mavis. + +"That depends. 'Ave you walked much?" + +"A good deal. Why?" + +"That's in yer favour. But I 'ope nothin' will 'appen, for my sake. +I can't do with any more scandals here. I've my Oscar to think of." + +"Scandals?" queried Mavis. + +"What about gettin' your box upstairs?" asked Mrs Gowler, as if +wishful to change the subject, + +"Isn't there anyone who can carry it up?" + +"Not to-night. Yer can't expect my Oscar to soil 'is 'ands with +menial work. I'm bringing him up to be the gent he is." + +"Then I'll go down and fetch what I want for the night." + +"Let me git 'em for yer," volunteered Mrs Gowler, as her eyes +twinkled greedily. + +"I won't trouble you." + +Mavis went down to the passage, taking with her the evil-smelling +lamp: the spilled oil upon the outside of this greased Mavis's +fingers. + +To save her strength, she cut the cords with which her trunk was +bound with a kitchen knife, borrowed from Mrs Gowler for this +purpose. She took from this box such articles as she might need for +the night. Amongst other things, she obtained the American clock +which had belonged to her old friend Miss Nippett. Mr Poulter, to +whom the accompanist had left her few possessions, had prevailed on +Mavis to accept this as a memento of her old friend. + +Mavis toiled up the stairs with an armful of belongings, preceded by +Mrs Gowler carrying the lamp, the woman impressed at the cut and +material of which her last arrival's garments were made. + +When Mavis had wound up the clock and placed it on the mantelpiece, +and, with a few deft touches, had made the room a trifle less +repellent, she saw her landlady come into the room with three +bottles and two glasses (one of these latter had recently held +stout) tucked under her arms. + +"I thought we'd 'ave a friendly little chat, my dear," remarked Mrs +Gowler, as if to explain her hospitality. + +Just then, Mavis's heart ached for the sympathy and support of some +motherly person in whom she could confide. A tender word, a hint of +appreciation of her present extremity, would have done much to give +her stay for the approaching dread ordeal. Perhaps this was why, for +the time being, she stifled her dislike of Mrs Gowler and submitted +to the woman's presence. Mrs Gowler unscrewed a bottle of stout, +poured herself out a glass, drank it at one draught, and then half +filled a glass for Mavis. + +"Drink it, my dear. It will do us both good," cried Mrs Gowler, who +already showed signs of having drunk more than she could +conveniently carry. + +Mavis, not to seem ungracious, sipped the stout as she sat on the +bed. + +"'Ow is it you ain't in a proper nursing 'ome?" asked Mrs Gowler, +after she had opened the second bottle. + +"Aren't I?" asked Mavis quickly. + +"I've 'eard of better," answered Mrs Gowler guardedly. "Though, +after all, I may be a better friend to you than all o' them +together, with their doctors an' all." + +"Indeed!" remarked Mavis, wondering what she meant. + +"But that's tellin's," continued Mrs Gowler, looking greedily at +Mavis from the depths of her little eyes. + +"Is it?" + +"Babies is little cusses; noisy, squally little brats." + +"Not one's own." + +"That's what I say. I love the little dears. Gawd's messages I call +them. All the same, they're there, as you might say. An' yer can't +explain them away." + +"True," smiled Mavis. + +"An' their cost!" grumbled Mrs Gowler, as she drained the second +bottle by putting it to her lips. "They simply eat good money, an' +never 'ave enough." + +"One must look after one's own," remarked Mavis. + +"Little dears! 'Ow I love their pretty prattle. It makes me think of +'eavens an' Gawd's angels," said Mrs Gowler. Then, as Mavis did not +make any remark, she added: "Six was born 'ere last week." + +"So many!" + +"But onny three's alive." + +"The other three are dead!" + +"It costs five bob a week an' extries to let a kid live, to say +nothin' of the lies and trouble an' all. An' no thanks you get for +it." + +"A mother loves and looks after her own," declared Mavis. + +"Little dears! Ain't they pretty when they prattles their little +prayers?" asked Mrs Gowler, as her lips parted in a terrible smile. +"Many's the time I've given 'em gin from me own bottle to give the +little angels sleep." + +She said more to the same effect, to pause before saying, with a +return to her practical manner: + +"An' the gentlemen! They're always 'appy when anything 'appens to +baby." + +Mavis looked at the woman with questioning eyes; she wondered what +she meant. For a few moments Mrs Gowler attempted to lull Mavis's +uneasiness by extravagant praise of infants' ways, which culminated +in a hideous imitation of baby language. Suddenly she stopped; her +little eyes glared fiercely at Mavis, while her face became rigid. + +"What's the matter?" asked the girl. + +Mrs Gowler rose unsteadily to her feet and said: + +"Ten quid down will save you from forking out five bob a week till +you're blue in the face from paying it." + +Mavis stared at her in astonishment. Mrs Gowler backed to the door. + +"Told yer you'd fallen on your feet. Next time you'll know better. +No pretty pretties: one little nightdress is all you'll want. But +it's spot cash." + +Mavis was alone; it was, comparatively, a long time before she +gathered what Mrs Gowler meant. When she realised that the woman had +as good as offered to murder her child, when born, for the sum of +ten pounds, her first impulse was to leave the house. But it was now +late; she was worn out with the day's happenings; also, she +reflected that, with the scanty means at her disposal, a further +move to a like house to Mrs Gowler's might find her worse off than +she already was. Her heart was heavy with pain when she knelt by her +bedside to say her prayers, but, try as she might, she could find no +words with which to thank her heavenly Father for the blessings of +the day and to implore their continuance for the next, as was her +invariable custom. When she got up from her knees, she hoped that +the disabilities of her present situation would atone for any +remissness of which she had been guilty. Although she was very +tired, it was a long time before she slept. She lay awake, to think +long and lovingly of Perigal. This, and Jill's presence, were the +two things that sustained her during those hours of sleeplessness in +a strange, fearsome house, troubled as she was with the promise of +infinite pain. + +That night she loved Perigal more than she had ever done before. It +seemed to her that she was his, body and soul, for ever and ever; +that nothing could ever alter it. When she fell asleep, she did not +rest for long at a stretch. Every now and then, she would awaken +with a start, when, for some minutes, she would listen to the +ticking of the American clock on the mantelpiece. Her mind went back +to the vigil she had spent during Miss Nippett's kit night of life. +Then, it had seemed as if the clock were remorselessly eager to +diminish the remaining moments of the accompanist's allotted span. +Now, it appeared to Mavis as if the clock were equally desirous of +cutting short the moments that must elapse before her child was +born. + +The next morning, she was awakened soon after eight by the noise of +a tray being banged down just inside the door, when she gathered +that someone had brought her breakfast. This consisted of coarsely +cut bread, daubed with disquieting-looking butter, a boiled shop +egg, and a cup of thin, stewed tea. As Mavis drank the latter, she +recollected the monstrous suggestion which Mrs Gowler had insinuated +the previous evening. The horror of it filled her mind to the +exclusion of everything else. She had quite decided to leave the +house as soon as she could pack her things, when a pang of dull pain +troubled her body. She wondered if this heralded the birth of her +baby, which she had not expected for quite two days, when the pain +passed. She got out of bed and was setting about getting up, when +the pain attacked her again, to leave her as it had done before. She +waited in considerable suspense, as she strove to believe that the +pains were of no significance, when she experienced a further pang, +this more insistent than the last. She washed and dressed with all +dispatch. While thus occupied, the pains again assailed her. When +ready, she went downstairs to the kitchen, followed by Jill, to find +the room deserted. She called "Mrs Gowler" several times without +getting any response. Before going to her box to get some things she +wanted, she gave Jill a run in the enclosed space behind the house. +When Mavis presently went upstairs with an armful of belongings from +her box, she heard a voice call from the further side of a door she +was passing: + +"Was you wanting Piggy?" + +"I wanted Mrs Gowler." + +"She's gone out and taken Oscar with her." + +"When will she be back?" + +"Gawd knows. Was you wanting her pertikler?" + +"Not very," answered Mavis, at which she sought her room. + +For four hours, Mavis sat terrified and alone in the poky room, +during which her pains gradually increased. They were still +bearable, and not the least comparable to the mental tortures which +continually threatened her, owing to the dreariness of her +surroundings and her isolation from all human tenderness. Now and +again, she would play with + +Jill, or she would remake her bed. When the horror of her position +was violently insistent, she would think long and lovingly of +Perigal, and of how he would overwhelm her with caresses and +protestations of livelong devotion, could he ever learn of all she +had suffered from her surrender at Looe. + +About one, the door was thrust open, and Mrs Gowler, hot and +perspiring, and wearing her bonnet, came into the room, carrying a +plate, fork, knife, and spoon in one hand and a steaming pot in the +other. + +"'Elp yerself!" cried Mrs Gowler, as she threw the plate and spoon +upon the bed and thrust the pot beneath Mavis's nose. + +"It's coming on," said Mavis. + +"You needn't tell me that. I see it in yer face. 'Elp yerself." + +"But--" + +"I'll talk to you when I've got the dinners. 'Elp yerself." + +"What is it?" asked Mavis. + +"Lovely boiled mutting. Eat all you can swaller. You can do with it +before you've done," admonished the woman. + +Six o'clock found Mavis lying face downwards on the bed, her body +racked with pain. Mrs Gowler sat impassively on the only chair in +the room, while Jill watched her mistress with frightened eyes from +a corner. Now and again, when a specially violent pain tormented her +body, Mavis would grip the head rail of the bed with her hands, or +bite Perigal's ring, which she wore suspended from her neck. Once, +when Mrs Gowler was considerate enough to wipe away the beads of +sweat, which had gathered on the suffering girl's forehead, Mavis +gasped: + +"Is it nearly over?" + +"What! Over!" laughed Mrs Gowler mirthlessly. "I call that the +preliminary canter." + +"Will it be much worse?" + +"You're bound to be worse before you're better." + +"I can't--I can't bear it!" + +"Bite yer wedding ring and trus' in Gawd," remarked Mrs Gowler, in +the manner of one mechanically repeating a formula. "This is what +some of the gay gentlemen could do with." + +"It's--it's terrible," moaned Mavis. + +"'Cause it's your first. When you've been here a few times, it's as +easy as kiss me 'and." + +Very soon, Mavis was more than ever in the grip of the fiend who +seemed bent on torturing her without ruth. She had no idea till then +of the immense ingenuity which pain can display in its sport with +prey. During one long-drawn pang, it would seem to Mavis as if the +bones in her body were being sawn with a blunt saw; the next, she +believed that her flesh was being torn from her bones with red-hot +pincers. Then would follow a hallowed, blissful, cool interval from +searing pain, which made her think that all she had endured was well +worth the suffering, so vastly did she appreciate relief. Then she +would fall to shivering. Once or twice, it seemed that she was an +instrument on which pain was extemporising the most ingenious +symphonies, each more involved than the last. Occasionally, she +would wonder if, after all, she were mistaken, and if she were not +enjoying delicious sensations of pleasure. Then, so far as her pain- +racked body would permit, she found herself wondering at the +apparently endless varieties of torment to which the body could be +subjected. + +Once, she asked to look at herself in the glass. She did not +recognise anything resembling herself in the swollen, distorted +features, the distended eyes, and the dilated nostrils which she saw +in the glass which Mrs Gowler held before her. She was soon lost to +all sense of her surroundings. She feared that she was going mad. +She reassured herself, however, because, by a great effort of will, +she would conjure up some recollection of the loved one's +appearance, which she saw as if from a great distance. Then, after +eternities of torment, she was possessed by a culminating agony. +Sweat ran from her pores. Every nerve in her being vibrated with +suffering, as if the accumulated pain of the ages was being +conducted through her body. More and even more pain. Then, a supreme +torment held her, which made all others seem trifling by comparison. +The next moment, a new life was born into the world--a new life, +with all its heritage of certain sorrow and possible joy; with all +its infinite sensibility to pleasure or pain, to hope and love and +disillusion. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY + +THE "PERMANENT" + + +When Mavis regained a semblance of consciousness, something soft and +warm lay on her heart. Jill was watching her with anxious eyes. A +queer little female figure stood beside the bed. + +"Better, dear?" asked this person. + +"Where's Mrs Gowler?" whispered Mavis. + +"She got tired of waiting, so I came in. I've been here a hour" (she +pronounced the aspirate). + +"Who are you?" asked Mavis. + +"I'm the 'permanent.'" + +"The what?" + +"The 'permanent': at least, that's what they call me here. But you +mustn't talk. You've 'ad a bad time." + +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked Mavis. + +"A boy. Don't say no more." + +Mavis did not know if she were pleased or otherwise with the sex of +her child; she could only thankfully realise that she was free from +torment. She lay back, enjoying to the full her delicious +comparative ease, before lifting the bed clothes to press her lips +against her baby's head. She held it closer to her heart as she +realised that its father was the man she loved. Although the woman +who had introduced herself as the "permanent" had told Mavis not to +talk, she did not set the example of silence. While she busied +herself about and in and out of the room, she talked incessantly, +chiefly about herself. For a long time, Mavis was too occupied with +her own thoughts to pay any attention to what she was saying. Before +she listened to the woman's gossip, she was more intent on taking in +the details of her appearance. Mavis could not make up her mind +whether she was young, old, or middle-aged; she might so easily have +been one of these. Her face was not unpleasant, although her largish +dark eyes were quite close to her snub nose, over which the eyebrows +met. Her expression was that of good-natured simplicity, while her +movements and manner of speaking betrayed great self-consciousness, +the result of an immense personal vanity. She was soon to be a +mother. + +"It's my eighth, and all by different fathers," she told Mavis, who +wondered at the evident pride with which the admission was made, +till the woman added: "When you have had eight, and all by different +fathers, it proves how the gentlemen love you." + +Mavis, for all her exhaustion, could not help smiling at the +ingenuousness of the "permanent's" point of view. Seeing Mavis +smile, the woman laughed also, but her hilarity was inspired by +self-conscious pride. + +"P'raps you wonder what's become of the little dears. Three's dead, +two's 'dopted, an' two is paid for at five bob a week by the +gentlemen," she informed Mavis. She then asked: "I'spose this is +your first?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"My! You're a baby at it. I 'spect I'll have a dozen to your six." + +Presently, she spoke of Mrs Gowler. + +"I've had every kid here, all seven of 'em, before the one I'm +'spectin' on Sunday. That's why Piggy calls me the 'permanent.' Do +you like Piggy?" + +Mavis moved her head in a way that could either be interpreted as a +nod or a negative shake. + +"I don't care for her very much, though I must say that so long as +you locks up yer things, and don't take notice of what she says or +does when she's drunk, she's always quite the lady." + +Mavis, for all her growing weariness, smiled. + +"Do you know why I reely come here?" asked the "permanent." "'Cause +I love Piggy's son, Oscar. Oh, he is that comic! He do make me laugh +so, I never can see enough of him. Don't you love looking at Oscar?" + +Mavis shook her head. + +"Don't you think him comic?" + +"No," whispered Mavis. + +"Go h'on! But there, I nearly forgot!" + +The "permanent" left the room, at which Mavis closed her eyes, +thankful for a few moments' peace. + +"Take this cornflour," said a voice at her elbow: the "permanent" +had brought her a basinful of this food. "I made it meself, 'cause +Piggy always burns it, an' Oscar puts his fingers in it." + +"You're very kind," murmured Mavis. + +"Hold yer jaw," remarked the "permanent" with mock roughness. + +Mavis gratefully swallowed the stuff, to feel the better for it. +When she had finished the last drop, she lay back to watch the +"permanent," who arranged the room for the night. Candle, matches, +and milk were put handy for Mavis to reach; an old skirt was put +down for Jill; bed and pillows were made comfortable. + +"If you want me, I'm in the left top front with Mrs Rabbidge." + +"Not alone?" asked Mavis. + +"Not me. Give me company when I 'ave kids. I'll bring yer tea in the +morning." + +Whatever misfortunes the fates had reserved for Mavis, they had +endowed her with a magnificent constitution; consequently, despite +the indifferent nursing, the incompetent advice, the ill-cooked +food, she quickly recovered strength. Hourly she felt better, +although the nursing of her baby was a continuous tax upon her +vitality. Following the "permanent's" advice, who was an old hand in +such matters, Mavis kept quite still and did not exert herself more +than she could possibly help. But although her body was still, her +mind was active. She fretted because she had received no reply to +her last little letter to Perigal. Morning and evening, which was +the time when she had been accustomed to get letters from Wales, she +would wait in a fever of anxiety till the post arrived; when it +brought no letter for her, she suffered acute distress of mind. + +Upon the fifth evening after her baby was born, Mrs Gowler thrust an +envelope beneath her door shortly after the postman had knocked. It +was a yellow envelope, on which was printed "On His Majesty's +Service." Mavis tore it open, to find her own letter to Perigal +enclosed, which was marked "Gone, no address." A glance told her +that it had been correctly addressed. + +When, an hour later, Mrs Gowler came up to see if she wanted +anything, she saw that Mavis was far from well. She took her hand +and found it hot and dry. + +"Does yer 'ead ache?" she asked of Mavis, whose eyes were wide open +and staring. + +"It's awful." + +"If you're no better in the morning, you'd better 'ave a +shillingsworth of Baldock." + +If anything, Mavis was worse on the morrow. She had passed a +restless night, which had been troubled with unpleasantly vivid +dreams; moreover, the first post had brought no letter for her. + +"Got a shillin'?" asked Mrs Gowler after she had made some pretence +of examining her. + +"What for?" asked Mavis. + +"Doctor's fee. You'll be bad if you don't see 'im." + +"Is he clever?" asked the patient. + +"Clever! 'E be that clever, it drops orf 'im." + +When, with the patient's consent, Mrs Gowler set out to fetch the +doctor, she, also at the girl's request, sent a telegram to Mrs +Scatchard, asking her to send on at once any letters that may have +come for Mavis. She was sustained by a hope that Perigal may have +written to her former address. + +"Got yer shillin' ready?" asked Mrs Gowler, an hour or so later. +"'E'll be up in a minute." + +Two minutes later, Mrs Gowler threw the door wide open to admit Dr +Baldock. Mavis saw a short, gross-looking, middle-aged man, who was +dressed in a rusty frock-coat; he carried an old bowler hat and two +odd left-hand gloves. Mrs Gowler detailed Mavis's symptoms, the +while Dr Baldock stood stockstill with his eyes closed, as if +intently listening to the nurse's words. When she had finished, the +doctor caught hold of Mavis's wrist; at the same time, he fumbled +for his watch in his waistcoat pocket; not finding it, he dropped +her arm and asked her to put out her tongue. After examining this, +and asking her a few questions, he told her to keep quiet; also, +that he would look in again during the evening to see how she was +getting on. + +"Doctor's fee," said Mrs Gowler, as she thrust herself between the +doctor and the bed. + +Mavis put the shilling in her hand, at which the landlady left the +room, to be quickly followed by the doctor, who seemed equally eager +to go. Mavis, with aching head, wondered if the evening post would +bring her the letter she hungered for from North Kensington. + +An hour later, a note was thrust beneath her door. She got out of +bed to fetch it, to read the following, scrawled with a pencil upon +a soiled half sheet of paper:-- + +"Don't you go and be a fool and have no more of Piggy's doctors. He +isn't a doctor at all, and is nothing more than a coal merchant's +tally-man, who got the sack for taking home coals in the bag he +carried his dinner in. My baby is all right, but he squints. Does +yours?--I remain yours truly, the permannente, MILLY BURT." + +Anger possessed Mavis at the trick Mrs Gowler had played in order to +secure a further shilling from her already attenuated store, an +emotion which increased her distress of mind. When Mrs Gowler +brought in the midday meal, which to-day consisted of fried fish and +potatoes from the neighbouring fried fish shop, Mavis said: + +"If that man comes here again, I'll order him out." + +"The doctor!" gasped Mrs Gowler. + +"He's an impostor. He's no doctor." + +"'E's as good as one any day, an' much cheaper." + +"How dare he come into my room! I shall stop the shilling out of my +bill." + +"You will, will yer! You try it on," cried Mrs Gowler defiantly. + +"I believe he could be prosecuted, if I told the police about it," +remarked Mavis. + +At the mention of "police," Mrs Gowler's face became rigid. She +recovered herself and picked out for Mavis the least burned portion +of fish; she also gave her a further helping of potatoes, as she +said: + +"We won't quarrel over that there shillin', an' a cup o' tea is +yours whenever you want it." + +Mavis smiled faintly. She was beginning to discover how it paid to +stick up for herself. + +As the comparative cool of the evening succeeded to the heat of the +day, Mavis's agitation of mind was such that she could scarcely +remain in bed. The fact of her physical helplessness served to +increase the tension in her mind, consequently her temperature. She +feared what would happen to her already over-taxed brain should she +not receive the letter she desired. When she presently heard the +postman's knock at the door, her heart beat painfully; she lay in an +immense suspense, with her hands pressed against her throbbing head. +After what seemed a great interval of time (it was really three +minutes), Mrs Gowler waddled into the room, bringing a letter, which +Mavis snatched from her hands. To her unspeakable relief, it was in +Perigal's handwriting, and bore the Melkbridge postmark. She tore it +open, to read the following:-- + +"MY DEAREST GIRL,--Why no letter? Are you well? Have you any news in +the way of a happy issue from all your afflictions? I have left +Wales for good. Love as always, C. D. P." + +These hastily scribbled words brought a healing joy to Mavis's +heart. She read and re-read them, pressing her baby to her heart as +she did so. As a special mark of favour, Jill was permitted to kiss +the letter. If Mavis had thought that a communication, however +scrappy, from her lover would bring her unalloyed gladness, she was +mistaken. No sooner was her mind relieved of one load than it was +weighted with another; the substitution of one care for another had +long become a familiar process. The intimate association of mind and +body being what it is, and Mavis's offspring being dependent on the +latter for its well-being, it was no matter for surprise that her +baby developed disquieting symptoms. Hence, Mavis's new cause for +concern. + +Contrary to the case of unwedded mothers, as usually described in +the pages of fiction, Mavis's love for her baby had, so far, not +been particularly active, this primal instinct having as yet been +more slumbering than awake. As soon after his birth as she was +capable of coherent thought, she had been much concerned at the +undeniable existence of the new factor which had come into her life. +There was no contradicting Mrs Gowler, who had said that "babies +take a lot of explaining away." She reflected that, if the fight for +daily bread had been severe when she had merely to fight for +herself, it would be much harder to live now that there was another +mouth to fill, to say nothing of the disabilities attending her +unmarried state. The fact of her letter to Perigal having been +returned through the medium of the dead-letter office had almost +distracted her with worry, and it is a commonplace that this variety +of care is inimical to the existence of any form of love. + +Her baby's illness quickly called to life all the immense maternal +instinct which she possessed, but, at the same time, her recent +awakening to her own claims to consideration made her realise, with +a heartfelt sigh, that, in loving her boy as she now did, she was +only giving a further precious hostage to happiness. + +For three days the mother was kept in a suspense that served to +protract the boy's illness, but, at the end of this time, largely +owing to Mrs Gowler's advice, he began to improve. The day that his +disquieting symptoms disappeared, which was also the day on which he +recovered his appetite, was signalised by the arrival of Perigal's +reply to Mavis's letter from Durley Road, announcing the birth of +their son. In this, he congratulated her on her fortitude, and +assured her that her happiness and well-being would always be his +first consideration. It also told her that she was the best and most +charming girl he had ever met; meeting with other women only the +more strengthened this conviction. + +Mavis's heart leapt with a great joy. So long as she was easily +first in her lover's eyes, nothing else mattered. She had been +foolish ever to have done other than implicitly trust him. His love +decorated the one-time sparrow that she was with feathers of +gorgeous hue. + +Days succeeded each other within the four walls of Mrs Gowler's +nursing home much as anywhere else, although in each twenty-four +hours there usually occurred what were to Mavis's sensitive eyes and +ears unedifying sights, agonised cries of women in torment. All day +and night, with scarcely any intermission, could be heard the +wailing of one or more babies in different rooms in the house. Mrs +Gowler's nursing home attracted numberless girls from all parts of +the great city, whose condition necessitated their temporary +retirement from employment, whatever it might be. Mavis gathered +that they were mostly the mean sort of general servant, who had +succumbed to the blandishments of the men who make it a practice to +prey on this class of woman. So far as Mavis could see, they were +mostly plain and uninteresting-looking; also, that the majority of +them stayed only a few days, lack of means preventing them being at +Mrs Gowler's long enough to recover their health. They would depart, +hugging their baby and carrying their poor little parcel of luggage, +to be swallowed up and lost in London's ravening and cavernous maw. +As they sadly left the house, Mavis could not help thinking that +these deserted women were indeed human sparrows, who needed no small +share of their heavenly Father's loving kindness to prevent them +from falling and being utterly lost in the mire of London. Once or +twice during Mavis's stay, the house was so full that three would +sleep in one room, each of whom would go downstairs to the parlour, +which was the front room on the ground floor, for the dreaded +ordeal, to be taken upstairs as soon as possible after the baby was +born. Mavis, who had always looked on the birth of a child as +something sacred and demanding the utmost privacy, was inexpressibly +shocked at the wholesale fashion in which children were brought into +the world at Mrs Gowler's. + +There was much that was casual, and, therefore, callous about the +circumstances attending the ceaseless succession of births; they +might as well have been kittens, their mothers cats, so Mavis +thought, owing to the mean indignities attaching to the initial +stages of their motherhood. It did not occur to her how house-room, +furniture, doctors, nurses, and servants supply dignity to a +commonplace process of nature. It seemed to Mavis that Mrs Gowler +lived in an atmosphere of horror and pain. At the same time, the +girl had the sense to realise that Mrs Gowler had her use in life, +inasmuch as she provided a refuge for the women, which salved their +pride (no small matter) by enabling them to forego entering the +workhouse infirmary, which otherwise could not have been avoided. + +Oscar inspired Mavis with an inexpressible loathing. For the life of +her, she could not understand why such terrible caricatures of +humanity were permitted to live, and were not put out of existence +at birth. The common trouble of Mrs Gowler's lodgers seemed to +establish a feeling of fellowship amongst them during the time that +they were there. Mavis was not a little surprised to receive one day +a request from a woman, to the effect that she should give this +person's baby a "feed," the mother not being so happily endowed in +this respect as Mavis. The latter's indignant refusal gave rise to +much comment in the place. + +The "permanent" was soon on her feet, an advantage which she +declared was owing to her previous fecundity. Mavis could see how +the "permanent" despised her because she was merely nursing her +first-born. + +"'As Piggy 'ad a go at your box yet?" she one day asked Mavis, who +replied: + +"I'm too careful. I always keep it locked." + +"Locks ain't nothin' to her. If you've any letters from a gentleman, +as would compromise him, burn them." + +"Why?" + +"If she gets hold of 'em, she'll make money on 'em." + +"Nonsense! She wouldn't dare." + +"Wouldn't she! Piggy 'ud do anythink for gin or that there dear +comic Oscar." + +In further talks with the "permanent," Mavis discovered that, for +all her acquaintance's good nature, she was much of a liar, although +her frequent deviations from the truth were caused by the woman's +boundless vanity. Time after time she would give Mavis varying +accounts of the incidents attending her many lapses from virtue, in +all of which drugging by officers of His Majesty's army played a +conspicuous part. + +Mavis, except at meal times, saw little of Mrs Gowler, who was +usually in the downstair parlour or in other rooms of the house. +Whenever she saw Mavis, however, she persistently urged her to board +out her baby with one of the several desirable motherly females she +was in a position to recommend. Mrs Gowler pointed out the many +advantages of thus disposing of Mavis's boy till such time as would +be more convenient for mother and son to live together. But Mavis +now knew enough of Mrs Gowler and her ways; she refused to dance to +the woman's assiduous piping. But Mrs Gowler was not to be denied. +One day, when Mavis was sitting up in bed, Mrs Gowler burst into the +room to announce proudly that Mrs Bale had come to see Mavis about +taking her baby to nurse. + +"Who is Mrs Bale?" asked Mavis, much annoyed at the intrusion. + +"Wait till you see her," cried Mrs Gowler, as if her coming were a +matter of rare good fortune. + +Mavis had not long to wait. In a few moments a tall, spare, +masculine-looking woman strode into the room. Mrs Bale's red face +seemed to be framed in spacious black bonnet strings. Mavis thought +that she had never seen such a long upper lip as this woman had. +This was surmounted by a broken, turned-up nose, on either side of +which were boiled, staring eyes, which did not hold expression of +any kind. If Mavis had frequented music halls, she would have +recognised the woman as the original of a type frequently seen on +the boards of those resorts, played by male impersonators. Directly +she saw Mavis, Mrs Bale hurried to the bedside and seized the baby, +to dandle it in her arms, the while she made a clucking noise not +unlike the cackling of a hen. + +Mavis noticed that Mrs Bale's breath reeked of gin. + +"Put my baby down," said Mavis. + +"I'll leave you two ladies to settle it between yer," remarked Mrs +Gowler, as she left the room. + +"I'm not going to put my baby out to nurse. Good morning." + +"Not for five shillings a week?" asked Mrs Bale. + +"Good morning." + +"Say I made it four and six?" + +Mavis made no reply, at which Mrs Bale sat down and began to weep. + +"What about the trouble and expense of coming all the way here?" +asked Mrs Bale. + +"I never asked you to come." + +"Well, I shan't leave this room till you give me six-pence for +refreshment to get me to the station." + +"I won't give it to you; I'll give it to Mrs Gowler." + +"An' a lot of it I'd see." + +Mrs Gowler, who had been listening at the door, came into the room +and demanded to know what Mrs Bale meant. + +Then followed a stream of recriminations, in which each accused the +other of a Newgate calendar of crime. Mavis at last got rid of them +by giving them threepence each. + +Three nights before Mavis left Durley Road, she was awakened by the +noise of Jill's subdued growling. Thinking she heard someone outside +her room, she went stealthily to the door; she opened it quickly, to +find Mrs Gowler on hands and knees before her box, which she was +trying to open with a bunch of keys. + +"What are you doing?" asked Mavis. + +The woman entered into a confused explanation, which Mavis cut short +by saying: + +"I've heard about your tricks. If I have any more bother from you, I +shall go straight from here to the police station." + +"Gawd's truth! Why did I ever take you in?" grumbled Mrs Gowler as +she waddled downstairs. "I might 'ave known you was a cat by the +colour of your 'air." + +The time came when Mavis was able to leave Durley Road. Whither she +was going she knew not. She paid her bill, refusing to discuss the +many extras which Mrs Gowler tried to charge, had her box taken by a +porter to the cloak room at the station, dressed her darling baby, +said good-bye to Piggy and went downstairs, to shudder as she walked +along the passage to the front door. She had not walked far, when an +ordinary-looking man came up, who barely lifted his hat. + +"Can I speak to you, m'am?" + +"What is it?" + +"You have just left 9 Durley Road?" + +"Y-yes." + +"I'm a detective officer. I'm engaged in watching the house. Have +you any complaint to make?" + +"I don't wish to, thank you." + +"We know all sorts of things go on, but it's difficult to get +evidence." + +"I don't care to give you any because--because--" + +"I understand, ma'm," said the man kindly. "I know what trouble is." + +Mavis was feeling so physically and mentally low with all she had +gone through, that the man's kindly words made the tears course down +her cheeks. + +She wiped them away, resettled the baby in her arms, and walked +sorrowfully up the road, followed by the sympathetic glance of the +plain-clothes detective. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE + +PIMLICO + + +Mavis found a resting-place for her tired body in the unattractive +district of Pimlico, which is the last halting-place of so many of +London's young women before the road to perdition is irretrievably +taken. Mavis had purposed going to Hammersmith, but the fates which +decide these matters had other views. On the tedious underground +journey from New Cross, she felt so unwell that she got out at +Victoria to seek refuge in the ladies' cloak room. The woman in +charge, who was old, wizened, and despondent, gave Mavis some water +and held her baby the while she lamented her misfortunes: these were +embodied in the fact that "yesterday there had only been three +'washies' and one torn dress"; also, that "in the whole of the last +month there had been but three 'faints' and six ladies the worse for +drink." Acting on the cloak-room attendant's advice, Mavis sought +harbourage in one of the seemingly countless houses which, in +Pimlico, are devoted to the letting of rooms. But Mavis was burdened +with a baby; moreover, she could pay so little that no one wished to +accommodate her. Directly she stated her simple wants, together with +the sum that she could afford to pay, she was, in most cases, +bundled into the street with scant consideration for her feelings. +After two hours' fruitless search, she found refuge in a tiny milk- +shop in a turning off the Vauxhall Bridge Road, where she bought +herself a scone and a glass of milk; she also took advantage of the +shop's seclusion to give her baby much-needed nourishment. +Ultimately, she got a room in a straight street, flanked by stucco- +faced high houses, which ran out of Lupus Street. Halverton Street +has an atmosphere of its own; it suggests shabby vice, unclean +living, as if its inhabitants' lives were mysterious, furtive +deviations from the normal. Mavis, for all her weariness, was not +insensible to the suggestions that Halverton Street offered; but it +was a hot July day; she had not properly recovered from her +confinement; she felt that if she did not soon sit down she would +drop in the street. She got a room for four shillings a week at the +fifth house at which she applied in this street. The door had been +opened by a tall, thin, flat-chested girl, whose pasty face was +plentifully peppered with pimples. The only room to let was on the +ground floor at the back of the house; it was meagre, poorly +furnished, but clean. Mavis paid a week's rent in advance and was +left to her own devices. For all the presence of her baby and Jill, +Mavis felt woefully alone. She bought, and made a meal of bloater +paste, bread, butter, and a bottle of stout, to feel the better for +it. She then telephoned to the station master at New Cross, to whom +she gave the address to which he could forward her trunk. On her +return from the shop where she had telephoned, she went into a +grocer's, where, for twopence, she purchased a small packing case. +With this she contrived to make a cradle for her baby, by knocking +out the projecting nails with a hammer borrowed from the pimply- +faced woman at her lodging. If the extemporised cradle lacked +adornment, it was adorable by reason of the love and devotion with +which she surrounded her little one. Her box arrived in the course +of the evening, when Mavis set about making the room look as +homelike as possible. This done, she made further inroads on her +midday purchases of bread and bloater paste, washed, fed her baby, +and said her prayers before undressing for the night. At ten +o'clock, mother and child were asleep. + +Mavis had occupied her room for some days before she learned +anything of the house in which she lodged. It was kept by a Mr, Mrs, +and Miss Gussle, who lived in the basement. It was Miss Gussle who +had opened the door to Mavis on the day she came. Mrs Gussle was +never seen. Mavis heard from one source that she was always drunk; +from another, that she was a teetotaller and spent her time at +devotions; from a third, that she neither drank nor prayed, but +passed the day in reading novelettes. But it was Mr Gussle who +appealed the most to Mavis's sense of character. He was a wisp of a +bald-headed, elderly man, who was invariably dressed in a rusty +black frockcoat suit, a not too clean dicky, and a made-up black bow +tie, the ends of which were tucked beneath the flaps of a turned +down paper collar. He had no business or trade, but did the menial +work of the house. He made the beds, brought up the meals and water, +laid the tables and emptied the slops; but, while thus engaged, he +never made any remark, and when spoken to replied in monosyllables. +The ground floor front was let to a third-rate Hebraic music-hall +artiste, who perfunctorily attended his place of business. The +second and third floors, and most of the top rooms, were let to +good-looking young women, who were presumed to belong to the +theatrical profession. If they were correctly described, there was +no gainsaying their devotion to their calling. They would leave home +well before the theatre doors were open to the public, with their +faces made up all ready to go on the stage; also, they were +apparently so reluctant to leave the scene of their labours that +they would commonly not return till the small hours. The top front +room was rented by an author, who made a precarious living by +writing improving stories for weekly and monthly journals and +magazines. Whenever the postman's knock was heard at the door, it +was invariably followed by the appearance of the author in the +passage, often in the scantiest of raiment, to discover whether the +post had brought him any luck. Although his stories were the delight +of the more staid among his readers, the writer was on the best of +terms with the "theatrical" young women, he spending most of his +time in their company. The lodgers at Mrs Gussle's were typical of +the inhabitants of Halverton Street. And if a house influences the +natures of those who dwell within its walls, how much more does the +character of tenants find expression in the appearance of the place +they inhabit? Hence the shabbiness and decay which Halverton Street +suggested. + +Mavis heard from Perigal at infrequent intervals, when he would +write scrappy notes inquiring after her health, and particularly +after his child. Once, he sent a sovereign, asking Mavis to have the +boy photographed and to send him a copy. Mavis did as she was asked. +The photographs cost eight shillings. Although she badly wanted a +few shillings to get her boots soled and heeled, she returned the +money which was over after paying for the photographs, to Perigal. +She was resolved that no sordid question of money should soil their +relationship, however attenuated this might become. + +Much of Mavis's time was taken up with her baby. She washed, +dressed, undressed, and took out her little one, duties which took +up a considerable part of each day. From lack of means she was +compelled to wash her own and the baby's body-linen, which she dried +by suspending from cords stretched across the room. All these +labours were an aspect of maternity which she had never encountered +in books. Much of the work was debasing and menial; its performance +left her weak and irritable; she believed that it was gradually +breaking the little spirit she had brought from Mrs Gowler's nursing +home. When she recalled the glowing periods she had chanced upon in +her reading, which eulogised the supreme joys of motherhood, she +supposed that they had been penned by writers with a sufficient +staff of servants and with means that made a formidable laundry bill +of no account. She wondered how working-class women with big +families managed, who, in addition to attending to the wants of +their children, had all the work of the house upon their hands. +Mavis's spare time was filled by the answering of advertisements in +the hope of getting sorely needed work; the sending of these to +their destination cost money for postage stamps, which made sad +inroads on her rapidly dwindling funds. But time and money were +expended in vain. The address from which she wrote was a poor +recommendation to possible employers. She could not make personal +application, as she dared not leave her baby for long at a stretch. +Sometimes, her lover's letters would not bring her the joy that they +once occasioned; they affected her adversely, leaving her moody and +depressed. Conversely, when she did not hear from Melkbridge for +some days, she would be cheerful and light-hearted, when she would +spend glad half-hours in reading the advertisements of houses to let +and deciding which would suit her when she was married to Perigal. +Sometimes, when burdened with care, she would catch sight of her +reflection in the glass, to be not a little surprised at the +strange, latent beauty which had come into her face. Maternity had +invested her features with a surpassing dignity and sweetness, which +added to the large share of distinction with which she had +originally been endowed. At the same time, she noticed with a sigh +that sorrow had sadly chastened the joyous light-heartedness which +formerly found constant expression in her eyes. + +Mavis had been at Mrs Gussle's about three weeks when she made the +acquaintance of one of the "theatrical" young women upstairs. They +had often met in the passage, when the girl had smiled +sympathetically at Mavis. One afternoon, when the latter was feeling +unusually depressed, a knock was heard at her door. She cried "Come +in," when the girl opened the door a few inches to say: + +"May I?" + +"I didn't know it was you," remarked Mavis, distressed at her +poverty being discovered. + +"I came to ask if I could do anything for you," said the girl. + +"That's very nice of you. Do come in." + +The girl came in and stayed till it was time for her to commence the +elaborate dressing demanded by her occupation. Mavis made her some +tea, and the girl (who was called "Lil") prevailed upon her hostess +to accept cigarettes. If the girl had been typical of her class, +Mavis would have had nothing to do with her; but although Lil made a +brave show of cynicism and gay worldliness, Mavis's keen wits +perceived that these were assumed in order to conceal the girl's +secret resentment against her habit of life. Mavis, also, saw that +the girl's natural kindliness of heart and refined instincts +entitled her to a better fate than the one which now gripped her. +Lil was particularly interested in Mavis's baby. She asked +continually about him; she sought him with her eyes when talking to +Mavis, conduct that inclined the latter in her favour. + +When Lil was going she asked: + +"May I come again?" + +"Why not?" asked Mavis. + +"I didn't know I--I--So long," cried Lil, as she glanced in the +direction of the baby. + +On the occasion of her next visit, which took place two afternoons +later, Lil asked: + +"May I nurse your baby?" to add, as Mavis hesitated, "I promise I +won't kiss him." + +Mavis consented, greatly to Lil's delight, who played with the baby +for the rest of the afternoon. + +"You're fond of children?" commented Mavis. + +The girl nodded, the while she bit her lip. + +"I can see you've had baby brothers or sisters," remarked Mavis. + +"How do you know?" + +"By the way you hold him." + +"What do you think of Gertie?" asked Lil quickly. + +"Who's Gertie?" + +"Mr Gussle. Upstairs we always call him Gertie." + +"I can't make him out," said Mavis, at which she learned from Lil +that Mr Gussle loathed his present means of earning a livelihood; +also, that he hungered for respectability, and that, to satisfy his +longing, he frequented, in his spare time, a tin tabernacle of +evangelical leanings. Mavis also learned that the girls upstairs, +knowing of Mr Gussle's proclivities, tempted him with cigarettes, +spirits, and stimulating fleshly allurements. + +One day, when Mavis had left her sleeping baby to go out for a few +minutes, she returned to find Lil nursing her boy, the while tears +fell from her eyes. Mavis pretended not to notice the girl's grief. +She busied herself about the room, till Lil recovered herself. +Later, when Mavis was getting seriously pressed for money, she came +across odd half sovereigns in various parts of the room, which she +rightly suspected had been put there by her friend. For all Lil's +entreaties, Mavis insisted on returning the money. Lil constantly +wore a frock to which Mavis took exception because it was garish. +One day she spoke to Lil about it. + +"Why do you so often wear that dress?" she asked. + +"Don't you like it?" + +"Not a bit. It's much too loud for you." + +"I don't like it myself." + +"Then why wear it?" + +"It's my 'lucky dress.'" + +"Your what?" + +"'Lucky' dress. Don't you know all we girls have their 'lucky' +dresses?" + +This was news to Mavis. + +"You mean a dress that--" + +"Brings us luck with the gentlemen," interrupted Lil. + +The subject thus opened, Lil became eloquent upon many aspects of +her occupation. Presently she said: + +"It isn't always the worst girls who are 'on the game.'" + +"Indeed!" + +"So many are there through no fault of their own." + +"How is that?" asked Mavis. + +"They get starved into it. It's all these big shops and places. They +pay sweating wages, and to get food the girls pick up men. That's +the beginning." + +Mavis nodded assent. She remembered all she had heard and seen on +this matter when at "Dawes'." + +"And the small employers are getting just as bad. And of them the +women are the worst. They don't care how much they grind poor girls +down. If anything, I b'lieve they enjoy it. And if once a girl goes +wrong, they're the ones to see she don't get back. Why is it they +hate us so?" + +"Give it up," replied Mavis, who added, "I should think it wanted an +awful lot of courage." + +"Courage! courage! You simply mustn't think. And that's where drink +comes in." + +Mavis sighed. + +"Don't you ever take to the life," admonished Lil. + +"I'm not likely to," shuddered Mavis. + +"'Cause you ain't the least built that way. And thank God you +ain't." + +"I do; I do," said Mavis fervently. + +"It's easy enough to blame, I know; but if you've a little one and +no one in the wide world to turn to for help, and the little one's +crying for food, what can a poor girl do?" asked Lil, as she became +thoughtful and sad-looking. + +A time came when Mavis was sorely pressed for money to buy the bare +necessaries of life. She could not even afford soap with which to +wash her own and her baby's clothes. Of late, she had made frequent +visits to Mrs Scatchard's, where she had left many of her +belongings. All of these that were saleable she had brought away and +had disposed of either at pawnshops or at second-hand dealers in +clothes. She had at last been constrained to part with her most +prized trinkets, even including those which belonged to her father +and the ring that Perigal had given her, and which she had worn +suspended from her neck. + +She now had but one and sixpence in the world. The manifold worries +and perplexities consequent upon her poverty had affected her +health. She was no longer able to supply her baby with its natural +food. She was compelled to buy milk from the neighbouring dairy and +to sterilise it to the best of her ability. To add to her distress, +her boy's health suffered from the change of diet. Times without +number, she had been on the point of writing to Perigal to tell him +of all she had suffered and to ask for help, but pride had held her +back. Now, the declension in her boy's health urged her to throw +this pride to the winds, to do what common sense had been suggesting +for so long. She had prayed eloquently, earnestly, often, for Divine +assistance: so far, no reply had been vouchsafed. When evening came, +she could bear no longer the restraint imposed by the four walls of +her room. She had had nothing to eat that day; all she had had the +day before was a crust of bread, which she had gleefully lighted +upon at the back of her cupboard. This she would have shared with +Jill, had not her friend despised such plain fare. Jill had lately +developed a habit of running upstairs at meal times, when, after an +interval, she would come down to lick her chops luxuriously before +falling asleep. + +Mavis was faint for lack of nourishment; hunger pains tore at her +stomach. She felt that, if she did not get some air, she would die +of the heat and exhaustion. Her baby was happily sleeping soundly, +so she had no compunction in setting out. She crossed Lupus Street, +where her nostrils were offended by the smell of vegetable refuse +from the costermonger stalls, to walk in the direction of Victoria. +The air was vapid and stale, but this did not prevent the dwellers +in Pimlico from sitting at open windows or standing on doorsteps in +order to escape the stuffiness of their houses. They were mostly +vulgar lodging-house people, who were enjoying their ease following +upon the burden of the day; but Mavis found herself envying them, if +only for the fact that their bodies were well supplied with food. +Hunger unloosed a savage rage within her, not only against everyone +she encountered, but also against the conditions of her life. "What +was the use of being of gentle birth?" she asked herself, if this +were all it had done for her. She deeply regretted that she had not +been born an ordinary London girl, in which case she would have been +spared the possession of all those finer susceptibilities with which +she now believed herself to be cursed, and which had prevented her +from getting assistance from Perigal. She lingered by the cook shop +in Denbigh Street, where she thought that she had never smelt +anything so delicious as the greasy savours which came from the +eating-house. It was only with a great effort of will that she +stopped herself from spending her last one and sixpence (which she +was keeping for emergency) in food. When she reached the Wilton +Road, she walked of a set purpose on the station side of that +thoroughfare. She feared that the restaurants opposite might prevail +against her already weakened resolution. By the time she reached the +Victoria Underground Station, her hunger was no longer under +control. Her eyes searched the gutters greedily for anything that +was fit to eat. She glared wolfishly at a ragged boy who picked up +an over-ripe banana, which had been thrown on the pavement. The +thought of the little one at home decided her. She turned in the +direction of the post-office, having at last resolved to wire to her +lover for help. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" said a familiar voice at her side. Mavis turned, +to see the ill-dressed figure of flat-chested, dumpy Miss Toombs. + +"Miss Toombs!" she faltered. + +"Didn't you see me staring at you?" + +"Of course not. What are you doing in London?" + +"I'm up here on a holiday. I am glad to see you." + +"So am I. Good night." + +"Eh!" + +"I must go home. I said good night." + +"You are a pig. I thought you'd come and have something to eat." + +"I'm not--I'm not hungry." + +"Well, sit down by me while I feed. I feel I want a jolly good blow +out." + +They had reached the doors of the restaurant opposite the main +entrance to the underground railway. The issuing odours smote +Mavis's hesitation hip and thigh. + +"I--I really must be off," faltered Mavis, as she stood stockstill +on the pavement. + +By way of reply, Miss Toombs shoved the unresisting Mavis through +the swing doors of the eating house; then, taking the lead, she +piloted her to a secluded corner on the first floor, which was not +nearly so crowded as the downstair rooms. + +"It's nice to see good old Keeves again," remarked Miss Toombs, as +she thrust a list of appetising foods under Mavis's nose. + +"I'm really not a bit hungry," declared Mavis, who avoided looking +at the toothsome-looking bread-rolls as far as her ravening hunger +would permit. She grasped the tablecloth to stop herself from +attacking these. + +"Got any real turtle soup?" asked Miss Toombs of the polyglot waiter +who now stood beside the table. + +"Mock turtle," said the man, as he put his finger on this item in +the menu card. + +"Two oxtail soups," Miss Toombs demanded. + +"Apres?" + +"Two stewed scallops, and after that some lamb cutlets, new +potatoes, and asparagus." + +"Bon! Next, meiss," said the waiter, who began to think that the +diner's prodigality warranted an unusually handsome tip. + +Miss Toombs ordered roast ducklings and peas, together with other +things, which included a big bottle of Burgundy, the while Mavis +stared at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed; the starving girl could +scarcely believe her ears. + +"Is it--is it all true?" she murmured. + +"Is what true?" + +"Oh, meeting with you." + +"Why? Have I altered much?" + +It seemed a long time to Mavis till the soup was placed before her. +Even when its savoury appeal made her faint with longing, she said: + +"I'm--I'm really not a bit--" + +She got no further. She had taken a mouthful of the soup, to hold it +for a few moments in her mouth. She had no idea till then that it +was possible to enjoy such delicious sensations. Once her fast was +broken, the floodgates of appetite were open. She no longer made +pretence of concealing her hunger; she would not have been able to +if she had wished. She swallowed great mouthfuls of food greedily, +silently, ravenously; she ate so fast that once or twice she was in +danger of choking. If anyone had taken her food away, she would have +fought to get it back. Thus Mavis devoured course after course, +unaware, careless that Miss Toombs herself was eating next to +nothing, and was watching her with quiet satisfaction from the +corners of her eyes. + +At last, Mavis was satisfied. She lay back silent and helpless on +her plush seat, enjoying to the full the sensation of the rich, fat +food nourishing her body. She closed her eyes and was falling into a +deep sleep. + +"Have some coffee and brandy," said Miss Toombs. + +Mavis pulled herself together and drank the coffee. + +"I'd give my soul for a cigarette," murmured Mavis, as she began to +feel more awake. + +"Blow you!" complained Miss Toombs, as she signalled to the waiter. + +Mavis looked at her surprised, when her hostess said: + +"You're prettier than ever. When I first saw you, I was delighted to +think you were 'going off.'" + +Mavis, regardless what others might think of her, lit the cigarette. +Although she took deep, grateful puffs, which she wholly enjoyed, +she soon let it go out; neither did she trouble to relight it, nor +did she pay any attention to Miss Toombs's remarks. Mavis's physical +content was by no means reflected in her mind. Her conscience was +deeply troubled by the fact of her having, as it were, sailed with +her benefactress under false colours. + +Her cogitations were interrupted by Miss Toombs putting a box of +expensive cigarettes (which she had got from the waiter) in her +hand. + +"Why are you so good to me?" asked Mavis. + +"I've always really liked you." + +"You wouldn't if you knew." + +"Knew what?" "Come. I'll show you." + +After Miss Toombs had settled with the waiter, they left the +restaurant. Miss Toombs accompanied Mavis along the Wilton Road and +Denbigh Street. Halverton Street was presently reached. Mavis opened +the door of Mrs Gussle's; with set face, she walked the passage to +her room, followed by plain Miss Toombs. She unlocked the door of +this and made way for her friend to enter. Clothes hung to dry from +ropes stretched across the room: the baby slept in his rough, soap- +box cradle. + +Miss Toombs seemed to disregard the appearance of the room; her eyes +sought the baby sleeping in the box. + +"There!" cried Mavis. "Now you know." + +"A baby!" gasped Miss Toombs. + +"You've been kind to me. I had to let you know." + +"Oh, you damn beast!" cried Miss Toombs. + +Mavis looked at her defiantly. + +"Oh, you damn beast!" cried Miss Toombs again. "You were always +lucky!" + +"Lucky!" echoed Mavis. + +"To go and have a little baby and not me. Oh, it's too bad: too +bad!" + +Mavis looked inquiringly at her friend to see if she were sincere. +The next moment, the two foolish women were weeping happy tears in +each other's arms over the unconscious, sleeping form of Mavis's +baby. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO + +MISS TOOMBS REVEALS HERSELF + + +"Fancy you being like this," said Mavis, when she had dried her +eyes. + +"Like what?" + +"Not minding my having a baby without being married." + +"I'm not such a fool as to believe in that 'tosh,'" declared Miss +Toombs. + +"What 'tosh,' as you call it?" + +"About thinking it a disgrace to have a child by the man you love." + +"Isn't it?" + +"How can it be if it's natural and inevitable?" + +Mavis looked at Miss Toombs wide-eyed. + +"Does the fact of people agreeing to think it wrong make it really +wrong?" asked Miss Toombs, to add, "especially when the thinking +what you call 'doing wrong' is actuated by selfish motives." + +"How can morality possibly be selfish?" inquired Mavis. + +"It's never anything else. If it weren't selfish it wouldn't be of +use; if it weren't of use it couldn't go on existing." + +"I'm afraid I don't follow you," declared Mavis, as she lit a +cigarette. + +"Wait. What would nearly all women do if you were mad enough to tell +them what you've done?" + +"Drop on me." + +"Why?" + +"Because I've done wrong." + +"Are women 'down' on men for 'getting round' girls, or forgery, or +anything else you like?" + +Mavis was compelled to acknowledge her sex's lack of enthusiasm in +the condemnation of such malpractices. + +"Then why would they hunt you down?" cried Miss Toombs triumphantly. +"Because, in doing as you've done, you've been a traitress to the +economic interests of our sex. Women have mutually agreed to make +marriage the price of their surrender to men. Girls who don't insist +on this price choke men off marrying, and that's why they're never +forgiven by other women." + +"Is it you talking?" + +"No, my dear Keeves; women, in this world, who look for marriage, +have to play up to men and persuade them they're worth the price of +a man losing his liberty." + +"But fancy you talking like that!" + +"If they're pretty, and play their cards properly, they're kept for +life. If they're like you, and don't get married, it's a bad look- +out. If they're pretty rotten, and have business instincts, they +must make hay while the sun shines to keep them when it doesn't." + +"And you don't really think the worse of me?" + +"I think the more. It's always the good girls who go wrong." + +"That means that you will." + +"I haven't the chance. When girls are plain, like me, men don't +notice them, and if they've no money of their own they have to earn +a pittance in Melkbridge boot factories." + +"I can't believe it's you, even now." + +"I don't mind giving myself away, since you've done the same to me. +And it's a relief to let off steam sometimes." + +"And you really don't think the worse of me for having--having +this?" + +"I'd do the same myself to-morrow if I'd the chance and could afford +to keep it, and knew it wouldn't curse me when it grew up." + +Mavis winced to recover herself and say: + +"But I may be married any day now." + +"Whoever the father is, he seems a bit of a fool," remarked Miss +Toombs, as she took the baby on her knee. + +"To love me?" + +"In not marrying you and getting you for life. From a man's point of +view, you're a find, pretty Mavis." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I don't call it nonsense. Just look at your figure and your hips +and the colour of your hair, your lovely white skin and all, to say +nothing of the passion in your eyes." + +"Is it staid Miss Toombs talking?" + +"If I'm staid, it's because I have to be. No man 'ud ever want me. +As for you, if I were a man, I'd go to hell, if there were such a +place, if I could get you for all my very own." + +"Don't you believe in hell?" + +"Do you?" + +"I don't know. Don't you?" + +"The only hell I know is the jealous anger in a plain woman's heart. +Of course there are others. You've only to dip into history to read +of the hells that kings and priests, mostly priests, have made of +this earth." + +"What about Providence?" asked Mavis. + +"Don't talk that 'tosh' to me," cried Miss Toombs vehemently. + +"But is it 'tosh'?" + +"If I were to give you a list of even the few things I've read +about, the awful, cruel, blood-thirsty, wicked doings, it would make +your blood boil at the injustice, the wantonness of it all. Read how +the Spaniards treated the Netherlanders once upon a time, the +internal history of Russia, the story of Red Rubber, loads of +things, and over and over again you'd ask, 'What was God doing to +allow such unnecessary torture?'" + +Miss Toombs paused for breath. Seeing Mavis looking at her with +open-mouthed astonishment, she said: + +"Have I astonished you?" + +"You have." + +"Haven't you heard anyone else talk like that?" + +"What I was thinking of was, that you, of all people, should preach +revolt against accepted ideas. I always thought you so straitlaced." + +"Never mind about me." + +"But I do. If you believe all you say, why do you go to church and +all that?" + +"What does it matter to anyone what an ugly person like me thinks or +does?" + +"Anyway, you're quite interesting to me." + +"Really: really interesting?" asked Miss Toombs, with an inflection +of genuine surprise in her voice. + +"Why should I say so if I didn't think so?" + +A flush of pleasure overspread the plain woman's face as she said: + +"I believe you're speaking the truth. If ever I play the hypocrite, +it's because I'm a hopeless coward." + +"Really!" laughed Mavis, who was beginning to recover her spirits. + +"Although I believe my cowardice is justified," declared Miss +Toombs. "I haven't a friend or relation in the world. If I were to +get ill, or lose my job to-morrow, I've no one to turn to. I've a +bad circulation and get indigestion whenever I eat meat. I've only +one pleasure in life, and I do all I know to keep my job so that I +can indulge in it." + +"What's that?" + +"You'll laugh when I tell you." + +"Nothing that gives a human being innocent pleasure can be +ridiculous," remarked Mavis. + +"My happiness comes in winter," declared Miss Toombs. "I love +nothing better than to go home and have tea and hot buttered toast +before the blazing fire in my bed-sitting room. Then, about seven, I +make up the fire and go to bed with my book and hot-water bottles. +It's stuffy, but it's my idea of heaven." + +Mavis did not offer any comment. + +"Now laugh at me," said Miss Toombs. + +Instead of doing any such thing, Mavis bent over to kiss Miss +Toombs's cheek. + +"No one's ever wanted to kiss me before," complained Miss Toombs. + +"Because you've never let anyone know you as you really are," +rejoined Mavis. + +"Now we've talked quite enough about me. Let's hear a little more +about yourself." + +"My history is written in this room." + +"Don't talk rot. I suppose it all happened when you went away for +your holidays last year?" + +"You didn't think--" + +"No. I didn't think you had the pluck." + +"It doesn't require much of that." + +"Doesn't it? There are loads of girls, nice girls too, who'd do as +you've done to-morrow if they only dared," declared Miss Toombs. +"And why not?" she added defiantly. + +"You take my breath away," laughed Mavis. + +"Don't laugh, dear. It's much too serious to laugh at," remonstrated +Miss Toombs. "We're here for such a short time, and so much of that +is taken up with youth and age and illness and work that it's our +duty to get as much happiness as we can. And if two people love each +other--" + +"The woman can be brought down to this." + +"And wasn't it worth it?" cried Miss Toombs hotly. + +"Worth it!" echoed Mavis. + +"Didn't you have a lovely time when you were away?" + +"Heavenly!" + +"Didn't he kiss your hands and feet and hair and tell you you were +the most beautiful woman in the whole world, as they do in books?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"And didn't he hold you to his heart all the night through, and +didn't you think you were in heaven? No--no, don't tell me. It would +make me miserable and jealous for weeks." + +"Why should it?" + +"Who's ever wanted to love and kiss my feet and hands? But there it +is--you're a pretty girl, and all that, but you can't have +everything in this world. You've had to pay one of the chief +penalties for your attractiveness." + +Just then Mavis's baby began to cry. + +"It's my hard knee," remarked Miss Toombs ruefully. "They always cry +when I nurse them." + +"I think he's hungry," remarked Mavis. + +"Then give the boy his supper. Don't mind me." + +Mavis busied herself with the preparations for sterilising the milk, +but the boy cried so lustily that, to quiet him, Mavis blushingly +undid her bodice to put the nipple of her firm, white breast in his +mouth. + +"It's the only thing to quiet him," explained Mavis. + +"No wonder. He's got taste, has that boy. Don't turn away. It's all +so beautiful, and there's nothing wrong in nature." + +"What are you thinking of?" asked Miss Toombs presently, after Mavis +had been silent for a while. "Don't you feel at home with me?" + +"Don't be silly! You know you profess not to believe in Providence." + +"What of it?" + +"I've been in a bad way lately and I've prayed for help. Surely +meeting with you in a huge place like London is an answer to my +prayer." + +"Meeting you, when you were hard up, was like something out of a +book, eh?" + +"Something out of a very good book," replied Mavis. + +"Well, it wasn't chance at all. These sort of things never happen +when they're wanted to. I've been up in town looking for you." + +"What!" + +"And thereby hangs a very romantic tale." + +"You've been looking for me?" + +"What's the time?" + +"You're not thinking of going yet? Why were you looking for me?" + +"It's nearly ten," declared Miss Toombs, as she looked at her watch. +"Unless I stay the night here, I must be off." + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Notting Hill. I beg its pardon--North Kensington. They're quiet +people. If I'm not back soon, my character will be lost and I shall +be locked out for the night." + +"I'd love you to stay. But there's scarcely room for you in this +poky little hole." + +"Can't I engage another room?" + +"But the expense?" + +"Blow that! See if they can put me up." + +Mavis talked to Miss Gussle on the subject. Very soon, Mr Gussle +could be heard panting up the stairs with an iron chair bedstead, +which was set up, with other conveniences, in the music-hall agent's +office. + +"Nice if he comes back and came into my room in the night," remarked +Miss Toombs. + +"What on earth would you do?" asked Mavis. + +"Lock the door to keep him in," replied Miss Toombs quickly, at +which the two friends laughed immoderately. + +As Miss Toombs was leaving the room to wire to her landlady to tell +her that she was staying with friends for the night, she kissed her +hand to Mavis's baby. + +"What are you going to call him?" she asked. + +"Charlie, of course," promptly replied Mavis. + +The next moment, she could have bitten off her tongue for having +given Miss Toombs a possible clue to her lover's identity: she had +resolved never to betray him to a living soul. + +But Mavis comforted herself on the score that her friend received +her information without betraying interest or surprise. Twenty +minutes later, Miss Toombs came back, staggering beneath the weight +of an accumulation of parcels, which contained a variety of things +that Mavis might want. + +"How could you spend your money on me?" asked Mavis, as the +different purchases were unpacked. + +"If one can't have a romance oneself, the next best thing is to be +mixed up in someone else's," replied Miss Toombs. + +Mavis and her friend sat down to a supper of strawberries and cream, +whilst they drank claret and soda water. Jill was not forgotten; +Miss Toombs had bought her a pound of meat scraps from the +butcher's, which the dog critically consumed in a corner. + +"Let me hear about your romance and all the Melkbridge news," said +Mavis, as she stopped her friend from pouring more cream upon her +plate of strawberries. + +"Blow Melkbridge!" exclaimed Miss Toombs, her face hardening. + +"But I love it. I'm always thinking about it, and I'd give anything +to go back there." + +"Eh!" + +"I said I'd give anything to be back there." + +"Rot!" + +"Why rot?" + +"You mustn't dream of going back," cried Miss Toombs anxiously. + +"Why on earth not?" + +"Eh! Oh, because I say so." + +"Does anyone down there know?" + +"Not that I'm aware of." + +"Then why shouldn't I go back?" + +"There's no reason, only--" + +"Only what?" + +"Let me tell you of my romance." + +"Very well, only--" + +"When I tell you I'm in love, I don't think you ought to interrupt," +remarked Miss Toombs. + +"I only wanted to know why I mustn't dream of going back to +Melkbridge," said Mavis anxiously. + +"Because I can get you a better job elsewhere. There now!" + +"Let's hear of your love affair," said Mavis, partly satisfied by +Miss Toombs's reason for not wishing her to return to the place +where her lover was. + +"Five weeks ago, a man strode into our office at the factory; tall, +big, upright, sunburned." + +"Who was he?" asked Mavis. + +"He wasn't a man at all; he was a god. And his clothes! Oh, my dear, +my heart came up in my mouth. And when he gave me his card--" + +"Who was he?" interrupted Mavis. + +"Can't you guess?" + +"Give it up." + +"Captain Sir Archibald Windebank." + +"Really!" + +"I wish it hadn't been. I've never forgotten him since." + +"What did he want?" + +"You!" + +"Me?" + +"You, you lucky girl! Has he ever kissed you?" + +"Once." + +"Damn you! No, I don't mean that. You were made for love. But why +didn't you hold him in your arms and never let him go? I should +have." + +"That's not a proper suggestion," laughed Mavis. "What did he want +me for?" + +"He wanted to find out what had become of you." + +"What did you tell him?" + +"I didn't get much chance. Directly he saw Miss Hunter was nice- +looking, he addressed all his remarks to her." + +"Not really?" + +"A fact. Then I got sulky and got on with my work." + +"What did she say?" + +"What could she say? But, my goodness, wouldn't she have told some +lies if I hadn't been there, and she had had him all to herself!" + +"Lies about me?" + +"She hated the sight of you. She never could forgive you because you +were better born than she. And, would you believe it, she started to +set her cap at him." + +"Little cat!" + +"He said he would come again to see if we heard any more of you, +and, when he went, she actually made eyes at him. And, if that +weren't enough, she wore her best dress and all her nick-knacks +every day till he came again." + +"He did come again?" + +"This time he spoke to me. He went soon after I told him we hadn't +heard of you." + +"Did he send you to town to look for me?" + +"I did that on my own. I traced you to a dancing academy, then to +North Kensington, and then to New Cross." + +"Where at New Cross?" asked Mavis, fearful that her friend had +inquired for her at Mrs Gowler's. + +"I'd been given an address, but I lost it on the way. I described +you to the station master and asked if he could help me. He +remembered a lady answering your description having a box sent to an +address in Pimlico. When I told him you were a missing relative, he +turned it up." + +"Why didn't you call?" + +"I didn't know if you were Mrs Kenrick, and, if you were, how you +would take my 'nosing' into your affairs." + +"Why did you bother?" + +"I always liked you, and when I feared you'd got into a scrape for +love of a man, my heart went out to you and I wanted to help you." + +Mavis bent over to kiss her friend before saying: "I only hope I +live to do you a good turn." + +"You've done it already by making friends with me. But isn't Hunter +a pig?" + +"I hate her," said Mavis emphatically. + +"She tried to get my time for her holidays, but it's now arranged +that she goes away when I get back." + +"Where is she going?" asked Mavis absently. + +"Cornwall." + +"Cornwall? Which part?" + +"South, I believe. Why?" + +"Curiosity," replied Mavis. + +Then Miss Toombs told Mavis the rest of the Melkbridge news. She +learned how Mr and Mrs Trivett had given up Pennington Farm and were +now living in Melkbridge, where Miss Toombs had heard that they had +a hard struggle to get along. Miss Toombs mentioned several other +names well known to Mavis; but she did not speak of Charlie Perigal. + +It was a long time before Mavis slept that night. She had long and +earnestly thanked her Heavenly Father for having sent kindly Miss +Toombs to help her in her distress. She then lay awake for quite a +long while, wondering why Miss Toombs had been against her going to +Melkbridge. Vague, intangible fears hovered about her, which were +associated with her lover and his many promises to marry her. He +also was at Melkbridge. Mavis tried to persuade herself that Miss +Toombs's objection to her going to the same place could have nothing +in common with the fact of her lover's presence there. + +The next morning, while the two friends were breakfasting, Mavis +again spoke of the matter. + +"I can't make out why you were so against my going to Melkbridge," +she said. + +"Have you been worrying about it?" asked Miss Toombs. + +"Yes. Is there any reason why I shouldn't go back?" + +"You great big silly! The reason why I didn't want you to go there +is because I might get you a better job in town." + +"But you told me last night you were friendless. Friendless girls +can't get others work in town. So don't try and get over me by +saying that." + +Miss Toombs explained how the manager of a London house, which had +extensive dealings with Devitt's boot factory, was indebted to her +for certain crooked business ways that she had made straight. She +told Mavis that she had gone to see this man on Mr Devitt's behalf +since she had been in town, and that he was anxious to keep in her +good books. She thought that a word from her would get Mavis +employment. + +Mavis thanked her friend; she made no further mention of the matter +which occasionally disturbed her peace of mind. + +For all her friend's kindly offer, she longed to tread the familiar +ways of the country town which was so intimately associated with the +chief event of her life. + +During the five unexpired days of Miss Toombs's holiday, the two +women were rarely apart. Of a morning they would take the baby to +the grounds of Chelsea Hospital, which, save for the presence of the +few who were familiar with its quietude, they had to themselves. +Once or twice, they took a 'bus to the further side of the river, +when they would sit in a remote corner of Battersea Park. They also +went to Kew Gardens and Richmond Park. Mavis had not, for many long +weeks, known such happiness as that furnished by Miss Toombs's +society. Her broad views of life diminished Mavis's concern at the +fact of her being a mother without being a wife. + +The time came when Mavis set out for Paddington (she left the baby +behind in charge of Jill), in order to see her friend go by the +afternoon train to Melkbridge. Mavis was silent. She wished that she +were journeying over the hundred miles which lay between where she +stood and her lover. Miss Toombs was strangely cheerful: to such an +extent, that Mavis wondered if her friend guessed the secret of her +lover's identity, and, divining her heart's longings, was +endeavouring to distract her thoughts from their probable +preoccupation. Mavis thanked her friend again and again for all she +had done for her. Miss Toombs had that morning received a letter +from her London boot acquaintance in reply to one she had written +concerning Mavis. This letter had told Miss Toombs that her friend +should fill the first vacancy that might occur. Upon the strength of +this promise, Miss Toombs had prevailed on Mavis to accept five +pounds from her; but Mavis had only taken it upon the understanding +that the money was a loan. + +While they were talking outside Miss Toombs's third class +compartment, Mavis saw Montague Devitt pass on his way to a first, +followed by two porters, who were staggering beneath the weight of a +variety of parcels. Mavis hoped that he would not see her; but the +fates willed otherwise. One of the porters dropped a package, which +fell with a resounding thwack at Mavis's feet. Devitt turned, to see +Mavis. + +"Miss Keeves!" he said, raising his hat. + +Mavis bowed. + +"May I speak to you a moment?" he asked, after glancing at Miss +Toombs, and furtively lifting his hat to this person. + +Mavis joined him. + +"What has become of you all this time?" + +"I've been working in London." + +"I've often thought of you. What are you doing now?" + +"I'm looking for something to do." + +"I suppose you'd never care to come back and work for me in +Melkbridge?" + +"Nothing I should like better," remarked Mavis, as her heart leapt. + +They talked for two or three minutes longer, when, the train being +on the point of starting, Devitt said: + +"Send me your address and I'll see you have your old work again." + +Mavis thanked him. + +"Just met Miss Toombs?" he asked. + +"She's been staying with me. Thank you so much." + +Mavis hurried from the man's carriage to that containing her friend, +who was standing anxiously by the window. + +"It's all right!" cried Mavis excitedly. + +"What's all right, dear?" cried Miss Toombs as the train began to +move. + +"I'm coming to work at Melkbridge. It's au revoir, dear!" + +Mavis was astonished, and not a little disquieted, to see the +expression of concern which came over her friend's disappearing face +at this announcement. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE + +AN OLD FRIEND + + +Four days later, Mavis spent the late afternoon with her baby and +Jill in the grounds of Chelsea Hospital. She then took a 'bus to +Ebury Bridge (Jill running behind), to get out here and walk to her +lodging. As she went up Halverton Street, she noticed, in the +failing light, a tall, soldierly looking man standing on the other +side of the road. But the presence of men of military bearing, even +in Halverton Street, was not sufficiently infrequent to call for +remark. Mavis opened her door with the key and went to her room. +Here, she fed her baby and ate something herself. When her boy fell +asleep, Mavis left him in charge of Jill and went out to do some +shopping. She had not gone far when she heard footsteps behind her, +as if seeking to overtake her. Mavis, who was well used to being +accosted by night prowlers, quickened her steps, but to no purpose: +a moment or two later, someone touched her arm. She turned angrily, +to see Windebank beside her. Her expression relaxed, to become very +hard. + +"Don't you know me?" he asked huskily. + +She stopped, but did not reply. She recalled the man she had seen +standing on the other side of the road, and whom she now believed to +have been Windebank. If it were he, and he had been waiting to see +her, he had undoubtedly seen her baby. Rage, self-pity at the +realisation of her helplessness, defiance, desire to protect the +good name of the loved one, filled her being. She walked for some +moments in silence, he following. + +"Are you very angry?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"I'm sorry." + +The deep note of sincerity in his voice might have arrested her +wrath. If anything, his emotion stimulated her anger. + +"Why do, you take pleasure in spying on me?" she cried. "I always +knew you were a beast." + +"Eh! Oh, rot!" he replied. + +"Why can't you leave me alone? You would if you knew how I hated +you." + +"Do you mean that?" he asked quietly. + +"You shouldn't have spied on me." + +"Don't be angry: at least not very. You wouldn't if you knew how +I've longed to see you again, to find out what's become of you." + +"You know now!" she exclaimed defiantly. + +"And since I know, what is the use of your getting angry?" + +"I hate meanness," cried Mavis. + +"Eh!" + +"Spying's meanness. It's hateful: hateful." + +"So are fools," he cried, with a vehemence approaching hers. + +She looked at him, surprised. He went on: + +"I hate fools, and much, much as I think of you and much as you will +always be to me, I can't help telling you what a fool you've been." + +"Not so loud," urged Mavis. They had now reached the corner of much- +frequented Lupus Street, where the man's emphatic voice would +attract attention. + +"I'll say what I please. And if I choose to tell you I think you a +precious fool, nothing on earth shall stop me." + +"That's right: insult me," remarked Mavis, who was secretly pleased +at his unrestrained anger. + +"'Insult' be hanged! You're an arrant, downright fool! You'd only to +say the word to have been my wife." + +"What an honour!" laughed Mavis, saying the first words which came +into her head. The next moment she would have given much to have +been able to recall them. + +"For me," said Windebank gravely. "And I know I'd have made you +happy." + +"I believe you would," admitted Mavis, wishing to atone for her +thoughtless remark. + +As if moved by a common impulse, they crossed Lupus Street and +sought the first quiet thoroughfare which presented itself. This +happened to be Cambridge Street, along the shabby pretentiousness of +which they walked for some minutes in silence, each occupied with +their thoughts. + +"How did you find out where I was?" she asked. + +"Miss Toombs." + +"You've seen her?" + +"She sent me 'Halverton Street' written on a piece of paper. I +guessed what it meant." + +"You spoke to her before about me?" + +"Yes. I was anxious to know what had become of you." + +"You needn't have bothered." + +"I couldn't help myself." + +"You really, really cared?" + +"A bit. And now I see what a fool you've been---" + +"It won't make any difference," she interrupted. + +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. + +"It won't make any difference to me. I'm to be married any day now." + +"What's that?" he asked quickly. + +Mavis repeated her statement. + +"To whom?" + +"The man I love; whom else?" + +"Are you counting on that?" + +"Of course," she answered, surprised at the question. + +She wondered what he could mean, but she could get no enlightenment +from his face, which preserved a sphinx-like impenetrability. + +"What are you thinking of?" she asked. + +"How best to help you." + +"I'm not in need of help: besides, I can take care of myself." + +"H'm! Where were you going when I met you?" + +"Shopping." + +"May I come too?" + +"It wouldn't interest you." + +"How long can you spare?" + +"Not long. Why?" + +They had now reached the Wilton Road. By way of reply to her +question, he elbowed her into one of the pretentious restaurants +which lined the side of the thoroughfare on which they walked. + +"I'm not hungry," she protested. + +"Do as you're told," he replied, urging her to a table. + +He called the waiter and ordered an elaborate meal to be brought +with all dispatch. He then took off the light overcoat covering his +evening clothes before joining Mavis, who was surprised to see how +much older he was looking. + +"What are you staring at?" he asked. + +"You. Have you had trouble?" + +"Yes," he replied, looking her hard in the eyes. + +"I'm sorry," she remarked, dropping hers. + +As if to leaven her previous ungraciousness, Mavis ate as much of +the food as she could. She noticed, however, that, beyond sipping +his wine, Windebank merely made pretence of eating: but for all his +remissness with regard to his own needs, he was full of tender +concern for her comfort. + +"You're eating nothing," she presently remarked. + +"Like our other meal in Regent Street." + +She nodded reminiscently. + +"You hadn't forgotten?" + +"It was the night I left you in the fog." + +"Like the little fool you were!" + +She did not make any reply. He seemed preoccupied for the remainder +of the meal, an absent-mindedness which was now and again +interrupted by sparks of forced gaiety. + +She wondered if he had anything on his mind. She had previously +resolved to wish him good-bye when they left the restaurant; but, +somehow, when they went out together, she made no objection to his +accompanying her in the direction of Halverton Street, the reason +being that she felt wholly at home with him; he seemed so potent to +protect her; he was so concerned for her happiness and well-being. +She revelled in the unaccustomed security which his presence +inspired. + +"What are you going to buy?" he asked, as they again approached +Lupus Street. + +"Odds and ends." + +"You must let me carry them." + +She smiled a little sadly, but otherwise made no reply to +Windebank's suggestion. She was bent on enjoying to the full her +new-found sensation of security. When they reached Lupus Street, she +went into the mean shops to order or get (in either case to pay for) +the simple things she needed. These comprised bovril, tea, bacon, +sugar, methylated spirit, bread, milk, a chop, a cauliflower, six +bottles of stout, and three pounds of potatoes. Whatever shop she +entered, Windebank insisted on accompanying her, and, in most cases, +quadrupled her order; in others, bought all kinds of things which he +thought she might want. In any other locality, the sight of a man in +evening dress, with prosperity written all over him, accompanying a +shabbily-dressed girl, as Mavis then was, in her shopping, would +have excited comment; but in Pimlico, anything of this nature was +not considered at all out of the way. + +Windebank, loaded with parcels, accompanied Mavis to the door of her +lodging. Here, she opened the door, and in three or four journeys to +her room relieved Windebank of his burdens. She was loth to let him +go. Seeing that her baby was sleeping peacefully, she said to +Windebank, when she joined him outside: + +"I'll walk a little way with you." + +"It's very good of you." + +As they walked towards Victoria, neither of them seemed eager for +speech. They were both oppressed by the realisation of the +inevitable roads to which life's travellers are bound, despite the +personal predilections of the wayfarers. + +"Little Mavis! little Mavis! what is going to happen?" he presently +asked. + +"I'm going to be married and live happily ever after," she answered. + +"I've had shocking luck. I mean with regard to you," he continued. + +Mavis making no reply to this remark, he went on: + +"But what I can't understand is, why you ran away that night when I +got you out of Mrs Hamilton's." + +"I escaped in the fog." + +"But why? Why? Little Mavis! little Mavis! these things are much too +sacred to play the fool with." + +"I ran away out of consideration for you." + +"Eh?" + +"Why else should I? I didn't want you to burden your life with a +nobody like me." + +"Are you serious?" + +She laughed bitterly. + +"Well, I'm hanged!" he cried. + +"It's no use worrying now." + +"One can't altogether help it. Why hadn't you a better sense of your +value? I'd have married you; I'd have lived for you, and I swear I'd +have made you happy." + +"I know you would," she assented. + +"And now I find you like this." + +"I'll be going back now." + +"I'll turn with you if I may." + +"You'll be late." + +"I'll chance that," he laughed. "Months before I met you at Mrs +Hamilton's, I heard about you from Devitt." + +"What did he say?" + +"It was just before you were going down to see him, from some school +you were at, about taking a governess's billet. He told me of this, +and I sent you a message." + +"I never had it." + +"Not really?" + +"A fact. What was it?" + +"I said that my people and myself were no end of keen on seeing you +again and that we wanted you to come down and stay." + +"You told him that?" + +"One day in the market-place at Melkbridge. Afterwards, I often +asked about you, if he knew your address and all that; but I never +got anything out of him." + +"But he knew all the time where I was. I don't understand." + +"Little Mavis is very young." + +"That's right: insult me," she laughed. + +"Those sort of people with a marriageable daughter aren't going to +handicap their chances by having sweet Mavis about the house." + +"People aren't really like that!" + +"Not a bit; they're as artless as you. My dear little Mavis, one 'ud +think you'd never left the nursery." + +"But I have." + +"Curse it, you have! Why did you? Oh! why did you?" + +"Do as I've done?" + +"Yes. Why did you?" + +"I loved him." + +"Eh?" + +"The only possible reason--I loved him." + +"And if you'd loved me, you'd have done the same for me?" + +"If you'd asked me." + +"For me? For me?" + +"If I loved you, and if you asked me." + +"But that's just it. If a chap truly loves a girl, he'd rather die +than injure a hair of her head. And if you loved me, my one idea +would be to protect my darling little Mavis from all harm. Why---" + +He stopped. Mavis's face was drawn as if she were in great pain. + +"What's the matter?" he asked. + +"How dare you? Oh, how dare you?" + +"Dare I what?" he asked, much perplexed at her sudden anger. + +"Insult the man I love. If what you say is true, it would mean he +didn't truly love me. You lie! I tell you he does! You lie--you +lie!" + +"You're right," assented Windebank sadly, after a moment's thought. +"You're quite right. I made a mistake. I ask everyone's pardon. How +could any man fail to appreciate you?" + +Much to his surprise, her anger soon abated. A not too convincing +light-heartedness took the place of this stormy ebullition. If +Windebank had been more skilled in the mechanism of a woman's heart, +he would have promptly divined the girl's gaiety had been wilfully +assumed, in order to conceal from herself the anxiety that +Windebank's words, with reference to the proper conduct of a true +lover, had inspired. By the time they had reached her door, she had +expended her fund of forced gaiety; she was again the subdued Mavis +whom trouble had fashioned. She thanked Windebank many times for his +kindness; although she was tired, she was in no mood to leave him. +She liked the restfulness that she discovered in his company; also, +she dreaded to-night the society of her own thoughts. + +They were now standing in the street immediately outside the door of +her lodging. They had been silent for some moments. Mavis +regretfully realised that he must soon leave her. + +"Will you do me a favour?" he asked suddenly. + +She looked up inquiringly. + +"May I see---?" he continued softly. "May I see---?" + +"My boy?" she asked, divining his wish. + +She thought for a moment before slipping into the house. A little +later, she came out carrying the sleeping baby in her arms. Mavis's +heart inclined to Windebank for his request; at the same time, she +knew well that, were she a man, and in his present situation, she +would not be the least interested in the loved woman's child, whose +father was a successful rival. + +Windebank uncovered the little one's face. He looked at it intently +for a while. He then bent down to kiss the baby's forehead. + +"God bless you, little boy!" he murmured. "God bless you and your +beautiful mother!" + +He then covered the baby's face, and walked quickly away in the +direction of Victoria. + +That night, Mavis saw dawn touch the eastern sky with light before +she slept. She lay awake, wondering at and trying to resolve into +coherence the many things which had gone to the shaping of her life. +What impressed her most was that so many events of moment had been +brought about by trivial incidents to which she had attached no +importance at the time of their happening. Strive as she might, she +could not hide from herself how much happier would have been her lot +if she had loved and married Windebank. It also seemed to her as if +fate had done much to bring them together. She recalled, in this +connection, how she again met this friend of her early youth at Mrs +Hamilton's, of all places, where he had not only told her of the +nature of the house into which she had been decoyed, but had set her +free of the place. Then had followed the revelation of her hitherto +concealed identity, a confession which had called into being all his +old-time, boyish infatuation for her. To prevent possible +developments of this passion for a portionless girl from interfering +with his career, she had left him, to lose herself in the fog. If +her present situation were a misfortune, it had arisen from her +abnormal, and, as it had turned out, mischievous consideration for +his welfare. But scruples of the nature which she had displayed were +assuredly numbered amongst the virtues, and to arrive at the +conclusion that evil had arisen from the practice of virtue was +unthinkable. Such a sorry sequence could not be; God would not +permit it. + +Mavis's head ached. Life to her seemed an inexplicable tangle, from +which one fact stood out with insistent prominence. This, that +although Windebank's thoughtless words about the safety of a woman +with the man who truly loved her had awakened considerable +apprehension in her heart, she realised how necessary it was to +trust Perigal even more (if that were possible) than she had ever +done before. He was her life, her love, her all. She trusted and +believed in him implicitly. She was sure that she would love him +till the last moment of her life. With this thought in her heart, +with his name on her lips, the while she clutched Perigal's ring, +which Miss Toombs's generosity had enabled her to get out of pawn, +she fell asleep. + +The first post brought two letters. One was from Miss Toombs's +business acquaintance, offering her a berth at twenty-eight +shillings a week; the other was from Montague Devitt, confirming the +offer he had made Mavis at Paddington. Devitt's letter told her that +she could resume work on the following Monday fortnight. It did not +take Mavis the fraction of a second to decide which of the two +offers she would accept. She sat down and wrote to Mr Devitt to +thank him for his letter; she said that the would be pleased to +commence her duties at the time suggested. The question of where and +how she was to lodge her baby at Melkbridge, and, at the same time, +avoid all possible risk of its identity being discovered, she left +for future consideration. She was coming back from posting the +letter, when she was overtaken by Windebank, who was driving a +superb motor car. He pulled up by the kerb of the pavement on which +she was walking. + +"Good morning," he cried cheerily. "I was coming to take you out." + +"Shopping?" she asked. + +"To have a day in the country. Jump in and we'll drive back for the +youngster." + +"It's very kind of you, but---" + +"There are no 'buts.' I insist." + +"I really mustn't go," said Mavis, thinking longingly of the peace +of the country. + +"But you must. Remember you've someone else to think of besides +yourself." + +"You?" + +"The youngster. A change to country air would do him no end of +good." + +"Do you really think it would?" asked Mavis, hesitating before +accepting his offer. + +"Think! I know. If you don't want to come, it's your duty to +sacrifice yourself for the boy's health." + +This decided Mavis. Less than an hour later, they were driving in +the cool of Surrey lanes, where the sweet air and the novelty of the +motion brought colour to Mavis's cheeks. + +They lunched at a wayside inn, to sit, when the simple meal was +over, in the garden where the air was musical with bees. + +"This is peace," exclaimed Mavis, who was entranced with the change +from dirty, mean Pimlico. + +"As your life should always be, little Mavis." + +"It is going to be." + +"But what are you going to do till this marriage comes off?" + +Mavis told him how it was arranged that she was soon to commence +work at Melkbridge. Much to her surprise and considerably to her +mind's disquiet, Windebank hotly attempted to dissuade her from this +course. He urged a variety of reasons, the chief of which was the +risk she ran of the fact of her motherhood being discovered. But he +might as well have talked to Jill, who accompanied the party. +Mavis's mind was made up. The obstacles he sought to put in her way, +if anything, strengthened her determination. One concession, +however, he wrung from her--this, that if ever she were in trouble +she would not hesitate to seek his aid. On the return home in the +cool of the evening, Windebank asked if he could secure her better +accommodation than where she now lived until she left for Wiltshire. +Mavis would not hear of it, till Windebank pointed out that her +child's health might be permanently injured by further residence in +unwholesome Halverton + +Street. Before Mavis fell in with his request, she stipulated that +she was not to pay more than a pound a week for any rooms she might +engage. When she got back, she was overwhelmed with inquiries from +Lil, the girl upstairs, with reference to "the mug" whom she (Mavis) +had captured. But Mavis scarcely listened to the girl's questions; +she was wondering why, first of all, Miss Toombs and then Windebank +should be against her going to Melkbridge. Her renewed faith in +Perigal prevented her from believing that any act of his was +responsible for their anxiety in the matter. She could only conclude +that they believed that in journeying to Melkbridge, as she +purposed, she ran a great risk of her motherhood being discovered. + +The next morning, Mavis set about looking for the new rooms which +she had promised Windebank to get. Now she could afford to pay a +reasonable price for accommodation, she was enabled to insist upon +good value for the money. The neat appearance of a house in +Cambridge Street, which announced that lodgings were to let, +attracted her. A clean, white-capped servant showed her two +comfortably furnished rooms, which were to let at the price Mavis +was prepared to pay. She learned that the landlady was a Mrs Taylor. +Upon asking to see her, a woman, whose face still displayed +considerable beauty, glided into the room. + +Mrs Taylor spoke in a low, sweet voice; she would like to +accommodate Mavis, but she had to be very, very particular: one had +to be so careful nowadays. Could Mavis furnish references; failing +that, would Mavis tell her what place of worship she attended? Mavis +referred Mrs Taylor to Miss Toombs at Melkbridge and Mrs Scatchard +at North Kensington, which satisfied the landlady. When, twenty-four +hours later, Mavis moved in, she found that Windebank had already +sent in a profusion of wines, meats, fruit and flowers for her use. +She was wishing she could send them back, when Mrs Taylor came into +her sitting-room with her hands to her head. + +Upon Mavis asking what was amiss, she learned that Mrs Taylor had a +violent headache and the only thing that did her any good was +champagne, which she could not possibly afford. Mavis hastened to +offer Mrs Taylor a bottle of the two dozen of champagne which were +among the things that Windebank had sent in. + +Under the influence of champagne, Mrs Taylor became expansive. She +had already noted the abundance with which Mavis was surrounded. + +"Have you a gentleman friend, dear?" she presently asked in her +soft, caressing voice. + +"I have one very dear friend," remarked Mavis, thinking of +Windebank. + +"I hope you're very careful," remarked Mrs Taylor. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Excuse my mentioning it, but gentlemen will be gentlemen where a +pretty girl is concerned." + +"Thank you, but I am quite, quite safe," replied Mavis hotly. "And +do you know why?" + +Mrs Taylor shook her auburn head. + +"I'll tell you. It's because he loves me more than anything else in +the world. And, therefore, I'm safe," she declared proudly. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR + +MAVIS GOES TO MELKBRIDGE + + +On the following Sunday fortnight, Mavis left the train at Dippenham +quite late in the evening. She purposed driving with her baby and +Jill in a fly the seven miles necessary to take her to Melkbridge. +She choose this means of locomotion in order to secure the privacy +which might not be hers if she took the train to her destination. + +During the last few days, her boy had not enjoyed his usual health; +he had lost appetite and could not sleep for any length of time. +Mavis believed the stuffy atmosphere of Pimlico to be responsible +for her baby's ailing; she had great hopes of the Melkbridge air +effecting an improvement in his health. + +She had travelled down in a reserved first-class compartment, which +Windebank, who had seen her off at Paddington, had secured. He had +only been a few minutes on the platform, as he had to catch the boat +train at Charing Cross, he being due at Breslau the following day, +to witness the German army manoeuvres on a special commission from +the War Office. + +Mavis had seen much of him during her stay at Mrs Taylor's. At all +times, he had urged upon Mavis the inadvisability of going to +Melkbridge. He was so against this contemplated proceeding that he +had vainly offered to settle money on her if only it would induce +her to forego her intention. Miss Toombs had by letter joined her +entreaties to Windebank's. She pointed out that if Mavis brought her +child to Melkbridge, as she purposed doing, it was pretty certain +that its identity would be discovered. But Windebank pleaded and +Miss Toombs wrote to no purpose. Before Windebank had said good-bye +at Paddington, he again made Mavis promise that she would not +hesitate to communicate at once with him should she meet with +further trouble. + +The gravity with which he made this request awakened disquiet in her +mind, which diminished as her proximity to Melkbridge increased. +Impatient to lessen the distance that separated her from her +destination, she quickly selected a fly. A porter helped the driver +with her luggage; she settled herself with her baby and Jill, and +very soon they were lumbering down the ill-paved street. Her mind +was so intent on the fact of her increasing nearness to the loved +one, that she gave but a passing remembrance to the occasion of her +last visit to Dippenham, when she had met Perigal after letting him +know that she was about to become a mother. Her eyes strained +eagerly from the window of the fly in the direction of Melkbridge. +She was blind, deaf, indifferent to anything, other than her +approaching meeting with her lover, which she was sure could not +long be delayed now she had come to live so near his home. She was +to lodge with her old friend Mrs Trivett, who had moved into a +cottage on the Broughton Road. + +Mavis had written to tell Mrs Trivett the old story of her +fictitious marriage; she had, also, stated that for the present she +wished this fact, together with the parentage of her child, to be +kept a strict secret. Mavis little recked the risk she ran of +discovery. She was obsessed by the desire to breathe the Melkbridge +air. She believed that her presence there would in some way or other +make straight the tangle into which she had got her life. The fly +had left Dippenham well behind, and was ambling up and down the +inclines of the road. Mavis looked out at the stone walls which, in +these parts, take the place of hedgerows: she recognised with +delight this reminder that she was again in Wiltshire. Four miles +further, she would pass a lodge gate and the grounds of Major +Perigal's place. She might even catch a glimpse of the house amongst +the trees as she passed. As the miles were wearily surmounted and +the dwelling of the loved one came ever nearer, Mavis's heart beat +fast with excitement. She continually craned her neck from the +window to see if the spot she longed to feast her eyes upon were in +sight. When it ultimately crept into view, she could scarcely +contain herself for joy. She caught up her baby from the seat to +hold him as high as it was possible in order that he might catch a +glimpse of his darling daddy's home. + +The baby arms were hot and dry to the touch, but Mavis was too +intent on looking eagerly across the expanse of park to notice this +just now. Many lights flashed in her eyes, to be hidden immediately +behind trees. Her lover's home was unusually illuminated to-night-- +unusually, because, at other times, when she had passed it, only one +or two lights had been visible, Major Perigal living the life of a +recluse who disliked intercourse with his species. Half an hour +later, Mavis was putting her baby to bed at Mrs Trivett's. His face +was flushed, his eyes staring and wide awake; but Mavis put down +these manifestations to the trying journey from town. She went +downstairs to eat a few mouthfuls with Mr and Mrs Trivett before +returning to his side. She found them much altered; they had aged +considerably and were weighted with care. Music teaching in +Melkbridge was a sorry crutch on which to lean for support. During +the short meal, neither husband nor wife said much. Mavis wondered +if this taciturnity were due to any suspicions they might entertain +of Mavis's unwedded state. But when Mrs Trivett came upstairs with +her, she sat on the bed and burst into tears. + +Upon Mavis asking what was amiss, Mrs Trivett told her that they +were overwhelmed with debt and consequent difficulties to such an +extent, that they did not know from one day to another if they would +continue to have a roof over their heads. She also told Mavis that +her coming as a lodger had been in the nature of a godsend, and that +she had returned to Melkbridge upon the anniversary of the day on +which her husband had commenced his disastrous tenancy of Pennington +Farm. + +Mavis slept little that night. Her baby was restless and wailed +fitfully throughout the long hours, during which the anxious mother +did her best to comfort him. Mavis made up her mind to call in a +doctor if he were not better in the morning. When she was dressing, +the baby seemed calmer and more inclined to sleep, therefore she had +small compunction in leaving him in Mrs Trivett's motherly arms +when, some two hours later, she left the Broughton Road for the boot +factory. Miss Toombs was already at the office when she got there. +Mavis scarcely recognised her friend, so altered was she in +appearance. Dark rings encircled her eyes; her skin was even more +pasty than was its wont. Mavis noticed that when her friend kissed +her, she was trembling. + +"What's the matter, dear?" asked Mavis. + +"Indigestion. It's nothing at all." + +The two friends talked quickly and quietly till Miss Hunter joined +them. Beyond giving Mavis the curtest of nods, this young person +took no notice of her. + +Mavis was more grateful than otherwise for Miss Hunter's +indifference; she had feared a series of searching questions with +regard to all that had happened since she had been away from +Melkbridge. + +Miss Toombs's appearance and conduct at meeting with Mavis was not +the only strange behaviour which she displayed. When anyone came +into the office, she seemed in a fever of apprehension; also, when +anyone spoke to Mavis, her friend would at once approach and speak +in such a manner as to send them about their business as soon as +possible. Mavis wondered what it could mean. + +Her boy did not seem quite so well when she got back to Mrs +Trivett's for the midday meal. During the afternoon's work, her +anxiety was such that she could scarcely concentrate her attention +on what she was doing. When she hurried home in the evening, the boy +was decidedly worse; there was no gainsaying the seriousness of his +symptoms. Every time Mavis tried to make him take nourishment, he +would cry out as if it hurt him to swallow. + +Mrs Trivett, who had had much experience with the ailments of a +sister's big family, feared that the baby was sickening for +something. Mavis would have sent for a doctor at once, but Mrs +Trivett pointed out that doctors could do next to nothing for sick +babies beyond ordering them to be kept warm and to have nourishment +in the shape of two drops of brandy in water every two hours; also, +that if it were necessary to have skilled advice, the doctor had +better be sent for when Mavis was at the boot factory; otherwise, he +might ask questions bearing on matters which, just now, Mavis would +prefer not to make public. Mrs Trivett had much trouble in making +the distraught mother appreciate the wisdom of this advice. She only +fell in with the woman's views when she reflected, quite without +cause, that the doctor's inevitable questioning might, in some +remote way, compromise her lover. Late in the evening, when it was +dark, Miss Toombs came round to see how matters were going. + +"It's all your fault, foolish Mavis, for coming to Melkbridge," she +remarked, when Mavis had told her of her perplexities. + +"But how was I to know?" + +"The only way to have guarded against complications was to keep away +altogether. I suppose you wouldn't go even now?" + +"He's much too ill to move. Besides---" + +"Will you go when he's better, if I tell you something?" + +"What?" asked Mavis, seriously alarmed by the deadly earnestness of +her friend's manner. + +"Miss Hunter!" + +"What of her?" + +"First tell me, where was it you went for your--your honeymoon?" + +"Polperro. Why?" + +"That's one of the places she's been to." + +"And you think---?" + +"Her manner's so funny. And you wondered why I was so jolly keen on +your not coming to Melkbridge!" + +"I thought--I hoped my troubles were at an end," murmured Mavis. + +"Whatever happens, you can rely on me till the death--when it's +after dark." + +"What do you mean?" asked Mavis. + +"Why, that much, much as I love you, I'm not going to risk the loss +of my winter fire, hot-water bottles, and books, for getting mixed +up in any scrape pretty Mavis gets herself into." + +The next morning Mavis went to business in a state bordering on +distraction. The baby was not one whit better, and even hopeful Mrs +Trivett had shaken her head sadly. But she had pointed out that +Mavis could not help matters by remaining at home; she also promised +to send for a doctor should the baby's health not improve in the +course of the morning. Mavis was so distraught that she stared +wildly at the one or two people she chanced to meet, who, knowing +her, seemed disposed to stop and speak. She wondered if she should +let her lover know the disquieting state of his son's health. So +far, she had not told him of her coming to Melkbridge, wishing the +inevitable meeting to come as a delightful surprise. When she got to +the office, she found a long letter from Windebank, which she +scarcely read, so greatly was her mind disturbed. She only noted the +request on which he was always insisting, namely, that she was at +once to communicate with him should she find herself in trouble. + +When she got back at midday, she found that, the baby being no +better, Mrs Trivett had sent her husband for a doctor who had +recently come to Melkbridge; also, that he had promised to call +directly after lunch. With this information, Mavis had to possess +herself in patience till she learned the doctor's report. That +afternoon, the moments were weighted with leaden feet. Three o'clock +came; Mavis was beginning to congratulate herself that, if the +doctor had pronounced anything seriously amiss with her child, Mrs +Trivett would not have failed to communicate with her, when a boy +came into the office to ask for Miss Keeves. + +She jumped up excitedly, and the boy put a note into her hand. A +faintness overwhelmed her so that she could hardly find strength +with which to tear open the missive. When she finally did so, she +read: "Come at once, much trouble," scrawled in Mrs Trivett's +writing. + +Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, reached for her hat, the +while Miss Toombs watched her with sympathetic eyes. At the same +time, one of the factory foremen came into the office and put an +envelope into Mavis's hand. She paid no attention to this last +beyond stuffing it into a pocket of her frock. Her one concern was +to reach the Broughton Road with as little delay as possible. Once +outside the factory, she closely questioned the boy as he ran beside +her, but he could tell her nothing beyond that Mrs Trivett had given +him a penny to bring Mavis the note. When Mavis, breathless and +faint, arrived at Mrs Trivett's gate, she saw two or three people +staring curiously at the cottage. She all but fell against the door, +and was at once admitted by Mrs Trivett. + +"The worst! Let me know the worst!" gasped the terror-stricken girl. + +Mavis was told that her baby was ill with diphtheria; also, that a +broker's man was in possession at Mrs Trivett's. + +"Will he get over it?" was Mavis's next question. + +"It's for a lot of money. It's just on thirty pounds." + +"I mean my boy." + +"The doctor has hopes. He's coming in again presently." + +Mavis hurried to the stairs leading to her bedroom. As she went up +these, she brushed against a surly-looking man who was coming down. +She rightly judged him to be the man in possession. She found the +little sufferer stretched upon his bed of pain with wildly dilating +eyes; it wrung Mavis's heart to see what difficulty he had with his +breathing. If she could only have done something to ease her baby's +sufferings, she would have been better able to bear the intolerable +suspense. She realised that she could do nothing till the doctor +paid his next visit. But she had forgotten; one thing she could do: +she could pray for divine assistance to the Heavenly Father who was +able to heal all earthly ills. This she did. Mavis prayed long and +earnestly, with words that came from her heart. She told Him how she +had endured pain, sorrow, countless debasing indignities without +murmuring; if only in consideration of these, she begged that the +life of her little one might be spared. + +Whilst thus engaged, Mavis heard a tap at the door. She got up +impatiently as she called to whomsoever it might be to enter. + +Mrs Trivett came in with many apologies for disturbing Mavis. She +then told her lodger that the broker's man was aware of the illness +from which Mavis's baby was suffering; also that, as he was a family +man, he objected to being in a house where there was a contagious +disease, and that, if the child were not removed to the local fever +hospital by the evening, he would inform the authorities. Mrs +Trivett's information spelt further trouble for Mavis. Apart from +her natural disinclination to confide her dearly loved child to the +care of strangers, she saw a direct menace to herself should the man +carry out his threat of insisting on the removal of the child. +Montague Devitt was much bound up with the town's municipal +authorities. In this capacity, it was conceivable that he might +discover the identity of the child's mother; failing this, her +visits to the hospital to learn the child's progress would probably +excite comment, which, in a small town like Melkbridge, could easily +be translated into gossip that must reach the ears of the Devitt +family. The cloud of trouble hung heavily over Mavis. + +"Can't--can't anything be done?" she asked desperately. + +"It's either the hospital or paying the broker." + +"How much is it?" + +"Twenty-nine pounds sixteen." + +"That's easily got," remarked Mavis. "At once?" asked Mrs Trivett, +as her worn face brightened. + +"I don't suppose I could get it till the morrow. It would be then +too late?" + +"But if you're sure of getting it, something might be arranged." + +"Would the man take my word?" + +"No. But he might know someone who would lend the money in a way +that would be convenient." + +"See him at once. Find out if anything can be done," urged the +distracted mother. + +Five minutes later, whilst Mavis was waiting in suspense, Mrs +Trivett came up to say that the doctor had come again. Mavis had no +time to ask her landlady what she had done with the broker's man, as +the doctor came into the room directly after he had been announced. +He was quite a young doctor, on whom the manners of an elderly man +sat incongruously. He glanced keenly at Mavis as he bowed to her; +then, without saying a word, he fell to examining the child's +throat. + +"Well?" asked Mavis breathlessly, when he had satisfied himself of +its condition. + +"I must ask you a few questions," replied the doctor. + +"What do you wish to know?" she asked with anxious heart. + +He asked her much about the baby's place of birth, subsequent health +and diet. + +When Mavis told him of the Pimlico supplied milk, which she had +sterilised herself, he shook his head. + +"That accounts for the whole trouble," he remarked. "You should have +fed him yourself." + +"It didn't agree with him, and then it went away," Mavis told him. + +"Ah, you had worry?" + +"A bit. Do you think he'll pull through?" + +"I'll tell you more to-night," he informed her. + +Mavis attracted men. The doctor, not being blind to her +fascinations, was not indisposed to linger for a moment's +conversation, after he had treated the baby's throat, during which +Mavis thought it necessary to tell him the old story of the husband +in America who was preparing a home for her. + +"Some chap's been low enough to land that charming girl with that +baby," thought the doctor as he walked home. "She's as innocent as +they make 'em, otherwise she wouldn't have told me that silly +husband yarn. If she were an old hand, she'd have kept her mouth +shut." + +Meanwhile, Mavis had been summoned downstairs to a conference, in +which the broker's man (his name was Gunner), Mrs Trivett, and a man +named Hutton, whom Mr Trivett had fetched, took part. + +Mavis was informed that Mr Hutton would lend her the money needed to +get rid of Mr Gunner's embarrassing presence, for which she was to +pay two pounds interest, if repaid in a month, and eight pounds +interest a year during which the capital sum was being repaid by +monthly instalments. + +"I will telegraph to Germany," said Mavis. "You shall have the money +next week at latest." + +Mr Hutton wanted guarantees; failing these, was Mavis in any kind of +employment? + +Mavis told him how she was employed by Mr Devitt. + +The man opened his eyes. Had the lady proof of this statement? + +Mavis thrust her hand into her pocket, believing she might find the +letter which Montague Devitt had written to Pimlico. She brought +out, instead, the letter the foreman had put into her hand when she +was leaving in reply to Mrs Trivett's summons. The envelope of this +was addressed in Mr Devitt's hand. + +"Here's a letter from him here," declared Mavis, as she tore it open +to glance at its contents before passing it on to Hutton. + +But the glance hardened into a look of deadly seriousness as her +eyes fell on what was written. She re-read the letter two or three +times before she grasped its import. + +"Dear Miss Keeves," it ran, "it is with the very deepest regret that +I write to say that certain facts have come to my knowledge with +regard to the way in which you spent your holiday last year at +Polperro. I, also, gather that your sudden departure from Melkbridge +was in connection with this visit. As a strict moral rectitude is a +sine qua non amongst those I employ, I must ask you to be good +enough to resign your appointment. I enclose cheque for present and +next week's salary.--Truly yours, + +"MONTAGUE S.T. DEVITT." + +The faces about her faded from her view; the room seemed as if it +were going round. + +"What's the matter, ma'am?" asked Mrs Trivett anxiously. + +"I can't give the guarantee," gasped Mavis. + +Mr Hutton rose and buttoned his coat. + +"What about Germany?" put in Mrs Trivett. + +"I'd forgotten that," said Mavis. "I'll write a telegram at once." + +Mr Hutton unbuttoned his coat. + +"Here's ink and paper, ma'am." + +Mavis took up the pen, at which Mr Hutton sat down. But she could +not remember the address. With swimming head, she dived her hand +into the pockets of her frock, but could not find Windebank's +letter. + +"I must have left it at the office," she murmured. + +"What is it you want?" asked Mrs Trivett. + +"His letter for the address." + +Mr Hutton got up. + +"What time is it?" asked Mavis. + +"Just six o'clock." + +"The factory would be locked for the night. Won't they take my +word?" she asked. "I don't want to be parted from my child while I +go to the factory." + +Mr Hutton buttoned his coat. + +Mavis made an impassioned appeal to the man in possession and his +friend. She might as well have talked to the stone walls which lined +the Dippenham Road for any impression she produced. + +"This address will find me up to ten o'clock to-night, mum," said Mr +Hutton, as he threw a soiled envelope on the table. "An' if I'm woke +up arter, I charge it on the interest." + +When Mr Hutton had taken his leave, Mavis fought an attack of +hysterics. Realising that Gunner, the broker's man, would prove as +good as his word in the matter of having her sick child removed, if +the money were not forthcoming, Mavis saw that there was no time to +be lost. She quickly wrote two notes, one of which was to Miss +Toombs, the other to Charlie Perigal. In these she briefly recounted +the circumstances of her necessity. Trivett was dispatched to Miss +Toombs, whilst his wife undertook to deliver Perigal's note at his +father's house. + +Mavis waited by her beloved boy's side while the messengers sped +upon their respective errands. Her child was doubly dear to her now +that their separation was threatened. As his troubled eyes looked +helplessly (sometimes it seemed appealingly) into hers, she vowed +again and again that he should never be taken away to be nursed by +strangers. Something would happen, something must happen to prevent +such a mutilation of her holiest feelings as would be occasioned by +her enforced separation from her sick boy. Of course, why had she +not thought of it before? Her lover, the boy's father, would return +with the messenger, to be reconciled to her over the nursing of the +ailing little life back to health and strength. She had read much +the same sort of thing in books, which were always informed with +life. + +The minutes of the American clock, which had belonged to Miss +Nippett, laboriously totalled into an hour. Mavis could hear Gunner +uneasily shuffling in the room below. The late August evening was +drawing in. Mavis quite succeeded in persuading herself that this +would prove the last night of her misfortunes. + +Mr Trivett was the first to return. He brought six pounds from Miss +Toombs, with a note saying that it was all she could lay hands upon. +This, with the four which Mavis possessed, made ten. Gunner smiled +amiably and set about collecting his clay pipes, which he had left +in odd corners of the cottage. Then, after half an hour of weary +waiting, Mrs Trivett came to the door, which Mavis opened with +trembling hands. She was alone. Her face proclaimed the +fruitlessness of her errand. + +"Mr Charles Perigal was out for the evening and would not be back +till quite late," she had been told. + +This decided Mavis to act upon a resolve that, had been formulating +in her mind while waiting for Mrs Trivett's return. + +"Give me half an hour," she said to the sullen Gunner. "I'll make it +well worth your while." She then went upstairs to kiss her baby +before setting out. + +"Where are you going, ma'am?" asked tearful Mrs Trivett, who had +followed her upstairs. + +"To Mr Devitt. He's kind at heart. I know, if I can see him, he'll +give me what I want." + +"But will he see you?" + +"I'll see to that. Promise you won't leave baby while I'm gone." + +Mavis took a last look of her darling as she went out of the door. +She then let herself out and sped in the direction of the +Bathminster Road. She scarcely knew, she did not care, what she +should say when she came face to face with Devitt. She had almost +forgotten that he had been informed of her secret. All she knew was +that she was in peril of losing her sick child, and that she was +fighting for its possession with the weapons that came handiest. +Nothing else in the world was of the smallest account. She also +dimly realised that she was fighting for her lover's approval, to +whom she would soon have to render an account of her stewardship to +his son. This gave edge to her determination. She knocked at the +door of the brightly lit, pretentious-looking house in the +Bathminster Road. + +"I want to see Mr Devitt privately," she told the fat butler who +opened the door. + +He would have shown her into a room, but she preferred to wait in +the hall, which, just now, was littered with trunks. + +"I think he's with Mr Harold," said the man, as he walked to a door +at the further end of the hall. + +The trunk labels were written in a firm, bold hand, which caught +Mavis's eye. "Harold Devitt, Esq., Homeleigh, Swanage, Dorset," was +the apparent destination of the luggage. + +"Mr Devitt must be in the drawing-room," said Hayter, as he +reappeared to walk up the stairs. + +Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, followed the man up the +heavily carpeted stairs, which did not betray her footfalls. + +The man opened the door of the drawing-room. + +As she followed close on his heels, she heard a terrific peal at the +front door bell. Recollection of what she saw in the drawing-room is +burned into Mavis's memory and will remain there till her last +moment of consciousness. + +Montague Devitt, in evening dress, was lolling before the fireplace. +His wife and her sister were busily engaged in unpacking showy +articles from boxes, which Mavis divined to be wedding gifts. +Victoria Devitt, sumptuously dressed, was seated on a low chair. +Bending over her shoulder in an attitude of unconcealed devotion was +Charlie Perigal. + +Mavis took in the significance of all that she saw at a glance. Her +blood went ice cold. Something snapped in her head. She opened her +lips to speak, but no words issued. Instead, one arm was uplifted to +accuse. Then she became rigid; only her eyes were eloquent. + +Perigal was struck dumb by the apparently miraculous appearance of +Mavis in the room. Then, as her still body continued to menace him +with a gesture of seemingly eternal accusation, he became +shamefaced. A hum of voices sounded in Mavis's ears, but she was +indifferent to what they were saying. + +Next, as if from a great distance, she heard her name called by a +familiar voice. She was impelled to turn in the direction from which +it came, to see Mrs Trivett, tearful, distraught, standing in the +doorway. Mavis's eyes expressed a fearful inquiry. + +"Don't come back! don't come back," wailed the woman. + +Thus, almost in the same breath, Mavis learned how she had lost both +lover and child. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE + +THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW + + +Mavis never left the still, white body of her little one. She was +convinced that they were all mistaken, and that he must soon awaken +from the sleep into which he had fallen. She watched, with never- +wearying eyes, for the first signs of consciousness, which she +firmly believed could not long be delayed. Now and again she would +hold its cold form for an hour at a stretch to her heart, in the +hope that the warmth of her breasts would be communicated to her +child. Once, during her long watch, she fancied that she saw his +lips twitch. She excitedly called to Mrs Trivett, to whom, when she +came upstairs, she told the glad news. To humour the bereaved +mother, Mrs Trivett waited for further signs of animation, the +absence of which by no means diminished Mavis's confidence in their +ultimate appearance. Her faith in her baby's returning vitality, +that never waned, that nothing could disturb, was so unwaveringly +steadfast, that, at last, Mrs Trivett feared to approach her. +Letters arrived from Miss Toombs, Perigal, Windebank, and Montague +Devitt, Mavis did not open them; they accumulated on the table on +which lay her untasted food. The funeral had been fixed for some +days later (Mavis was indifferent as to who gave the orders), but, +owing to the hot weather, it was necessary that this dread event +should take place two days earlier than had originally been +arranged. The night came when Mavis was compelled to take a last +farewell of her loved one. + +She looked at his still form with greedy, dry eyes, which never +flinched. By and by, Mrs Trivett gently touched her arm, at which +Mavis went downstairs without saying a word. The change from the +room upstairs to the homely little parlour had the effect of making +her, in some measure, realise her loss: she looked about her with +wide, fearful eyes. + +"My head! my head!" she suddenly cried. + +"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs Trivett. + +"Hold it! Hold it, someone! It's going to burst." + +Mrs Trivett held the girl's burning head firmly in her hands. + +"Tighter! tighter!" cried Mavis. + +"Oh, deary, deary! Why isn't your husband here to comfort you?" +sobbed Mrs Trivett. + +Mavis's face hardened. She repressed an inclination to laugh. Then +she became immersed in a stupor of despair. She knew that it would +have done her a world of good if she had been able to shed tears; +but the founts of emotion were dry within her. She felt as if her +heart had withered. Then, it seemed as if the walls and ceiling of +the room were closing in upon her; she had difficulty in breathing; +she believed that if she did not get some air she would choke. She +got up without saying a word, opened the door, and went out. +Trivett, at a sign from his wife, rose and followed. + +The night was warm and still. Mavis soon began to feel relief from +the stifling sensations which had threatened her. But this relief +only increased her pain, her sensibilities being now only the more +capable of suffering. As Mavis walked up the deserted Broughton +Road, her eyes sought the sky, which to-night was bountifully spread +with stars. It occurred to her how it was just another such a night +when she had walked home from Llansallas Bay; then, she had +fearfully and, at the same time, tenderly held her lover's hand. The +recollection neither increased nor diminished her pain; she thought +of that night with such a supreme detachment of self that it seemed +as if her heart were utterly dead. She turned by the dye factory and +stood on the stone bridge which here crosses the Avon. The blurred +reflection of the stars in the slowly moving water caused her eyes +again to seek the skies. + +Thought Mavis: "Beyond those myriad lights was heaven, where now was +her beloved little one. At least, he was happy and free from pain, +so what cause had she, who loved him, to grieve, when it was written +that some day they would be reunited for ever and ever?" + +Mavis looked questioningly at the stars. It would have helped her +much if they had been able to betray the slightest consciousness of +her longings. But they made no sign; they twinkled with aloof +indifference to the grief that wrung her being. Distraught with +agonised despair, and shadowed by Trivett, she walked up the +principal street of the town, now bereft of any sign of life. +Unwittingly, her steps strayed in the direction of the river. She +walked the road lying between the churchyard and the cemetery, +opened the wicket gate by the church school, and struck across the +well-remembered meadows. When she came to the river, she stood +awhile on the bank and watched the endless procession of water which +flowed beneath her. The movement of the stream seemed, in some +measure, to assuage her grief, perhaps because her mind, seeking any +means of preservation, seized upon the moving water, this providing +the readiest distraction that offered. + +Mavis walked along the bank (shadowed by the faithful Trivett) in +the direction of her nook. Still with the same detachment of mind +which had affected her when she had looked at the stars in the +Broughton Road, she paused at the spot where she had first seen +Perigal parting the rushes upon the river bank. Unknown to him, she +had marked the spot with three large stones, which, after much +search, she had discovered in the adjacent meadow. As of old, the +stones were where she had placed them. Something impelled her to +kick them in the river, but she forbore as she remembered that this +glimpse of Perigal which they commemorated was, in effect, the first +breath which her boy had drawn within her. And now---! Mavis was +racked with pain. As if to escape from its clutch, she ran across +the meadows in the direction of Melkbridge, closely followed by +Trivett. Memories of the dead child's father crowded upon her as she +ran. It seemed that she was for ever alone, separated from +everything that made life tolerable by an impassable barrier of +pain. When she came to the road between the churchyard and the +cemetery, she felt as if she could go no further. She was bowed with +anguish; to such an extent did she suffer, that she leaned on the +low parapet of the cemetery for support. The ever-increasing colony +of the dead was spread before her eyes. She examined its +characteristics with an immense but dread curiosity. It seemed to +Mavis that, even in death, the hateful distinctions between rich and +poor found expression. The well-to-do had pretentious monuments +which bordered the most considerable avenue; their graves were trim, +well-kept, filled with expensive blooms, whilst all that testified +to remembrance on the part of the living on the resting-places of +the poor were a few wild flowers stuck in a gallipot. Away in a +corner was the solid monument of the deceased members of a county +family. They appeared, even in death, to shun companionship with +those of their species they had avoided in life. It, also, seemed as +if most of the dead were as gregarious as the living; well-to-do and +poor appeared to want company; hence, the graves were all huddled +together. There were exceptions. Now and again, one little outpost +of death had invaded a level spread of turf, much in the manner of +human beings who dislike, and live remote from, their kind. + +But it was the personal application of all she saw before her which +tugged at her heartstrings. It made her rage to think that the +little life to which her agony of body had given birth should be +torn from the warmth of her arms to sleep for ever in this unnatural +solitude. It could not be. She despairingly rebelled against the +merciless fate which had overridden her. In her agony, she beat the +stones of the parapet with her hands. Perhaps she believed that in +so doing she would awaken to find her sorrows to have been a horrid +dream. The fact that she did not start from sleep brought home the +grim reality of her griefs. There was no delusion: her baby lay dead +at home; her lover, to whom she had confided her very soul, was to +be married to someone else. There was no escape; biting sorrow held +her in its grip. She was borne down by an overwhelming torrent of +suffering; she flung herself upon the parapet and cried helplessly +aloud. Someone touched her arm. She turned, to see Trivett's homely +form. + +"I can't bear it: I can't, I can't!" she cried. + +Trivett looked pitifully distressed for a few moments before saying: + +"Would you like me to play?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"I don't know if the church is open; but, if it is, they've been +decorating it for--for--Would you very much mind?" + +"Play to me: play to me!" cried Mavis. + +The musician, whose whole appearance was eloquent of the soil, +clumped across the gravelled path of the churchyard, followed by +Mavis. He tried many doors, all of which were locked, till he came +to a small door in the tower; this was unfastened. + +He admitted Mavis, and then struck a wax match to enable her to see. +The cold smell of the church at once took her mind back to when she +had entered it as a happy, careless child. With heart filled with +dumb despair, she sat in the first seat she came to. As she waited, +the gloom was slowly dissipated, to reveal the familiar outlines of +the church. At the same time, her nostrils were assailed by the +pervading and exotic smell of hot-house blooms. + +The noise made by the opening of the organ shutters cracked above +her head and reverberated through the building. While she waited, +none of the sacred associations of the church spoke to her heart; +her soul was bruised with pain, rendering her incapable of being +moved by the ordinary suggestions of the place. Then Trivett played. +Mavis's highly-strung, distraught mind ever, when sick as now, +seeking the way of health, listened intently, devoutly, to the +message of the music. Sorrow was the musician's theme: not +individual grief, but the travail of an aged world. There had been, +there was, such an immense accumulation of anguish that, by +comparison with the sum of this, her own griefs now seemed +infinitesimal. Then the organ became eloquent of the majesty of +sorrow. It was of no dumb, almost grateful, resignation to the will +of a Heavenly Father, who imposed suffering upon His erring children +for their ultimate good, of which it spoke. Rather was the +instrument eloquent of the power wielded by a pagan god of pain, +before whose throne was a vast aggregation of torment, to which +every human thing, and particularly loving women, were, by the +conditions consequent on their nature, condemned to contribute. In +return for this inevitable sacrifice, the god of pain bestowed a +dignity of mind and bearing upon his votaries, which set them apart, +as though they were remote from the thoughtless ruck. + +While Trivett played, Mavis was eased of some of her pain, her mind +being ever receptive to any message that music might offer. When the +organ stopped, the cold outlines of the church chilled her to the +marrow. The snap occasioned by the shutting up of the instrument +seemed a signal on the part of some invisible inquisitor that her +torments were to recommence. Before Trivett joined her, the sound of +the church clock striking the hour smote her ear with its vibrant, +insistent notes. This reminder of the measuring of time recalled to +Mavis the swift flight, not only of the hours, but of the days and +years. It enabled her dimly to realise the infinitesimal speck upon +the chart of recorded time which even the most prolonged span of +individual life occupied. So fleeting was this stay, that it almost +seemed as if it were a matter of no moment if life should happen to +be abbreviated by untimely death. Whilst the girl's mind thus +struggled to alleviate its pain and to mend the gaps made by the +slings and arrows of poignant grief in its defences, Trivett +stumbled downstairs and blundered against the pews as he approached. +Then the two walked home, where Mavis resumed her lonely vigil +beside the ark which contained all that was mortal of her baby. No +matter what further anguish this watch inflicted, she could not +suffer her boy to be alone during the last night of his brief stay +on earth. + +The next afternoon, about two, when all Melkbridge was agog with +excitement at the wedding of Major Perigal's son to Victoria Devitt, +two funeral carriages might have been seen drawing up at a cottage +in the Broughton Road. Under the driver's seat of the first was +quickly placed a small coffin, which was smothered with wreaths, +while a tall, comely, fair young woman, clad in deep mourning, +stepped into the coach, the blinds of which were closely drawn. A +homely, elderly man, accompanied by his wife, got into the next, and +the two carriages drove off at a smart trot in the direction of the +town. Soon after the little procession had started, a black spaniel +might have been seen escaping into the road, where it followed the +carriages with its nose to the ground, much in the same way as it +had been used to follow the Pimlico 'buses in which its mistress +travelled when she had carried her baby. + +Mavis, white and drawn, lay back in the carriage that was proceeding +on its relentless way. She did not know, she did not care, who had +made the arrangements for this dismal ride. All she knew was that +all she had left of life seemed confined in the glass case beneath +the driver's seat. + +During the morning, Mrs Trivett had brought in wreaths of flowers +from Windebank, Miss Toombs, herself, and her husband. A last one +had arrived, which bore upon the attached card, "From C.P., with all +imaginable sympathy." Mavis, after glancing at the well-remembered +writing, had trodden the flowers underfoot and then had passionately +kicked the ruined wreath from the room. + +He, at least, should have no part in her sorrowful lot. As she drove +into the town, she was now and again met by gay carriages which were +returning from setting down wedding guests at the church door. The +drivers of these wore wedding favours pinned to their coats, while +their whips were decorated with white satin ribbons. As each +carriage passed, Mavis felt a sharp tugging at her heart. She +guessed that she was not being driven to Melkbridge; she wondered +with an almost impersonal curiosity whither they were bound. She had +been told, but she had not listened. She had reached such depths of +suffering--indeed, she had quite touched bottom--that it now needed +an event of considerable moment to make the least impression on her +mutilated sensibilities. When they reached the market-place and bore +to the right, she gathered that they were going to Pennington. + +The day was perfect--a day that in happier circumstances Mavis would +have loved. The sun reigned in a cloudless sky, the blue of which +was mellowed with a touch of autumn dignity. The grasses waved +gladly by the road-side, and along the ditches; patches of sunlight +played delightful games of hide-and-seek on hedge-rows and among the +trees. Most of the bushes were gay with song, while the birds seemed +to laugh in very defiance of winter when the sun was so warm. The +unrestrained joy and vivacity of the day emphasised the gloom that +rilled the first of the two funeral carriages. Mavis stared with +dull surprise at the rollicking gaiety of the afternoon: its +callousness to her anguish irked her. It made her think how +unnecessary and altogether bootless was the loss she had sustained. +She tried to realise that God had singled her out for suffering as a +mark of His favour. But at the bottom of her heart she nourished +something in the nature of resentment against the Most High. She +knew that, if only life could be restored to the child, she would be +base enough to forfeit her chances of eternal life in exchange for +the boon. As she passed a by-lane, a smart cart, containing a +youngish man and a gaily-clad, handsome, happy-looking girl, pulled +up sharply in coming from this in order to avoid a collision. Mavis +saw the gladness fade from the faces of the occupants of the cart as +they realised the nature of the procession they had encountered. The +man took off his cap; the girl looked away with frightened eyes. + +Five minutes later, the two carriages entered the gates of +Pennington Churchyard. The wind was blowing from Melkbridge, +therefore she had not heard before the measured tolling of the bell, +which now seemed, every time it struck, to stab her soul to the +quick. The carriage pulled up at the door of the tiny church. After +waiting a few moments, Mavis got out. + +Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she walked up the church, to +sit in a pew near the top. Although she never took her eyes from the +flower-covered coffin, she was aware that Windebank was sitting at +the back, whilst, a few moments later, Miss Toombs strolled into the +church with the manner of one who had got there by the merest +chance. + +"Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live." + +Mavis stood up directly those words were spoken; otherwise, she paid +no attention to the exquisite periods of the burial service: her +heart was with her boy. The present was as much as she could endure; +she was nerving herself for the time when she should leave the +church. Till now, she felt that her baby was part of this life and +herself; then, without further ado, he would be torn from her +cognisance to be put out of sight in the ground. + +The inexorable minutes passed. Mavis stood before the open grave. +Miss Toombs, ashamed of her earlier timidity, stood beside her. +Windebank, erect and bare-headed, was a little behind. As the box +containing her baby disappeared, Mavis felt as if the life were +being mercilessly drawn from her. It was as if she stood there for +untold ages. Then it seemed as if her heart were torn out by the +roots. Blinded with pain, she found herself being led by Miss Toombs +towards the carriage in which she had been driven from Melkbridge. +But Mavis would not get into this. Followed by her friend, she +struck into a by-path which led into a lane. Here she walked dry- +eyed, numbed with pain, in a world that was hatefully strange. Then +Miss Toombs made brave efforts to talk commonplaces, while tears +streamed from her eyes. The top of Mavis's head seemed both hot and +cold at the same time; she wondered if it would burst. Then, with a +sharp bark of delight, Jill sprang from the hedge to jump +delightedly about her mistress. Mavis knelt down and pressed her +lips to her faithful friend's nose. At the same moment, the wind +carried certain sounds to her ears from the direction of Melkbridge. +Mavis looked up. The expression of fear which Miss Toombs's face +wore confirmed her suspicions. Suddenly, Miss Toombs flung herself +upon Mavis, and clapped her hands against the suffering woman's +ears. + +"Don't listen! don't listen!" screamed Miss Toombs. + +But Mavis thrust aside the other woman's arms, to hear the sound of +wedding bells, which were borne to her by the wind. + +Mavis listened intently for some moments, the while Miss Toombs +fearfully watched her. Then, Mavis placed her hands to her head, and +laughed and laughed and laughed, till Miss Toombs thought that she +was never going to stop. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX + +A VISIT + + +Mavis's ride to Pennington was her last appearance out of doors for +many a long day. For weeks she lay at Mrs Trivett's on the +borderland of death. For nights on end, it was the merest chance +whether or not she would live to see another dawn; but, in the end, +youth, aided by skilful doctoring and careful nursing, prevailed +against the dread illness which had fastened on her brain. As she +slowly got better, the blurred shadows which had previously hovered +about her took shape into doctor, nurses, and Mrs Trivett. When they +told her how ill she had been, and how much better she was, despair +filled her heart. She had no wish to live; her one desire was to +join her little one beyond the grave. + +A time came when the improvement which had set in was not +maintained; she failed to get better, yet did not become worse, +although Mavis rejoiced in the belief that her health was daily +declining. Often, she would wake in the night to listen with glad +ears to the incessant ticking of the American clock on the +mantelpiece. If alone she would say: + +"Go on, go on, little clock, and shorten the time till I again see +my dearest." + +As if in obedience to her behest, the clock seemed to tick with +renewed energy. + +Sometimes she would try and picture the unspeakable bliss which +would be hers when the desire of her heart was gratified. She often +thanked God that she would soon be with Him and her little one. She +believed that He found His happiness in witnessing the joy of +mothers at again meeting with their children from whom they had been +parted for so long. + +She had no idea who paid the expenses of her illness; she was +assured by Mrs Trivett, whom she often questioned on the subject, +that there was no cause for uneasiness on the matter. Her health +still refusing to improve, a further medical adviser was called in. +He suggested foreign travel as the most beneficial course for Mavis +to pursue. But the patient flatly refused to go abroad; for a reason +she could not divine, the name of Swanage constantly recurred to her +mind. She did not at once remember that she had seen the name on the +labels of the luggage which had cumbered the hall on the night when +she had called at the Devitts. She often spoke of this watering- +place, till at last it was decided that, as she had this resort so +constantly in her mind, it might do her good to go there. Even then, +it was many more weeks before she was well enough to be moved. She +remained in a condition of torpor which the visits of Windebank or +Miss Toombs failed to dissipate. At last, when a mild February came, +it was deemed possible for her to make the journey. The day before +it was arranged that she should start, she was told that a +gentleman, who would give no name, and who had come in a carriage of +which the blinds were drawn, wished to see her. When she went down +to the parlour, she saw a spare old man, with a face much lined and +wrinkled, who was clad in ill-fitting, old-fashioned clothes, +fidgeting about the room. + +"You wish to see me?" asked Mavis, as she wondered who he could be. + +"Yes. My name's Perigal: Major Perigal." + +Mavis did not speak. + +The man seemed surprised at her silence. + +"I--I knew your father," he remarked. + +"I knew your son," said Mavis icily. + +"More's the pity!" + +Mavis looked up, mildly surprised. The man continued: + +"He's mean: mean right through. I've nothing good to say of him. I +know him too well." + +Mavis kept silent. Major Perigal went on: + +"A nice mess you've made of it." + +The girl's eyes held the ghost of a smile. He continued: + +"I did my best for you, but you thought yourself too clever." + +Mavis looked up inquiringly. + +"When I heard who it was he was going to marry, I wanted to do you a +good turn for your father's sake, as I knew Charles could never make +you happy. I forbade the marriage, knowing he wouldn't face poverty +for you. He's hateful: hateful right through." + +"And if we'd married?" + +"I'd have come round, especially after seeing you. You're a +daughter-in-law any man would be proud of. And now he's married that +Devitt girl for her money." + +"For her money?" queried Mavis. + +"What little she has. Never mind her: I want to speak of you. For +all your fine looks, you were too clever by half." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, with dull, even voice. + +"What I say. That for all your grand appearance you were much too +knowing. Since you couldn't get him one way, you thought you'd have +him another." + +"You mean---" + +"By doing as you did." + +"You insult me!" cried Mavis, now roused from her lethargy. + +"Eh?" + +"Insult me. And that is why you came. But since you're here, you may +as well know I made a mess of it, as you call it, because I loved +your son. If I'd the time over again, I suppose I'd be just such +another fool. I can't help it. I loved him. I wish you good +morning." + +Major Pengal had never been so taken aback in his life. Mavis's +words and manner carried conviction to his heart. + +"I didn't know--I beg your pardon--I take hack my words," he said +confusedly. + +Mavis relapsed into her previous torpor. + +"I didn't know there was such a woman in the world," he continued. +"What you must have been through!" + +Mavis did not speak. + +"May I have the honour of calling on you again?" he asked with old- +fashioned courtesy. + +"It would be useless. I go away to-morrow." + +"For good?" + +"For some weeks." + +"If you return, perhaps you would honour me by calling on me. I +never see anyone. But, if you would permit me to say so, your +friendship would be an honour." + +"Thank you, but I don't know what I shall be doing," said Mavis +wearily. + +A few moments later, Major Perigal took his leave, but without +recovering from his unaffected surprise at Mavis's honesty. He +looked at her many times, to say, as he went out of the door of the +parlour: + +"I always believed Charles to have brains: now I know him to be a +cursed fool." + +The following day, Mavis, accompanied by Mrs Trivett and Jill, set +out for Swanage. They took train to Dorchester, where they changed +into the South-Western system, which carried them to Swanage, after +making a further change at ancient Wareham. Arrived at Swanage +station, they took a fly to the house of a Mrs Budd, where lodgings, +at the doctor's recommendation, had been secured. On their way to +Mrs Budd's, Mavis noticed a young man in a hand-propelled tricycle, +which the fly overtook. The nature of the machine told Mavis that +its occupant was a cripple. + +If she had encountered him eighteen months ago, her heart would have +filled with pity at seeing the comely young man's extremity: now, +she looked at him very much as she might have noticed a cat crossing +the road. + +Mrs Budd was waiting on the doorstep in anxious expectation of her +lodgers. To see her white hair, all but toothless mouth, and +wrinkled face, she looked seventy, which was about her age; but to +watch her alert, brisk movements, it would seem as if she enjoyed +the energy of twenty. She ushered Mavis into her apartments, talking +volubly the while; but the latter could not help seeing that, +whereas she was treated with the greatest deference by the landlady, +this person quite ignored the existence of Mrs Trivett. + +It was with a feeling of relief that Mavis sat down to a meal after +the door had been closed on Mrs Budd's chatter. The change had +already done her good. Her eyes rested approvingly on the spotless +table appointments. + +"Poor dear!" exclaimed Mrs Trivett in pitying tones, who waited to +see if Mavis had everything she wanted before eating with Mrs Budd +in the kitchen. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mavis. + +"I knew something dreadful would happen. It's the anniversary of the +day on which I had my first lot of new teeth, which gave me such +dreadful pain." + +"What's wrong?" + +"That Mrs Budd. I took a dislike to her directly I saw her." + +Mavis stared at Mrs Trivett in surprise. + +"I do hope you'll be comfortable," continued Mrs Trivett. "But I +fear you won't be. She looks the sort of person who would give +anyone damp sheets and steal the sugar." + +Mrs Trivett said more to the same effect. Mavis, remembering Mrs +Budd's behaviour to her, could scarcely keep back a smile; it was +the first time since her illness that anything had appeared at all +amusing. + +But this was not the sum of Mrs Trivett's resentment against Mrs +Budd. After the meal was over, she rejoined Mavis with perspiration +dropping from her forehead. + +"The kitchen's like an oven, and I've nearly been roasted," +complained Mrs Trivett. "And her horrid old husband is there, who +can't do anything for himself." + +"Why didn't you leave before you got so hot?" asked Mavis. + +"It's that there Mrs Budd's fault. She's only one tooth, and it +takes her all her time to eat." + +"I meant, why didn't you leave so that you could finish eating in +here?" + +"I didn't like to, ma'am, but if you wouldn't very much mind in +future---" + +"By all means, eat with me if you wish it." + +"Thank you kindly. I'm sure that woman and me would come to blows +before many days was over." + +Mavis rested for the remainder of the day and only saw Mrs Budd +during the few minutes in which the table was being either laid or +cleared away; but these few minutes were enough for the landlady to +tell Mavis pretty well everything of moment in her life. Mavis +learned how Mrs Budd's husband had been head gardener to a +neighbouring baronet, until increasing infirmities had compelled him +to give up work; also, that as he had spent most of his life in hot- +houses, the kitchen had always to have a big fire blazing in order +that the old man might have the heat necessary for his comfort. It +appeared that Mrs Budd's third daughter had died from curvature of +the spine. The mother related with great pride how that, just before +death, the girl's spine had formed the figure of a perfect "hess." +Mavis was also informed that Mrs Budd could not think of knowing her +next-door neighbour, because this person paid a penny a pound less +for her suet than she herself did. + +When Mavis was going upstairs to bed, she came upon Mrs Budd +laboriously dragging her husband, a big, heavy man, up to bed by +means of a cord slung about her shoulders and fastened to his waist. +Mavis subsequently learned that Mrs Budd had performed this feat +every night for the last four years, her husband having lost the use +of his limbs. + +After Mavis had been a few days at Mrs Budd's, she was sufficiently +recovered to walk about Swanage. One day she was even strong enough +to get as far as the Tilly Whim caves, where she was both surprised +and disgusted to find that some surpassing mediocrity had had the +fatuousness to deface the sheer glory of the cliffs with improving +texts, such as represent the sum of the world's wisdom to the mind +of a successful grocer, who has a hankering after the natural +science which is retailed in ninepenny popular handbooks. Often in +these walks, Mavis encountered the man whom she had seen upon the +day of her arrival; as before, he was pulling himself along on his +tricycle. The first two or three times they met, the cripple looked +very hard at Jill, who always accompanied her mistress. Afterwards, +he took no notice of the dog; he had eyes only for Mavis, in whom he +appeared to take a lively interest. Mavis, who was well used to +being stared at by men, paid no heed to the man's frequent glances +in her direction. + +The sea air and the change did much for Mavis's health; she was +gradually roused from the lethargy from which she had suffered for +so long. But with the improvement in her condition came a firmer +realisation of the hard lot which was hers. Her love for Charlie +Perigal had resulted in the birth of a child. Although her lover had +broken his vows, she could, in some measure, have consoled herself +for his loss by devoting her life to the upbringing of her boy. Now +her little one had been taken from her, leaving a vast emptiness in +her life which nothing could fill. God, fate, chance, whatever power +it was that ruled her life, had indeed dealt hardly with her. She +felt an old woman, although still a girl in years. She had no +interest in life: she had nothing, no one to live for. + +One bright March day, Mavis held two letters in her hand as she sat +by the window of her sitting-room at Mrs Budd's. She read and re- +read them, after which her eyes would glance with much perplexity in +the direction of the daffodils now opening in the garden in front of +the house. She pondered the contents of the letters; then, as if to +distract her thoughts from an unpalatable conclusion, which the +subject matter of one of the letters brought home to her, she fell +to thinking of the daffodils as though they were the unselfish +nurses of the other flowers, insomuch as they risked their frail +lives in order to see if the world were yet warm enough for the +other blossoms now abed snugly under the earth. The least important +of the two letters was from Major Perigal; it had been forwarded on +from Melkbridge. In his cramped, odd hand, he expressed further +admiration for Mavis's conduct; he begged her to let him know +directly she returned to Melkbridge, so that he might have the +honour of calling on her again. The other letter was from Windebank, +in which he briefly asked Mavis if she would honour him by becoming +his wife. Mavis was much distressed. However brutally her heart had +been bruised by the events of the last few months, she sometimes +believed (this when the sun was shining) that some day it would be +possible for her to conjure up some semblance of affection for +Windebank, especially if she saw much of him. His mere presence +radiated an atmosphere of protection. It offered a welcome +harbourage after the many bufferings she had suffered upon storm- +tossed seas. If she could have gone to him as she had to Perigal, +she would not have hesitated a moment. Now, so far as she was +concerned, there was all the difference in the world. Although she +knew that her soul was not defiled by her experience with Perigal, +she had dim perceptions of the way in which men, particularly manly +males, looked upon such happenings. It was not in the nature of +things, after all that had occurred, for Windebank to want her m a +way in which she would wish to be desired by the man of her choice. +Here was, apparently, no overmastering passion, but pity excited by +her misfortunes. Mavis had got out of Mrs Trivett (who had long +since left for Melkbridge) that it was Windebank who had insisted on +paying the expenses of her illness and stay at Swanage, in spite of +Major Perigal's and his son's desire to meet all costs that had been +incurred. Mavis also learned that Windebank and Charles Perigal had +had words on the subject--words which had culminated in blows when +Windebank had told Perigal in unmeasured terms what he thought of +his conduct to Mavis. + +As Mavis recalled Windebank's generosity with regard to her illness, +it seemed to her that this proposal of marriage was all of a piece +with his other behaviour since her baby had died. Consideration for +her, not love, moved his heart. If she were indeed so much to him, +why did he not come down and beg her with passionate words to join +her life to his? + +Mavis made no allowance for the man's natural delicacy for her +feelings, which he considered must have been cruelly harrowed by all +she had lately suffered. Just now, there was no room in her world +for the more delicate susceptibilities of emotion. She wholly +misjudged him, and the more she thought of it, the more she believed +that his letter was dictated by pity rather than love. This pity +irked her pride and made her disinclined to accept his offer. + +Then Mavis thought of Major Perigal's letter. It flattered her to +think how her personality appealed to those of her own social kind. +She began to realise what a desirable wife she would have made if it +had not been for her meeting and subsequent attachment to Charlie +Perigal. Any man, Windebank, but for this experience, would have +been proud to have made her his wife. She believed that her whole- +hearted devotion to a worthless man had for ever cut her off from +love, wifehood, motherhood--things for which her being starved. Then +she tried to fathom the why and wherefore of it all. She had always +tried to do right: in situations where events were foreign to her +control, she had trusted to her Heavenly Father for protection. "Why +was it," she asked herself, "that her lot had not been definitely +thrown in with Windebank before she had met with Charles Perigal? +Why?" Such was her resentment at the ordering of events, that she +set her teeth and banged her clenched fist upon the arm of her +chair. + +At that moment the crippled man wheeled himself past the house on +his self-propelled tricycle. He looked intently at the window of the +room that Mavis occupied. At the same moment Mrs Budd came into the +room to ask what Mavis would like for luncheon. + +"Who is that passing?" asked Mavis. + +The old woman ran lightly to the window. + +"The gentleman on that machine?" + +"Yes. I've often seen him about." + +"It's Mr Harold Devitt, miss." + +"Harold Devitt! Where does he come from?" asked Mavis of Mrs Budd, +who had a genius for gleaning the gossip of the place. + +"Melkbridge. He's the eldest son of Mr Montague Devitt, a very rich +gentleman. Mr Harold lives at Mrs Buck's with a male nurse to look +after him, poor fellow." + +Mrs Budd went on talking, but Mavis did not hear what she was +saying. Mention of the name of Devitt was the spark that set alight +a raging conflagration in her being. She had lost a happy married +life with Windebank, to be as she now was, entirely owing to the +Devitts. Now it was all plain enough--so plain that she wondered how +she had not seen it before. It was the selfish action of the +Devitts, who wished to secure Windebank for their daughter, which +had prevented Montague from giving Mavis the message that Windebank +had given to him. It was the Devitts who had not taken her into +their house, because they feared how she might meet Windebank in +Melkbridge. It was the Devitts who had given her work in a boot +factory, which resulted in her meeting with Perigal. It was the +Devitts, in the person of Victoria, who had prevented Perigal from +keeping his many times repeated promises to marry Mavis. The Devitts +had blighted her life. Black hate filled her heart, overflowed and +poisoned her being. She hungered to be revenged on these Devitts, to +repay them with heavy interest for the irreparable injury to her +life for which she believed them responsible. Then, she remembered +how tenderly Montague Devitt had always spoken of his invalid boy +Harold; a soft light had come into his eyes on the few occasions on +which Mavis had asked after him. A sudden resolution possessed her, +to be immediately weakened by re-collections of Montague's affection +for his son. Then a procession of the events in her life, which were +for ever seared into her memory, passed before her mind's eye--the +terror that possessed her when she learned that she was to be a +mother; her interview with Perigal at Dippenham; her first night in +London, when she had awakened in the room in the Euston Road; Mrs +Gowler's; her days of starvation in Halverton Street; the death and +burial, not only of her boy, but of her love for and faith in +Perigal--all were remembered. Mavis's mind was made up. She went to +her bedroom, where, with infinite deliberation, she dressed for +going out. + +"Mr Harold Devitt!" she said, when she came upon him waiting on his +tricycle by the foolish little monument raised to the memory of one +of Alfred the Great's victories over invading Danes. + +The man raised his hat, while he looked intently at Mavis. + +"I have to thank you for almost the dearest treasure I've ever +possessed. Do you remember Jill?" + +"Of course: I wondered if it might prove to be she when I first saw +her. But is your name, by any chance, Miss Keeves?" + +Mavis nodded. + +"I've often wondered if I were ever going to meet you. And when I +saw you about---" + +"You noticed me?" + +"Who could help it? I'm in luck." + +"What do you mean?" she asked lightly. + +"Meeting with you down here." + +Thus they talked for quite a long while. Long before they separated +for the day, Mavis's eyes had been smiling into his. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN + +MAVIS AND HAROLD + + +"You're late!" + +"I always am. I've been trying to make myself charming." + +"That wouldn't be difficult." + +"You think so?" + +"I'm sure of it." + +Mavis spoke lightly, but Harold's voice was eloquent of conviction. + +"I'm sure of it," he repeated, as if to himself. + +"Am I so perfect?" she asked, as her eyes sought the ground. + +"In my eyes. But, then, I'm different from other men." + +"You are." + +"You needn't remind me of it." + +"Isn't it nice to be different from others?" + +"And wheel myself about because I can't walk?" + +"Is that what you meant? Believe me, I didn't mean that. I was +thinking how different you were to talk to, to other men I've met." + +"You flatter me." + +"It's the truth." + +"Then, since I'm so exceptional, will you do something for me?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Never be later than you can help. I worry, fearing something's +happened to you." + +"Not really?" + +"You are scarcely a subject I should fib about." + +This was the beginning of a conversation that took place a fortnight +after Mavis's first meeting with Harold by the sea. During this +time, they had seen each other for the best part of every day when +the weather was fine enough for Harold to be out of doors; as it was +an exceptionally fine spring, they met constantly. Mavis was still +moved by an immense hatred of the Devitt family, whom, more than +ever before, she believed to be responsible for the wrongs and +sufferings she had endured. In her determination to injure this +family by making Harold infatuated with her, she was not a little +surprised at the powers of dissimulation which she had never before +suspected that she possessed. She was both ashamed and proud of this +latent manifestation of her individuality--proud because she was +inclined to rejoice in the power that it conferred. But, at times, +this elation was diluted with self-reproaches, chiefly when she was +with Harold, but not looking at him; then his deep, rich voice would +awaken strange tremors in her being. + +However much Mavis was occasionally moved to pity his physical +misfortune, the recollection of her griefs was more than enough to +harden her heart. + +"Very, very strange that I should have run against you here," he +went on. + +"Why?" + +"I was at home when your old schoolmistress's letter came about you. +I remember she dragged in Ruskin." + +"Poor Miss Mee!" + +"I was always interested in you, and when I was in the South of +France, I was always asking my people to do their best for you." + +Mavis's eyes grew hard as she asked: + +"You've kept your promise to me?" + +"That I shouldn't tell my people I'd met you?" + +"I made it because---" + +"Never mind why. You made it: that is enough for me." + +Mavis's eyes softened. Then she and Harold fell to talking of +Melkbridge and Montague Devitt; presently of Victoria. + +"I hope she was kind to you at Melkbridge," said Harold. + +"Very," declared Mavis, saying what was untrue. + +"Dear Vic is a little disappointing. I'm always reproaching myself I +don't love her more than I do. Have you ever met the man she +married?" + +"Mr. Perigal? I've met him," replied Mavis. + +"Do you like him?" + +"I scarcely remember." + +"I don't overmuch. I'm sorry Vic married him, although my people +were, of course, delighted." + +"Why?" + +"We're quite new people, while the Perigals are a county family. +But, somehow, I don't think he'll make Vic happy." + +"What makes you say that?" + +"He's not happy himself. Everything he takes up he wearies of; he +gets pleasure out of nothing. And the pity of it is, he's no fool; +if anything, he's too many brains." + +"How can anyone have too many?" + +"Take Perigal's case. He's too analytical; he sees too clearly into +things. It's a sort of Rontgen ray intelligence, which I wouldn't +have for worlds. Isn't it old Solomon who says, 'In much wisdom +there is much sorrow'?" + +"Solomon says a good many things," said Mavis gravely, as she +remembered how the recollection of certain passion-charged verses +from the "Song" had caused her to linger by the canal at Melkbridge +on a certain memorable evening of her life, with, as it proved, +disastrous consequences to herself. + +"Have you ever read the 'Song'?" asked Harold. + +"Yes." + +"I love it, but I daren't read it now." + +"Why?" + +"More than most things, it brings home to me my--my helplessness." + +The poison, begotten of hatred, made Mavis thankful that the Devitt +family had not had it all their own way in life. + +When she next looked at Harold, he was intently regarding her. +Mavis's glance dropped. + +"But now there's something more than reading the 'Song' that makes +me curse my luck," he remarked. + +"And that?" + +"Can't you guess?" he asked earnestly. + +Mavis did not try; she was already aware of the fascination she +possessed for the invalid. + +For the rest of the time they were together, Mavis could get nothing +out of Harold; he was depressed and absent-minded when spoken to. +Mavis, of set purpose, did her utmost to take Harold out of himself. + +"Thank you," he said, as she was going. + +"What for?" + +"Wasting your time on me and helping me to forget." + +"Forget what?" + +"Never mind," he said, as he wheeled himself away. + +When Mavis got back to Mrs Budd's, she found a bustle of preparation +afoot. Mrs Budd was running up and downstairs, carrying clean linen +with all her wonted energy; whilst Hannah, her sour-faced assistant, +perspired about the house with dustpan and brushes. + +"Expecting a new lodger?" asked Mavis. + +"It's my daughter, Mrs Perkins; she's telegraphed to say she's +coming down from Kensington for a few days." + +"She'll be a help." + +Mrs Budd's face fell as she said: + +"Well, miss, she comes from Kensington, and she has a baby." + +"Is she bringing that too?" + +"And her nurse," declared Mrs Budd, not without a touch of pride. + +When Mrs Perkins arrived, she was wearing a picture hat, decorated +with white ostrich feathers, a soiled fawn dust-coat, and high- +heeled patent leather shoes. She brought with her innumerable flimsy +parcels (causing, by comparison, a collapsible Japanese basket to +look substantially built), and a gaily-dressed baby carried by a +London slut, whose face had been polished with soap and water for +the occasion. + +After the dust-cloak had settled with the driver, it advanced self- +consciously to the steps leading to the front door, the while it +called to the London slut: + +"Come along, nurse, and be careful of baby." + +Mavis, who saw and heard this from the window of her sitting-room, +noticed that Mrs Perkins greeted her mother, who was waiting at the +door, with some condescension. When the last flimsy parcel had been +taken within, Mrs Budd brought in Mrs Perkins and the baby to +introduce them to Mavis. Mrs Perkins sat down and assumed a manner +of superfine gentility, while she talked with a Cockney accent. Her +mother remained standing. The dust-cloak lived in Kensington, it +informed Mavis, "which was so convenient for the West End: it was +only an hour's 'bus ride from town." + +"Less than that," said Mavis to the dust-cloak. + +"I have known it to take fifty-five minutes when it hasn't been +stopped by funerals," declared Mrs Perkins. + +Mavis looked at the dust-cloak in surprise. + +"I always thought it took a quarter of an hour at the outside," +remarked Mavis. + +"For my part, when I go to London, I'm afraid of the 'buses," said +Mrs Budd. "I always take the train to Willesden Junction. Florrie's +house is only five minutes from there." + +Mrs Perkins frowned, coughed, and then violently changed the +subject. Mavis gave no heed to what she was saying. Her eyes were +fixed on the baby, which Mrs Budd had put in her arms. + +Passionate regrets filled her mind, while a dull pain assailed her +heart. She held the baby with a tense grip as Mrs Perkins talked at +her, the while the mother kept one eye self-consciously upon her +offspring. + +Baby that and baby this, she was saying, as Mavis continued to stare +with dry-eyed grief at the baby's pasty face. Then blind rage +possessed her. + +"Why should this common brat, which, even at this early age, carried +his origin in his features, live, while my sweet boy is beneath the +ground in Pennington Churchyard?" she asked herself. + +It was cruel, unjust. Mavis's rage was such that she was within +measurable distance of dashing the baby to the ground. Perhaps the +dust-cloak's maternal sensibilities scented danger, for, rather +abruptly, it got up to go, giving as an excuse that it must rest in +order to fulfil social engagements in Swanage. When Mrs Budd, her +daughter and grandson, had gone, Mavis still sat in her chair. Her +hands grasped its arms; her eyes stared before her. If, at any time, +Harold's personality had caused her hatred of his family to wane, +the sight of Mrs Perkins's baby was sufficient to restore its +vigour. + +Then it occurred to Mavis how her love for Perigal, which she had +thought to be as stable as the universe, had unconsciously withered +within her. It was as if there had been an immense reaction from her +one-time implicit faith in her lover, making her despise, where once +she had had unbounded confidence. This awakening to the declension +that had taken place in her love gave her many anxious hours. + +For some days Mavis saw nothing of Harold. She walked on the sweep +of sea front and in the streets of the little town in the hope of +meeting him, but in vain. She wondered if he had gone home, but +persuaded herself that he would not have left Swanage without +letting her know. + +Mavis was not a little irked at Harold's indifference to her +friendship; it hurt her self-esteem, which had been enhanced by the +influence she had so palpably wielded over him. It also angered her +to think that, after all, she would not be able to drink the draught +of revenge which she had promised herself at the Devitts' expense. + +All this time she had given no further thought to Windebank's +letter; it remained unanswered. As the days passed, and she saw +nothing of Harold, she began to think considerably of the man who +had written to offer her marriage. These thoughts were largely +coloured with resentment at the fact of Windebank's not having +followed up his unanswered letter by either another communication or +a personal appeal. Soon she was torn by two emotions: hatred of the +Devitts and awakened interest in Windebank; she did not know which +influenced her the more. She all but made up her mind to write some +sort of a reply to Windebank, when she met Harold pulling himself +along the road towards the sea. + +He had changed in the fortnight that had elapsed since she had last +seen him; his face had lost flesh; he looked worn and anxious. + +When he saw her, he pulled up. She gave him a formal bow, and was +about to pass him, when the hurt expression on the invalid's face +caused her to stop irresolutely by his side. + +"At last!" he said. + +Mavis looked at him inquiringly. + +"I could bear it no longer," he went on. + +"Bear what?" + +He did not reply; indeed, he did not appear to listen to her words, +but said: + +"I feared you'd gone for good." + +"I've seen nothing of you either." + +"Then you missed me? Tell me that you did." + +"I don't know." + +"I have missed YOU." + +"Indeed!" + +"I daren't say how much. Where are you going now?" + +"Nowhere." + +"May I come too?" he asked pleadingly. "I'll go a little way," she +remarked. + +"Meet me by the sea in ten minutes." + +"Why not go there together?" + +"I'd far rather meet you." + +"Don't you like being seen with me?" + +"Yes and no. Yes, because I am very proud at being seen with you." + +"And 'no'?" + +"It's why I wanted you to meet me by the sea." + +"Why?" + +"Can't you guess?" + +"If I could I wouldn't ask." + +"I'll tell you. When you walk with me, I'm afraid you notice my +infirmity the more." + +"I'll only go on one condition," declared Mavis. + +"That---?" + +"That we go straight there from here." + +"I'm helpless where you're concerned," he sighed, as he started his +tricycle. + +They went to the road bordering the sea, which just now they had to +themselves. On the way they said little; each was occupied with +their thoughts. + +Mavis was touched by Harold's devotion; also, by his anxiety not to +obtrude his infirmity upon her notice. She looked at him, to see in +his eyes unfathomable depths of sadness. She repressed an +inclination to shed tears. She had never been so near foregoing her +resolve to make him the instrument of her hatred of his family. But +the forces that decide these matters had other views. Mavis was +staring out to sea, in order to hide her emotion from Harold's +distress, when the sight of the haze where sea and sky met arrested +her attention. Something in her memory struggled for expression, to +be assisted by the smell of seaweed which assailed her nostrils. + +In the twinkling of an eye, Mavis, in imagination, was at Llansallas +Bay, with passionate love and boundless trust in her heart for the +lover at her side, to whom she had surrendered so much. The merest +recollection of how her love had been betrayed was enough to +dissipate the consideration that she was beginning to feel for +Harold. Her heart turned to stone; determination possessed her. + +"Still silent!" she exclaimed. + +"I have to be." + +"Who said so?" + +"The little sense that's left me." + +"Sense is often nonsense." + +"It's a bitter truth to me." + +"Particularly now?" + +"Now and always." + +"May I know?" + +"Why did you come into my life?" he asked, as if he had not heard +her request. + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"Why have you? Why have you?" + +"You're not the only one who can ask that question," she murmured. + +He looked at her for some moments in amazement before saying: + +"Say that again." + +"I shan't." + +"If I were other than I am, I should compel you." + +"How could you?" + +"With my lips. As it is---" + +"Yes--tell me." + +"My infirmity stops me from saying and doing what I would." + +"Why let it?" asked Mavis in a low voice, while her eyes sought the +ground. + +"You--you mean that?" he asked, in the manner of one who scarcely +believed the evidence of his ears. + +"I mean it." + +He did not speak for such a long time that Mavis began to wonder if +he regretted his words. When she stole a look at him, she saw that +his eyes were staring straight before him, as if his mind were all +but overwhelmed by the subject matter of its concern. + +Mavis touched his arm. He shivered slightly and glanced at her as if +surprised, before he realised that she was beside him. + +"Listen!" he said. "You asked--you shall know; whether you like or +hate me for it. I love you. Women have never come into my life; +they've always looked on me with pitying eyes. I would rather it +were so. But you--you--you are beautiful, with a heart like your +face, both rare and wonderful. Perhaps I love you so much because +you are young and healthy. It hurts me." + +His eyes held such a piteously fearful look that Mavis was moved in +spite of herself. He went on: + +"If my disposition were like my twisted body, it wouldn't matter. +But I love life, movement, struggling. Were I as I used to be, I +should love to have a beautiful, responsive woman for my own. I +should love to have you." + +Before Mavis knew what she had done, she had put her hand on his. +Then he said, as if speaking to himself: + +"What have I to offer besides a helpless, envious love? My wife +would be a nurse, not a mistress, as she should be." + +"Stop! stop!" she pleaded. + +"No, I will not stop," he cried, as he bent over to hold her head so +that her eyes looked into his. "You shall listen and then decide. I +love you. If it's good enough, I'm yours. You know what I have to +offer, and I ask you to be my wife because I can't help myself. +Because--" + +Mavis had closed her eyes for fear that he should read her heart. He +passionately kissed the closed lids before sinking back exhausted in +his chair. + +"Listen to me," said Mavis after a while. "It's I who am to blame. +Let me go away so that you can forget me." + +"Forget you! forget you!" he cried. "No, you shall not go away; not +till you've said 'yes' or 'no' to what I ask." + +"When shall I answer?" + +"Give yourself time--only--" + +"Only?" + +"Don't keep me waiting longer than you can help." + +For three days, Mavis drifted upon uncertain tides. She was borne +rapidly in one direction only to float as certainly in another. She +lacked sufficient strength of purpose to cast anchor and abide by +the consequences. She deplored her irresolution, but, try as she +might, she found it a matter of great difficulty to give her mind to +the consideration of Harold's offer. Otherwise, the most trivial +happenings imprinted themselves on her brain: the aspect of the food +she ate, the lines on her landlady's face, the flittings in and out +of the front door of the "dust-cloak" on its way to trumpery social +engagements, the while its mother minded the baby, all acquired in +her eyes a prominence foreign to their importance. Also, thoughts of +Windebank now and again flooded her mind. Then she remembered all he +had done for her, at which gratitude welled from her soul. At such +times she would be moved by a morbid consideration for his feelings; +she longed to pay back the money he had spent on her illness, and +felt that her mind would never be at ease on the matter till she +had. + +If only he would come down, and, despite anything she could say or +do, insist on marrying her and determine to win her heart; failing +that, if he would only write words of passionate longing which might +awaken some echo in her being! She read and re-read the letter in +which he offered her marriage; she tried to see in his formal +phrases some approximation to a consuming love, but in vain. + +She had never answered this letter; she reproached herself for not +having done so. Mavis sat down to write a few words, which would +reach Windebank by the first post in the morning, when she found +that the ink had dried in the pot. She rang the bell. While waiting, +a vision of the piteous look on Harold's face when he had told her +of his love came into her mind. Accompanying this was the +recollection of the cause of which her friendship with Harold was an +effect. Hatred of the Devitts possessed her. She remembered, and +rejoiced, that it was now in her power to be revenged for all she +believed she had suffered at their hands. So black was the quality +of this hate that she wondered why she had delayed so long. When the +ink was brought, it was to Harold that she was about to write; +Windebank was forgotten. + +As Mavis wrote the day of the month at the head of the page, she +seemed to hear echoes of Harold's resonant voice vibrating with love +for her. She sighed and put down her pen. If only she were less +infirm of purpose. Her hesitations were interrupted by Mrs Budd +bringing in a letter for Mavis that the postman had just left. It +was from Mrs Trivett. It described with a wealth of detail a visit +that the writer had paid to Pennington Churchyard, where she had +taken flowers to lay on the little grave. Certain nerves in the +bereaved mother's face quivered as she read. Memories of the long- +drawn agony which had followed upon her boy's death crowded into her +mind. Mavis hardened her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT + +MAVIS'S REVENGE + + +Upon a day on which the trees and hedges were again frocked in +spring finery in honour of approaching summer, Mrs Devitt was +sitting with her sister in the drawing-room of Melkbridge House. Mrs +Devitt was trying to fix her mind on an article in one of the +monthly reviews dealing with the voluntary limitation of families on +the part of married folk. Mrs Devitt could not give her usual stolid +attention to her reading, because, now and again, her thoughts +wandered to an interview between her husband and Lowther which was +taking place in the library downstairs. This private talk between +father and son was on the subject of certain snares which beset the +feet of moneyed youth when in London, and in which the unhappy +Lowther had been caught. Mrs Devitt was sufficiently vexed at the +prospect of her husband having to fork out some hundreds of pounds, +without the further promise of revelations in which light-hearted, +lighter living young women were concerned. Debts were forgivable, +perhaps excusable, in a young gentleman of Lowther's standing, but +immorality, in Mrs Devitt's eyes, was a horse of quite another +colour; anything of this nature acted upon Mrs Devitt's +susceptibilities much in the same way as seeing red afreets an angry +bull. + +Miss Spraggs, whom the last eighteen months had aged in appearance, +looked up from the rough draft of a letter she was composing. + +"Did you hear anything?" she asked, as she listened intently. + +"Hear what?" + +"The door open downstairs. Lowther's been in such a time with +Montague." + +"I suppose Lowther is confessing everything," sighed Mrs Devitt. + +"Nothing of the sort," remarked Miss Spraggs. + +"What do you mean?" + +"No one ever does confess everything: something is always kept +back." + +"Don't you think, Eva, you look at things from a very material point +of view?" + +Eva shrugged her narrow shoulders. Mrs Devitt continued: + +"Now and again, you seem to ignore the good which is implanted in us +all." + +"Perhaps because it's buried so deep down that it's difficult to +see." + +Half an hour afterwards, it occurred to Mrs Devitt that she might +have retorted, "What one saw depended on the power of one's +perceptions," but just now, all she could think of to say was: + +"Quite so; but there's so much good in the world, I wonder you don't +see more of it." + +"What are you reading?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she revised the draft +of her letter. + +The scribbling virgin often made a point of talking while writing, +in order to show how little mental concentration was required for +her literary efforts. + +"An article on voluntary limitations of family. It's by the Bishop +of Westmoreland. He censures such practices: I agree with him." + +Mrs Devitt spoke from her heart. The daughter of a commercial house, +which owed its prosperity to an abundant supply of cheap labour, she +realised (although she never acknowledged it to herself) that the +practices the worthy bishop condemned, if widely exercised, must, in +course of time, reduce the number of hands eager to work for a +pittance, and, therefore, the fat profits of their employers. + +"So do I," declared Miss Spraggs, who only wished she had the ghost +of a chance of contributing (legitimately) to the sum of the +population. + +"There's an admirable article about Carlyle in the same number of +the National Review," said Miss Spraggs presently. + +"I never read anything about Carlyle," declared Mrs Devitt. + +Miss Spraggs raised her straight eyebrows. + +"He didn't get on with his wife," said Mrs Devitt, in a manner +suggesting that this fact effectually disposed in advance of any +arguments Miss Spraggs might offer. + +Soon after, Montague Devitt came into the room, to be received with +inquiring glances by the two women. He walked to the fireplace, +where he stood in moody silence. + +"Well?" said his wife presently. + +"Well!" replied Devitt. + +"What has Lowther confessed?" + +"The usual." + +"Money?" + +"And other things." + +"Ah! What were the other things?" + +"We'll talk it over presently," replied Montague, as he glanced at +Miss Spraggs. + +"Am I so very young and innocent that I shouldn't learn what has +happened?" asked Miss Spraggs, who, in her heart of hearts, enjoyed +revelations of masculine profligacy. + +"I'd rather speak later," urged Montague gloomily, to add, "It never +rains but it pours." + +"Why do you say that?" asked his wife quickly. + +"I'd a letter from Charlie Perigal this mornin'." + +"Where from?" + +"The same Earl's Court private hotel. He wants somethin' to do." + +"Something to do!" cried the two sisters together. + +"His father hasn't done for him what he led me to believe he would," +explained Devitt gloomily. + +"You can find him something?" suggested Miss Spraggs. + +"And, till you do, I'd better ask them to stay down here," said his +wife. + +"That part of it's all right," remarked Devitt. "But somehow I don't +think Charlie---" + +"What?" interrupted Mrs Devitt. + +"Is much of a hand at work," replied her husband. + +No one said anything for a few minutes. + +Mrs Devitt spoke next. + +"I'm scarcely surprised at Major Perigal's refusal to do anything +for Charles," she remarked. + +"Why?" asked her husband. + +"Can you ask?" + +"You mean all that business with poor Mavis Keeves?" + +"I mean all that business, as you call it, with that abandoned +creature whom we were so misguided as to assist." + +Devitt said nothing; he was well used to his wife's emphatic views +on the subject--views which were endorsed by her sister. + +"The whole thing was too distressing for words," she continued. "I'd +have broken off the marriage, even at the last moment, for Charles's +share in it, but for the terrible scandal which would have been +caused." + +"Well, well; it's all over and done with now," sighed Devitt. + +"I'm not so sure; one never knows what an abandoned girl, as Miss +Keeves has proved herself to be, is capable of!" + +"True!" remarked Miss Spraggs. + +"Come! come!" said Devitt. "The poor girl was at the point of death +for weeks after her baby died." + +"What of that?" asked his wife. + +"Girls who suffer like that aren't so very bad." + +"You take her part, as you've always done. She's hopelessly bad, and +I'm as convinced as I'm sitting here that it was she who led poor +Charlie astray." + +"It's all very unfortunate," said Devitt moodily. + +"And we all but had her in the house," urged Mrs Devitt, much +irritated at her husband's tacit support of the girl. + +"Anyway, she's far away from us now," said Devitt. + +"Where has she gone?" asked Miss Spraggs. + +"Somewhere in Dorsetshire," Devitt informed her. + +"If she hadn't gone, I should have made it my duty to urge her to +leave Melkbridge," remarked Mrs Devitt. + +"She's not so bad as all that," declared Devitt. + +"I can't understand why men stand up for loose women," said his +wife. + +"She's not a loose woman: far from it. If she were, Windebank would +not be so interested in her." + +Devitt could not have said anything more calculated to anger the two +women. + +Miss Spraggs threw down her pen, whilst Mrs Devitt became white. + +"She must be bad to have fascinated Sir Archibald as she has done," +she declared. + +"Windebank is no fool," urged her husband. + +"I suppose the next thing we shall hear is that she's living under +his protection," cried Mrs Devitt. + +"In St John's Wood," added Miss Spraggs, whose information on such +matters was thirty years behind the times. + +"More likely he'll marry her," remarked Devitt. + +"What!" cried the two women. + +"I believe he'd give his eyes to get her," the man continued. + +"He's only to ask," snapped Miss Spraggs. + +"Anyway, we shall see," said Devitt. + +"Should that happen, I trust you will never wish me to invite her to +the house," said Mrs Devitt, rising to her full height. + +"It's all very sad," remarked Devitt gloomily. + +"It is: that you should take her part in the way you do, Montague," +retorted his wife. + +"I'm sorry if you're upset," her husband replied. "But I knew Miss +Keeves as a little girl, when she was always laughin' and happy. +It's all very, very sad." + +Mrs Devitt moved to a window, where she stood staring out at the +foliage which, just now, was looking self-conscious in its new +finery. + +"Who heard from Harold last?" asked Devitt presently. + +"I did," replied Miss Spraggs. "It was on Tuesday he wrote." + +"How did he write?" + +"Quite light-heartedly. He has now for some weeks: such a change for +him." + +"H'm!" + +"Why do you ask?" said Mrs Devitt. + +"I saw Pritchett when I was in town yesterday." + +"Harold's doctor?" queried Miss Spraggs. + +"He told me he'd seen Harold last week." + +"At Swanage?" + +"Harold had wired for him. I wondered if anythin' was up." + +"What should be 'up,' as you call it, beyond his being either better +or worse?" + +"That's what I want to know." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, that it was more from Pritchett's manner than from anything +else that I gathered somethin' had happened." + +"So long as he's well, there's nothing to worry about," said Mrs +Devitt reassuringly. + +The late afternoon post brought a letter for Montague from his son +Harold. This told his father that a supreme happiness had come in +his life; that, by great good fortune, he had met and quietly +married Mavis Keeves; that, by her wish, the marriage had been kept +a secret for three weeks; it ended by saying how he hoped to bring +his wife to his father's house early in the following week. Montague +Devitt stared stupidly at the paper on which this information was +conveyed; then he leaned against the mantelpiece for support. He +looked as if he had been struck brutally and unexpectedly between +the eyes. "Montague! Montague!" cried his wife, as she noticed his +distress. + +The letter fell from his hands. + +"Read!" he said faintly. + +"Harold's writing!" exclaimed Mrs Devitt, as she caught up the +letter. + +Devitt watched her as she read; he saw her face grow hard; then her +jaw dropped; her eyes stared fixedly before her. When Miss Spraggs +read the letter, as she very soon did, she went into hysterics; she +had a great affection for Harold. The hand of fate had struck the +Devitts remorselessly; they were stunned by the blow for quite a +long while. For her part, Mrs Devitt could not believe that +Providence would allow her to suffer such a terrible affliction as +was provided by the fact of her stepson's marriage to Mavis; again +and again she looked at the letter, as if she found it impossible to +believe the evidence of her eyes. + +"What's--what's to be done?" gasped Mrs Devitt, when she was +presently able to speak. + +"Don't ask me!" replied her husband. + +"Can't you do anything?" asked Miss Spraggs, during a pause in her +hysterical weeping. + +"Do what?" + +"Something: anything. You're a man." + +"I haven't grasped it yet. I must think it out," he said, as he +began to walk up and down the room so far as the crowded furniture +would permit. + +"We must try and think it's God's will," said his wife, making an +effort to get her thoughts under control. + +"What!" cried Devitt, stopping short in his walk to look at his wife +with absent eyes. + +"God has singled us out for this bitter punishment," snuffled Mrs +Devitt, as her eyes glanced at the heavily gilded chandelier. + +With a gesture of impatience, Devitt resumed his walk, while Miss +Spraggs quickly went to windows and door, which she threw open to +their utmost capacity for admitting air. + +"One thing must be done," declared Devitt. + +"Yes?" asked his wife eagerly. + +"That Hunter girl who split on Mavis Keeves havin' been at Polperro +with Perigal." + +"She knows everything; we shall be disgraced," wailed Mrs Devitt. + +"Not at all. I'll see to that," replied her husband grimly. + +"What will you do?" + +"Give her a good job in some place as far from here as possible, and +tell her that, if her tongue wags on a certain subject, she'll get +the sack" + +"What!" asked his wife, surprised at her husband's decision and the +way in which he expressed himself. + +"Suggest somethin' better." + +"I was wondering if it were right." + +"Right be blowed! We're fightin' for our own hand." + +With this view of the matter, Mrs Devitt was fain to be content. + +It was a dismal and forlorn family party which sat down to dinner +that evening under the eye of the fat butler. Husband, wife, and +Miss Spraggs looked grey and old in the light of the table lamps. By +this time Lowther had been told of the trouble which had descended +so suddenly upon the family. His comment on hearing of it was +characteristic. + +"Good God! But she hasn't a penny!" he said. He realised that the +prospects of his father assisting him out of his many scrapes had +declined since news had arrived of Harold's unlooked-for marriage. +When the scarcely tasted meal was over, Montague sent Lowther +upstairs "to give the ladies company," while he smoked an admirable +cigar and drank the best part of a bottle of old port wine. The +tobacco and the wine brought a philosophical calm to his unquiet +mind; he was enabled to look on the marriage from its least +unfavourable aspects. He had always liked Mavis and would have done +much more for her than he had already accomplished, if his womenfolk +had permitted him to follow the leanings of his heart; he knew her +well enough to know that she was not the girl to bestow herself +lightly upon Charlie Perigal. He had not liked Perigal's share in +the matter at all, and the whole business was still much of a +mystery. Although grieved beyond measure that the girl had married +his dearly loved boy, he realised that with Harold's ignorance of +women he might have done infinitely worse. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs Devitt of her husband in the +seclusion of their bedroom. + +"Try and make the best of it. After all, she's a lady." + +"What! You're not going to try and have the marriage annulled?" + +It was her husband's turn to express astonishment. + +"Surely you'll do something?" she urged. + +"What can I do?" + +"As you know, it can't be a marriage in--in the worldly sense; when +it's like that something can surely be done," said Mrs Devitt, +annoyed at having to make distant allusions to a subject hateful to +her heart. + +"What about Harold's feelin's?" + +"But--" + +"He probably loves her dearly. What of his feelin's if he knew--all +that we know?" + +"I did not think of that. Oh dear! oh dear! it gets more and more +complicated. What can be done?" + +"Wait." + +"What for?" + +"Till we see them. Then we can learn the why and the wherefore of it +all and judge accordin'ly." + +With this advice Mrs Devitt had to be content, but for all the +comfort it may have contained it was a long time before husband or +wife fell asleep that night. + +But even the short period of twenty-four hours is enough to accustom +people to trouble sufficiently to make it tolerable. When this time +had passed, Mrs Devitt's mind was well used to the news which +yesterday afternoon's post had brought. Her mind harked back to +Christian martyrs; she wondered if the fortitude with which they met +their sufferings was at all comparable to the resolution she +displayed in the face of affliction. The morning's post had brought +a letter from Victoria, to whom her brother had written to much the +same effect as he had communicated with his father. In this she +expressed herself as admirably as was her wont; she also treated the +matter with a sympathetic tact which, under the circumstances, did +her credit. She trusted that anything that had happened would not +influence the love and duty she owed her husband. Harold's marriage +to Miss Keeves was in the nature of a great surprise, but if it +brought her brother happiness she would be the last to regret it; +she hoped that, despite past events, she would be able to welcome +her brother's wife as a sister; she would not fail to come in time +to greet her sister-in-law, but she would leave her husband in town, +as he had important business to transact. + +Some half hour before the time by which Harold and his wife could +arrive at Melkbridge House, the Devitt family were assembled in the +library; in this room, because it was on the ground floor, and, +therefore, more convenient for Harold's use, he having to be carried +up and down stairs if going to other floors of the house. + +Devitt was frankly ill at ease. His wife did her best to bear +herself in the manner of the noblest traditions (as she conceived +them) of British matronhood. Miss Spraggs talked in whispers to her +sister of "that scheming adventuress," as she called Mavis. Victoria +chastened agitated expectation with resignation; while Lowther sat +with his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets. At last a ring +was heard at the front door bell, at which Devitt and Lowther went +out to welcome bride and bridegroom. Those left in the room waited +while Harold was lifted out of the motor and put into the hand- +propelled carriage which he used in the house. The Devitt women +nerved themselves to meet with becoming resolution the adventuress's +triumph. + +Through the open door they could hear that Mavis had been received +in all but silence; only Harold's voice sounded cheerily. The men +made way for Mavis to enter the library. It was by no means the +triumphant, richly garbed Mavis whom the women had expected who came +into the room. It was a subdued, carelessly frocked Mavis, who, +after accepting their chastened greetings, kept her eyes on her +husband. When the door was closed, Harold was the first to speak. + +"Mother, if I may call you that! father! all of you! I want you to +hear what I have to say," he began, in his deep, soothing voice. +"You know what my accident has made me; you know how I can never be +other than I am. For all that, this winsome, wonderful girl, out of +the pity and goodness of her loving heart, has been moved to throw +in her lot with mine--even now I can hardly realise my immense good +fortune" (here Mavis dropped her eyes), "but there it is, and if I +did what was right, I should thank God for her every moment of my +life. Now you know what she is to me; how with her youth and +glorious looks she has blessed my life, I hope that you, all of you, +will take her to your hearts." + +A silence that could almost be heard succeeded his words; but Harold +did not notice this; he had eyes only for his wife. + +Tea was brought in, when, to relieve the tension, Victoria went over +to Mavis and sat by her side; but to her remarks Harold's wife +replied in monosyllables; she had only eyes for her husband. The +Devitts could make nothing of her; her behaviour was so utterly +alien to the scarcely suppressed triumph which they had expected. +But just now they did not give very much attention to her; they were +chiefly concerned for Harold, whose manner betrayed an extra- +ordinary elation quite foreign to the depression which had troubled +him before his departure for Swanage. Now a joyous gladness +possessed him; from the frequent tender glances he cast in his +wife's direction, there was little doubt of its cause. Harold's love +for his wife commenced by much impressing his family, but ended by +frightening them; they feared the effect on his mind when he +discovered, as he undoubtedly must, when his wife had thrown off the +mask, that he had wedded a heartless adventuress, who had married +him for his money. At the same time, the Devitts were forced to +admit that Mavis's conduct was unlike that of the scheming woman of +their fancies; they wondered at the reason of her humility, but did +not learn the cause till the family, other than Harold, were +assembled upstairs in the drawing-room waiting for dinner to be +announced. When Mavis had come into the room, the others had been +struck by the contrast between the blackness of her frock and the +milky whiteness of her skin; they were little prepared for what was +to follow. + +"Now we are alone, I have something to say to you," she began. The +frigid silence which met her words made her task the harder; the +atmosphere of the room was eloquent of antagonism. With an effort +she continued: "I don't know what you all think of me--I haven't +tried to think--but I'm worse--oh! ever so much worse than you +believe." + +The others wondered what revelations were toward. Devitt's mind went +back to the night when Mavis had last stood in the drawing-room. +Mavis went on: + +"When I was away my heart was filled with hate: I hated you all and +longed to be revenged." + +Mavis's audience were uncomfortable; it was an axiom of their +existence to shy at any expression of emotion. + +The Devitts longed for the appearance of the fat butler, who would +announce that dinner was served. But to-night his coming was delayed +till Mavis had spoken. + +"Chance threw Harold in my way," she went on. "He loved me at once, +and I took advantage of his love, thinking to be revenged on you for +all I believed--yes, I must tell you everything--for all I believed +you had done against me." + +Here Mrs Devitt lifted up her hands, as if filled with righteous +anger at this statement. + +Mavis took no notice, but continued: + +"That is why I married him. That was then. Now I am punished, as the +wicked always are, punished over and over again. Why did I do it? +Why? Why?" + +Here a look of terror came into her eyes; these looked helplessly +about the room, as if nothing could save her from the torment that +pursued her. + +"He is ill; very ill. His doctor told me. How long do you think he +will live?" + +"Pritchett?" asked Devitt. + +"Yes, when he came down to Swanage. What he told me only makes it +worse." + +"Makes what worse?" asked Devitt, who was eager to end this painful +scene. + +"My punishment. He thinks me good--everything I ought to be. I love +him! I love him! I love him! He's all goodness and love. He believes +in me as he believes in God. I love him! How long do you think he'll +live? I love him! I love him! I love him!" + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE + +A SURPRISE + + +Mavis spoke truly. She loved her husband, although with a different +love from that which she had known for Perigal. She had adored the +father of her child with her soul and with her body, but in her +affection for her husband there was no trace of physical passion, of +which she had no small share. This new-born love was, in truth, an +immense maternal devotion which seemed to satisfy an insistent +longing of her being. + +Upon the day of their wedding, Mavis was already wondering if she +were beginning to love Harold; but for all this uncertainty, she +believed that if the marriage were to be a physical as well as a +civil union, she would have confessed before the ceremony took place +her previous intimacy with Perigal. After the marriage, the holy +fervour with which Harold had regarded Mavis bewildered her. The +more his nature was revealed to her, the better she was enabled to +realise the cold-blooded brutality with which the supreme Power +(Mavis's thoughts did not run so easily in the direction of a +Heavenly Father as was once their wont) had permanently mutilated +Harold's life, which had been of the rarest promise. Still ignorant +of her real sentiments for her husband, she had persuaded him, for +no apparent reason, to delay acquainting his family with the news of +their marriage. Truth soon illumined Mavis's mind. Directly she +realised how devotedly she loved her husband (the maternal aspect of +her love did not occur to her), her punishment for her previous +duplicity began. She was constantly overwhelmed with bitter +reproaches because of her having set out to marry her husband from +motives of revenge against his family. + +Mavis's confession to the Devitts temporarily eased her mind, but, +as her husband's solicitude for her happiness redoubled, her +torments recommenced with all their old-time persistency. Harold's +declining health gave her innumerable anguished hours; she realised +that, so long as he lived, she would suffer for the deception she +had practised. She believed that, if she survived him, her remaining +days would be filled with grief. + +Whichever way she looked, trouble confronted her with hard, +unbending features. + +She was enmeshed in a net of sorrow from which there was no escape. + +In order to stifle any hints or rumours which might have got about +Melkbridge of Mavis having been a mother without being a wife, she +was pressed by the Devitts to make a stay of some length at +Melkbridge House. Guessing the reason of this invitation, she +accepted, although she, as well as her husband, were eager to get +into a quaint, weather-beaten farmhouse which Harold had bought in +the neighbourhood. + +To make her stay as tolerable as possible, Mavis set herself to win +the hearts of the Devitt family, the feminine members of which, she +was convinced, were bitterly hostile to her. The men of the +household, to the scarcely concealed dismay of the women, quickly +came over to her side. Lowther she appreciated at his worth; her +studied indifference to him went a long way towards securing that +youth's approval, which was not unmingled with admiration for her +person. Montague she was beginning to like. For his part, he was +quickly sensible of the feminine distinction which Mavis's presence +bestowed upon his home. The fine figure she cut in evening dress at +dinner parties, when the Devitts feasted their world; her +conversation in the drawing-room afterwards; the emotion she put +into her playing and singing (it was the only expression Mavis could +give to the abiding griefs gnawing at her heart), were social assets +of no small value, which Devitt was the first to appreciate. Mrs +Harold Devitt's appearance and parts gave to his assemblies a +piquancy which was sadly lacking when his friends repaid his +hospitality. Mavis, also, pointed out to Devitt the advisability of +rescuing from the lumber rooms several fine old pieces of furniture +which were hidden away in disgrace, largely because they had +belonged to Montague's humble grandfather. The handiwork of +Chippendale and Hepplewhite was furbished up and put about the +house, replacing Tottenham Court Road monstrosities. When the old +furniture epidemic presently seized upon Melkbridge, the Devitts +could flatter themselves that they had done much to influence local +fashion in the matter. + +Montague came to take pleasure in Mavis's society, when he would +drop his blustering manner to become his kindly self. They had many +long talks together, which enabled Mavis to realise the loneliness +of the man's life. The more Montague saw of her the more he disliked +his son-in-law's share in the paternity of Mavis's dead child. + +Now and again he would discuss business worries with her, which +established a community of interest between them. His friendship +gave Mavis confidence in her endeavours to placate the female +Devitts. This latter was uphill work: Mrs Devitt and her sister +entrenched themselves in a civil reserve which resisted Mavis's most +strenuous assaults. With Victoria, Mavis believed, at first, that +she had better luck, Mrs Charlie Perigal's sentiments and manner of +expressing them being all that the most exigent fancy might desire; +but as time wore on, Mavis got no further with her sister-in-law; +she could never feel that she and Victoria had a single heart beat +in common. + +As with so many others, Mavis began by liking but ended by being +repelled by Victoria's inhuman flawlessness. + +Thus Mavis lived for the weeks she stayed at Melkbridge House. But +at all times, no matter what she might be doing, she was liable to +be attacked by bitter, heart-rending grief at the loss of her child. +Mavis had already suffered so much that she was now able to +distinguish the pains peculiar to the different varieties of sorrow. +This particular grief took the shape of a piteous, persistent heart +hunger which nothing could stay. Joined to this was a ceaseless +longing for the lost one, which cast drear shadows upon the bright +hues of life. The way in which she was compelled to isolate her pain +from all human sympathy did not diminish its violence. + +One night, when the Devitts were entertaining their kind, the +conversation at dinner touched upon a local petty sessions case, in +which the nursemaid of one of those present had been punished for +concealing the birth of an illegitimate child, who had since died. + +"It was a great worry to me," complained the nurse's mistress. "She +was such a perfect nurse." + +"I hope you'll do something for her when she comes out," urged +Harold. + +The woman stared at Harold in astonishment. + +"Think how the poor girl's suffered," he continued. + +"Do you really think so?" asked the woman. + +"She's lost her child." + +"But I always understood that those who lose children out of wedlock +cannot possible grieve like married women who have the same loss." + +In a moment Mavis's thoughts flew to Pennington Churchyard, where +her heart seemed buried deep below the grass; certain of her facial +nerves twitched, while tears filled her eyes. Devitt's voice +recalled her to her surroundings; she looked up, to catch his eyes +looking kindly into hers. Although she made an effort to join in the +talk, she was mentally bowing her head, the while her being ached +with anguish. She did not recover her spirits for the rest of the +evening. + +There came a day when one of the big guns of the financial world was +expected to dinner. Mavis had many times met at Melkbridge House +some of the lesser artillery of successful business men, when she +had been surprised to discover what dull, uninteresting folk they +were; apart from their devotion to the cult of money-getting, they +did not seem to have another interest in life, the ceaseless quest +for gold absorbing all their vitality. This big gun was a Sir +Frederick Buntz, whose interest Devitt, as he told Mavis, was +anxious to secure in one of his company-promoting schemes. In order +to do Devitt a good turn, Mavis laid herself out to please the +elderly Sir Frederick, who happened to have an eye for an attractive +woman. Sir Frederick scarcely spoke to anyone else but Mavis +throughout dinner; at the end of the evening, he asked her if she +advised him to join Devitt's venture. + +Mavis's behaviour formed the subject of a complaint made by Mrs +Devitt when alone with Montague in their bedroom. + +"Didn't you notice the shameless way she behaved?" asked Mrs Devitt. + +"Nonsense!" replied her well-pleased lord. + +"Everyone noticed it. She's rapidly going from bad to worse." + +"Anyway, it's as good as put five thousand in my pocket, if not +more." + +"What do you mean?" + +Montague's explanation modified his wife's ill opinion of Mavis. The +next morning, when Devitt thanked his daughter-in-law for +influencing Sir Frederick in the way she had done, Mavis said: + +"I want something in return." + +"Some shares for yourself?" + +"A rise of a pound a week for Miss Toombs." + +"That plain, unhealthy little woman at the boot factory!" + +"She's a heart of gold. I know you'll do it for me," said Mavis, who +was now conscious of her power over Devitt. + +Having won her way, Mavis set out to intercept Miss Toombs, who +about this time would be on her way to business. They had not met +since Mavis's marriage to Harold, Miss Toombs refusing to answer +Mavis's many letters and always being out when her old friend +called. + +Mavis ran against Miss Toombs by the market-place; her friend looked +in worse health than when she had last seen her. + +"Good morning," said Mavis. + +"Don't talk to me," cried Miss Toombs. "I hate the sight of you." + +"No, you don't. And I've done you a good turn." + +"I'm sorry to hear it. I wish you good morning." + +"What have I done to upset you?" asked Mavis. + +"Don't pretend you don't know." + +"But I don't." + +"What! Then I'll tell you. You've married young Devitt, when there's +a man worth all the women who ever lived eating his heart out for +you." + +Mavis stopped, amazed at the other woman's vehemence. + +"A man who you've treated like the beast you are," continued Miss +Toombs hotly. "After all that's happened, he longed to marry you, +and that's more than most men would have done." + +"You don't know--you can't understand," faltered Mavis. + +"Yes, I do. You're not really bad; you're only a precious big fool +and don't know when you've got a good thing." + +"I--I love my husband." + +"Rot! You may think you do, but you don't. You're much too hot- +blooded to stick that kind of marriage long. I know I wouldn't. And +it serves you right if you ever make a mess of it." + +"I thought Sir Archibald only pitied me," said Mavis, in extenuation +of her marriage. + +"Pity! pity! He's a man, not a bloodless nincompoop," said Miss +Toombs. "And it's you I have to thank for seeing him so often," she +added, as her anger again flamed up. + +"Sir Archibald?" asked Mavis. + +"He sees me to talk about you," said Miss Toombs sorrowfully. "And +he never looks twice at me. He doesn't even like me enough to ask me +to go away for a week-end with him. I'm simply nothing to him, and +that's the truth." + +"I think you a dear, anyway. And I've got you a rise of a pound a +week." + +"What?" + +Mavis repeated her information. + +"That'll buy me some summer muslins I've long had my eye on, and one +or two bits of jewellery. Then, perhaps, he'll look at me," declared +Miss Toombs. + +The next moment she caught sight of her reflection in Perrott's (the +grocer's) window, at which she cried: + +"Just look at me! What on earth could ever make that attractive?" + +"Your kind nature," replied Mavis. "You're much too fond of under- +valuing your appearance." + +"It's all damned unfair!" cried Miss Toombs passionately. "What use +are your looks to you? What fun do you get out of life? Why--oh why +haven't I your face and figure?" + +"What would you do with it?" asked Mavis. + +"Get him, get him somehow. If he wouldn't marry me I'd manage to +'live.' And he's not a cad like Charlie Perigal," cried Miss Toombs, +as she hurried off to work. + +When Mavis got back, she learned that the morning post had brought +an invitation for the Devitts and herself for a dinner that Major +Perigal was giving in two weeks' time. Major Perigal, also, wrote +privately to Mavis, urging her to give him the honour of her +company; he assured her that his son would not be present. + +Little else but the approaching dinner was discussed by the Devitts +for the rest of the day. As if to palliate their interest in the +matter, they explained to Mavis how the proffered hospitality was +alien to the ways of the giver of the feast. At heart they were +greatly pleased with the invitation; it promised a meeting with +county folk on equal terms, together with a termination to the +aloofness with which Major Perigal had treated the Devitts since his +son's marriage to Victoria. They accepted with alacrity. Mavis, +alone, hesitated. + +Her husband urged her to go, although his physical disability would +prevent him from accompanying her. + +"I want my dearest to go," he said. "It will give me so much +pleasure to know how wonderful you looked, and how everyone admired +you." + +Mavis decided to accept the invitation, largely because it was her +husband's wish; a little, because she had the curiosity to meet +those who would have been acquaintances and friends had her father +been alive. Her lot had been thrown so much among those who worked +for daily bread, that she was not a little eager to mix, if it were +only for a few hours, with her own social kind. + +Mavis, again at Harold's wish, reluctantly ordered an expensive +frock for the dinner. It was of grey taffetas embroidered upon +bodice and skirt with black velvet butterflies. The night of the +dinner, when Mavis was ready to go, she showed herself to her +husband before setting out. He looked at her long and intently +before saying: + +"I shall always remember you like this." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, a little afraid. + +"It isn't what I expect. It's what I deserve for marrying a glorious +young creature like you." + +"Am I discontented?" she asked proudly. + +"God bless you. You're as good as you're beautiful," he replied. + +As she stooped to kiss him, the prayer of her heart was: + +"May he never know why I married him." + +His eyes, alight with love, followed her as she left the room. + +Major Perigal received his guests in the drawing-room. The first +person whom Mavis encountered after she had greeted her host was +Windebank. She recalled that she had not seen him since her illness +at Mrs Trivett's, He had written to congratulate her on her marriage +when she had come to stay with the Devitts; since then, she had not +heard from him. + +Although Mavis knew that she might see him to-night, she was so +taken aback at meeting him that she could think of nothing to say. +He relieved her embarrassment by talking commonplace. + +"Here's someone who much wishes to meet you," he said presently. +"It's Sir William Ludlow; he served with your father in India." + +Mavis knew the name of Sir William Ludlow as that of a general with +a long record of distinguished service. + +When he was introduced by Windebank, Mavis saw that he had soldier +written all over his wiry, spare person; she congratulated herself +upon meeting a man who might talk of the stirring events in which he +had taken so prominent a part. He had only time to tell Mavis how +she more resembled her mother than her father when a move was made +for the dining-room. Mavis was taken down by Windebank. + +"Thank you," she said in an undertone, when they had reached the +landing. + +"What for?" + +"All you've done." + +He turned on her such a look of pain that she did not say any more. + +Windebank sat on her right; General Sir William Ludlow on her left. +Directly opposite was a little pasty-faced woman with small, bright +eyes. Victoria, by virtue of her relationship to Major Perigal, +faced her father-in-law at the bottom of the table; upon her right +sat the most distinguished-looking man Mavis had ever seen. Tall, +finely proportioned, with noble, regular features, surmounted by +grey hair, he suggested to Mavis a fighting bishop of the middle +ages: she wondered who he was. The soldier on her left talked +incessantly, but, to Mavis's surprise, he made no mention of his +campaigns; he spoke of nothing else but rose culture, his persistent +ill-luck at flower shows, the unfairness of the judging. The meal +was long and, even to Mavis, to whom a dinner party was in the +nature of an experience, tedious. + +Infrequent relief was supplied by the pasty-faced woman opposite, +who was the General's wife; she did her best to shock the +susceptibilities of those present by being in perpetual opposition +to their stolid views. + +An elderly woman, whose face showed the ravages of time upon what +must have been considerable beauty (somehow she looked rather +disreputable), had referred to visits she had paid, when in London +for the season, to a sister who lived in Eccleston Square. + +"Such a dreadful neighbourhood!" she complained. "It made me quite +ill to go there." + +"I love it," declared Lady Ludlow. + +"That part of London!" exclaimed the faded beauty. + +"Why not? Whatever life may be there, it is honest in its +unconcealment. And to be genuine is to be noble." + +"You're joking, Kate," protested the faded beauty. + +"I'm doing nothing of the kind. Give me Pimlico," declared Lady +Ludlow emphatically. + +At mention of Pimlico, Mavis and Windebank involuntarily glanced +into each other's eyes; the name of this district recalled many +memories to their minds. + +When dinner was over, Mavis had hardly reached the drawing-room with +the women-folk, when Lady Ludlow pounced upon her. + +"I've been so anxious to meet you," she declared. "You're one of the +lucky ones." + +"Since when am I lucky?" asked Mavis. + +"Since your father died and you had to earn your living till you +were married. Old Jimmy Perigal told me all about it. You're to be +envied." + +"I fail to see why." + +"You've mixed with the world and have escaped living with all these +stuffy bores." + +"They don't know how lucky they are," remarked Mavis with +conviction. + +"Nonsense! Give me life and the lower orders. What did my husband +talk about during dinner?" + +"Roses." + +"Of course. When he was at his wars, I had some peace. Now I'm bored +to death with flowers." + +"Who was that distinguished-looking man who sat on Mrs Charles +Perigal's right?" asked Mavis. + +"That's Lord Robert Keevil, whose brother is the great tin-god +'Seend.'" + +"The Marquis of Seend?" queried Mavis. + +"That's it: he was foreign minister in the last Government. But +Bobbie Keevil is adorable till he's foolish enough to open his +mouth. Then he gives the game away." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He's the complete fool. If he would only hold his tongue, he might +be a success. His wife is over there. Her eyes are always weeping +for the loss of her beauty. Your father wanted to marry her in his +youth. But give me people who don't bother about such tiresome +conventionalities as marriage." + +Mavis looked curiously at the woman whom her father had loved. +Doubtless, she was comely in her youth, but now Mavis saw pouched +eyes, thin hair, a care-lined face not altogether innocent of paint +and powder. And it was those cracked lips her father had longed to +kiss; those dim eyes, the thought of which had, perhaps, shortened +his hours of rest! The sight of the faded beauty brought home to +Mavis the vanity of earthly love, till she reflected that, had the +one-time desire of her father's heart been gratified, the sorrow +they would have shared in common would ever endear her to his heart, +and keep her the fairest woman the earth possessed, for all the +defacement time might make in her appearance. + +When the men came up from the dining-room, there was intermittent +music in which Mavis took part. The sincerity of her voice, together +with its message of tears, awoke genuine approval in her audience. + +"An artiste, my dear," declared Lady Ludlow. "Artistes have always a +touch of vulgarity in their natures, or they wouldn't make their +appeal. We must be great friends. I'm sick to death of correct +people." + +For the rest of the evening, Mavis noticed how she herself was +constantly watched by Windebank and Major Perigal, the former of +whom dropped his eyes when he saw that Mavis perceived the direction +of his glance. As the evening wore on, Mavis was faintly bored and +not a little troubled. She reflected that it was in these very rooms +that Charlie Perigal had read her piteous little letters from +London, and from where he probably penned his lying replies. Mavis +would have liked to have been alone so that she could try to +appreciate the whys and wherefores of the most significant events in +her life. The conditions of her last stay in London and those of her +present life were as the poles apart so far as material well-being +was concerned; her mind ached to fasten upon some explanation that +would reconcile the tragic events in her life with her one-time +implicit faith in the certain protection extended by a Heavenly +Father to His trusting children. Perhaps it was as well that Mavis +was again asked to sing; the effort of remembering her words put all +such thoughts from her mind. + +Whatever clouds may have gathered about Mavis's appreciation of the +evening, there was no doubt of the enjoyment of those Devitts who +were present. The dinner was, to them, an event of social moment in +their lives. Although they looked as if they had got into the +dignified atmosphere of Major Perigal's drawing-room by mistake, +they were greatly delighted with their evening; afterwards, they did +not fail to make copious references to those they had met at dinner +to their Melkbridge friends. + +A month after the dinner, Major Perigal died suddenly in his chair. +Two days after he was buried, Mavis received an intimation from his +solicitors, which requested her presence at the reading of his will. +Wondering what was toward, Mavis made an appointment. To her +boundless astonishment, she learned that Major Perigal, "on account +of the esteem in which he held the daughter of his old friend, +Colonel Keeves," had left Mavis all his worldly goods, with the +exception of bequests to servants and five hundred pounds to his son +Charles. + + + + +CHAPTER FORTY + +A MIDNIGHT WALK + + +Thus it would seem as if fate wished to make amends for the sorry +tricks it had played Mavis. Her first impressions after hearing the +news were of such a contradictory nature that she was quite +bewildered. Those present at the reading of the will, together with +Montague Devitt, who had accompanied her, hastened to offer their +congratulations (those of Devitt being chastened by the reflection +of how much his daughter Victoria suffered from Mavis's good +fortune), but, even while these were talking and shaking her hand, +two salient emotions were already emerging from the welter in +Mavis's mind. One of these was an immeasurable, passionate regret +for her child's untimely death. If he had lived, she would now have +been able to devote her sudden enrichment to providing him, not only +with the comforts that wealth can secure, but also with a career +when he should come to man's estate. The other emotion possessing +her was the inevitable effect of unexpected good fortune on a great +and persistent remorse: more than ever, she suffered tortures of +self-reproach for having set out to marry her husband from motives +of revenge against his family. Whilst thus occupied with her +thoughts, she became conscious that someone was watching her; she +turned in the direction from which she believed she was being +regarded, to see Charlie Perigal with his eyes fixed on her. She +looked him full in the eyes, the while she was relieved to find that +his presence did not affect the beating of her heart. Seeing that +she did not avoid his glance, he came over to her. + +"I congratulate you," he said. + +"Thank you," she replied indifferently. + +"I have also to congratulate you on your marriage--that is, if you +are happy." + +"I am very happy," she declared with conviction. + +"That's more than I am." + +"Indeed!" she remarked carelessly. + +"Although, in some respects, I deserve all I've got--I'm bad and +mean right through." + +"Indeed!" said Mavis, as before. + +"But there's something to be said for me. To begin with, no one can +help being what they are. There's no more merit in your being good +than there is demerit in my being what I am." + +"Did I ever lay claim to goodness?" + +"Because you didn't, it goes nearer to making you good and admirable +than anything else you could do. Directly virtue becomes self- +conscious, it is vulgar." + +Mavis began to wonder if it would ease the pain at her heart if she +were to confess her duplicity to her husband. + +Perigal continued: + +"An act is judged by its results; it is considered either virtuous +or vicious according as its results are harmful or helpful to the +person affected." + +"Indeed!" said Mavis absently. + +"Once upon a time, there was no right and no wrong, till one man in +the human tribe got more than his fair share of arrow-heads--then, +his wish to keep them without fighting for them led to the begetting +of vice and virtue as we know it." + +"How was that?" asked Mavis, striving to escape from her distracting +emotions by following what Perigal was saying. + +"The man with the arrow-heads hired a chap with a gift of the gab to +tell the others how wrong it was to want things someone else had +collared. That was the first lesson in morality, and the preacher, +seeing there was money in the game, started the first priesthood. +Yes, morality owes its existence to the fact of the well-to-do +requiring to be confirmed in their possessions without having to +defend them by force." + +Mavis was now paying no attention to Perigal's talk: mind and heart +were in Pennington Churchyard. Perigal, thinking he was interesting +Mavis, went on: + +"You mayn't think it, but a bad egg like me does no end of a lot of +good in the world, although downright criminals do more. If it +weren't for people who interfered with others' belongings, the race +would get slack and deteriorate. It's having to look after one's +property which keeps people alert and up to the mark, and, +therefore, those who're the cause of this fitness have their uses. +No, my dear Mavis, evil is a necessary ingredient of the body +politic, and if it were abolished to-morrow the race would go to +'pot.'" + +Perigal said more to the same effect. Mavis was, presently, moved to +remark: + +"You take the loss of the money you expected very calmly." + +"No wonder!" + +"No wonder?" she queried, without expressing any surprise in her +voice. + +"To begin with, you have it. Then I've seen you." + +Mavis thought for a moment before saying: + +"I suppose, as I'm another man's wife, I ought to be angry at that +remark." + +"Aren't you?" he asked eagerly. + +She did not reply directly; perhaps some recognition of the coldness +with which she regarded him penetrated his understanding, for he +added pleadingly: + +"Don't say you don't mind because you're absolutely indifferent to +me!" + +"Why not?" + +"Anything but that," he said, while a distressed look crept into his +eyes. "But then, if you speak the truth, you couldn't say that after +all that has-- + +"I'm going to speak the truth," she interrupted. "It doesn't +interest me to say anything else." + +"Well?" he exclaimed anxiously. + +"I don't in the least mind what you said. And I'm not in the least +offended, because, whatever you might ever say or do, it would never +interest me." + +He stared at her helplessly for a few moments before saying: + +"Serve me jolly well right." + +Mavis did not say any more, at which Perigal got up to leave her. + +"I've been a precious fool," he muttered, after glancing at Mavis's +face before moving away. + +Devitt scarcely spoke whilst driving Mavis home; consequently, her +thoughts had free play. It would certainly ease her mind, she +reflected, if she made full confession to her husband of the reasons +that impelled her to make his acquaintance and accept his offer of +marriage; but it then occurred to her that this tranquillity of soul +would be bought at the price, not only of his implicit faith in her, +but of his happiness. Therefore, whatever pangs of remorse it was +destined for her to suffer, he must never know; she being the +offender, it was not meet that she should shift the burden of pain +from her shoulders to his. Her sufferings were her punishment for +her wrongdoing. + +Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs were silent when they learned of Mavis's +good fortune; they were torn between enhanced respect for Harold's +wife and concern for Victoria, who had married a penniless man. +Mavis could not gauge the effect of the news on Victoria, as she had +gone back to London after Major Perigal's funeral, her husband +remaining at Melkbridge for the reading of the will. Harold, alone +among the Devitts, exhibited frank dismay at his wife's good +fortune. + +"Aren't you glad, dearest?" asked Mavis. + +"For your sake." + +"Why not for yours?" + +"It's the thing most likely to separate us." + +"Separate us!" she cried in amazement. + +"Why not? This money will put you in the place in life you are +entitled to fill." + +Mavis stared at him in astonishment. + +"With your appearance and talents you should be a great social +success with the people who matter," he continued. + +"Nonsense!" + +"You undervalue your wonderful self. I should never have been so +selfish as to marry you." + +"You don't regret it?" + +"For the great happiness it has brought me--no. But when I think how +you might have made a great marriage and had a real home--" + +"Aren't we going to have a real home?" she interrupted. + +"Are we?" + +"If it's love that makes the home, we have one whatever our +condition," declared Mavis. + +"Thank you for saying that. But what I meant was that children are +wanted to make the perfect home." + +Mavis's face fell. + +"You, with your rare nature, must want to have a child," he +continued. "I don't know which must be worse: for a childless woman +to long for a child or to have one and lose it." + +Mavis grasped the arm of the chair for support. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed. + +"What you said. Don't, don't say I'm dissatisfied any more." + +Thus Mavis and those nearest to her learned of the alteration in her +fortunes. + +Mavis was not long in discovering that the command of money provided +her with a means of escape from the prepossessions afflicting her +mind. The first thing she did was to summon the most renowned nerve +specialists to Melkbridge, where they held a lengthy consultation in +respect of Harold's physical condition. Mavis was anxious to know if +anything could be done to strengthen the slender thread of his life; +she was much distressed to learn that the specialists' united skill +could do nothing to stay the pitiless course of his disease. This +verdict provided a further sorrow for Mavis, which she had to keep +resolutely to herself, inasmuch as she told Harold that the doctors +had spoken most favourably of the chances of his obtaining +considerable alleviation of his physical distresses. + +"And then you regret my coming into all this money, when it can do +so much for you," she said, with a fine assumption of cheerfulness. + +To get some distraction from her many troubles, Mavis next set about +seeking out all the people who had ever been kind to her in order +that they should benefit from her good fortune. + +It did not take her long to discover that Miss Annie Mee was dead; +but for all she and her solicitors were able to do, they could find +no trace of 'Melia. Mavis paid Mr Poulter's debts, gave him a +present of a hundred pounds (endowing the academy he called it), +and, in memory of Miss Nippett, she gave "Turpsichor" two fine new +coats of paint. Mavis also discovered where Miss Nippett was buried, +and, finding that the grave had no headstone, she ordered one. To +Mrs Scatchard and her niece she made handsome presents, and gave Mr +Napper a finely bound edition of the hundred best books; whilst Mr +and Mrs Trivett were made comfortable for life. Mavis was unable to +find two people she was anxious to help. These were the "Permanent" +and the "Lil" of Halverton Street days. One day, clad in shabby +garments, she went to Mrs Gowler's address at New Cross to get news +of the former. But the house of evil remembrance was to let; a woman +at the next door house told Mavis that Mrs Gowler had been arrested +and had got ten years for the misdeeds which the police had at last +been able to prove. Mavis went on a similar errand to Halverton +Street, to find that Lil had long since left and that there was no +one in the house who knew of her whereabouts. She had been lost in +one of the many foul undercurrents of London life. The one remaining +person Mavis wished to benefit was Miss Toombs. For a long time, +this independent-minded young woman resisted the offers that Mavis +made her. One day, however, when Miss Toombs was laid up with acute +indigestion, Mavis prevailed on her to accept a handsome cheque +which would enable her to do what she pleased for the rest of her +life, without endangering the happiness she derived from tea, +buttered toast, and hot-water bottles in winter. + +"It was unkind of you not to take it before," said Mavis. + +Miss Toombs looked stupidly at her benefactor. + +"Now I know you want to thank me. Good night," said Mavis, as she +put out her hand. + +Miss Toombs took it, gripped it, and then turned round with her face +to the wall. The next morning, Mavis received a letter from her in +pencil. In this, she told Mavis that the desire of her life had been +for independence; but that she had held out against taking the money +because she had latterly become jealous of Mavis, owing to +Windebank's lifelong infatuation for her. + +In addition to these benefactions, Mavis insisted on repaying +Windebank for all the expense he had been put to for her illness, +her child's funeral, and for her long stay at Swanage. + +Thus, Mavis's first concern was to benefit those who had shown her +kindness; whether or not she added to the sum of their individual +happiness is another matter. Mr Poulter, doubtless, thought that +dear Mrs Harold Devitt, while she was about it, might just as well +have gilded "Turpsichor's" head and face. Mrs Scatchard, and +particularly Miss Meakin, were probably resentful that Mavis did not +ask them to mix with her swell friends; whilst Miss Toombs had +plenty of time on her hands in which to indulge in vain regrets +because she was not as attractive and finely formed as Mavis. + +Beyond these gifts, it was a long time before Mavis could get into +the habit of spending her substance freely, and without thought of +whether she could really afford to part with money; the reason being +that, for so many years in her life, she had had to consider so +carefully every penny she spent, that she found it difficult to +break away from these habits of economy. Late in the year, she moved +up from her Melkbridge place (which she had long since gone into) to +the house in town which Major Perigal had been in the habit of +letting, or, if a tenant were not forthcoming, shutting up. + +When she got there with Harold and Jill, she welcomed the +distractions that London life offered, and in which her husband +joined so far as his physical disability would permit. Windebank, to +whom Harold took a great liking, and Lady Ludlow introduced Mavis to +their many acquaintances. In a very short time, Mavis had more dear, +devoted friends than she knew what to do with. The women, who +praised her and her devotion "to a perfect dear of a husband" to her +face, would, after enjoying her hospitality, go away to discuss +openly how soon she would elope with Windebank, or any other man +they fancied was paying her attention. + +Mavis was not a little surprised by the almost uniform behaviour of +the men who frequented her house. Old or young, rich or impecunious, +directly they perceived how comely Mavis was, and that her husband +was an invalid, did not hesitate to consider her fair game to be +bagged as soon as may be. Looks, manners, veiled words, betrayed +their thoughts; but, somehow, even the hardiest veteran amongst them +did not get so far as a declaration of love. Something in Mavis's +demeanour suggested a dispassionate summing up of their desires and +limitations, in which the latter made the former appear a trifle +ridiculous, and restrained the words that were ever on their +tongues. This propensity on the part of men who, Mavis thought, +ought to know better, occasioned her much disquiet. She confided +these tribulations to Lady Ludlow's ear. + +"Men are all alike all the world over," remarked the latter, on +hearing Mavis's complaint. "You can't trust 'em further than you can +see 'em." + +"Not all, surely," replied Mavis, thinking of the innocuous young +men, indigenous to Shepherd's Bush, whom she had so often danced +with at "Poulter's." + +"Anyhow, men in our class of life are all at one on that point. +Directly they see a pretty woman, their one idea is to get hold of +her." + +"I wouldn't believe it, unless I'd seen for myself the truth of it." + +"It's a great pity all of our sex didn't realise it; but then it +would make the untempted more morally righteous than ever," declared +Lady Ludlow. + +"But if a man really and truly loves a woman--" + +"That's another story altogether. A woman is always safe with the +man who loves her." + +"Because his love is her best protection?" + +"Assuredly." + +The sudden reflection that Perigal had never really loved her +produced, strangely enough, in Mavis a sharp but short-lived +revulsion of feeling in his favour. On the whole, Mavis's, heart +inclined to social gaiety. To begin with, the constant change +afforded by a succession of events which, although all of a piece, +were to her unseasoned senses ever varying, provided some relief +from the remorse and suffering that were always more or less in +possession of her heart. Also, having for all her life been cut off +from the gaieties natural to her age and kind, her present innocent +dissipations were a satisfaction of this long repressed social +instinct. + +But, at all times, Windebank's conduct was a puzzle. Although he had +the run of the house, although scarcely a day passed without Mavis +seeing a good deal of him, he never betrayed by word or look the +love which Miss Toombs declared burned within him for Mavis. He had +left the service in order to devote more time to his Wiltshire +property, but his duties seemed to consist chiefly in making himself +useful to Mavis or her husband. Womanlike, Mavis would sometimes try +to discover her power over him, but although no trouble was too +great for him to take in order to oblige her, Mavis's most provoking +moods neither weakened his allegiance nor made him other than his +calm, collected self. + +"No! Miss Toombs is mistaken," thought Mavis. "He doesn't love me; +he but understands and pities me." + +A week before Christmas, Mavis and her husband returned to +Melkbridge. Christmas Day that year fell on a Sunday. Upon the +preceding Saturday, she bade her many Melkbridge acquaintances to +the feast. When this was over, she wished her guests good night and +a happy Christmas. After seeing her husband safely abed and asleep, +she set about making preparations for a project that she had long +had in her mind. Going to her room, she put on the plainest and most +inconspicuous hat she could find; she also donned a long cloak and +concealed face and hair in a thick veil. Unlocking a box, she got +out a cross made of holly, which she concealed under her cloak. +Then, after listening to see if the house were quiet, she went +downstairs in her stockings, and carrying the thick boots she +purposed wearing. Arrived at the front door, the bolts and bars of +which she had secretly oiled, she opened this after putting on her +boots, and let herself out into the night. Vigorous clouds now and +again obscured the stars: the world seemed full of a great peace. +Mavis waited to satisfy herself that she had not awakened anyone in +the house; she then struck out in the direction of Pennington. It +was only on the rarest occasions that Mavis could visit her boy's +grave, when she had to employ the greatest circumspection to avoid +being seen. Although since her translation from insignificance to +affluence and local importance, she was remarkably well known in and +about Melkbridge, and although her lightest acts were subjects of +common gossip, she could not let Christmas go by without taking the +risk that a visit to the churchyard at Pennington would entail. Her +greatest fear of detection was in going through the town, but she +kept well under the shadows of the town hall side of the market- +place, so that the policeman, who was there on duty, walking-stick +in hand, would not see her. Once in the comparative security of the +Pennington road, she hurried past dark inanimate cottages and +farmsteads, whilst overhead familiar constellations sprawled in a +now clear sky. Several times on her progress, she fancied that she +heard footsteps striking the hard, firm road behind her, but, +whenever she stopped to listen, she could not hear a sound. Just as +she reached the brewery at Pennington, clouds obscured the stars; +she had some difficulty in picking her way in the darkness. When she +got to the churchyard gate, happily unlocked, it was still so dark +that she had to light matches in order to avoid stumbling on the +graves. Even with the help of matches, it was as much as she could +do to find her way to the plain white stone on which only the +initials of her boy and the dates of his birth and death were +recorded. When she got to the grave, the wind had blown out so many +of her matches that she had only four left. One of these she lit in +order to place the holly cross on the grave; she had just time to +put it where she wanted it to lie, when the match went out. She +knelt on the ground, while her heart went out to what was lying so +many feet beneath. + +"Oh, my dear! my dear!" she cried, but the sound of her own voice +startled her into silence. The cry of her heart was: + +"What is all that I have worth without you! How gladly would I give +up my all, if only I could hold you warm and breathing in my arms!" + +Then she fell to thinking what a joyous time would be hers at this +season of the year, were her boy alive and if they were going to +spend Christmas together. Pain possessed her; its operation seemed +to isolate her from the world that she had lately known. She +breathed an atmosphere of anguish; the mourning that the presence of +those in the churchyard had caused their loved ones seemed to find +expression in her heart, till, happily, tears eased her pain. + +Then she became conscious of the physical discomfort occasioned by +kneeling on the ground in the cold night air. + +She got up. In order to take a last look at the grave, she lit +another match. This burned steadily, enabling her to glance about +her to see what companionship her boy possessed on this drear +December night. The feeble match flame intensified the gloom and +emphasised the deep, black quietude of the place. This hamlet of the +dead was amazingly remote from all suggestions of life. It appeared +to hug itself for its complete detachment from human interests. It +seemed desolate, alone, forgotten by the world. As Mavis left its +stillness, she thought: + +"At least he's found a great peace." + +Before Mavis left the churchyard, the stars enabled her to discern +her path. She hastened in the direction of Melkbridge, wondering if +her absence had been discovered. As before, she believed that she +was followed, but strove to think that the footsteps she was all but +certain she heard were the echo of her own. As she hurried through +the town, this impression became a conviction. She was alarmed, and +resolved to find out who it was who had elected to spy upon her +actions. When she came to the place where the road branched off to +her house, she concealed herself in the shadow of the wall. She had +not long to wait. Very soon, the tall upright figure of a man swung +into the road in which she was standing. One glance was enough to +tell her that it was Windebank. As he was about to pass her, he +paused as if to listen. + +"Who are you looking for?" asked Mavis, who was anxious to discover +what he was doing out of doors. + +"Let me see you home," he said coldly. + +"If anyone sees us, they will think--" she began. + +"We shan't meet anyone. It's not safe for you to be out." + +They walked in silence. As he did not express the least surprise at +finding her out alone in the small hours of the morning, Mavis +believed that he had divined her intention of going to Pennington +and had hung about the house till she had come out, when he had +followed, all the way to and from her destination, in order to +protect her from harm. + +"Good night," he said, as he stopped just before they reached the +nearest lodge gates of her grounds. + +"Good night and thank you," replied Mavis. + +"I won't wish you a very happy Christmas." + +"May I wish you one?" + +"Good night," he answered curtly. + + + + +CHAPTER FORTY-ONE + +TRIBULATION + + +Although, as time went on, Mavis became used to her griefs, and +although she got pleasure from the opulent, cultured atmosphere with +which she was surrounded, she was neither physically nor spiritually +happy. It was not that the mutual love existing between herself and +Harold abated one jot; neither was it that she had lost overmuch of +her old joyousness in nature and life. But there were two voids in +her being (one of which she knew could never be filled) which were +the cause of her distress. A woman of strong domestic instincts, she +would have loved nothing better than to have had one or two +children. Owing to her changed circumstances, maternity would not be +associated with the acute discomforts which she had once +experienced. Whenever she heard of a woman of her acquaintance +having a baby, her face would change, her heart would be charged +with a consuming envy. Illustrations of children's garments in the +advertisement columns of women's journals caused her to turn the +page quickly. Whenever little ones visited her, she would often, +particularly if the guest were a boy, furtively hug him to her +heart. Once or twice, on these occasions, she caught Windebank's +eye, when she wondered if he understood her longing. + +Her other hunger was for things of the spirit. She was as one adrift +upon a sea of doubt; many havens noticed her signals of distress, +but, despite the arrant display of their attractions, she could not +find one that promised anchorage to which she could completely +trust. Her old-time implicit faith in the existence of a Heavenly +Father, who cared for the sparrows of life, had waned. Whenever the +simple belief recurred to her, as it sometimes did, she would think +of Mrs Gowler's, to shudder and put the thought of beneficent +interference with the things of the world from her mind. + +At the same time she could not forget that when there had seemed +every prospect of her being lost in the mire of London, or in the +slough of anguish following upon her boy's death, she had, as if by +a miracle, escaped. + +Now and again, she would find herself wondering if, after all, the +barque of her life had been steered by a guiding Hand, which, +although it had taken her over storm-tossed seas and stranded her on +lone beaches, had brought her safely, if troubled by the wrack of +the waters she had passed, into harbour. + +Incapable of clear thought, she could arrive at no conclusion that +satisfied her. + +At last, she went to Windebank to see if he could help. + +"What is one to do if one isn't altogether happy?" she asked. + +"Who isn't happy?" + +"I'm not altogether." + +"You! But you've everything to make you." + +"I know. But I'll try and explain." + +"You needn't." + +"Why? You don't know what troubles me." + +"That's nothing to do with it. All troubles are alike in this +respect, that the only thing to be done is to mend what's wrong. If +you can't, you must make the best of it," he declared grimly. + +After this rough-and-ready advice, Mavis felt that it would be +futile to attempt a further explanation of her disquiet. + +"Thanks; but it isn't so easy as it sounds," she said. + +"Really!" he remarked, not without a suggestion of sarcasm in his +exclamation. + +* + +About this time, Mavis saw a good deal of Perigal. He rented from +her husband the farm that Harold had purchased soon after his +marriage, and in which he had purposed living. Perigal had long +since spent the ten thousand pounds he had inherited from his +mother; he was now living on the four hundred a year his wife +possessed. If anything, Mavis encouraged his frequent visits; his +illuminating comments on men and things took her out of herself; +also, if the truth be told, Mavis's heart held resentment against +the man who had played so considerable a part in her life. Whenever +Mavis was in London, the sight of a fallen woman always fed this +dislike; she reflected that, but for the timely help she had +enjoyed, she might have been driven to a like means of getting money +if her child had been in want. Another thing that urged her against +Perigal was that she constantly noticed how negligently many of the +married women of her acquaintance interpreted their wifely duties, +and, in most cases, to husbands who had dowered their mates with +affection and worldly goods. She reflected that, by all the laws of +justice, Perigal should have appreciated to the full the treasure of +love and passion which she had poured out so lavishly at his feet. + +Perigal, all unconscious of the way in which Mavis regarded him, +went out of his way to pay her attention. + +One summer afternoon, while Harold rested indoors, Mavis gave +Perigal tea beneath the shade of a witch-elm on the lawn. She was +looking particularly alluring; if she were at all doubtful of this +fact, the admiration expressed in Perigal's eyes would have +reassured her. They had been talking lightly, brightly, each in +secret pursuing the bent of their own feelings for the other, when +the spectre of Mavis's spiritual troublings blotted out the sunlight +and the brilliant gladness of the summer afternoon. She was silent +for awhile, presently to be aware that Perigal's eyes were fixed on +her face. She looked towards him, at which he sighed deeply. + +"Aren't you happy?" she asked. + +"How can I be?" + +"You've everything you want in life." + +"Have I? Since when?" + +"The day you married." + +"Rot!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"I can tell you after all that" (here he caught Mavis's eye)--"after +we've been such friends--as far as I'm concerned, my marriage has +been a ghastly failure." + +"You mustn't tell me that," declared Mavis, to whom the news brought +a secret joy. + +"I can surely tell you after--after we've been such dear friends. +But we don't hit it off at all. I can't stick Vic at any price." + +"Nonsense! She's pretty and charming. Everyone who knows her says +the same." + +"When they first know her; then they think no end of a lot of her; +but after a time everyone's 'off' her, although they haven't spotted +the reason." + +"Have you?" + +"Unfortunately, that's been my privilege. Vic has enough imagination +to tell her to do the right thing and all that; but otherwise, she's +utterly, constitutionally cold." + +"Nonsense! She must have sympathy to 'do the right thing,' as you +call it." + +"Not necessarily. Hers comes from the imagination, as I told you; +but her graceful tact chills one in no time. I might as well have +married an icicle." + +"I'm sorry," remarked Mavis, saying what was untrue. + +"And then Vic has a conventional mind: it annoys me awfully. +Conventions are the cosmetics of morality." + +"Where did you read that?" + +"And these conventions, that are the rudiments of what were once +full-blooded necessities, are most practised by those who have the +least call for their protection. Pity me." + +"I do." + +Perigal's eyes brightened. + +"I'm unhappy too," said Mavis, after a pause. + +"Not really?" + +"I wondered if you would help me." + +"Try me." + +Perigal's eyes glittered, a manifestation which Mavis noticed. + +"You know how you used to laugh at my belief in Providence." + +"Is that how you want me to help?" + +"If you will." + +Perigal's face fell. + +"Fire away," he said, as he lit a cigarette. + +Mavis told him something of her perplexities. + +"I want to see things clearly. I want to find out exactly where I +am. Everything's so confusing and contradictory. I shan't be really +happy till I know what I really and truly believe." + +"How can I help you? You have to believe what you do believe." + +"But why do I believe what I do believe?" + +"Because you can't help yourself. Your present condition of mind is +the result of all you have experienced in your existence acting upon +the peculiar kind of intelligence with which your parents started +you in life. Take my advice, don't worry about these things. If you +look them squarely in the face, you only come to brutal conclusions. +Life's a beastly struggle to live, and then, when subsistence is +secured, to be happy. It's nature's doing; it sees to it that we're +always sharpening our weapons." + +Mavis did not speak for a few moments; when she did, it was to say: + +"I can't understand how I escaped." + +"From utter disaster?" he asked. + +"Scarcely that." + +"I hope not, indeed. But you were a fool not to write to me and let +me have it for my selfishness. But I take it that at the worst you'd +have written, when, of course, I should have done all I could." + +"All?" + +"Well--all I reasonably could." + +"I wasn't thinking so much of that," said Mavis. "What I can't +understand is why I've dropped into all this good fortune, even if +it's at your expense." + +"You owe it to the fact of your being your father's daughter and +that he was friendly with the pater. Next, you must thank your +personality; but the chief thing was that you are your father's +daughter." + +"And I often and often wished I'd been born a London shop-girl, so +that I should never long for things that were then out of my reach. +So there was really something in my birth after all." + +"I should jolly well think there was. It's no end of an asset. But +to go back to what we were talking about." + +"About nature's designs to make us all fight for our own?" + +"Yes. Look at yourself. You're now ever so much harder than you +were." + +"Are you surprised?" she asked vehemently, as she all but betrayed +her hatred. + +"It's really a good thing from your point of view. It's made you +more fitted to take your own part in the struggle." + +"Then, those who injured me were the strong preying on the weak?" +she asked. + +"It's the unalterable law of life. It's a disagreeable one, but it's +true. It's the only way the predominance of the species is assured." + +"I think I'll have a cigarette," said Mavis. + +"One of mine?" + +"One of my own, thanks." + +"You're very unkind to me," said Perigal. + +"In not taking your cigarette?" + +"You ignore everything that's been between us. You look on me as +heartless, callous; you don't make allowances." + +"For what?" + +"My cursed temperament. No one knows better than I what a snob I am +at heart. When you were poor, I did not value you. Now--" + +"Now?" + +"Can you ask?" + +A joy possessed Mavis's heart; she felt that her moment of triumph +was near. + +Perigal went on: + +"Still, I deserve all I get, and that's so rare in life that it's +something in the nature of an experience." + +Mavis did not speak. She was hoping no one would come to interrupt +them. + +"There's one thing you might have told me about," he went on. + +"What?" + +Perigal dropped his eyes as he said: + +"Someone who died." + +Mavis's heart was pitiless. + +"Why should I?" + +"He was mine as much as yours. There are several things I want to +know. And if it were the last word I utter, all that happened over +that has 'hipped' me more than anything." + +"I shall tell you nothing," declared Mavis. + +"I've a right to know." + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"I tell you, no. You left me to fight alone; it was all so terrible, +I daren't think of it more than I can help." + +"But--" + +"There are no 'buts,' no anything. I bore the sorrow alone, and I +shall keep to myself all the tenderness that remains: nothing can +ever alter it." + +"You say that as if you hated me. Don't do that, little Mavis. I +love you more than I do my mean selfish self." + +"You love me!" + +"I do now. I wanted you to know. Once or twice, I hoped--never mind +what. But from the way you said what you said just now, I see it's +utterly 'off.'" + +"You never said anything truer. And do you know why?" she asked with +flaming eye. + +"Because I left you in the lurch?" + +"Not altogether that, but because you were a coward, and, above all, +a fool, in the first pkce. I know what I was. I see what other women +are, and it makes me realise my value. I realise my value as, if +you'd married me, I'd have faced death, anything with you. Pretty +women with a few brains who'll stick to a man are rather scarce +nowadays. But it wasn't good enough for you: you wouldn't take the +risk. You've no--no stuffing. That is why, if you and I were left +alone in the world together for the rest of our lives, I should +never do anything but despise you." + +Perigal's face went white. He bit his thin lips. Then he smiled as +he said: + +"Retributive justice." + +"I'm sorry to be so candid. But it's what I've been thinking for +months. I've only waited for an opportunity to say it." + +"We've both scored," he said. "You can't take away what you've +given, and that's a lot to be thankful for--but--but--" + +"Well?" + +"I'm dependent for my bread and butter on a woman who bores me to +death, and have to look to a family for any odd jobs I may get--a +family that, whatever they may do for me, I should always despise. +That, and because I see what a fool I've been to lose you, is where +you've scored." + +As he strolled away, wondering how Mavis could be so indifferent to +him after all that had happened, she did not trouble to glance after +his retreating form. + +Henceforth, Mavis was left much to herself. Perigal avoided her; +whilst Windebank, about this time, to her annoyance, discontinued +his frequent visits. Having so much time on her hands, Mavis +returned to her old prepossessions about the why and wherefore of +the varied happenings in her life. + +Looking back, she found that her loving trust, her faith in her +lover, her girlish innocence of the ways of sensual men had been +chiefly responsible for her griefs; that it was indeed, as Perigal +said, that she in her weakness had been preyed upon by the strong. +Thus, it followed that girlish confidence in the loved one's word, +the primal instinct of abnegation of self to the adored one, whole- +hearted faith--all these characteristics (which were above price) of +a loving heart were in the nature of a handicap in the struggle for +happiness. It also followed that a girl thus equipped would be at a +great disadvantage in rivalry with one who was cold, selfish, +calculating. Mavis shuddered as she reached this conclusion. + +Her introspections were interrupted by an event that, for the time, +put all such thoughts from her mind. + +One morning, upon going into Harold's room, she found that he did +not recognise her. The local doctor, who usually attended him, was +called in; he immediately asked for another opinion. This being +obtained from London, the remedies the specialist prescribed proved +so far beneficial that the patient dimly recovered the use of his +senses, with the faint promise of further improvement if the medical +instructions were obeyed to the letter. Then followed for Mavis +long, scarcely endurable night watches, which were so protracted +that often it seemed as if the hand of time had stopped, as if +darkness for ever enshrouded the world. When, at last, day came, she +would make an effort to snatch a few hours' sleep in order to fit +her for the next night's attendance on the loved one. The shock of +her husband's illness immediately increased her faith in Divine +Providence. It was as if her powerlessness in the face of this new +disaster were such that she relied on something more than human aid +to give her help. Always, before she tried to sleep, she prayed long +and fervently to the Most High that He would restore her beloved +husband to comparative health; that He would interfere to arrest the +fell disease with which he was afflicted. She prayed as a mother for +a child, sick unto death. At the back of her mind she had formed a +resolution that, if her prayer were answered, she would believe in +God for the rest of her life with all her old-time fervour. She +dared not voice this resolve to herself; she believed that, if she +did so, it would be in the nature of a threat to the Almighty; also, +she feared that, if her husband got worse, it would be consequently +incumbent on her to lose the much needed faith in things not of this +world. Thus, when Mavis knelt she poured out her heart in +supplication. She was not only praying for her husband but for +herself. + +But Mavis's prayer was unheard. Her husband steadily got worse. One +night, when the blackness of the sky seemed as a pall thrown over +the corpse of her hopes, she took up a chance magazine, in which +some verses, written to God by an author, for whose wide humanity +Mavis had a great regard, attracted her. + +The substance of these lines was a complaint of His pitiless +disregard of the world's sorrow. One phrase particularly attracted +her: it was "His unweeting way." + +"That is it," thought Mavis. "That expresses exactly what I feel. +There is, there must be, a God, but His ways are truly unweeting. He +has seen so much pain that He has got used to it and grown callous." + + + + +CHAPTER FORTY-TWO + +THE WELL-BELOVED + + +One morning, when Mavis was leaving Harold, she was recalled by one +of the nurses. He had signalled that he wished to see her again. +Upon Mavis hastening to his side, he tried to speak, but could not. +His eyes seemed to smile a last farewell till unconsciousness +possessed him. + +As before, Mavis called in the most expensive medical advice, which +told her that nothing could be done. It appeared that Harold's spine +had commenced to curve in such a manner that his lungs were +seriously affected. It was only a question of months before the +slight thread, by which his life hung, would be snapped. Mavis knew +of many cases in which enfeebled lungs had been bolstered up for +quite a long time by a change to suitable climates; she was eager to +know if the same held good in her husband's case. + +"Oh yes," said the great specialist. "There were parts of South +Africa where the veld air was so rarefied that a patient with +scarcely any lung at all might live for several years. But--" + +"But what?" asked Mavis. + +"If I may say so, he will never be other than what he now is. Would +it be advisable to prolong--?" + +The expression on Mavis's face stopped him short in the middle of +his question. + +"Of course, if you've decided to send him, it's quite another +matter," he went on. "In that case, you cannot be too careful in +seeing he has the most reliable attendants procurable." + +Mavis hesitated the fraction of a second before replying: + +"I should go with him." + +It needed only that brief moment for Mavis to make up her mind. She +would do her utmost to prolong her husband's life; she would +accompany him wherever he went to obtain this end. + +In making this last resolve, Mavis knew well the trials and +discomforts to which she would expose herself. Her well-ordered +days, her present existence, which seemed to run on oiled wheels, +the friends and refinements with which she had surrounded herself, +the more particularly appealed to her when contrasted with the lean +years of her earlier life. Her days of want, joined to her natural +inclinations, had created a hunger for the good things of the earth, +which her present opulence had not yet stayed. She still held out +her hands to grasp the beautiful, satisfying things which money, +guided by a mind of some force and a natural refinement, can buy. +Therefore, it was a considerable sacrifice for Mavis to give up the +advantage she not only possessed, but keenly appreciated, to tend a +man who was a physical and mental wreck, in a part of the world +remote from civilising influences. But, together with her grief for +the loss of her boy, there lived in her heart an immense and +ineradicable remorse for having married her husband from motives of +revenge against his family. + +Harold's living faith in her goodness kept these regrets green; +otherwise, the kindly hand of time would have rooted them from her +heart. + +"Do you believe?" Mavis had once asked of her husband on a day when +she had been troubled by things of the spirit. + +"In you," he had replied, which was all she could get from him on +the subject. + +His reply was typical of the whole-hearted reverence with which he +regarded her. + +Mavis believed that to tend her husband in the land where existence +might prolong his life would be some atonement for the deception she +had practised. When she got a further eminent medical opinion, which +confirmed the previous doctor's diagnosis, she set about making +preparations for the melancholy journey. These took her several +times to London; they proved to be of a greater magnitude than she +had believed to be possible. + +When driving to a surgical appliance manufacturer on one of these +visits, she saw an acquaintance of her old days playing outside a +public house. It was Mr Baffy, the bass viol player, who was +fiddling his instrument as helplessly as ever, while he stared +before him with vacant eyes. Mavis stopped her cab, went up to his +bent form and put a sovereign into his hand as she said: + +"Do you remember me?" + +The vacant manner in which his eyes stared into hers told Mavis that +he had forgotten her. + +When Mavis's friends learned of her resolution, they were unanimous +in urging her to reconsider what they called her Quixotic fancy. +Lady Ludlow was greatly concerned at losing her friend for an +indefinite period; she pointed out the uselessness of the +proceeding; she endeavoured to overwhelm Mavis's obstinacy in the +matter with a torrent of argument. She may as well have talked to +the Jersey cows which grazed about Mavis's house, for any impression +she produced. After a while, Mavis's friends, seeing, that she was +determined, went their several ways, leaving her to make her +seemingly endless preparations in peace. + +Alone among her friends, Windebank had not contributed to the +appeals to Mavis with reference to her leaving England with her +husband: for all this forbearing to express an opinion, he made +himself useful to Mavis in the many preparations she was making for +her departure and stay in South Africa. So ungrudgingly did he give +his time and assistance, that Mavis undervalued his aid, taking it +as a matter of course. + +Three days before it was arranged that Mavis should leave +Southampton with Harold, her resolution faltered. The prospect of +leaving her home, which she had grown to love, increased its +attractions a thousand-fold. The familiar objects about her, some of +which she had purchased, had enabled her to sustain her manifold +griefs. Cattle in the stables (many of which were her dear friends), +with the passage of time had become part and parcel of her lot. A +maimed wild duck, which she had saved from death, waited for her +outside the front door, and followed her with delighted quacks when +she walked in the gardens. All of these seemed to make their several +appeals, as if beseeching her not to leave them to the care of alien +hands. Her dearly loved Jill she was taking with her. Another +deprivation that she would keenly feel would be the music her soul +loved. Whenever she was assailed by her remorseless troubles in +London, she would hasten, if it were possible, to either the +handiest and best orchestral concert, or a pianoforte recital where +Chopin was to be played. The loneliness, sorrowings, and longings of +which the master makers of music (and particularly the consumptive +Pole) were eloquent, found kinship with her own unquiet thoughts, +and companionship is a notorious assuager of griefs. + +Physical, and particularly mental illness, was hateful to her. If +the truth be told, it was as much as she could do to overcome the +repugnance with which her husband's presence often inspired her, +despite the maternal instinct of which her love for Harold was, for +the most part, composed. In going with him abroad, she was, in +truth, atoning for any wrong she may have done him. + +Two days later, Mavis occupied many hours in saying a last farewell +to her home. It was one of the October days which she loved, when +milk-white clouds sailed lazily across the hazy blue peculiar to the +robust ripe age of the year. This time of year appealed to Mavis, +because it seemed as if its mellow wisdom, born of experience, +corresponded to a like period in the life of her worldly knowledge. +The prize-bred Jersey cows grazed peacefully in the park grounds. +Now and again, she would encounter an assiduous bee, which was +taking advantage of the fineness of the day to pick up any odds and +ends of honey which had been overlooked by his less painstaking +brethren. Mavis, with heavy heart, visited stables, dairies, +poultry-runs. These last were well at the back of the house; beyond +them, the fields were tipped up at all angles; they sprawled over a +hill as if each were anxious to see what was going on in the meadow +beneath it. Followed by Jill and Sally, her lame duck, Mavis went to +the first of the hill-fields, where geese, scarcely out of their +adolescence, clamoured about her hands with their soothing, self- +contented piping. Even the fierce old gander, which was the terror +of stray children and timid maid-servants, deigned to notice her +with a tolerant eye. Mavis sighed and went indoors. + +Just before tea, she was standing at a window sorrowfully watching +the sun's early retirement. The angle of the house prevented her +from seeing her favourite cows, but she could hear the tearing sound +their teeth made as they seized the grass. + +She had seen nothing of her friends (even including Windebank) for +the last few days. They had realised that she was not to be stopped +from going on what they considered to be her mad enterprise, and had +given her up as a bad job. No one seemed to care what became of her; +it was as if she were deserted by the world. A sullen anger raged +within her; she would not acknowledge to herself that much of it was +due to Windebank's latent defection. She longed to get away and have +done with it; the suspense of waiting till the morrow was becoming +intolerable. As the servants were bringing in tea, Mavis could no +longer bear the confinement of the house; she hurried past the two +men to go out of the front door. + +She walked at random, going anywhere so long as she obeyed the +passion for movement which possessed her. Some way from the house, +she chanced upon Windebank, who was standing under a tree. + +"Why are you here?" she asked, as she stood before him. + +"I was making up my mind." + +"What about?" + +"If I should see you again." + +"You needn't. Do you hear? You needn't," she said passionately. He +looked at her surprised. She went on: + +"Everyone's forgotten me and doesn't care one bit what becomes of +me. You're the worst of all." + +"I?" + +"You. They're honest and stay away. You, in your heart, don't wish +to trouble to say good-bye, but you haven't the pluck to act up to +your wishes. I hate you!" + +"But, Mavis--" + +"Don't call me that. You haven't the courage of your convictions. I +hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I wish I'd never seen you. Be +honest and go away and leave me." + +"No!" cried Windebank, as he seized her arm. + +"That's right! Strike me!" cried Mavis, reckless of what she said. + +"I'm going to be honest at last and tell you something," he +declared. + +"More insults!" + +"It is an insult this time, but all the same you'll hear it." + +Mavis was a little awed by the resolution in his face and manner. He +went on now a trifle hoarsely: + +"Little Mavis, I love you more than I ever believed it possible for +man to love woman. I've tried to forget you, but I want you more and +more." + +"How--how dare you!" she cried. + +"Because I love you. And because I do, I've fought against seeing +you; but as you've come to me and you're going away to-morrow, I +must tell you." + +Mavis was less resentful of his words; she resisted an inclination +to tremble violently, + +"Don't go," urged Windebank. + +"Where?" + +"Abroad. Don't go and leave me. I love you." + +"How can you! Harold was your friend." + +"My enemy. He took you from me when I was sure of you; my enemy, I +tell you. Oh, little Mavis, let me make you happy. You can do no +good going with him, so why not stay? I'd give my life to hold you +in my arms, and I know I'd make you happy." + +"You mustn't; you mustn't," murmured Mavis, as she strove to believe +that his words and the grasp of his hand on her arm did not minister +to the repressed, but, none the less ardent longings of her being. + +"I must. I tell you I haven't been near a woman since I struck you +again in Pimlico, and all for love of you. I've waited. Now, I'll +get you." + +Windebank placed his arms about her and kissed her lips, eyes, and +hair many, many times. Then he held her at arm's length, while his +eyes looked fixedly into hers. + +A delicious inertia stole over Mavis's senses. He had only to kiss +her again for her to fall helplessly into his arms. + +Although she realised the enormity of his offence, something within +her seemed to impel her to wind her arm about his neck and draw his +lips to hers. Instead, she summoned all her resolution; striking him +full in the face, she freed herself to run quickly from him. As she +ran, she strove to hide from herself that, in her inmost heart, she +was longing for him to overtake her, seize her about the body, and +carry her off, as might some primeval man, to some lair of his own, +where he would defend her with his life against any who might seek +to disturb her peace. + +But Windebank did not follow her. That night she sobbed herself to +sleep. The next morning, Mavis left with Harold for Southampton. + +Many months later, Mavis, clad in black, stood, with Jill at her +side, on the deck of a ship that was rapidly steaming up Southampton +water. Her eyes were fixed on the place where they told her she +would land. The faint blurs on the landing pier gradually assumed +human shape; one on which she fixed her eyes became suspiciously +like Windebank. When she could no longer doubt that he was waiting +to greet her, she went downstairs to her cabin, to pin a bright +ribbon on her frock. When he joined her on the steamer, neither of +them spoke for a few moments. + +"I got your letter from--" he began. + +"Don't say anything about it," she interrupted. "I know you're +sorry, but I'd rather not talk of it." + +Windebank turned his attentions to Jill, to say presently to Mavis: + +"Are you staying here or going on?" + +"I don't know. I think I'll stay a little. And you?" + +"I'll stay too, if you've no objection." + +"I should like it." + +Windebank saw to the luggage and drove Mavis to the barrack-like +South-Western Hotel; then, after seeing she had all she wanted, he +went to his own hotel to dress for his solitary dinner. He had +scarcely finished this meal when he was told that a lady wished to +speak to him on the telephone. She proved to be Mavis, who said: + +"If you've nothing better to do, come and take me out for some air." + +The next few days, they were continually together, when they would +mostly ramble by the old-world fortifications of the town. During +all this time, neither of them made any mention of events in the +past in which they were both concerned. + +One evening, an unexpected shower of rain disappointed Windebank's +expectation of seeing Mavis after dinner. He telephoned to her, +saying that, after coming from a hot climate, she must not trust +herself out in the wet. + +He was cursing the weather and wondering how he would get through +the evening without her, when a servant announced that a lady wished +to see him. The next moment, Mavis entered his sitting-room. He +noticed that she had changed her black frock for one of brighter +hue. + +"Why have you come?" he asked, when the servant had gone. + +"To see you. Don't you want me?" + +"Yes, but--" + +"Then sit down and talk; or rather don't. I want to think." + +"You could have done that better alone." + +"I want to think," she repeated. + +They sat for some time in silence, during which Windebank longed to +take her in his arms and shower kisses on her lips. + +Presently, when she got up to leave, she found so much to say that +she continually put off going. At last, when they were standing near +the door, Mavis put her face provokingly near his. He bent, meaning +to kiss her hair, but instead his lips fell on hers. + +To his surprise, Mavis covered his mouth with kisses. Windebank's +eyes expressed astonishment, while his arm gripped her form. + +"Forgive me; forgive me," she murmured. + +"What for?" he gasped. + +"I've been a brute, a beast, and you've never once complained." + +"Dearest!" + +"It's true enough; too true. All your life you've given me love, and +all I've given you are doubts and misunderstandings. But I'll atone, +I'll atone now. I'm yours to do what you will with, whenever you +please, now, here, if you wish it. You needn't marry me; I won't +bind you down; I only ask you to be kind to me for a little, I've +suffered so much." + +"You mean--you mean--" + +"That you've loved me so long and so much that I can only reward you +by giving you myself." + +She opened her arms. He looked at her steadily for a while, till, +with a great effort, he tore himself from her presence and left the +room. + +The next morning, Mavis received a letter from Windebank. + +"My own dearest love," it ran, "don't think me a mug for leaving you +last night as I did, but I love you so dearly that I want to get you +for life and don't wish to run any risk of losing what I treasure +most on earth. I am making arrangements so that we can get married +at the very earliest date, which I believe is three days from now. +And then--" + +Mavis did not read any more just then. + +"When and where you please," she scribbled on the first piece of +paper she could find. Lady Ludlow's words occurred to her as she +sent off her note by special messenger: "A woman is always safe with +the man who loves her." + +Three days later, Windebank and Mavis were made man and wife. For +all Windebank's outward impassivity, Mavis noticed that, when he put +the ring on her finger, his hand trembled so violently that he all +but dropped it. Directly the wedding was over, Windebank and Mavis +got into the former's motor, which was waiting outside the church. + +"At last!" said Windebank, as he sat beside his wife. + +"Where next?" asked Mavis. + +"To get Jill and your things and then we'll get away." + +"Where to? I hope it's right away, somewhere peaceful in the +country." + +"We'll go on till you come to a place you like." + +They went west. They had lunched in high spirits at a wayside inn, +which took Mavis's fancy, to continue travelling till the late +afternoon, when the machine came to a dead stop. + +"We'll have to camp in a ditch," said Mavis. + +"How you'd curse me if we had to!" said her husband. + +"It would be heaven with you," she declared. + +Windebank reverently kissed her. + +He saw that the car wanted spirit, which he learned could be bought +at a village a short way ahead. Mavis and Jill accompanied Windebank +to the general shop where petrol was sold. + +"I can't let you out of my sight," she said, as they set out. + +"Why not?" + +"You might run off." + +He laughed. By the time they reached the shop, Mavis had quite +emerged from the sobriety of her demeanour to become an +approximation to her old light-hearted self. + +"That's how I love to see you," remarked Windebank. + +When they entered the shop, Mavis' face fell. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, all concern for his wife. + +"Don't you smell paraffin?" + +"What of it?" + +"It takes me back to Pimlico--that night when we went shopping +together--you bought me a shilling's worth." + +"I wish someone would come; then we'd get out of it," remarked +Windebank. + +But his wife did not appear to listen; she was lost in thought. Then +she clung desperately to his arm. + +"What is it?" he asked tenderly. + +"It's love I want; love. Nothing else matters. Love me: love me: +love me. A little love will help me to forget." + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of Sparrows, by Horace W.C. 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