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diff --git a/4426.txt b/4426.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8976ac3 --- /dev/null +++ b/4426.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18185 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rhoda Fleming, Complete, by George Meredith + +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: Rhoda Fleming, Complete + +Author: George Meredith + +Last Updated: March 6, 2009 +Release Date: October 13, 2006 [EBook #4426] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHODA FLEMING, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by Pat Castevans and David Widger + + + + + +RHODA FLEMING, complete + +By George Meredith + + + + +CONTENTS + + BOOK 1. + I. THE KENTISH FAMILY + II. QUEEN ANNE'S FARM + III. SUGGESTS THE MIGHT OF THE MONEY DEMON + IV. THE TEXT FROM SCRIPTURE + V. THE SISTERS MEET + VI. EDWARD AND ALGERNON + VII. GREAT NEWS FROM DAHLIA + VIII. INTRODUCES MRS. LOVELL + IX. ROBERT INTERVENES + X. DAHLIA IS NOT VISIBLE + XI. AN INDICATIVE DUET IN A MINOR KEY + + BOOK 2. + XII. AT THE THEATRE. + XIII. THE FARMER SPEAKS + XIV. BETWEEN RHODA AND ROBERT + XI. A VISIT TO WREXBY HALL + XII. AT FAIRLY PARK + XVII. A YEOMAN OF THE OLD BREED + XVIII. AN ASSEMBLY AT THE PILOT INN + XIX. ROBERT SMITTEN LOW + XX. MRS. LOVELL SHOWS A TAME BRUTE + + BOOK 3. + XXI. GIVES A GLIMPSE OF WHAT POOR VILLANIES THE STORY CONTAINS + XXII. EDWARD TAKES HIS COURSE + XXIII. MAJOR PERCY WARING + XXIV. WARBEACH VILLAGE CHURCH + XXV. OF THE FEARFUL TEMPTATION WHICH CAME UPON ANTHONY HACKBUT, AND + OF HIS MEETING WITH DAHLIA + XXVI. IN THE PARK + XXVII. CONTAINS A STUDY OF A FOOL IN TROUBLE + XXVIII. EDWARD'S LETTER + XXIX. FURTHERMORE OF THE FOOL + + BOOK 4. + XXX. THE EXPIATION + XXXI. THE MELTING OF THE THOUSAND + XXXII. LA QUESTION D'ARGENT + XXXIII. EDWARD'S RETURN + XXXIV. FATHER AND SON + XXXV. THE NIGHT BEFORE + XXXVI. EDWARD MEETS HIS MATCH + XXXVII. EDWARD TRIES HIS ELOQUENCE + XXXVIII. TOO LATE + + BOOK 5. + XXXIX. DAHLIA GOES HOME + XL. A FREAK OF THE MONEY-DEMON, THAT MAY HAVE BEEN ANTICIPATED + XLI. DAHLIA'S FRENZY + XLII. ANTHONY IN A COLLAPSE + XLIII. RHODA PLEDGES HER HAND + XLIV. THE ENEMY APPEARS + XLV. THE FARMER IS AWAKENED + XLVI. WHEN THE NIGHT IS DARKEST + XLVII. DAWN IS NEAR + XLVIII. CONCLUSION + + + + +CHAPTER I + +Remains of our good yeomanry blood will be found in Kent, developing +stiff, solid, unobtrusive men, and very personable women. The +distinction survives there between Kentish women and women of Kent, as +a true South-eastern dame will let you know, if it is her fortune to +belong to that favoured portion of the county where the great battle +was fought, in which the gentler sex performed manful work, but on what +luckless heads we hear not; and when garrulous tradition is discreet, +the severe historic Muse declines to hazard a guess. Saxon, one would +presume, since it is thought something to have broken them. + +My plain story is of two Kentish damsels, and runs from a home of +flowers into regions where flowers are few and sickly, on to where the +flowers which breathe sweet breath have been proved in mortal fire. + +Mrs. Fleming, of Queen Anne's Farm, was the wife of a yeoman-farmer of +the county. Both were of sound Kentish extraction, albeit varieties of +the breed. The farm had its name from a tradition, common to many other +farmhouses within a circuit of the metropolis, that the ante-Hanoverian +lady had used the place in her day as a nursery-hospital for the royal +little ones. It was a square three-storied building of red brick, much +beaten and stained by the weather, with an ivied side, up which the +ivy grew stoutly, topping the roof in triumphant lumps. The house could +hardly be termed picturesque. Its aspect had struck many eyes as being +very much that of a red-coat sentinel grenadier, battered with service, +and standing firmly enough, though not at ease. Surrounding it was a +high wall, built partly of flint and partly of brick, and ringed all +over with grey lichen and brown spots of bearded moss, that bore +witness to the touch of many winds and rains. Tufts of pale grass, +and gilliflowers, and travelling stone-crop, hung from the wall, and +driblets of ivy ran broadening to the outer ground. The royal Arms were +said to have surmounted the great iron gateway; but they had vanished, +either with the family, or at the indications of an approaching rust. +Rust defiled its bars; but, when you looked through them, the splendour +of an unrivalled garden gave vivid signs of youth, and of the taste of +an orderly, laborious, and cunning hand. + +The garden was under Mrs. Fleming's charge. The joy of her love for it +was written on its lustrous beds, as poets write. She had the poetic +passion for flowers. Perhaps her taste may now seem questionable. She +cherished the old-fashioned delight in tulips; the house was reached on +a gravel-path between rows of tulips, rich with one natural blush, or +freaked by art. She liked a bulk of colour; and when the dahlia dawned +upon our gardens, she gave her heart to dahlias. By good desert, the +fervent woman gained a prize at a flower-show for one of her dahlias, +and `Dahlia' was the name uttered at the christening of her eldest +daughter, at which all Wrexby parish laughed as long as the joke could +last. There was laughter also when Mrs. Fleming's second daughter +received the name of 'Rhoda;' but it did not endure for so long a space, +as it was known that she had taken more to the solitary and reflective +reading of her Bible, and to thoughts upon flowers eternal. Country +people are not inclined to tolerate the display of a passion for +anything. They find it as intrusive and exasperating as is, in the +midst of larger congregations, what we call genius. For some years, Mrs. +Fleming's proceedings were simply a theme for gossips, and her vanity +was openly pardoned, until that delusively prosperous appearance +which her labour lent to the house, was worn through by the enforced +confession of there being poverty in the household. The ragged elbow was +then projected in the face of Wrexby in a manner to preclude it from a +sober appreciation of the fairness of the face. + +Critically, moreover, her admission of great poppy-heads into her garden +was objected to. She would squander her care on poppies, and she had +been heard to say that, while she lived, her children should be fully +fed. The encouragement of flaunting weeds in a decent garden was +indicative of a moral twist that the expressed resolution to supply +her table with plentiful nourishment, no matter whence it came, or how +provided, sufficiently confirmed. The reason with which she was stated +to have fortified her stern resolve was of the irritating order, right +in the abstract, and utterly unprincipled in the application. She said, +`Good bread, and good beef, and enough of both, make good blood; and +my children shall be stout.' This is such a thing as maybe announced +by foreign princesses and rulers over serfs; but English Wrexby, +in cogitative mood, demanded an equivalent for its beef and divers +economies consumed by the hungry children of the authoritative woman. +Practically it was obedient, for it had got the habit of supplying her. +Though payment was long in arrear, the arrears were not treated as lost +ones by Mrs. Fleming, who, without knowing it, possessed one main +secret for mastering the custodians of credit. She had a considerate +remembrance and regard for the most distant of her debts, so that she +seemed to be only always a little late, and exceptionally wrongheaded +in theory. Wrexby, therefore, acquiesced in helping to build up her +children to stoutness, and but for the blindness of all people, save +artists, poets, novelists, to the grandeur of their own creations, the +inhabitants of this Kentish village might have had an enjoyable pride +in the beauty and robust grace of the young girls,--fair-haired, +black-haired girls, a kindred contrast, like fire and smoke, to look +upon. In stature, in bearing, and in expression, they were, if I may +adopt the eloquent modern manner of eulogy, strikingly above their +class. They carried erect shoulders, like creatures not ashamed of +showing a merely animal pride, which is never quite apart from the pride +of developed beauty. They were as upright as Oriental girls, whose heads +are nobly poised from carrying the pitcher to the well. Dark Rhoda might +have passed for Rachel, and Dahlia called her Rachel. They tossed one +another their mutual compliments, drawn from the chief book of their +reading. Queen of Sheba was Dahlia's title. No master of callisthenics +could have set them up better than their mother's receipt for making +good blood, combined with a certain harmony of their systems, had done; +nor could a schoolmistress have taught them correcter speaking. The +characteristic of girls having a disposition to rise, is to be cravingly +mimetic; and they remembered, and crooned over, till by degrees they +adopted the phrases and manner of speech of highly grammatical +people, such as the rector and his lady, and of people in story-books, +especially of the courtly French fairy-books, wherein the princes talk +in periods as sweetly rounded as are their silken calves; nothing less +than angelically, so as to be a model to ordinary men. + +The idea of love upon the lips of ordinary men, provoked Dahlia's irony; +and the youths of Wrexby and Fenhurst had no chance against her secret +Prince Florizels. Them she endowed with no pastoral qualities; on the +contrary, she conceived that such pure young gentlemen were only to +be seen, and perhaps met, in the great and mystic City of London. +Naturally, the girls dreamed of London. To educate themselves, they +copied out whole pages of a book called the `Field of Mars,' which was +next to the family Bible in size among the volumes of the farmer's small +library. The deeds of the heroes of this book, and the talk of the fairy +princes, were assimilated in their minds; and as they looked around them +upon millers', farmers', maltsters', and tradesmen's sons, the thought +of what manner of youth would propose to marry them became a precocious +tribulation. Rhoda, at the age of fifteen, was distracted by it, owing +to her sister's habit of masking her own dismal internal forebodings +on the subject, under the guise of a settled anxiety concerning her sad +chance. + +In dress, the wife of the rector of Wrexby was their model. There came +once to Squire Blancove's unoccupied pew a dazzling vision of a fair +lady. They heard that she was a cousin of his third wife, and a widow, +Mrs. Lovell by name. They looked at her all through the service, and +the lady certainly looked at them in return; nor could they, with any +distinctness, imagine why, but the look dwelt long in their hearts, and +often afterward, when Dahlia, upon taking her seat in church, shut +her eyes, according to custom, she strove to conjure up the image of +herself, as she had appeared to the beautiful woman in the dress of +grey-shot silk, with violet mantle and green bonnet, rose-trimmed; and +the picture she conceived was the one she knew herself by, for many +ensuing years. + +Mrs. Fleming fought her battle with a heart worthy of her countrywomen, +and with as much success as the burden of a despondent husband would +allow to her. William John Fleming was simply a poor farmer, for whom +the wheels of the world went too fast:--a big man, appearing to be +difficult to kill, though deeply smitten. His cheeks bloomed in spite +of lines and stains, and his large, quietly dilated, brown ox-eyes, that +never gave out a meaning, seldom showed as if they had taken one from +what they saw. Until his wife was lost to him, he believed that he had a +mighty grievance against her; but as he was not wordy, and was by nature +kind, it was her comfort to die and not to know it. This grievance was +rooted in the idea that she was ruinously extravagant. The sight of the +plentiful table was sore to him; the hungry mouths, though he grudged +to his offspring nothing that he could pay for, were an afflicting +prospect. "Plump 'em up, and make 'em dainty," he advanced in +contravention of his wife's talk of bread and beef. + +But he did not complain. If it came to an argument, the farmer sidled +into a secure corner of prophecy, and bade his wife to see what would +come of having dainty children. He could not deny that bread and beef +made blood, and were cheaper than the port-wine which doctors were +in the habit of ordering for this and that delicate person in +the neighbourhood; so he was compelled to have recourse to secret +discontent. The attention, the time, and the trifles of money shed upon +the flower garden, were hardships easier to bear. He liked flowers, +and he liked to hear the praise of his wife's horticultural skill. The +garden was a distinguishing thing to the farm, and when on a Sunday he +walked home from church among full June roses, he felt the odour of them +to be so like his imagined sensations of prosperity, that the deception +was worth its cost. Yet the garden in its bloom revived a cruel blow. +His wife had once wounded his vanity. The massed vanity of a silent man, +when it does take a wound, desires a giant's vengeance; but as one can +scarcely seek to enjoy that monstrous gratification when one's wife is +the offender, the farmer escaped from his dilemma by going apart into a +turnip-field, and swearing, with his fist outstretched, never to forget +it. His wife had asked him, seeing that the garden flourished and the +farm decayed, to yield the labour of the farm to the garden; in fact, to +turn nurseryman under his wife's direction. The woman could not see +that her garden drained the farm already, distracted the farm, and most +evidently impoverished him. She could not understand, that in permitting +her, while he sweated fruitlessly, to give herself up to the occupation +of a lady, he had followed the promptings of his native kindness, and +certainly not of his native wisdom. That she should deem herself `best +man' of the two, and suggest his stamping his name to such an opinion +before the world, was an outrage. + +Mrs. Fleming was failing in health. On that plea, with the solemnity +suited to the autumn of her allotted days, she persuaded her husband to +advertise for an assistant, who would pay a small sum of money to learn +sound farming, and hear arguments in favour of the Corn Laws. To please +her, he threw seven shillings away upon an advertisement, and laughed +when the advertisement was answered, remarking that he doubted much +whether good would come of dealings with strangers. A young man, calling +himself Robert Armstrong, underwent a presentation to the family. He +paid the stipulated sum, and was soon enrolled as one of them. He was of +a guardsman's height and a cricketer's suppleness, a drinker of water, +and apparently the victim of a dislike of his species; for he spoke of +the great night-lighted city with a horror that did not seem to be an +estimable point in him, as judged by a pair of damsels for whom the +mysterious metropolis flew with fiery fringes through dark space, in +their dreams. + +In other respects, the stranger was well thought of, as being handsome +and sedate. He talked fondly of one friend that he had, an officer in +the army, which was considered pardonably vain. He did not reach to the +ideal of his sex which had been formed by the sisters; but Mrs. Fleming, +trusting to her divination of his sex's character, whispered a mother's +word about him to her husband a little while before her death. + +It was her prayer to heaven that she might save a doctor's bill. She +died, without lingering illness, in her own beloved month of June; the +roses of her tending at the open window, and a soft breath floating up +to her from the garden. On the foregoing May-day, she had sat on the +green that fronted the iron gateway, when Dahlia and Rhoda dressed the +children of the village in garlands, and crowned the fairest little one +queen of May: a sight that revived in Mrs. Fleming's recollection the +time of her own eldest and fairest taking homage, shy in her white smock +and light thick curls. The gathering was large, and the day was of +the old nature of May, before tyrannous Eastwinds had captured it and +spoiled its consecration. The mill-stream of the neighbouring mill ran +blue among the broad green pastures; the air smelt of cream-bowls +and wheaten loaves; the firs on the beacon-ridge, far southward, over +Fenhurst and Helm villages, were transported nearer to see the show, +and stood like friends anxious to renew acquaintance. Dahlia and Rhoda +taught the children to perceive how they resembled bent old beggar-men. +The two stone-pines in the miller's grounds were likened by them to Adam +and Eve turning away from the blaze of Paradise; and the saying of +one receptive child, that they had nothing but hair on, made the +illustration undying both to Dahlia and Rhoda. + +The magic of the weather brought numerous butterflies afield, and one +fiddler, to whose tuning the little women danced; others closer upon +womanhood would have danced likewise, if the sisters had taken partners; +but Dahlia was restrained by the sudden consciousness that she was under +the immediate observation of two manifestly London gentlemen, and she +declined to be led forth by Robert Armstrong. The intruders were youths +of good countenance, known to be the son and the nephew of Squire +Blancove of Wrexby Hall. They remained for some time watching the scene, +and destroyed Dahlia's single-mindedness. Like many days of gaiety, the +Gods consenting, this one had its human shadow. There appeared on +the borders of the festivity a young woman, the daughter of a Wrexby +cottager, who had left her home and but lately returned to it, with a +spotted name. No one addressed her, and she stood humbly apart. Dahlia, +seeing that every one moved away from her, whispering with satisfied +noddings, wished to draw her in among the groups. She mentioned the name +of Mary Burt to her father, supposing that so kind a man would not fail +to sanction her going up to the neglected young woman. To her surprise, +her father became violently enraged, and uttered a stern prohibition, +speaking a word that stained her cheeks. Rhoda was by her side, and she +wilfully, without asking leave, went straight over to Mary, and stood +with her under the shadow of the Adam and Eve, until the farmer sent a +messenger to say that he was about to enter the house. Her punishment +for the act of sinfulness was a week of severe silence; and the farmer +would have kept her to it longer, but for her mother's ominously growing +weakness. The sisters were strangely overclouded by this incident. They +could not fathom the meaning of their father's unkindness, coarseness, +and indignation. Why, and why? they asked one another, blankly. The +Scriptures were harsh in one part, but was the teaching to continue so +after the Atonement? By degrees they came to reflect, and not in a mild +spirit, that the kindest of men can be cruel, and will forget their +Christianity toward offending and repentant women. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Mrs. Fleming had a brother in London, who had run away from his Kentish +home when a small boy, and found refuge at a Bank. The position of +Anthony Hackbut in that celebrated establishment, and the degree of +influence exercised by him there, were things unknown; but he had stuck +to the Bank for a great number of years, and he had once confessed to +his sister that he was not a beggar. Upon these joint facts the farmer +speculated, deducing from them that a man in a London Bank, holding +money of his own, must have learnt the ways of turning it over--farming +golden ground, as it were; consequently, that amount must now have +increased to a very considerable sum. You ask, What amount? But one who +sits brooding upon a pair of facts for years, with the imperturbable +gravity of creation upon chaos, will be as successful in evoking the +concrete from the abstract. The farmer saw round figures among +the possessions of the family, and he assisted mentally in this +money-turning of Anthony's, counted his gains for him, disposed his +risks, and eyed the pile of visionary gold with an interest so +remote, that he was almost correct in calling it disinterested. The +brothers-in-law had a mutual plea of expense that kept them separate. +When Anthony refused, on petition, to advance one hundred pounds to the +farmer, there was ill blood to divide them. Queen Anne's Farm missed the +flourishing point by one hundred pounds exactly. With that addition to +its exchequer, it would have made head against its old enemy, Taxation, +and started rejuvenescent. But the Radicals were in power to legislate +and crush agriculture, and "I've got a miser for my brother-in-law," +said the farmer. Alas! the hundred pounds to back him, he could have +sowed what he pleased, and when it pleased him, partially defying the +capricious clouds and their treasures, and playing tunefully upon his +land, his own land. Instead of which, and while too keenly aware that +the one hundred would have made excesses in any direction tributary to +his pocket, the poor man groaned at continuous falls of moisture, and +when rain was prayed for in church, he had to be down on his knees, +praying heartily with the rest of the congregation. It was done, and +bitter reproaches were cast upon Anthony for the enforced necessity to +do it. + +On the occasion of his sister's death, Anthony informed his bereaved +brother-in-law that he could not come down to follow the hearse as a +mourner. "My place is one of great trust;" he said, "and I cannot be +spared." He offered, however, voluntarily to pay half the expenses of +the funeral, stating the limit of the cost. It is unfair to sound any +man's springs of action critically while he is being tried by a sorrow; +and the farmer's angry rejection of Anthony's offer of aid must pass. He +remarked in his letter of reply, that his wife's funeral should cost no +less than he chose to expend on it. He breathed indignant fumes against +"interferences." He desired Anthony to know that he also was "not a +beggar," and that he would not be treated as one. The letter showed a +solid yeoman's fist. Farmer Fleming told his chums, and the shopkeeper +of Wrexby, with whom he came into converse, that he would honour his +dead wife up to his last penny. Some month or so afterward it was +generally conjectured that he had kept his word. + +Anthony's rejoinder was characterized by a marked humility. He expressed +contrition for the farmer's misunderstanding of his motives. His +fathomless conscience had plainly been reached. He wrote again, without +waiting for an answer, speaking of the Funds indeed, but only to +pronounce them worldly things, and hoping that they all might meet in +heaven, where brotherly love, as well as money, was ready made, and +not always in the next street. A hint occurred that it would be a +gratification to him to be invited down, whether he could come or no; +for holidays were expensive, and journeys by rail had to be thought over +before they were undertaken; and when you are away from your post, you +never knew who maybe supplanting you. He did not promise that he could +come, but frankly stated his susceptibility to the friendliness of an +invitation. The feeling indulged by Farmer Fleming in refusing to +notice Anthony's advance toward a reconciliation, was, on the whole, +not creditable to him. Spite is more often fattened than propitiated by +penitence. He may have thought besides (policy not being always a vacant +space in revengeful acts) that Anthony was capable of something stronger +and warmer, now that his humanity had been aroused. The speculation is +commonly perilous; but Farmer Fleming had the desperation of a man who +has run slightly into debt, and has heard the first din of dunning, +which to the unaccustomed imagination is fearful as bankruptcy (shorn +of the horror of the word). And, moreover, it was so wonderful to find +Anthony displaying humanity at all, that anything might be expected of +him. "Let's see what he will do," thought the farmer in an interval +of his wrath; and the wrath is very new which has none of these cool +intervals. The passions, do but watch them, are all more or less +intermittent. + +As it chanced, he acted sagaciously, for Anthony at last wrote to say +that his home in London was cheerless, and that he intended to move +into fresh and airier lodgings, where the presence of a discreet young +housekeeper, who might wish to see London, and make acquaintance with +the world, would be agreeable to him. His project was that one of his +nieces should fill this office, and he requested his brother-in-law to +reflect on it, and to think of him as of a friend of the family, now +and in the time to come. Anthony spoke of the seductions of London quite +unctuously. Who could imagine this to be the letter of an old +crabbed miser? "Tell her," he said, "there's fruit at stalls at +every street-corner all the year through--oysters and whelks, if she +likes--winkles, lots of pictures in shops--a sight of muslin and silks, +and rides on omnibuses--bands of all sorts, and now and then we can take +a walk to see the military on horseback, if she's for soldiers." +Indeed, he joked quite comically in speaking of the famous +horse-guards--warriors who sit on their horses to be looked at, and do +not mind it, because they are trained so thoroughly. "Horse-guards blue, +and horse-guards red," he wrote--"the blue only want boiling." There is +reason to suppose that his disrespectful joke was not original in him, +but it displayed his character in a fresh light. Of course, if either +of the girls was to go, Dahlia was the person. The farmer commenced +his usual process of sitting upon the idea. That it would be policy +to attach one of the family to this chirping old miser, he thought +incontestable. On the other hand, he had a dread of London, and Dahlia +was surpassingly fair. He put the case to Robert, in remembrance of what +his wife had spoken, hoping that Robert would amorously stop his painful +efforts to think fast enough for the occasion. Robert, however, had +nothing to say, and seemed willing to let Dahlia depart. The only +opponents to the plan were Mrs. Sumfit, a kindly, humble relative of the +farmer's, widowed out of Sussex, very loving and fat; the cook to the +household, whose waist was dimly indicated by her apron-string; and, to +aid her outcries, the silently-protesting Master Gammon, an old man with +the cast of eye of an antediluvian lizard, the slowest old man of his +time--a sort of foreman of the farm before Robert had come to take +matters in hand, and thrust both him and his master into the background. +Master Gammon remarked emphatically, once and for all, that "he never +had much opinion of London." As he had never visited London, his opinion +was considered the less weighty, but, as he advanced no further speech, +the sins and backslidings of the metropolis were strongly brought to +mind by his condemnatory utterance. Policy and Dahlia's entreaties at +last prevailed with the farmer, and so the fair girl went up to the +great city. + +After months of a division that was like the division of her living +veins, and when the comfort of letters was getting cold, Rhoda, having +previously pledged herself to secresy, though she could not guess why +it was commanded, received a miniature portrait of Dahlia, so beautiful +that her envy of London for holding her sister away from her, melted +in gratitude. She had permission to keep the portrait a week; it was +impossible to forbear from showing it to Mrs. Sumfit, who peeped in awe, +and that emotion subsiding, shed tears abundantly. Why it was to be kept +secret, they failed to inquire; the mystery was possibly not without +its delights to them. Tears were shed again when the portrait had to +be packed up and despatched. Rhoda lived on abashed by the adorable new +refinement of Dahlia's features, and her heart yearned to her uncle for +so caring to decorate the lovely face. + +One day Rhoda was at her bed-room window, on the point of descending to +encounter the daily dumpling, which was the principal and the unvarying +item of the midday meal of the house, when she beheld a stranger trying +to turn the handle of the iron gate. Her heart thumped. She divined +correctly that it was her uncle. Dahlia had now been absent for very +many months, and Rhoda's growing fretfulness sprang the conviction in +her mind that something closer than letters must soon be coming. She +ran downstairs, and along the gravel-path. He was a little man, +square-built, and looking as if he had worn to toughness; with an +evident Sunday suit on: black, and black gloves, though the day was only +antecedent to Sunday. + +"Let me help you, sir," she said, and her hands came in contact with +his, and were squeezed. + +"How is my sister?" She had no longer any fear in asking. + +"Now, you let me through, first," he replied, imitating an arbitrary +juvenile. "You're as tight locked in as if you was in dread of all +the thieves of London. You ain't afraid o' me, miss? I'm not the party +generally outside of a fortification; I ain't, I can assure you. I'm a +defence party, and a reg'lar lion when I've got the law backing me." + +He spoke in a queer, wheezy voice, like a cracked flute, combined with +the effect of an ill-resined fiddle-bow. + +"You are in the garden of Queen Anne's Farm," said Rhoda. + +"And you're my pretty little niece, are you? 'the darkie lass,' as your +father says. 'Little,' says I; why, you needn't be ashamed to stand +beside a grenadier. Trust the country for growing fine gals." + +"You are my uncle, then?" said Rhoda. "Tell me how my sister is. Is she +well? Is she quite happy?" + +"Dahly?" returned old Anthony, slowly. + +"Yes, yes; my sister!" Rhoda looked at him with distressful eagerness. + +"Now, don't you be uneasy about your sister Dahly." Old Anthony, as he +spoke, fixed his small brown eyes on the girl, and seemed immediately to +have departed far away in speculation. A question recalled him. + +"Is her health good?" + +"Ay; stomach's good, head's good, lungs, brain, what not, all good. +She's a bit giddy, that's all." + +"In her head?" + +"Ay; and on her pins. Never you mind. You look a steady one, my dear. I +shall take to you, I think." + +"But my sister--" Rhoda was saying, when the farmer came out, and sent a +greeting from the threshold,-- + +"Brother Tony!" + +"Here he is, brother William John." + +"Surely, and so he is, at last." The farmer walked up to him with his +hand out. + +"And it ain't too late, I hope. Eh?" + +"It's never too late--to mend," said the farmer. + +"Eh? not my manners, eh?" Anthony struggled to keep up the ball; and in +this way they got over the confusion of the meeting after many years and +some differences. + +"Made acquaintance with Rhoda, I see," said the farmer, as they turned +to go in. + +"The 'darkie lass' you write of. She's like a coal nigh a candle. She +looks, as you'd say, 't' other side of her sister.' Yes, we've had a +talk." + +"Just in time for dinner, brother Tony. We ain't got much to offer, but +what there is, is at your service. Step aside with me." + +The farmer got Anthony out of hearing a moment, questioned, and was +answered: after which he looked less anxious, but a trifle perplexed, +and nodded his head as Anthony occasionally lifted his, to enforce +certain points in some halting explanation. You would have said that a +debtor was humbly putting his case in his creditor's ear, and could only +now and then summon courage to meet the censorious eyes. They went in to +Mrs. Sumfit's shout that the dumplings were out of the pot: old Anthony +bowed upon the announcement of his name, and all took seats. But it was +not the same sort of dinner-hour as that which the inhabitants of the +house were accustomed to; there was conversation. + +The farmer asked Anthony by what conveyance he had come. Anthony shyly, +but not without evident self-approbation, related how, having come +by the train, he got into conversation with the driver of a fly at a +station, who advised him of a cart that would be passing near Wrexby. +For threepennyworth of beer, he had got a friendly introduction to the +carman, who took him within two miles of the farm for one shilling, a +distance of fifteen miles. That was pretty good! + +"Home pork, brother Tony," said the farmer, approvingly. + +"And home-made bread, too, brother William John," said Anthony, becoming +brisk. + +"Ay, and the beer, such as it is." The farmer drank and sighed. + +Anthony tried the beer, remarking, "That's good beer; it don't cost +much." + +"It ain't adulterated. By what I read of your London beer, this stuff's +not so bad, if you bear in mind it's pure. Pure's my motto. 'Pure, +though poor!'" + +"Up there, you pay for rank poison," said Anthony. "So, what do I do? I +drink water and thank 'em, that's wise." + +"Saves stomach and purse." The farmer put a little stress on 'purse.' + +"Yes, I calculate I save threepence a day in beer alone," said Anthony. + +"Three times seven's twenty-one, ain't it?" + +Mr. Fleming said this, and let out his elbow in a small perplexity, as +Anthony took him up: "And fifty-two times twenty-one?" + +"Well, that's, that's--how much is that, Mas' Gammon?" the farmer asked +in a bellow. + +Master Gammon was laboriously and steadily engaged in tightening himself +with dumpling. He relaxed his exertions sufficiently to take this new +burden on his brain, and immediately cast it off. + +"Ah never thinks when I feeds--Ah was al'ays a bad hand at 'counts. +Gi'es it up." + +"Why, you're like a horse that never was rode! Try again, old man," said +the farmer. + +"If I drags a cart," Master Gammon replied, "that ain't no reason why I +should leap a gate." + +The farmer felt that he was worsted as regarded the illustration, and +with a bit of the boy's fear of the pedagogue, he fought Anthony off by +still pressing the arithmetical problem upon Master Gammon; until the +old man, goaded to exasperation, rolled out thunderingly,-- + +"If I works fer ye, that ain't no reason why I should think fer ye," +which caused him to be left in peace. + +"Eh, Robert?" the farmer transferred the question; "Come! what is it?" + +Robert begged a minute's delay, while Anthony watched him with hawk +eyes. + +"I tell you what it is--it's pounds," said Robert. + +This tickled Anthony, who let him escape, crying: "Capital! Pounds it +is in your pocket, sir, and you hit that neatly, I will say. Let it be +five. You out with your five at interest, compound interest; soon comes +another five; treat it the same: in ten years--eh? and then you get into +figures; you swim in figures!" + +"I should think you did!" said the farmer, winking slyly. + +Anthony caught the smile, hesitated and looked shrewd, and then covered +his confusion by holding his plate to Mrs. Sumfit for a help. The +manifest evasion and mute declaration that dumpling said "mum" on that +head, gave the farmer a quiet glow. + +"When you are ready to tell me all about my darlin', sir," Mrs. Sumfit +suggested, coaxingly. + +"After dinner, mother--after dinner," said the farmer. + +"And we're waitin', are we, till them dumplings is finished?" she +exclaimed, piteously, with a glance at Master Gammon's plate. + +"After dinner we'll have a talk, mother." + +Mrs. Sumfit feared from this delay that there was queer news to be told +of Dahlia's temper; but she longed for the narrative no whit the less, +and again cast a sad eye on the leisurely proceedings of Master Gammon. +The veteran was still calmly tightening. His fork was on end, with a +vast mouthful impaled on the prongs. Master Gammon, a thoughtful eater, +was always last at the meal, and a latent, deep-lying irritation at +Mrs. Sumfit for her fidgetiness, day after day, toward the finish of the +dish, added a relish to his engulfing of the monstrous morsel. He looked +at her steadily, like an ox of the fields, and consumed it, and then +holding his plate out, in a remorseless way, said, "You make 'em so +good, marm." + +Mrs. Sumfit, fretted as she was, was not impervious to the sound sense +of the remark, as well as to the compliment. + +"I don't want to hurry you, Mas' Gammon," she said; "Lord knows, I like +to see you and everybody eat his full and be thankful; but, all about my +Dahly waitin',--I feel pricked wi' a pin all over, I do; and there's my +blessed in London," she answered, "and we knowin' nothin' of her, and +one close by to tell me! I never did feel what slow things dumplin's +was, afore now!" + +The kettle simmered gently on the hob. Every other knife and fork was +silent; so was every tongue. Master Gammon ate and the kettle hummed. +Twice Mrs. Sumfit sounded a despairing, "Oh, deary me!" but it +was useless. No human power had ever yet driven Master Gammon to a +demonstration of haste or to any acceleration of the pace he had chosen +for himself. At last, she was not to be restrained from crying out, +almost tearfully,-- + +"When do you think you'll have done, Mas' Gammon?" + +Thus pointedly addressed, Master Gammon laid down his knife and fork. He +half raised his ponderous, curtaining eyelids, and replied,-- + +"When I feels my buttons, marm." + +After which he deliberately fell to work again. + +Mrs. Sumfit dropped back in her chair as from a blow. + +But even dumplings, though they resist so doggedly for a space, do +ultimately submit to the majestic march of Time, and move. Master Gammon +cleared his plate. There stood in the dish still half a dumpling. The +farmer and Rhoda, deeming that there had been a show of inhospitality, +pressed him to make away with this forlorn remainder. + +The vindictive old man, who was as tight as dumpling and buttons could +make him, refused it in a drooping tone, and went forth, looking at +none. Mrs. Sumfit turned to all parties, and begged them to say what +more, to please Master Gammon, she could have done? When Anthony was +ready to speak of her Dahlia, she obtruded this question in utter +dolefulness. Robert was kindly asked by the farmer to take a pipe among +them. Rhoda put a chair for him, but he thanked them both, and said he +could not neglect some work to be done in the fields. She thought that +he feared pain from hearing Dahlia's name, and followed him with her +eyes commiseratingly. + +"Does that young fellow attend to business?" said Anthony. + +The farmer praised Robert as a rare hand, but one affected with bees in +his nightcap,--who had ideas of his own about farming, and was obstinate +with them; "pays you due respect, but's got a notion as how his way +of thinking's better 'n his seniors. It's the style now with all young +folks. Makes a butt of old Mas' Gammon; laughs at the old man. It ain't +respectful t' age, I say. Gammon don't understand nothing about new +feeds for sheep, and dam nonsense about growing such things as melons, +fiddle-faddle, for 'em. Robert's a beginner. What he knows, I taught +the young fellow. Then, my question is, where's his ideas come from, if +they're contrary to mine? If they're contrary to mine, they're contrary +to my teaching. Well, then, what are they worth? He can't see that. He's +a good one at work--I'll say so much for him." + +Old Anthony gave Rhoda a pat on the shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"Pipes in the middle of the day's regular revelry," ejaculated Anthony, +whose way of holding the curved pipe-stem displayed a mind bent on +reckless enjoyment, and said as much as a label issuing from his +mouth, like a figure in a comic woodcut of the old style:--"that's," he +pursued, "that's if you haven't got to look up at the clock every two +minutes, as if the devil was after you. But, sitting here, you know, the +afternoon's a long evening; nobody's your master. You can on wi' your +slippers, up wi' your legs, talk, or go for'ard, counting, twicing, and +three-timesing; by George! I should take to drinking beer if I had my +afternoons to myself in the city, just for the sake of sitting and doing +sums in a tap-room; if it's a big tap-room, with pew sort o' places, and +dark red curtains, a fire, and a smell of sawdust; ale, and tobacco, and +a boy going by outside whistling a tune of the day. Somebody comes in. +'Ah, there's an idle old chap,' he says to himself, (meaning me), and +where, I should like to ask him, 'd his head be if he sat there dividing +two hundred and fifty thousand by forty-five and a half!" + +The farmer nodded encouragingly. He thought it not improbable that +a short operation with these numbers would give the sum in Anthony's +possession, the exact calculation of his secret hoard, and he set to +work to stamp them on his brain, which rendered him absent in manner, +while Mrs. Sumfit mixed liquor with hot water, and pushed at his +knee, doubling in her enduring lips, and lengthening her eyes to aim a +side-glance of reprehension at Anthony's wandering loquacity. + +Rhoda could bear it no more. + +"Now let me hear of my sister, uncle," she said. + +"I'll tell you what," Anthony responded, "she hasn't got such a pretty +sort of a sweet blackbirdy voice as you've got." + +The girl blushed scarlet. + +"Oh, she can mount them colours, too," said Anthony. + +His way of speaking of Dahlia indicated that he and she had enough of +one another; but of the peculiar object of his extraordinary visit not +even the farmer had received a hint. Mrs. Sumfit ventured to think aloud +that his grog was not stiff enough, but he took a gulp under her eyes, +and smacked his lips after it in a most convincing manner. + +"Ah! that stuff wouldn't do for me in London, half-holiday or no +half-holiday," said Anthony. + +"Why not?" the farmer asked. + +"I should be speculating--deep--couldn't hold myself in: Mexicans, +Peroovians, Venzeshoolians, Spaniards, at 'em I should go. I see +bonds in all sorts of colours, Spaniards in black and white, +Peruvians--orange, Mexicans--red as the British army. Well, it's just my +whim. If I like red, I go at red. I ain't a bit of reason. What's more, +I never speculate." + +"Why, that's safest, brother Tony," said the farmer. + +"And safe's my game--always was, always will be! Do you think"--Anthony +sucked his grog to the sugar-dregs, till the spoon settled on his +nose--"do you think I should hold the position I do hold, be trusted as +I am trusted? Ah! you don't know much about that. Should I have money +placed in my hands, do you think--and it's thousands at a time, +gold, and notes, and cheques--if I was a risky chap? I'm known to be +thoroughly respectable. Five and forty years I've been in Boyne's Bank, +and thank ye, ma'am, grog don't do no harm down here. And I will take +another glass. 'When the heart of a man!'--but I'm no singer." + +Mrs. Sumfit simpered, "Hem; it's the heart of a woman, too: and she have +one, and it's dying to hear of her darlin' blessed in town, and of who +cuts her hair, and where she gets her gownds, and whose pills--" + +The farmer interrupted her irritably. + +"Divide a couple o' hundred thousand and more by forty-five and a half," +he said. "Do wait, mother; all in good time. Forty-five and a-half, +brother Tony; that was your sum--ah!--you mentioned it some time +back--half of what? Is that half a fraction, as they call it? I haven't +forgot fractions, and logareems, and practice, and so on to algebrae, +where it always seems to me to blow hard, for, whizz goes my head in a +jiffy, as soon as I've mounted the ladder to look into that country. +How 'bout that forty-five and a half, brother Tony, if you don't mind +condescending to explain?" + +"Forty-five and a half?" muttered Anthony, mystified. + +"Oh, never mind, you know, if you don't like to say, brother Tony." The +farmer touched him up with his pipe-stem. + +"Five and a half," Anthony speculated. "That's a fraction you got hold +of, brother William John,--I remember the parson calling out those names +at your wedding: 'I, William John, take thee, Susan;' yes, that's a +fraction, but what's the good of it?" + +"What I mean is, it ain't forty-five and half of forty-five. Half of +one, eh? That's identical with a fraction. One--a stroke--and two under +it." + +"You've got it correct," Anthony assented. + +"How many thousand divide it by?" + +"Divide what by, brother William John? I'm beat." + +"Ah! out comes the keys: lockup everything; it's time!" the farmer +laughed, rather proud of his brother-in-law's perfect wakefulness after +two stiff tumblers. He saw that Anthony was determined with all due +friendly feeling to let no one know the sum in his possession. + +"If it's four o'clock, it is time to lock up," said Anthony, "and bang +to go the doors, and there's the money for thieves to dream of--they +can't get a-nigh it, let them dream as they like. What's the hour, +ma'am?" + +"Not three, it ain't," returned Mrs. Sumfit; "and do be good creatures, +and begin about my Dahly, and where she got that Bumptious gownd, and +the bonnet with blue flowers lyin' by on the table: now, do!" + +Rhoda coughed. + +"And she wears lavender gloves like a lady," Mrs. Sumfit was continuing. + +Rhoda stamped on her foot. + +"Oh! cruel!" the comfortable old woman snapped in pain, as she applied +her hand to the inconsolable fat foot, and nursed it. "What's roused ye, +you tiger girl? I shan't be able to get about, I shan't, and then who's +to cook for ye all? For you're as ignorant as a raw kitchen wench, and +knows nothing." + +"Come, Dody, you're careless," the farmer spoke chidingly through Mrs. +Sumfit's lamentations. + +"She stops uncle Anthony when he's just ready, father," said Rhoda. + +"Do you want to know?" Anthony set his small eyes on her: "do you want +to know, my dear?" He paused, fingering his glass, and went on: "I, +Susan, take thee, William John, and you've come of it. Says I to myself, +when I hung sheepish by your mother and by your father, my dear, says +I to myself, I ain't a marrying man: and if these two, says I, if any +progeny comes to 'em--to bless them, some people'd say, but I know what +life is, and what young ones are--if--where was I? Liquor makes you +talk, brother William John, but where's your ideas? Gone, like hard +cash! What I meant was, I felt I might some day come for'ard and help +the issue of your wife's weddin', and wasn't such a shady object among +you, after all. My pipe's out." + +Rhoda stood up, and filled the pipe, and lit it in silence. She divined +that the old man must be allowed to run on in his own way, and for a +long time he rambled, gave a picture of the wedding, and of a robbery of +Boyne's Bank: the firm of Boyne, Burt, Hamble, and Company. At last, he +touched on Dahlia. + +"What she wants, I can't make out," he said; "and what that good lady +there, or somebody, made mention of--how she manages to dress as she +do! I can understand a little goin' a great way, if you're clever in +any way; but I'm at my tea"--Anthony laid his hand out as to exhibit a +picture. "I ain't a complaining man, and be young, if you can, I say, +and walk about and look at shops; but, I'm at my tea: I come home rather +tired there's the tea-things, sure enough, and tea's made, and, maybe, +there's a shrimp or two; she attends to your creature comforts. When +everything's locked up and tight and right, I'm gay, and ask for a bit +of society: well, I'm at my tea: I hear her foot thumping up and down +her bed-room overhead: I know the meaning of that: I'd rather hear +nothing: down she runs: I'm at my tea, and in she bursts."--Here +followed a dramatic account of Dahlia's manner of provocation, which was +closed by the extinction of his pipe. + +The farmer, while his mind still hung about thousands of pounds and +a certain incomprehensible division of them to produce a distinct +intelligible total, and set before him the sum of Anthony's riches, +could see that his elder daughter was behaving flightily and neglecting +the true interests of the family, and he was chagrined. But Anthony, +before he entered the house, had assured him that Dahlia was well, and +that nothing was wrong with her. So he looked at Mrs. Sumfit, who +now took upon herself to plead for Dahlia: a young thing, and such a +handsome creature! and we were all young some time or other; and would +heaven have mercy on us, if we were hard upon the young, do you think? +The motto of a truly religious man said, try 'em again. And, maybe, +people had been a little hard upon Dahlia, and the girl was apt to +take offence. In conclusion, she appealed to Rhoda to speak up for her +sister. Rhoda sat in quiet reserve. + +She was sure her sister must be justified in all she did but the picture +of the old man coming from his work every night to take his tea quite +alone made her sad. She found herself unable to speak, and as she did +not, Mrs. Sumfit had an acute twinge from her recently trodden foot, +and called her some bitter names; which was not an unusual case, for +the kind old woman could be querulous, and belonged to the list of those +whose hearts are as scales, so that they love not one person devotedly +without a corresponding spirit of opposition to another. Rhoda merely +smiled. + +By-and-by, the women left the two men alone. + +Anthony turned and struck the farmer's knee. + +"You've got a jewel in that gal, brother William John." + +"Eh! she's a good enough lass. Not much of a manager, brother Tony. Too +much of a thinker, I reckon. She's got a temper of her own too. I'm a +bit hurt, brother Tony, about that other girl. She must leave London, if +she don't alter. It's flightiness; that's all. You mustn't think ill of +poor Dahly. She was always the pretty one, and when they know it, they +act up to it: she was her mother's favourite." + +"Ah! poor Susan! an upright woman before the Lord." + +"She was," said the farmer, bowing his head. + +"And a good wife," Anthony interjected. + +"None better--never a better; and I wish she was living to look after +her girls." + +"I came through the churchyard, hard by," said Anthony; "and I read that +writing on her tombstone. It went like a choke in my throat. The first +person I saw next was her child, this young gal you call Rhoda; and, +thinks I to myself, you might ask me, I'd do anything for ye--that I +could, of course." + +The farmer's eye had lit up, but became overshadowed by the +characteristic reservation. + +"Nobody'd ask you to do more than you could," he remarked, rather +coldly. + +"It'll never be much," sighed Anthony. + +"Well, the world's nothing, if you come to look at it close," the farmer +adopted a similar tone. + +"What's money!" said Anthony. + +The farmer immediately resumed his this-worldliness: + +"Well, it's fine to go about asking us poor devils to answer ye that," +he said, and chuckled, conceiving that he had nailed Anthony down to a +partial confession of his ownership of some worldly goods. + +"What do you call having money?" observed the latter, clearly in the +trap. "Fifty thousand?" + +"Whew!" went the farmer, as at a big draught of powerful stuff. + +"Ten thousand?" + +Mr. Fleming took this second gulp almost contemptuously, but still +kindly. + +"Come," quoth Anthony, "ten thousand's not so mean, you know. You're a +gentleman on ten thousand. So, on five. I'll tell ye, many a gentleman'd +be glad to own it. Lor' bless you! But, you know nothing of the world, +brother William John. Some of 'em haven't one--ain't so rich as you!" + +"Or you, brother Tony?" The farmer made a grasp at his will-o'-the-wisp. + +"Oh! me!" Anthony sniggered. "I'm a scraper of odds and ends. I pick up +things in the gutter. Mind you, those Jews ain't such fools, though +a curse is on 'em, to wander forth. They know the meaning of the +multiplication table. They can turn fractions into whole numbers. No; +I'm not to be compared to gentlemen. My property's my respectability. I +said that at the beginning, and I say it now. But, I'll tell you what, +brother William John, it's an emotion when you've got bags of thousands +of pounds in your arms." + +Ordinarily, the farmer was a sensible man, as straight on the level of +dull intelligence as other men; but so credulous was he in regard to the +riches possessed by his wife's brother, that a very little tempted +him to childish exaggeration of the probable amount. Now that Anthony +himself furnished the incitement, he was quite lifted from the earth. +He had, besides, taken more of the strong mixture than he was ever +accustomed to take in the middle of the day; and as it seemed to him +that Anthony was really about to be seduced into a particular statement +of the extent of the property which formed his respectability (as +Anthony had chosen to put it), he got up a little game in his head +by guessing how much the amount might positively be, so that he could +subsequently compare his shrewd reckoning with the avowed fact. He tamed +his wild ideas as much as possible; thought over what his wife used to +say of Anthony's saving ways from boyhood, thought of the dark hints of +the Funds, of many bold strokes for money made by sagacious persons; of +Anthony's close style of living, and of the lives of celebrated misers; +this done, he resolved to make a sure guess, and therefore aimed below +the mark. + +Money, when the imagination deals with it thus, has no substantial +relation to mortal affairs. It is a tricksy thing, distending and +contracting as it dances in the mind, like sunlight on the ceiling cast +from a morning tea-cup, if a forced simile will aid the conception. The +farmer struck on thirty thousand and some odd hundred pounds--outlying +debts, or so, excluded--as what Anthony's will, in all likelihood, would +be sworn under: say, thirty thousand, or, safer, say, twenty thousand. +Bequeathed--how? To him and to his children. But to the children in +reversion after his decease? Or how? In any case, they might make +capital marriages; and the farm estate should go to whichever of the two +young husbands he liked the best. Farmer Fleming asked not for any life +of ease and splendour, though thirty thousand pounds was a fortune; or +even twenty thousand. Noblemen have stooped to marry heiresses owning +no more than that! The idea of their having done so actually shot +across him, and his heart sent up a warm spring of tenderness toward the +patient, good, grubbing old fellow, sitting beside him, who had lived +and died to enrich and elevate the family. At the same time, he could +not refrain from thinking that Anthony, broad-shouldered as he was, +though bent, sound on his legs, and well-coloured for a Londoner, +would be accepted by any Life Insurance office, at a moderate rate, +considering his age. The farmer thought of his own health, and it was +with a pang that he fancied himself being probed by the civil-speaking +Life Insurance doctor (a gentleman who seems to issue upon us applicants +from out the muffled folding doors of Hades; taps us on the chest, once, +twice, and forthwith writes down our fateful dates). Probably, Anthony +would not have to pay a higher rate of interest than he. + +"Are you insured, brother Tony?" the question escaped him. + +"No, I ain't, brother William John;" Anthony went on nodding like an +automaton set in motion. "There's two sides to that. I'm a long-lived +man. Long-lived men don't insure; that is, unless they're fools. That's +how the Offices thrive." + +"Case of accident?" the farmer suggested. + +"Oh! nothing happens to me," replied Anthony. + +The farmer jumped on his legs, and yawned. + +"Shall we take a turn in the garden, brother Tony?" + +"With all my heart, brother William John." + +The farmer had conscience to be ashamed of the fit of irritable vexation +which had seized on him; and it was not till Anthony being asked the +date of his birth, had declared himself twelve years his senior, that +the farmer felt his speculations to be justified. Anthony was nearly +a generation ahead. They walked about, and were seen from the windows +touching one another on the shoulder in a brotherly way. When they came +back to the women, and tea, the farmer's mind was cooler, and all his +reckonings had gone to mist. He was dejected over his tea. + +"What is the matter, father?" said Rhoda. + +"I'll tell you, my dear," Anthony replied for him. "He's envying me some +one I want to ask me that question when I'm at my tea in London." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Mr. Fleming kept his forehead from his daughter's good-night kiss +until the room was cleared, after supper, and then embracing her very +heartily, he informed her that her uncle had offered to pay her expenses +on a visit to London, by which he contrived to hint that a golden path +had opened to his girl, and at the same time entreated her to think +nothing of it; to dismiss all expectations and dreams of impossible sums +from her mind, and simply to endeavour to please her uncle, who had a +right to his own, and a right to do what he liked with his own, though +it were forty, fifty times as much as he possessed--and what that might +amount to no one knew. In fact, as is the way with many experienced +persons, in his attempt to give advice to another, he was very +impressive in lecturing himself, and warned that other not to succumb +to a temptation principally by indicating the natural basis of the +allurement. Happily for young and for old, the intense insight of the +young has much to distract or soften it. Rhoda thanked her father, and +chose to think that she had listened to good and wise things. + +"Your sister," he said--"but we won't speak of her. If I could part with +you, my lass, I'd rather she was the one to come back." + +"Dahlia would be killed by our quiet life now," said Rhoda. + +"Ay," the farmer mused. "If she'd got to pay six men every Saturday +night, she wouldn't complain o' the quiet. But, there--you neither of +you ever took to farming or to housekeeping; but any gentleman might be +proud to have one of you for a wife. I said so when you was girls. And +if, you've been dull, my dear, what's the good o' society? Tea-cakes +mayn't seem to cost money, nor a glass o' grog to neighbours; but once +open the door to that sort o' thing and your reckoning goes. And what I +said to your poor mother's true. I said: Our girls, they're mayhap not +equals of the Hollands, the Nashaws, the Perrets, and the others about +here--no; they're not equals, because the others are not equals o' them, +maybe." + +The yeoman's pride struggled out in this obscure way to vindicate his +unneighbourliness and the seclusion of his daughters from the society +of girls of their age and condition; nor was it hard for Rhoda to assure +him, as she earnestly did, that he had acted rightly. + +Rhoda, assisted by Mrs. Sumfit, was late in the night looking up what +poor decorations she possessed wherewith to enter London, and be worthy +of her sister's embrace, so that she might not shock the lady Dahlia had +become. + +"Depend you on it, my dear," said Mrs. Sumfit, "my Dahly's grown above +him. That's nettles to your uncle, my dear. He can't abide it. Don't +you see he can't? Some men's like that. Others 'd see you dressed like a +princess, and not be satisfied. They vary so, the teasin' creatures! But +one and all, whether they likes it or not, owns a woman's the better for +bein' dressed in the fashion. What do grieve me to my insidest heart, it +is your bonnet. What a bonnet that was lying beside her dear round arm +in the po'trait, and her finger up making a dimple in her cheek, as +if she was thinking of us in a sorrowful way. That's the arts o' being +lady-like--look sad-like. How could we get a bonnet for you?" + +"My own must do," said Rhoda. + +"Yes, and you to look like lady and servant-gal a-goin' out for an +airin'; and she to feel it! Pretty, that'd be!" + +"She won't be ashamed of me," Rhoda faltered; and then hummed a little +tune, and said firmly--"It's no use my trying to look like what I'm +not." + +"No, truly;" Mrs. Sumfit assented. "But it's your bein' behind the +fashions what hurt me. As well you might be an old thing like me, +for any pleasant looks you'll git. Now, the country--you're like in a +coalhole for the matter o' that. While London, my dear, its pavement +and gutter, and omnibus traffic; and if you're not in the fashion, +the little wicked boys of the streets themselves 'll let you know it; +they've got such eyes for fashions, they have. And I don't want my +Dahly's sister to be laughed at, and called 'coal-scuttle,' as happened +to me, my dear, believe it or not--and shoved aside, and said to--'Who +are you?' For she reely is nice-looking. Your uncle Anthony and Mr. +Robert agreed upon that." + +Rhoda coloured, and said, after a time, "It would please me if people +didn't speak about my looks." + +The looking-glass probably told her no more than that she was nice to +the eye, but a young man who sees anything should not see like a mirror, +and a girl's instinct whispers to her, that her image has not been taken +to heart when she is accurately and impartially described by him. + +The key to Rhoda at this period was a desire to be made warm with praise +of her person. She beheld her face at times, and shivered. The face was +so strange with its dark thick eyebrows, and peculiarly straight-gazing +brown eyes; the level long red under-lip and curved upper; and the chin +and nose, so unlike Dahlia's, whose nose was, after a little dip from +the forehead, one soft line to its extremity, and whose chin seemed +shaped to a cup. Rhoda's outlines were harder. There was a suspicion of +a heavenward turn to her nose, and of squareness to her chin. Her face, +when studied, inspired in its owner's mind a doubt of her being even +nice to the eye, though she knew that in exercise, and when smitten by +a blush, brightness and colour aided her claims. She knew also that her +head was easily poised on her neck; and that her figure was reasonably +good; but all this was unconfirmed knowledge, quickly shadowed by +the doubt. As the sun is wanted to glorify the right features of a +landscape, this girl thirsted for a dose of golden flattery. She felt, +without envy of her sister, that Dahlia eclipsed her: and all she +prayed for was that she might not be quite so much in the background and +obscure. + +But great, powerful London--the new universe to her spirit--was opening +its arms to her. In her half sleep that night she heard the mighty +thunder of the city, crashing, tumults of disordered harmonies, and the +splendour of the lamp-lighted city appeared to hang up under a dark-blue +heaven, removed from earth, like a fresh planet to which she was being +beckoned. + +At breakfast on the Sunday morning, her departure was necessarily spoken +of in public. Robert talked to her exactly as he had talked to Dahlia, +on the like occasion. He mentioned, as she remembered in one or two +instances, the names of the same streets, and professed a similar +anxiety as regarded driving her to the station and catching the train. +"That's a thing which makes a man feel his strength's nothing," he said. +"You can't stop it. I fancy I could stop a four-in-hand at full gallop. +Mind, I only fancy I could; but when you come to do with iron and steam, +I feel like a baby. You can't stop trains." + +"You can trip 'em," said Anthony, a remark that called forth general +laughter, and increased the impression that he was a man of resources. + +Rhoda was vexed by Robert's devotion to his strength. She was going, and +wished to go, but she wished to be regretted as well; and she looked at +him more. He, on the contrary, scarcely looked at her at all. He threw +verbal turnips, oats, oxen, poultry, and every possible melancholy +matter-of-fact thing, about the table, described the farm and his +fondness for it and the neighbourhood; said a farmer's life was best, +and gave Rhoda a week in which to be tired of London. + +She sneered in her soul, thinking "how little he knows of the constancy +in the nature of women!" adding, "when they form attachments." + +Anthony was shown at church, in spite of a feeble intimation he +expressed, that it would be agreeable to him to walk about in the March +sunshine, and see the grounds and the wild flowers, which never gave +trouble, nor cost a penny, and were always pretty, and worth twenty of +your artificial contrivances. + +"Same as I say to Miss Dahly," he took occasion to remark; "but no!--no +good. I don't believe women hear ye, when you talk sense of that kind. +'Look,' says I, 'at a violet.' 'Look,' says she, 'at a rose.' Well, what +can ye say after that? She swears the rose looks best. You swear the +violet costs least. Then there you have a battle between what it costs +and how it looks." + +Robert pronounced a conventional affirmative, when called on for it by a +look from Anthony. Whereupon Rhoda cried out,-- + +"Dahlia was right--she was right, uncle." + +"She was right, my dear, if she was a ten-thousander. She wasn't right +as a farmer's daughter with poor expectations.--I'd say humble, if +humble she were. As a farmer's daughter, she should choose the violet +side. That's clear as day. One thing's good, I admit; she tells me she +makes her own bonnets, and they're as good as milliners', and that's a +proud matter to say of your own niece. And to buy dresses for herself, I +suppose, she's sat down and she made dresses for fine ladies. I've found +her at it. Save the money for the work, says I. What does she reply--she +always has a reply: 'Uncle, I know the value of money better. 'You mean, +you spend it,' I says to her. 'I buy more than it's worth,' says she. +And I'll tell you what, Mr. Robert Armstrong, as I find your name to be, +sir; if you beat women at talking, my lord! you're a clever chap." + +Robert laughed. "I give in at the first mile." + +"Don't think much of women--is that it, sir?" + +"I'm glad to say I don't think of them at all." + +"Do you think of one woman, now, Mr. Robert Armstrong?" + +"I'd much rather think of two." + +"And why, may I ask?" + +"It's safer." + +"Now, I don't exactly see that," said Anthony. + +"You set one to tear the other," Robert explained. + +"You're a Grand Turk Mogul in your reasonings of women, Mr. Robert +Armstrong. I hope as your morals are sound, sir?" + +They were on the road to church, but Robert could not restrain a +swinging outburst. + +He observed that he hoped likewise that his morals were sound. + +"Because," said Anthony, "do you see, sir, two wives--" + +"No, no; one wife," interposed Robert. "You said 'think about;' I'd +'think about' any number of women, if I was idle. But the woman you mean +to make your wife, you go to at once, and don't 'think about' her or the +question either." + +"You make sure of her, do you, sir?" + +"No: I try my luck; that is all." + +"Suppose she won't have ye?" + +"Then I wait for her." + +"Suppose she gets married to somebody else?" + +"Well, you know, I shouldn't cast eye on a woman who was a fool." + +"Well, upon my--" Anthony checked his exclamation, returning to the +charge with, "Just suppose, for the sake of supposing--supposing she was +a fool, and gone and got married, and you thrown back'ard on one leg, +starin' at the other, stupified-like?" + +"I don't mind supposing it," said Robert. "Say, she's a fool. Her being +a fool argues that I was one in making a fool's choice. So, she jilts +me, and I get a pistol, or I get a neat bit of rope, or I take a clean +header with a cannon-ball at my heels, or I go to the chemist's and ask +for stuff to poison rats,--anything a fool'd do under the circumstances, +it don't matter what." + +Old Anthony waited for Rhoda to jump over a stile, and said to her,-- + +"He laughs at the whole lot of ye." + +"Who?" she asked, with betraying cheeks. + +"This Mr. Robert Armstrong of yours." + +"Of mine, uncle!" + +"He don't seem to care a snap o' the finger for any of ye." + +"Then, none of us must care for him, uncle." + +"Now, just the contrary. That always shows a young fellow who's +attending to his business. If he'd seen you boil potatoes, make +dumplings, beds, tea, all that, you'd have had a chance. He'd have +marched up to ye before you was off to London." + +"Saying, 'You are the woman.'" Rhoda was too desperately tickled by the +idea to refrain from uttering it, though she was angry, and suffering +internal discontent. "Or else, 'You are the cook,'" she muttered, and +shut, with the word, steel bars across her heart, calling him, mentally, +names not justified by anything he had said or done--such as mercenary, +tyrannical, and such like. + +Robert was attentive to her in church. Once she caught him with his +eyes on her face; but he betrayed no confusion, and looked away at the +clergyman. When the text was given out, he found the place in his Bible, +and handed it to her pointedly--"There shall be snares and traps unto +you;" a line from Joshua. She received the act as a polite pawing +civility; but when she was coming out of church, Robert saw that a blush +swept over her face, and wondered what thoughts could be rising within +her, unaware that girls catch certain meanings late, and suffer a fiery +torture when these meanings are clear to them. Rhoda called up the +pride of her womanhood that she might despise the man who had dared to +distrust her. She kept her poppy colour throughout the day, so sensitive +was this pride. But most she was angered, after reflection, by the +doubts which Robert appeared to cast on Dahlia, in setting his finger +upon that burning line of Scripture. It opened a whole black kingdom to +her imagination, and first touched her visionary life with shade. She +was sincere in her ignorance that the doubts were her own, but they lay +deep in unawakened recesses of the soul; it was by a natural action of +her reason that she transferred and forced them upon him who had chanced +to make them visible. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +When young minds are set upon a distant object, they scarcely live +for anything about them. The drive to the station and the parting +with Robert, the journey to London, which had latterly seemed to her +secretly-distressed anticipation like a sunken city--a place of wonder +with the waters over it--all passed by smoothly; and then it became +necessary to call a cabman, for whom, as he did her the service to lift +her box, Rhoda felt a gracious respect, until a quarrel ensued between +him and her uncle concerning sixpence;--a poor sum, as she thought; but +representing, as Anthony impressed upon her understanding during the +conflict of hard words, a principle. Those who can persuade themselves +that they are fighting for a principle, fight strenuously, and maybe +reckoned upon to overmatch combatants on behalf of a miserable small +coin; so the cabman went away discomfited. He used such bad language +that Rhoda had no pity for him, and hearing her uncle style it "the +London tongue," she thought dispiritedly of Dahlia's having had to +listen to it through so long a season. Dahlia was not at home; but Mrs. +Wicklow, Anthony's landlady, undertook to make Rhoda comfortable, which +operation she began by praising dark young ladies over fair ones, at +the same time shaking Rhoda's arm that she might not fail to see a +compliment was intended. "This is our London way," she said. But Rhoda +was most disconcerted when she heard Mrs. Wicklow relate that her +daughter and Dahlia were out together, and say, that she had no doubt +they had found some pleasant and attentive gentleman for a companion, if +they had not gone purposely to meet one. Her thoughts of her sister were +perplexed, and London seemed a gigantic net around them both. + +"Yes, that's the habit with the girls up here," said Anthony; "that's +what fine bonnets mean." + +Rhoda dropped into a bitter depth of brooding. The savage nature of her +virgin pride was such that it gave her great suffering even to +suppose that a strange gentleman would dare to address her sister. She +half-fashioned the words on her lips that she had dreamed of a false +Zion, and was being righteously punished. By-and-by the landlady's +daughter returned home alone, saying, with a dreadful laugh, that Dahlia +had sent her for her Bible; but she would give no explanation of the +singular mission which had been entrusted to her, and she showed no +willingness to attempt to fulfil it, merely repeating, "Her Bible!" with +a vulgar exhibition of simulated scorn that caused Rhoda to shrink from +her, though she would gladly have poured out a multitude of questions in +the ear of one who had last been with her beloved. After a while, Mrs. +Wicklow looked at the clock, and instantly became overclouded with an +extreme gravity. + +"Eleven! and she sent Mary Ann home for her Bible. This looks bad. I +call it hypocritical, the idea of mentioning the Bible. Now, if she had +said to Mary Ann, go and fetch any other book but a Bible!" + +"It was mother's Bible," interposed Rhoda. + +Mrs. Wicklow replied: "And I wish all young women to be as innocent as +you, my dear. You'll get you to bed. You're a dear, mild, sweet, good +young woman. I'm never deceived in character." + +Vaunting her penetration, she accompanied Rhoda to Dahlia's chamber, +bidding her sleep speedily, or that when her sister came they would be +talking till the cock crowed hoarse. + +"There's a poultry-yard close to us?" said Rhoda; feeling less at home +when she heard that there was not. + +The night was quiet and clear. She leaned her head out of the window, +and heard the mellow Sunday evening roar of the city as of a sea at ebb. +And Dahlia was out on the sea. Rhoda thought of it as she looked at the +row of lamps, and listened to the noise remote, until the sight of +stars was pleasant as the faces of friends. "People are kind here," +she reflected, for her short experience of the landlady was good, and a +young gentleman who had hailed a cab for her at the station, had a nice +voice. He was fair. "I am dark," came a spontaneous reflection. She +undressed, and half dozing over her beating heart in bed, heard the +street door open, and leaped to think that her sister approached, +jumping up in her bed to give ear to the door and the stairs, that +were conducting her joy to her: but she quickly recomposed herself, +and feigned sleep, for the delight of revelling in her sister's first +wonderment. The door was flung wide, and Rhoda heard her name called +by Dahlia's voice, and then there was a delicious silence, and she felt +that Dahlia was coming up to her on tiptoe, and waited for her head to +be stooped near, that she might fling out her arms, and draw the dear +head to her bosom. But Dahlia came only to the bedside, without leaning +over, and spoke of her looks, which held the girl quiet. + +"How she sleeps! It's a country sleep!" Dahlia murmured. "She's changed, +but it's all for the better. She's quite a woman; she's a perfect +brunette; and the nose I used to laugh at suits her face and those +black, thick eyebrows of hers; my pet! Oh, why is she here? What's meant +by it? I knew nothing of her coming. Is she sent on purpose?" + +Rhoda did not stir. The tone of Dahlia's speaking, low and almost awful +to her, laid a flat hand on her, and kept her still. + +"I came for my Bible," she heard Dahlia say. "I promised mother--oh, my +poor darling mother! And Dody lying in my bed! Who would have thought of +such things? Perhaps heaven does look after us and interfere. What will +become of me? Oh, you pretty innocent in your sleep! I lie for hours, +and can't sleep. She binds her hair in a knot on the pillow, just as she +used to in the old farm days!" + +Rhoda knew that her sister was bending over her now, but she was almost +frigid, and could not move. + +Dahlia went to the looking-glass. "How flushed I am!" she murmured. "No; +I'm pale, quite white. I've lost my strength. What can I do? How could +I take mother's Bible, and run from my pretty one, who expects me, and +dreams she'll wake with me beside her in the morning! I can't--I can't +If you love me, Edward, you won't wish it." + +She fell into a chair, crying wildly, and muffling her sobs. Rhoda's +eyelids grew moist, but wonder and the cold anguish of senseless +sympathy held her still frost-bound. All at once she heard the window +open. Some one spoke in the street below; some one uttered Dahlia's +name. A deep bell swung a note of midnight. + +"Go!" cried Dahlia. + +The window was instantly shut. + +The vibration of Dahlia's voice went through Rhoda like the heavy +shaking of the bell after it had struck, and the room seemed to spin and +hum. It was to her but another minute before her sister slid softly into +the bed, and they were locked together. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Boyne's bank was of the order of those old and firmly fixed +establishments which have taken root with the fortunes of the +country--are honourable as England's name, solid as her prosperity, and +even as the flourishing green tree to shareholders: a granite house. +Boyne himself had been disembodied for more than a century: Burt and +Hamble were still of the flesh; but a greater than Burt or Hamble +was Blancove--the Sir William Blancove, Baronet, of city feasts and +charities, who, besides being a wealthy merchant, possessed of a very +acute head for banking, was a scholarly gentleman, worthy of riches. +His brother was Squire Blancove, of Wrexby; but between these two close +relatives there existed no stronger feeling than what was expressed by +open contempt of a mind dedicated to business on the one side, and quiet +contempt of a life devoted to indolence on the other. Nevertheless, +Squire Blancove, though everybody knew how deeply he despised his junior +for his city-gained title and commercial occupation, sent him his son +Algernon, to get the youth into sound discipline, if possible. This +was after the elastic Algernon had, on the paternal intimation of his +colonel, relinquished his cornetcy and military service. Sir William +received the hopeful young fellow much in the spirit with which he +listened to the tales of his brother's comments on his own line of +conduct; that is to say, as homage to his intellectual superiority. Mr. +Algernon was installed in the Bank, and sat down for a long career of +groaning at the desk, with more complacency than was expected from him. +Sir William forwarded excellent accounts to his brother of the behaviour +of the heir to his estates. It was his way of rebuking the squire, and +in return for it the squire, though somewhat comforted, despised +his clerkly son, and lived to learn how very unjustly he did so. +Adolescents, who have the taste for running into excesses, enjoy the +breath of change as another form of excitement: change is a sort of +debauch to them. They will delight infinitely in a simple country round +of existence, in propriety and church-going, in the sensation of feeling +innocent. There is little that does not enrapture them, if you tie them +down to nothing, and let them try all. Sir William was deceived by his +nephew. He would have taken him into his town-house; but his own son, +Edward, who was studying for the Law, had chambers in the Temple, +and Algernon, receiving an invitation from Edward, declared a gentle +preference for the abode of his cousin. His allowance from his father +was properly contracted to keep him from excesses, as the genius of his +senior devised, and Sir William saw no objection to the scheme, and made +none. The two dined with him about twice in the month. + +Edward Blancove was three-and-twenty years old, a student by fits, and +a young man given to be moody. He had powers of gaiety far eclipsing +Algernon's, but he was not the same easy tripping sinner and flippant +soul. He was in that yeasty condition of his years when action and +reflection alternately usurp the mind; remorse succeeded dissipation, +and indulgences offered the soporific to remorse. The friends of the +two imagined that Algernon was, or would become, his evil genius. In +reality, Edward was the perilous companion. He was composed of better +stuff. Algernon was but an airy animal nature, the soul within him being +an effervescence lightly let loose. Edward had a fatally serious spirit, +and one of some strength. What he gave himself up to, he could believe +to be correct, in the teeth of an opposing world, until he tired of +it, when he sided as heartily with the world against his quondam self. +Algernon might mislead, or point his cousin's passions for a time; yet +if they continued their courses together, there was danger that Algernon +would degenerate into a reckless subordinate--a minister, a valet, and +be tempted unknowingly to do things in earnest, which is nothing less +than perdition to this sort of creature. + +But the key to young men is the ambition, or, in the place of it, +the romantic sentiment nourished by them. Edward aspired to become +Attorney-General of these realms, not a judge, you observe; for a judge +is to the imagination of youthful minds a stationary being, venerable, +but not active; whereas, your Attorney-General is always in the fray, +and fights commonly on the winning side,--a point that renders his +position attractive to sagacious youth. Algernon had other views. +Civilization had tried him, and found him wanting; so he condemned it. +Moreover, sitting now all day at a desk, he was civilization's drudge. +No wonder, then, that his dream was of prairies, and primeval forests, +and Australian wilds. He believed in his heart that he would be a man +new made over there, and always looked forward to savage life as to a +bath that would cleanse him, so that it did not much matter his being +unclean for the present. + +The young men had a fair cousin by marriage, a Mrs. Margaret Lovell, a +widow. At seventeen she had gone with her husband to India, where Harry +Lovell encountered the sword of a Sikh Sirdar, and tried the last of his +much-vaunted swordsmanship, which, with his skill at the pistols, had +served him better in two antecedent duels, for the vindication of his +lovely and terrible young wife. He perished on the field, critically +admiring the stroke to which he owed his death. A week after Harry's +burial his widow was asked in marriage by his colonel. Captains, and a +giddy subaltern likewise, disputed claims to possess her. She, however, +decided to arrest further bloodshed by quitting the regiment. She always +said that she left India to save her complexion; "and people don't know +how very candid I am," she added, for the colonel above-mentioned was +wealthy,--a man expectant of a title, and a good match, and she +was laughed at when she thus assigned trivial reasons for momentous +resolutions. It is a luxury to be candid; and perfect candour can do +more for us than a dark disguise. + +Mrs. Lovell's complexion was worth saving from the ravages of an Indian +climate, and the persecution of claimants to her hand. She was golden +and white, like an autumnal birch-tree--yellow hair, with warm-toned +streaks in it, shading a fabulously fair skin. Then, too, she was tall, +of a nervous build, supple and proud in motion, a brilliant horsewoman, +and a most distinguished sitter in an easy drawing-room chair, which +is, let me impress upon you, no mean quality. After riding out for hours +with a sweet comrade, who has thrown the mantle of dignity half-way off +her shoulders, it is perplexing, and mixed strangely of humiliation and +ecstasy, to come upon her clouded majesty where she reclines as upon +rose-hued clouds, in a mystic circle of restriction (she who laughed at +your jokes, and capped them, two hours ago) a queen. + +Between Margaret Lovell and Edward there was a misunderstanding, of +which no one knew the nature, for they spoke in public very respectfully +one of the other. It had been supposed that they were lovers once; but +when lovers quarrel, they snarl, they bite, they worry; their eyes +are indeed unveiled, and their mouths unmuzzled. Now Margaret said of +Edward: "He is sure to rise; he has such good principles." Edward said +of Margaret: "She only wants a husband who will keep her well in hand." +These sentences scarcely carried actual compliments when you knew the +speakers; but outraged lovers cannot talk in that style after they have +broken apart. It is possible that Margaret and Edward conveyed to one +another as sharp a sting as envenomed lovers attempt. Gossip had once +betrothed them, but was now at fault. The lady had a small jointure, and +lived partly with her uncle, Lord Elling, partly with Squire Blancove, +her aunt's husband, and a little by herself, which was when she counted +money in her purse, and chose to assert her independence. She had a name +in the world. There is a fate attached to some women, from Helen of Troy +downward, that blood is to be shed for them. One duel on behalf of a +woman is a reputation to her for life; two are notoriety. If she is very +young, can they be attributable to her? We charge them naturally to her +overpowering beauty. It happened that Mrs. Lovell was beautiful. Under +the light of the two duels her beauty shone as from an illumination of +black flame. Boys adored Mrs. Lovell. These are moths. But more, the +birds of air, nay, grave owls (who stand in this metaphor for whiskered +experience) thronged, dashing at the apparition of terrible splendour. +Was it her fault that she had a name in the world? + +Mrs. Margaret Lovell's portrait hung in Edward's room. It was a +photograph exquisitely coloured, and was on the left of a dark Judith, +dark with a serenity of sternness. On the right hung another coloured +photograph of a young lady, also fair; and it was a point of taste to +choose between them. Do you like the hollowed lily's cheeks, or the +plump rose's? Do you like a thinnish fall of golden hair, or an abundant +cluster of nut-brown? Do you like your blonde with limpid blue eyes, or +prefer an endowment of sunny hazel? Finally, are you taken by an air of +artistic innocence winding serpentine about your heart's fibres; or +is blushing simplicity sweeter to you? Mrs. Lovell's eyebrows were the +faintly-marked trace of a perfect arch. The other young person's were +thickish, more level; a full brown colour. She looked as if she had not +yet attained to any sense of her being a professed beauty: but the +fair widow was clearly bent upon winning you, and had a shy, playful +intentness of aspect. Her pure white skin was flat on the bone; the +lips came forward in a soft curve, and, if they were not artistically +stained, were triumphantly fresh. Here, in any case, she beat her rival, +whose mouth had the plebeian beauty's fault of being too straight in a +line, and was not trained, apparently, to tricks of dainty pouting. + +It was morning, and the cousins having sponged in pleasant cold water, +arranged themselves for exercise, and came out simultaneously into the +sitting-room, slippered, and in flannels. They nodded and went through +certain curt greetings, and then Algernon stepped to a cupboard and +tossed out the leather gloves. The room was large and they had a +tolerable space for the work, when the breakfast-table had been drawn +a little on one side. You saw at a glance which was the likelier man of +the two, when they stood opposed. Algernon's rounded features, full lips +and falling chin, were not a match, though he was quick on his feet, for +the wary, prompt eyes, set mouth, and hardness of Edward. Both had stout +muscle, but in Edward there was vigour of brain as well, which seemed +to knit and inform his shape without which, in fact, a man is as a ship +under no command. Both looked their best; as, when sparring, men always +do look. + +"Now, then," said Algernon, squaring up to his cousin in good style, +"now's the time for that unwholesome old boy underneath to commence +groaning." + +"Step as light as you can," replied Edward, meeting him with the pretty +motion of the gloves. + +"I'll step as light as a French dancing-master. Let's go to Paris and +learn the savate, Ned. It must be a new sensation to stand on one leg +and knock a fellow's hat off with the other." + +"Stick to your fists." + +"Hang it! I wish your fists wouldn't stick to me so." + +"You talk too much." + +"Gad, I don't get puffy half so soon as you." + +"I want country air." + +"You said you were going out, old Ned." + +"I changed my mind." + +Saying which, Edward shut his teeth, and talked for two or three hot +minutes wholly with his fists. The room shook under Algernon's boundings +to right and left till a blow sent him back on the breakfast-table, +shattered a cup on the floor, and bespattered his close flannel shirt +with a funereal coffee-tinge. + +"What the deuce I said to bring that on myself, I don't know," Algernon +remarked as he rose. "Anything connected with the country disagreeable +to you, Ned? Come! a bout of quiet scientific boxing, and none of these +beastly rushes, as if you were singling me out of a crowd of magsmen. +Did you go to church yesterday, Ned? Confound it, you're on me again, +are you?" + +And Algernon went on spouting unintelligible talk under a torrent of +blows. He lost his temper and fought out at them; but as it speedily +became evident to him that the loss laid him open to punishment, he +prudently recovered it, sparred, danced about, and contrived to +shake the room in a manner that caused Edward to drop his arms, in +consideration for the distracted occupant of the chambers below. +Algernon accepted the truce, and made it peace by casting off one glove. + +"There! that's a pleasant morning breather," he said, and sauntered to +the window to look at the river. "I always feel the want of it when +I don't get it. I could take a thrashing rather than not on with the +gloves to begin the day. Look at those boats! Fancy my having to go down +to the city. It makes me feel like my blood circulating the wrong way. +My father'll suffer some day, for keeping me at this low ebb of cash, by +jingo!" + +He uttered this with a prophetic fierceness. + +"I cannot even scrape together enough for entrance money to a Club. +It's sickening! I wonder whether I shall ever get used to banking work? +There's an old clerk in our office who says he should feel ill if he +missed a day. And the old porter beats him--bangs him to fits. I believe +he'd die off if he didn't see the house open to the minute. They say +that old boy's got a pretty niece; but he don't bring her to the office +now. Reward of merit!--Mr. Anthony Hackbut is going to receive ten +pounds a year extra. That's for his honesty. I wonder whether I could +earn a reputation for the sake of a prospect of ten extra pounds to my +salary. I've got a salary! hurrah! But if they keep me to my hundred +and fifty per annum, don't let them trust me every day with the bags, +as they do that old fellow. Some of the men say he's good to lend fifty +pounds at a pinch.--Are the chops coming, Ned?" + +"The chops are coming," said Edward, who had thrown on a boating-coat +and plunged into a book, and spoke echoing. + +"Here's little Peggy Lovell." Algernon faced this portrait. "It don't do +her justice. She's got more life, more change in her, more fire. She's +starting for town, I hear." + +"She is starting for town," said Edward. + +"How do you know that?" Algernon swung about to ask. + +Edward looked round to him. "By the fact of your not having fished for a +holiday this week. How did you leave her yesterday, Algy? Quite well, I +hope." + +The ingenuous face of the young gentleman crimsoned. + +"Oh, she was well," he said. "Ha! I see there can be some attraction in +your dark women." + +"You mean that Judith? Yes, she's a good diversion." Edward gave a +two-edged response. "What train did you come up by last night?" + +"The last from Wrexby. That reminds me: I saw a young Judith just as +I got out. She wanted a cab. I called it for her. She belongs to old +Hackbut of the Bank--the old porter, you know. If it wasn't that there's +always something about dark women which makes me think they're going to +have a moustache, I should take to that girl's face." + +Edward launched forth an invective against fair women. + +"What have they done to you-what have they done?" said Algernon. + +"My good fellow, they're nothing but colour. They've no conscience. If +they swear a thing to you one moment, they break it the next. They +can't help doing it. You don't ask a gilt weathercock to keep faith with +anything but the wind, do you? It's an ass that trusts a fair woman at +all, or has anything to do with the confounded set. Cleopatra was fair; +so was Delilah; so is the Devil's wife. Reach me that book of Reports." + +"By jingo!" cried Algernon, "my stomach reports that if provision +doesn't soon approach----why don't you keep a French cook here, Ned? +Let's give up the women, and take to a French cook." + +Edward yawned horribly. "All in good time. It's what we come to. It's +philosophy--your French cook! I wish I had it, or him. I'm afraid a +fellow can't anticipate his years--not so lucky!" + +"By Jove! we shall have to be philosophers before we breakfast!" +Algernon exclaimed. "It's nine. I've to be tied to the stake at ten, +chained and muzzled--a leetle-a dawg! I wish I hadn't had to leave +the service. It was a vile conspiracy against me there, Ned. Hang all +tradesmen! I sit on a stool, and add up figures. I work harder than a +nigger in the office. That's my life: but I must feed. It's no use going +to the office in a rage." + +"Will you try on the gloves again?" was Edward's mild suggestion. + +Algernon thanked him, and replied that he knew him. Edward hit hard when +he was empty. + +They now affected patience, as far as silence went to make up an element +of that sublime quality. The chops arriving, they disdained the mask. +Algernon fired his glove just over the waiter's head, and Edward put +the ease to the man's conscience; after which they sat and ate, talking +little. The difference between them was, that Edward knew the state of +Algernon's mind and what was working within it, while the latter stared +at a blank wall as regarded Edward's. + +"Going out after breakfast, Ned?" said Algernon. "We'll walk to the city +together, if you like." + +Edward fixed one of his intent looks upon his cousin. "You're not going +to the city to-day?" + +"The deuce, I'm not!" + +"You're going to dance attendance on Mrs. Lovell, whom it's your +pleasure to call Peggy, when you're some leagues out of her hearing." + +Algernon failed to command his countenance. He glanced at one of the +portraits, and said, "Who is that girl up there? Tell us her name. +Talking of Mrs. Lovell, has she ever seen it?" + +"If you'll put on your coat, my dear Algy, I will talk to you about Mrs. +Lovell." Edward kept his penetrative eyes on Algernon. "Listen to me: +you'll get into a mess there." + +"If I must listen, Ned, I'll listen in my shirt-sleeves, with all +respect to the lady." + +"Very well. The shirt-sleeves help the air of bravado. Now, you know +that I've what they call 'knelt at her feet.' She's handsome. Don't cry +out. She's dashing, and as near being a devil as any woman I ever met. +Do you know why we broke? I'll tell you. Plainly, because I refused to +believe that one of her men had insulted her. You understand what that +means. I declined to be a chief party in a scandal." + +"Declined to fight the fellow?" interposed Algernon. "More shame to +you!" + +"I think you're a year younger than I am, Algy. You have the privilege +of speaking with that year's simplicity. Mrs. Lovell will play you as +she played me. I acknowledge her power, and I keep out of her way. I +don't bet; I don't care to waltz; I can't keep horses; so I don't lose +much by the privation to which I subject myself." + +"I bet, I waltz, and I ride. So," said Algernon, "I should lose +tremendously." + +"You will lose, mark my words." + +"Is the lecture of my year's senior concluded?" said Algernon. + +"Yes; I've done," Edward answered. + +"Then I'll put on my coat, Ned, and I'll smoke in it. That'll give you +assurance I'm not going near Mrs. Lovell, if anything will." + +"That gives me assurance that Mrs. Lovell tolerates in you what she +detests," said Edward, relentless in his insight; "and, consequently, +gives me assurance that she finds you of particular service to her at +present." + +Algernon had a lighted match in his hand. He flung it into the fire. +"I'm hanged if I don't think you have the confounded vanity to suppose +she sets me as a spy upon you!" + +A smile ran along Edward's lips. "I don't think you'd know it, if she +did." + +"Oh, you're ten years older; you're twenty," bawled Algernon, in an +extremity of disgust. "Don't I know what game you're following up? Isn't +it clear as day you've got another woman in your eye?" + +"It's as clear as day, my good Algy, that you see a portrait hanging in +my chambers, and you have heard Mrs. Lovell's opinion of the fact. So +much is perfectly clear. There's my hand. I don't blame you. She's a +clever woman, and like many of the sort, shrewd at guessing the worst. +Come, take my hand. I tell you, I don't blame you. I've been little +dog to her myself, and fetched and carried, and wagged my tail. It's +charming while it lasts. Will you shake it?" + +"Your tail, man?" Algernon roared in pretended amazement. + +Edward eased him back to friendliness by laughing. "No; my hand." + +They shook hands. + +"All right," said Algernon. "You mean well. It's very well for you to +preach virtue to a poor devil; you've got loose, or you're regularly in +love." + +"Virtue! by heaven!" Edward cried; "I wish I were entitled to preach it +to any man on earth." + +His face flushed. "There, good-bye, old fellow," he added. + +"Go to the city. I'll dine with you to-night, if you like; come and dine +with me at my Club. I shall be disengaged." + +Algernon mumbled a flexible assent to an appointment at Edward's Club, +dressed himself with care, borrowed a sovereign, for which he nodded his +acceptance, and left him. + +Edward set his brain upon a book of law. + +It may have been two hours after he had sat thus in his Cistercian +stillness, when a letter was delivered to him by one of the Inn porters. +Edward read the superscription, and asked the porter who it was that +brought it. Two young ladies, the porter said. + +These were the contents:-- + +"I am not sure that you will ever forgive me. I cannot forgive myself +when I think of that one word I was obliged to speak to you in the cold +street, and nothing to explain why, and how much I love, you. Oh! how +I love you! I cry while I write. I cannot help it. I was a sop of tears +all night long, and oh! if you had seen my face in the morning. I am +thankful you did not. Mother's Bible brought me home. It must have been +guidance, for in my bed there lay my sister, and I could not leave her, +I love her so. I could not have got down stairs again after seeing her +there; and I had to say that cold word and shut the window on you. May I +call you Edward still? Oh, dear Edward, do make allowance for me. Write +kindly to me. Say you forgive me. I feel like a ghost to-day. My life +seems quite behind me somewhere, and I hardly feel anything I touch. +I declare to you, dearest one, I had no idea my sister was here. I was +surprised when I heard her name mentioned by my landlady, and looked on +the bed; suddenly my strength was gone, and it changed all that I was +thinking. I never knew before that women were so weak, but now I see +they are, and I only know I am at my Edward's mercy, and am stupid! Oh, +so wretched and stupid. I shall not touch food till I hear from you. Oh, +if, you are angry, write so; but do write. My suspense would make you +pity me. I know I deserve your anger. It was not that I do not trust +you, Edward. My mother in heaven sees my heart and that I trust, I trust +my heart and everything I am and have to you. I would almost wish and +wait to see you to-day in the Gardens, but my crying has made me such +a streaked thing to look at. If I had rubbed my face with a +scrubbing-brush, I could not look worse, and I cannot risk your seeing +me. It would excuse you for hating me. Do you? Does he hate her? She +loves you. She would die for you, dear Edward. Oh! I feel that if I was +told to-day that I should die for you to-morrow, it would be happiness. +I am dying--yes, I am dying till I hear from you. + + "Believe me, + + "Your tender, loving, broken-hearted, + + "Dahlia." + + There was a postscript:-- + + "May I still go to lessons?" + +Edward finished the letter with a calmly perusing eye. He had winced +triflingly at one or two expressions contained in it; forcible, perhaps, +but not such as Mrs. Lovell smiling from the wall yonder would have +used. + +"The poor child threatens to eat no dinner, if I don't write to her," he +said; and replied in a kind and magnanimous spirit, concluding--"Go to +lessons, by all means." + +Having accomplished this, he stood up, and by hazard fell to comparing +the rival portraits; a melancholy and a comic thing to do, as you will +find if you put two painted heads side by side, and set their merits +contesting, and reflect on the contest, and to what advantages, +personal, or of the artist's, the winner owes the victory. Dahlia had +been admirably dealt with by the artist; the charm of pure ingenuousness +without rusticity was visible in her face and figure. Hanging there on +the wall, she was a match for Mrs. Lovell. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Rhoda returned home the heavier for a secret that she bore with her. All +through the first night of her sleeping in London, Dahlia's sobs, and +tender hugs, and self-reproaches, had penetrated her dreams, and when +the morning came she had scarcely to learn that Dahlia loved some one. +The confession was made; but his name was reserved. Dahlia spoke of him +with such sacredness of respect that she seemed lost in him, and like a +creature kissing his feet. With tears rolling down her cheeks, and with +moans of anguish, she spoke of the deliciousness of loving: of knowing +one to whom she abandoned her will and her destiny, until, seeing how +beautiful a bloom love threw upon the tearful worn face of her sister, +Rhoda was impressed by a mystical veneration for this man, and readily +believed him to be above all other men, if not superhuman: for she was +of an age and an imagination to conceive a spiritual pre-eminence over +the weakness of mortality. She thought that one who could so transform +her sister, touch her with awe, and give her gracefulness and humility, +must be what Dahlia said he was. She asked shyly for his Christian name; +but even so little Dahlia withheld. It was his wish that Dahlia should +keep silence concerning him. + +"Have you sworn an oath?" said Rhoda, wonderingly. + +"No, dear love," Dahlia replied; "he only mentioned what he desired." + +Rhoda was ashamed of herself for thinking it strange, and she +surrendered her judgement to be stamped by the one who knew him well. + +As regarded her uncle, Dahlia admitted that she had behaved forgetfully +and unkindly, and promised amendment. She talked of the Farm as of an +old ruin, with nothing but a thin shade of memory threading its walls, +and appeared to marvel vaguely that it stood yet. "Father shall not +always want money," she said. She was particular in prescribing books +for Rhoda to read; good authors, she emphasized, and named books of +history, and poets, and quoted their verses. "For my darling will some +day have a dear husband, and he must not look down on her." Rhoda +shook her head, full sure that she could never be brought to utter such +musical words naturally. "Yes, dearest, when you know what love is," +said Dahlia, in an underbreath. + +Could Robert inspire her with the power? Rhoda looked upon that poor +homely young man half-curiously when she returned, and quite dismissed +the notion. Besides she had no feeling for herself. Her passion was +fixed upon her sister, whose record of emotions in the letters from +London placed her beyond dull days and nights. The letters struck many +chords. A less subservient reader would have set them down as variations +of the language of infatuation; but Rhoda was responsive to every word +and change of mood, from the, "I am unworthy, degraded, wretched," to +"I am blest above the angels." If one letter said, "We met yesterday," +Rhoda's heart beat on to the question, "Shall I see him again +to-morrow?" And will she see him?--has she seen him?--agitated her and +absorbed her thoughts. + +So humbly did she follow her sister, without daring to forecast a +prospect for her, or dream of an issue, that when on a summer morning +a letter was brought in at the breakfast-table, marked "urgent and +private," she opened it, and the first line dazzled her eyes--the +surprise was a shock to her brain. She rose from her unfinished meal, +and walked out into the wide air, feeling as if she walked on thunder. + +The letter ran thus:-- + +"My Own Innocent!--I am married. We leave England to-day. I must not +love you too much, for I have all my love to give to my Edward, my own +now, and I am his trustingly for ever. But he will let me give you some +of it--and Rhoda is never jealous. She shall have a great deal. Only +I am frightened when I think how immense my love is for him, so that +anything--everything he thinks right is right to me. I am not afraid to +think so. If I were to try, a cloud would come over me--it does, if only +I fancy for half a moment I am rash, and a straw. I cannot exist except +through him. So I must belong to him, and his will is my law. My prayer +at my bedside every night is that I may die for him. We used to think +the idea of death so terrible! Do you remember how we used to shudder +together at night when we thought of people lying in the grave? And +now, when I think that perhaps I may some day die for him, I feel like a +crying in my heart with joy. + +"I have left a letter--sent it, I mean--enclosed to uncle for father. +He will see Edward by-and-by. Oh! may heaven spare him from any grief. +Rhoda will comfort him. Tell him how devoted I am. I am like drowned to +everybody but one. + +"We are looking on the sea. In half an hour I shall have forgotten the +tread of English earth. I do not know that I breathe. All I know is a +fear that I am flying, and my strength will not continue. That is when +I am not touching his hand. There is France opposite. I shut my eyes +and see the whole country, but it is like what I feel for Edward--all in +dark moonlight. Oh! I trust him so! I bleed for him. I could make all +my veins bleed out at a sad thought about him. And from France to +Switzerland and Italy. The sea sparkles just as if it said 'Come to +the sun;' and I am going. Edward calls. Shall I be punished for so much +happiness? I am too happy, I am too happy. + +"God bless my beloved at home! That is my chief prayer now. I shall +think of her when I am in the cathedrals. + +"Oh, my Father in heaven! bless them all! bless Rhoda! forgive me! + +"I can hear the steam of the steamer at the pier. Here is Edward. He +says I may send his love to you. + +"Address:-- + + "Mrs. Edward Ayrton, + "Poste Restante, + "Lausanne, + "Switzerland. + +"P.S.--Lausanne is where--but another time, and I will always tell you +the history of the places to instruct you, poor heart in dull England. +Adieu! Good-bye and God bless my innocent at home, my dear sister. I +love her. I never can forget her. The day is so lovely. It seems on +purpose for us. Be sure you write on thin paper to Lausanne. It is on +a blue lake; you see snow mountains, and now there is a bell +ringing--kisses from me! we start. I must sign. + + "Dahlia." + +By the reading of this letter, Rhoda was caught vividly to the shore, +and saw her sister borne away in the boat to the strange countries; +she travelled with her, following her with gliding speed through a +multiplicity of shifting scenes, opal landscapes, full of fire and +dreams, and in all of them a great bell towered. "Oh, my sweet! my own +beauty!" she cried in Dahlia's language. Meeting Mrs. Sumfit, she called +her "Mother Dumpling," as Dahlia did of old, affectionately, and kissed +her, and ran on to Master Gammon, who was tramping leisurely on to the +oatfield lying on toward the millholms. + +"My sister sends you her love," she said brightly to the old man. Master +Gammon responded with no remarkable flash of his eyes, and merely opened +his mouth and shut it, as when a duck divides its bill, but fails to +emit the customary quack. + +"And to you, little pigs; and to you, Mulberry; and you, Dapple; and +you, and you, and you." + +Rhoda nodded round to all the citizens of the farmyard; and so eased +her heart of its laughing bubbles. After which, she fell to a meditative +walk of demurer joy, and had a regret. It was simply that Dahlia's hurry +in signing the letter, had robbed her of the delight of seeing "Dahlia +Ayrton" written proudly out, with its wonderful signification of the +change in her life. + +That was a trifling matter; yet Rhoda felt the letter was not complete +in the absence of the bridal name. She fancied Dahlia to have meant, +perhaps, that she was Dahlia to her as of old, and not a stranger. +"Dahlia ever; Dahlia nothing else for you," she heard her sister say. +But how delicious and mournful, how terrible and sweet with meaning +would "Dahlia Ayrton," the new name in the dear handwriting, have +looked! "And I have a brother-in-law," she thought, and her cheeks +tingled. The banks of fern and foxglove, and the green young oaks +fringing the copse, grew rich in colour, as she reflected that this +beloved unknown husband of her sister embraced her and her father as +well; even the old bent beggarman on the sandy ridge, though he had a +starved frame and carried pitiless faggots, stood illumined in a soft +warmth. Rhoda could not go back to the house. + +It chanced that the farmer that morning had been smitten with the +virtue of his wife's opinion of Robert, and her parting recommendation +concerning him. + +"Have you a mind to either one of my two girls?" he put the question +bluntly, finding himself alone with Robert. + +Robert took a quick breath, and replied, "I have." + +"Then make your choice," said the farmer, and tried to go about his +business, but hung near Robert in the fields till he had asked: "Which +one is it, my boy?" + +Robert turned a blade of wheat in his mouth. + +"I think I shall leave her to tell that," was his answer. + +"Why, don't ye know which one you prefer to choose, man?" quoth Mr. +Fleming. + +"I mayn't know whether she prefers to choose me," said Robert. + +The farmer smiled. + +"You never can exactly reckon about them; that's true." + +He was led to think: "Dahlia's the lass;" seeing that Robert had not had +many opportunities of speaking with her. + +"When my girls are wives, they'll do their work in the house," he +pursued. "They may have a little bit o' property in land, ye know, and +they may have a share in--in gold. That's not to be reckoned on. We're +an old family, Robert, and I suppose we've our pride somewhere down. +Anyhow, you can't look on my girls and not own they're superior girls. +I've no notion of forcing them to clean, and dish up, and do dairying, +if it's not to their turn. They're handy with th' needle. They dress +conformably, and do the millinery themselves. And I know they say their +prayers of a night. That I know, if that's a comfort to ye, and it +should be, Robert. For pray, and you can't go far wrong; and it's +particularly good for girls. I'll say no more." + +At the dinner-table, Rhoda was not present. Mr. Fleming fidgeted, +blamed her and excused her, but as Robert appeared indifferent about her +absence, he was confirmed in his idea that Dahlia attracted his fancy. + +They had finished dinner, and Master Gammon had risen, when a voice +immediately recognized as the voice of Anthony Hackbut was heard in the +front part of the house. Mr. Fleming went round to him with a dismayed +face. + +"Lord!" said Mrs. Sumfit, "how I tremble!" + +Robert, too, looked grave, and got away from the house. The dread of +evil news of Dahlia was common to them all; yet none had mentioned it, +Robert conceiving that it would be impertinence on his part to do so; +the farmer, that the policy of permitting Dahlia's continued residence +in London concealed the peril; while Mrs. Sumfit flatly defied the +threatening of a mischance to one so sweet and fair, and her favourite. +It is the insincerity of persons of their class; but one need not lay +stress on the wilfulness of uneducated minds. Robert walked across the +fields, walking like a man with an object in view. As he dropped +into one of the close lanes which led up to Wrexby Hall, he saw Rhoda +standing under an oak, her white morning-dress covered with sun-spots. +His impulse was to turn back, the problem, how to speak to her, not +being settled within him. But the next moment his blood chilled; for he +had perceived, though he had not felt simultaneously, that two gentlemen +were standing near her, addressing her. And it was likewise manifest +that she listened to them. These presently raised their hats and +disappeared. Rhoda came on toward Robert. + +"You have forgotten your dinner," he said, with a queer sense of shame +at dragging in the mention of that meal. + +"I have been too happy to eat," Rhoda replied. + +Robert glanced up the lane, but she gave no heed to this indication, and +asked: "Has uncle come?" + +"Did you expect him?" + +"I thought he would come." + +"What has made you happy?" + +"You will hear from uncle." + +"Shall I go and hear what those--" + +Robert checked himself, but it would have been better had he spoken +out. Rhoda's face, from a light of interrogation, lowered its look to +contempt. + +She did not affect the feminine simplicity which can so prettily +misunderstand and put by an implied accusation of that nature. Doubtless +her sharp instinct served her by telling her that her contempt would +hurt him shrewdly now. The foolishness of a man having much to say to +a woman, and not knowing how or where the beginning of it might be, was +perceptible about him. A shout from her father at the open garden-gate, +hurried on Rhoda to meet him. Old Anthony was at Mr. Fleming's elbow. + +"You know it? You have her letter, father?" said Rhoda, gaily, beneath +the shadow of his forehead. + +"And a Queen of the Egyptians is what you might have been," said +Anthony, with a speculating eye upon Rhoda's dark bright face. + +Rhoda put out her hand to him, but kept her gaze on her father. + +William Fleeting relaxed the knot of his brows and lifted the letter. + +"Listen all! This is from a daughter to her father." + +And he read, oddly accentuating the first syllables of the sentences:-- + + Dear Father,-- + + "My husband will bring me to see you when I return to dear England. + I ought to have concealed nothing, I know. Try to forgive me. I + hope you will. I shall always think of you. God bless you! + + "I am, + "Ever with respect, + + "Your dearly loving Daughter, + + "Dahlia." + +"Dahlia Blank!" said the farmer, turning his look from face to face. + +A deep fire of emotion was evidently agitating him, for the letter +rustled in his hand, and his voice was uneven. Of this, no sign was +given by his inexpressive features. The round brown eyes and the ruddy +varnish on his cheeks were a mask upon grief, if not also upon joy. + +"Dahlia--what? What's her name?" he resumed. "Here--'my husband will +bring me to see you'--who's her husband? Has he got a name? And a blank +envelope to her uncle here, who's kept her in comfort for so long! And +this is all she writes to me! Will any one spell out the meaning of it?" + +"Dahlia was in great haste, father," said Rhoda. + +"Oh, ay, you!--you're the one, I know," returned the farmer. "It's +sister and sister, with you." + +"But she was very, very hurried, father. I have a letter from her, and I +have only 'Dahlia' written at the end--no other name." + +"And you suspect no harm of your sister." + +"Father, how can I imagine any kind of harm?" + +"That letter, my girl, sticks to my skull, as though it meant to say, +'You've not understood me yet.' I've read it a matter of twenty times, +and I'm no nearer to the truth of it. But, if she's lying, here in this +letter, what's she walking on? How long are we to wait for to hear? I +give you my word, Robert, I'm feeling for you as I am for myself. Or, +wasn't it that one? Is it this one?" He levelled his finger at Rhoda. +"In any case, Robert, you'll feel for me as a father. I'm shut in a dark +room with the candle blown out. I've heard of a sort of fear you have +in that dilemmer, lest you should lay your fingers on edges of sharp +knives, and if I think a step--if I go thinking a step, and feel my way, +I do cut myself, and I bleed, I do. Robert, just take and say, it wasn't +that one." + +Such a statement would carry with it the confession that it was this +one for whom he cared this scornful one, this jilt, this brazen girl who +could make appointments with gentlemen, or suffer them to speak to her, +and subsequently look at him with innocence and with anger. + +"Believe me, Mr. Fleming, I feel for you as much as a man can," he said, +uneasily, swaying half round as he spoke. + +"Do you suspect anything bad?" The farmer repeated the question, like +one who only wanted a confirmation of his own suspicions to see the fact +built up. "Robert, does this look like the letter of a married woman? Is +it daughter-like--eh, man? Help another: I can't think for myself--she +ties my hands. Speak out." + +Robert set his eyes on Rhoda. He would have given much to have been able +to utter, "I do." Her face was like an eager flower straining for light; +the very beauty of it swelled his jealous passion, and he flattered +himself with his incapacity to speak an abject lie to propitiate her. + +"She says she is married. We're bound to accept what she says." + +That was his answer. + +"Is she married?" thundered the farmer. "Has she been and disgraced her +mother in her grave? What am I to think? She's my flesh and blood. Is +she--" + +"Oh, hush, father!" Rhoda laid her hand on his arm. "What doubt can +there be of Dahlia? You have forgotten that she is always truthful. Come +away. It is shameful to stand here and listen to unmanly things." + +She turned a face of ashes upon Robert. + +"Come away, father. She is our own. She is my sister. A doubt of her is +an insult to us." + +"But Robert don't doubt her--eh?" The farmer was already half distracted +from his suspicions. "Have you any real doubt about the girl, Robert?" + +"I don't trust myself to doubt anybody," said Robert. + +"You don't cast us off, my boy?" + +"I'm a labourer on the farm," said Robert, and walked away. + +"He's got reason to feel this more 'n the rest of us, poor lad! It's a +blow to him." With which the farmer struck his hand on Rhoda's shoulder. + +"I wish he'd set his heart on a safer young woman." + +Rhoda's shudder of revulsion was visible as she put her mouth up to kiss +her father's cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +That is Wrexby Hall, upon the hill between Fenhurst and Wrexby: the +white square mansion, with the lower drawing-room windows one full +bow of glass against the sunlight, and great single trees spotting the +distant green slopes. From Queen Anne's Farm you could read the hour by +the stretching of their shadows. Squire Blancove, who lived there, was +an irascible, gouty man, out of humour with his time, and beginning, +alas for him! to lose all true faith in his Port, though, to do him +justice, he wrestled hard with this great heresy. His friends perceived +the decay in his belief sooner than he did himself. He was sour in the +evening as in the morning. There was no chirp in him when the bottle +went round. He had never one hour of a humane mood to be reckoned on +now. The day, indeed, is sad when we see the skeleton of the mistress by +whom we suffer, but cannot abandon her. The squire drank, knowing that +the issue would be the terrific, curse-begetting twinge in his foot; +but, as he said, he was a man who stuck to his habits. It was over his +Port that he had quarrelled with his rector on the subject of hopeful +Algernon, and the system he adopted with that young man. This incident +has something to do with Rhoda's story, for it was the reason why Mrs. +Lovell went to Wrexby Church, the spirit of that lady leading her to +follow her own impulses, which were mostly in opposition. So, when +perchance she visited the Hall, she chose not to accompany the squire +and his subservient guests to Fenhurst, but made a point of going down +to the unoccupied Wrexby pew. She was a beauty, and therefore powerful; +otherwise her act of nonconformity would have produced bad blood between +her and the squire. + +It was enough to have done so in any case; for now, instead of sitting +at home comfortably, and reading off the week's chronicle of sport while +he nursed his leg, the unfortunate gentleman had to be up and away to +Fenhurst every Sunday morning, or who would have known that the old +cause of his general abstention from Sabbath services lay in the +detestable doctrine of Wrexby's rector? + +Mrs. Lovell was now at the Hall, and it was Sunday morning after +breakfast. The lady stood like a rival head among the other guests, +listening, gloved and bonneted, to the bells of Wrexby, West of the +hills, and of Fenhurst, Northeast. The squire came in to them, groaning +over his boots, cross with his fragile wife, and in every mood for +satire, except to receive it. + +"How difficult it is to be gouty and good!" murmured Mrs. Lovell to the +person next her. + +"Well," said the squire, singling out his enemy, "you're going to that +fellow, I suppose, as usual--eh?" + +"Not 'as usual,'" replied Mrs. Lovell, sweetly; "I wish it were!" + +"Wish it were, do you?--you find him so entertaining? Has he got to +talking of the fashions?" + +"He talks properly; I don't ask for more." Mrs. Lovell assumed an air of +meekness under persecution. + +"I thought you were Low Church." + +"Lowly of the Church, I trust you thought," she corrected him. "But, for +that matter, any discourse, plainly delivered, will suit me." + +"His elocution's perfect," said the squire; "that is, before dinner." + +"I have only to do with him before dinner, you know." + +"Well, I've ordered a carriage out for you." + +"That is very honourable and kind." + +"It would be kinder if I contrived to keep you away from the fellow." + +"Would it not be kinder to yourself," Mrs. Lovell swam forward to him +in all tenderness, taking his hands, and fixing the swimming blue of +her soft eyes upon him pathetically, "if you took your paper and your +slippers, and awaited our return?" + +The squire felt the circulating smile about the room. He rebuked the +woman's audacity with a frown; "Tis my duty to set an example," he said, +his gouty foot and irritable temper now meeting in a common fire. + +"Since you are setting an example," rejoined the exquisite widow, "I +have nothing more to say." + +The squire looked what he dared not speak. A woman has half, a beauty +has all, the world with her when she is self-contained, and holds her +place; and it was evident that Mrs. Lovell was not one to abandon her +advantages. + +He snapped round for a victim, trying his wife first. Then his eyes +rested upon Algernon. + +"Well, here we are; which of us will you take?" he asked Mrs. Lovell in +blank irony. + +"I have engaged my cavalier, who is waiting, and will be as devout as +possible." Mrs. Lovell gave Algernon a smile. + +"I thought I hit upon the man," growled the squire. "You're going in to +Wrexby, sir! Oh, go, by all means, and I shan't be astonished at what +comes of it. Like teacher, like pupil!" + +"There!" Mrs. Lovell gave Algernon another smile. "You have to bear the +sins of your rector, as well as your own. Can you support it?" + +The flimsy fine dialogue was a little above Algernon's level in the +society of ladies; but he muttered, bowing, that he would endeavour to +support it, with Mrs. Lovell's help, and this did well enough; after +which, the slight strain on the intellects of the assemblage relaxed, +and ordinary topics were discussed. The carriages came round to the +door; gloves, parasols, and scent-bottles were securely grasped; +whereupon the squire, standing bare-headed on the steps, insisted upon +seeing the party of the opposition off first, and waited to hand Mrs. +Lovell into her carriage, an ironic gallantry accepted by the lady with +serenity befitting the sacred hour. + +"Ah! my pencil, to mark the text for you, squire," she said, taking her +seat; and Algernon turned back at her bidding, to get a pencil; and she, +presenting a most harmonious aspect in the lovely landscape, reclined in +the carriage as if, like the sweet summer air, she too were quieted by +those holy bells, while the squire stood, fuming, bareheaded, and with +boiling blood, just within the bounds of decorum on the steps. She was +more than his match. + +She was more than a match for most; and it was not a secret. Algernon +knew it as well as Edward, or any one. She was a terror to the soul +of the youth, and an attraction. Her smile was the richest flattery +he could feel; the richer, perhaps, from his feeling it to be a thing +impossible to fix. He had heard tales of her; he remembered Edward's +warning; but he was very humbly sitting with her now, and very happy. + +"I'm in for it," he said to his fair companion; "no cheque for me next +quarter, and no chance of an increase. He'll tell me I've got a salary. +A salary! Good Lord! what a man comes to! I've done for myself with the +squire for a year." + +"You must think whether you have compensation," said the lady, and he +received it in a cousinly squeeze of his hand. + +He was about to raise the lank white hand to his lips. + +"Ah!" she said, "there would be no compensation to me, if that were +seen;" and her dainty hand was withdrawn. "Now, tell me," she changed +her tone. "How do the loves prosper?" + +Algernon begged her not to call them 'loves.' She nodded and smiled. + +"Your artistic admirations," she observed. "I am to see her in church, +am I not? Only, my dear Algy, don't go too far. Rustic beauties are as +dangerous as Court Princesses. Where was it you saw her first?" + +"At the Bank," said Algernon. + +"Really! at the Bank! So your time there is not absolutely wasted. What +brought her to London, I wonder?" + +"Well, she has an old uncle, a queer old fellow, and he's a sort of +porter--money porter--in the Bank, awfully honest, or he might half +break it some fine day, if he chose to cut and run. She's got a sister, +prettier than this girl, the fellows say; I've never seen her. I expect +I've seen a portrait of her, though." + +"Ah!" Mrs. Lovell musically drew him on. "Was she dark, too?" + +"No, she's fair. At least, she is in her portrait." + +"Brown hair; hazel eyes?" + +"Oh--oh! You guess, do you?" + +"I guess nothing, though it seems profitable. That Yankee betting man +'guesses,' and what heaps of money he makes by it!" + +"I wish I did," Algernon sighed. "All my guessing and reckoning goes +wrong. I'm safe for next Spring, that's one comfort. I shall make twenty +thousand next Spring." + +"On Templemore?" + +"That's the horse. I've got a little on Tenpenny Nail as well. But +I'm quite safe on Templemore; unless the Evil Principle comes into the +field." + +"Is he so sure to be against you, if he does appear?" said Mrs. Lovell. + +"Certain!" ejaculated Algernon, in honest indignation. + +"Well, Algy, I don't like to have him on my side. Perhaps I will take a +share in your luck, to make it--? to make it?"--She played prettily as +a mistress teasing her lap-dog to jump for a morsel; adding: "Oh! Algy, +you are not a Frenchman. To make it divine, sir! you have missed your +chance." + +"There's one chance I shouldn't like to miss," said the youth. + +"Then, do not mention it," she counselled him. "And, seriously, I will +take a part of your risk. I fear I am lucky, which is ruinous. We will +settle that, by-and-by. Do you know, Algy, the most expensive position +in the world is a widow's." + +"You needn't be one very long," growled he. + +"I'm so wretchedly fastidious, don't you see? And it's best not to sigh +when we're talking of business, if you'll take me for a guide. So, the +old man brought this pretty rustic Miss Rhoda to the Bank?" + +"Once," said Algernon. "Just as he did with her sister. He's proud of +his nieces; shows them and then hides them. The fellows at the Bank +never saw her again." + +"Her name is--?" + +"Dahlia." + +"Ah, yes!--Dahlia. Extremely pretty. There are brown dahlias--dahlias +of all colours. And the portrait of this fair creature hangs up in your +chambers in town?" + +"Don't call them my chambers," Algernon protested. + +"Your cousin's, if you like. Probably Edward happened to be at the Bank +when fair Dahlia paid her visit. Once seems to have been enough for both +of you." + +Algernon was unread in the hearts of women, and imagined that Edward's +defection from Mrs. Lovell's sway had deprived him of the lady's +sympathy and interest in his fortunes. + +"Poor old Ned's in some scrape, I think," he said. + +"Where is he?" the lady asked, languidly. + +"Paris." + +"Paris? How very odd! And out of the season, in this hot weather. It's +enough to lead me to dream that he has gone over--one cannot realize +why." + +"Upon my honour!" Algernon thumped on his knee; "by jingo!" he adopted +a less compromising interjection; "Ned's fool enough. My idea is, he's +gone and got married." + +Mrs. Lovell was lying back with the neglectful grace of incontestable +beauty; not a line to wrinkle her smooth soft features. For one sharp +instant her face was all edged and puckered, like the face of a fair +witch. She sat upright. + +"Married! But how can that be when we none of us have heard a word of +it?" + +"I daresay you haven't," said Algernon; "and not likely to. Ned's +the closest fellow of my acquaintance. He hasn't taken me into his +confidence, you maybe sure; he knows I'm too leaky. There's no bore like +a secret! I've come to my conclusion in this affair by putting together +a lot of little incidents and adding them up. First, I believe he was +at the Bank when that fair girl was seen there. Secondly, from the +description the fellows give of her, I should take her to be the +original of the portrait. Next, I know that Rhoda has a fair sister who +has run for it. And last, Rhoda has had a letter from her sister, to say +she's away to the Continent and is married. Ned's in Paris. Those are my +facts, and I give you my reckoning of them." + +Mrs. Lovell gazed at Algernon for one long meditative moment. + +"Impossible," she exclaimed. "Edward has more brains than heart." And +now the lady's face was scarlet. "How did this Rhoda, with her absurd +name, think of meeting you to tell you such stuff? Indeed, there's a +simplicity in some of these young women--" She said the remainder to +herself. + +"She's really very innocent and good," Algernon defended Rhoda, "she is. +There isn't a particle of nonsense in her. I first met her in town, as I +stated, at the Bank; just on the steps, and we remembered I had called a +cab for her a little before; and I met her again by accident yesterday." + +"You are only a boy in their hands, my cousin Algy!" said Mrs. Lovell. + +Algernon nodded with a self-defensive knowingness. "I fancy there's no +doubt her sister has written to her that she's married. It's certain she +has. She's a blunt sort of girl; not one to lie, not even for a sister +or a lover, unless she had previously made up her mind to it. In that +case, she wouldn't stick at much." + +"But, do you know," said Mrs. Lovell--"do you know that Edward's father +would be worse than yours over such an act of folly? He would call it +an offence against common sense, and have no mercy for it. He would be +vindictive on principle. This story of yours cannot be true. Nothing +reconciles it." + +"Oh, Sir Billy will be rusty; that stands to reason," Algernon assented. +"It mayn't be true. I hope it isn't. But Ned has a madness for fair +women. He'd do anything on earth for them. He loses his head entirely." + +"That he may have been imprudent--" Mrs. Lovell thus blushingly hinted +at the lesser sin of his deceiving and ruining the girl. + +"Oh, it needn't be true," said Algernon; and with meaning, "Who's to +blame if it is?" + +Mrs. Lovell again reddened. She touched Algernon's fingers. + +"His friends mustn't forsake him, in any case." + +"By Jove! you are the right sort of woman," cried Algernon. + +It was beyond his faculties to divine that her not forsaking of Edward +might haply come to mean something disastrous to him. The touch of Mrs. +Lovell's hand made him forget Rhoda in a twinkling. He detained it, +audaciously, even until she frowned with petulance and stamped her foot. + +There was over her bosom a large cameo-brooch, representing a tomb under +a palm-tree, and the figure of a veiled woman with her head bowed upon +the tomb. This brooch was falling, when Algernon caught it. The pin tore +his finger, and in the energy of pain he dashed the brooch to her feet, +with immediate outcries of violent disgust at himself and exclamations +for pardon. He picked up the brooch. It was open. A strange, +discoloured, folded substance lay on the floor of the carriage. Mrs. +Lovell gazed down at it, and then at him, ghastly pale. He lifted it +by one corner, and the diminutive folded squares came out, revealing a +strip of red-stained handkerchief. + +Mrs. Lovell grasped it, and thrust it out of sight. + +She spoke as they approached the church-door: "Mention nothing of this +to a soul, or you forfeit my friendship for ever." + +When they alighted, she was smiling in her old affable manner. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Some consideration for Robert, after all, as being the man who loved +her, sufficed to give him rank as a more elevated kind of criminal +in Rhoda's sight, and exquisite torture of the highest form was +administered to him. Her faith in her sister was so sure that she could +half pardon him for the momentary harm he had done to Dahlia with her +father; but, judging him by the lofty standard of one who craved to be +her husband, she could not pardon his unmanly hesitation and manner of +speech. The old and deep grievance in her heart as to what men thought +of women, and as to the harshness of men, was stirred constantly by the +remembrance of his irresolute looks, and his not having dared to speak +nobly for Dahlia, even though he might have had, the knavery to think +evil. As the case stood, there was still mischief to counteract. +Her father had willingly swallowed a drug, but his suspicions only +slumbered, and she could not instil her own vivid hopefulness and trust +into him. Letters from Dahlia came regularly. The first, from Lausanne, +favoured Rhoda's conception of her as of a happy spirit resting at +celestial stages of her ascent upward through spheres of ecstacy. Dahlia +could see the snow-mountains in a flying glimpse; and again, peacefully +seated, she could see the snow-mountains reflected in clear blue waters +from her window, which, Rhoda thought, must be like heaven. On these +inspired occasions, Robert presented the form of a malignant serpent in +her ideas. Then Dahlia made excursions upon glaciers with her beloved, +her helpmate, and had slippings and tumblings--little earthly casualties +which gave a charming sense of reality to her otherwise miraculous +flight. The Alps were crossed: Italy was beheld. A profusion of "Oh's!" +described Dahlia's impressions of Italy; and "Oh! the heat!" showed her +to be mortal, notwithstanding the sublime exclamations. Como received +the blissful couple. Dahlia wrote from Como:-- + + "Tell father that gentlemen in my Edward's position cannot always + immediately proclaim their marriage to the world. There are + reasons. I hope he has been very angry with me: then it will be + soon over, and we shall be--but I cannot look back. I shall not + look back till we reach Venice. At Venice, I know I shall see you + all as clear as day; but I cannot even remember the features of my + darling here." + +Her Christian name was still her only signature. + +The thin blue-and-pink paper, and the foreign postmarks--testifications +to Dahlia's journey not being a fictitious event, had a singular +deliciousness for the solitary girl at the Farm. At times, as she turned +them over, she was startled by the intoxication of her sentiments, for +the wild thought would come, that many, many whose passionate hearts she +could feel as her own, were ready to abandon principle and the bondage +to the hereafter, for such a long delicious gulp of divine life. Rhoda +found herself more than once brooding on the possible case that Dahlia +had done this thing. + +The fit of languor came on her unawares, probing at her weakness, +and blinding her to the laws and duties of earth, until her conscious +womanhood checked it, and she sprang from the vision in a spasm of +terror, not knowing how far she had fallen. + +After such personal experiences, she suffered great longings to be with +her sister, that the touch of her hand, the gaze of her eyes, the tone +of Dahlia's voice, might make her sure of her sister's safety. + +Rhoda's devotions in church were frequently distracted by the occupants +of the Blancove pew. Mrs. Lovell had the habit of looking at her with +an extraordinary directness, an expressionless dissecting scrutiny, that +was bewildering and confusing to the country damsel. Algernon likewise +bestowed marked attention on her. Some curious hints had been thrown out +to her by this young gentleman on the day when he ventured to speak +to her in the lane, which led her to fancy distantly that he had some +acquaintance with Dahlia's husband, or that he had heard of Dahlia. + +It was clear to Rhoda that Algernon sought another interview. He +appeared in the neighbourhood of the farm on Saturdays, and on Sundays +he was present in the church, sometimes with Mrs. Lovell, and sometimes +without a companion. His appearance sent her quick wits travelling +through many scales of possible conduct: and they struck one ringing +note:--she thought that by the aid of this gentleman a lesson might be +given to Robert's mean nature. It was part of Robert's punishment to see +that she was not unconscious of Algernon's admiration. + +The first letter from Venice consisted of a series of interjections in +praise of the poetry of gondolas, varied by allusions to the sad smell +of the low tide water, and the amazing quality of the heat; and then +Dahlia wrote more composedly:-- + +"Titian the painter lived here, and painted ladies, who sat to him +without a bit of garment on, and indeed, my darling, I often think it +was more comfortable for the model than for the artist. Even modesty +seems too hot a covering for human creatures here. The sun strikes me +down. I am ceasing to have a complexion. It is pleasant to know that my +Edward is still proud of me. He has made acquaintance with some of the +officers here, and seems pleased at the compliments they pay me. + +"They have nice manners, and white uniforms that fit them like a +kid glove. I am Edward's 'resplendent wife.' A colonel of one of +the regiments invited him to dinner (speaking English), 'with your +resplendent wife.' Edward has no mercy for errors of language, and he +would not take me. Ah! who knows how strange men are! Never think +of being happy unless you can always be blind. I see you all at +home--Mother Dumpling and all--as I thought I should when I was to come +to Venice. + +"Persuade--do persuade father that everything will be well. Some persons +are to be trusted. Make him feel it. I know that I am life itself to +Edward. He has lived as men do, and he can judge, and he knows that +there never was a wife who brought a heart to her husband like mine to +him. He wants to think, or he wants to smoke, and he leaves me; but, oh! +when he returns, he can scarcely believe that he has me, his joy is so +great. He looks like a glad thankful child, and he has the manliest of +faces. It is generally thoughtful; you might think it hard, at first +sight. + +"But you must be beautiful to please some men. You will laugh--I have +really got the habit of talking to my face and all myself in the glass. +Rhoda would think me cracked. And it is really true that I was never so +humble about my good looks. You used to spoil me at home--you and that +wicked old Mother Dumpling, and our own dear mother, Rhoda--oh! mother, +mother! I wish I had always thought of you looking down on me! You made +me so vain--much more vain than I let you see I was. There were +times when it is quite true I thought myself a princess. I am not +worse-looking now, but I suppose I desire to be so beautiful that +nothing satisfies me. + +"A spot on my neck gives me a dreadful fright. If my hair comes out much +when I comb it, it sets my heart beating; and it is a daily misery to +me that my hands are larger than they should be, belonging to Edward's +'resplendent wife.' I thank heaven that you and I always saw the +necessity of being careful of our fingernails. My feet are of moderate +size, though they are not French feet, as Edward says. No: I shall never +dance. He sent me to the dancing-master in London, but it was too late. +But I have been complimented on my walking, and that seems to please +Edward. He does not dance (or mind dancing) himself, only he does not +like me to miss one perfection. It is his love. Oh! if I have seemed to +let you suppose he does not love me as ever, do not think it. He is most +tender and true to me. Addio! I am signora, you are signorina. + +"They have such pretty manners to us over here. Edward says they think +less of women: I say they think more. But I feel he must be right. Oh, +my dear, cold, loving, innocent sister! put out your arms; I shall feel +them round me, and kiss you, kiss you for ever!" + +Onward from city to city, like a radiation of light from the old +farm-house, where so little of it was, Dahlia continued her journey; and +then, without a warning, with only a word to say that she neared Rome, +the letters ceased. A chord snapped in Rhoda's bosom. While she was +hearing from her sister almost weekly, her confidence was buoyed on a +summer sea. In the silence it fell upon a dread. She had no answer +in her mind for her father's unspoken dissatisfaction, and she had to +conceal her cruel anxiety. There was an interval of two months: a blank +fell charged with apprehension that was like the humming of a toneless +wind before storm; worse than the storm, for any human thing to bear. + +Rhoda was unaware that Robert, who rarely looked at her, and never +sought to speak a word to her when by chance they met and were alone, +studied each change in her face, and read its signs. He was left to his +own interpretation of them, but the signs he knew accurately. He knew +that her pride had sunk, and that her heart was desolate. He believed +that she had discovered her sister's misery. + +One day a letter arrived that gave her no joyful colouring, though it +sent colour to her cheeks. She opened it, evidently not knowing the +handwriting; her eyes ran down the lines hurriedly. After a time she +went upstairs for her bonnet. + +At the stile leading into that lane where Robert had previously seen +her, she was stopped by him. + +"No farther," was all that he said, and he was one who could have +interdicted men from advancing. + +"Why may I not go by you?" said Rhoda, with a woman's affected +humbleness. + +Robert joined his hands. "You go no farther, Miss Rhoda, unless you take +me with you." + +"I shall not do that, Mr. Robert." + +"Then you had better return home." + +"Will you let me know what reasons you have for behaving in this manner +to me?" + +"I'll let you know by-and-by," said Robert. "At present, You'll let the +stronger of the two have his way." + +He had always been so meek and gentle and inoffensive, that her contempt +had enjoyed free play, and had never risen to anger; but violent anger +now surged against him, and she cried, "Do you dare to touch me?" trying +to force her passage by. + +Robert caught her softly by the wrist. There stood at the same time a +full-statured strength of will in his eyes, under which her own fainted. + +"Go back," he said; and she turned that he might not see her tears of +irritation and shame. He was treating her as a child; but it was to +herself alone that she could defend herself. She marvelled that when she +thought of an outspoken complaint against him, her conscience gave her +no support. + +"Is there no freedom for a woman at all in this world?" Rhoda framed the +bitter question. + +Rhoda went back as she had come. Algernon Blancove did the same. Between +them stood Robert, thinking, "Now I have made that girl hate me for +life." + +It was in November that a letter, dated from London, reached the farm, +quickening Rhoda's blood anew. "I am alive," said Dahlia; and she said +little more, except that she was waiting to see her sister, and bade her +urgently to travel up alone. Her father consented to her doing so. After +a consultation with Robert, however, he determined to accompany her. + +"She can't object to see me too," said the farmer; and Rhoda answered +"No." But her face was bronze to Robert when they took their departure. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Old Anthony was expecting them in London. It was now winter, and the +season for theatres; so, to show his brother-in-law the fun of a theatre +was one part of his projected hospitality, if Mr. Fleming should haply +take the hint that he must pay for himself. + +Anthony had laid out money to welcome the farmer, and was shy and +fidgety as a girl who anticipates the visit of a promising youth, over +his fat goose for next day's dinner, and his shrimps for this day's tea, +and his red slice of strong cheese, called of Cheshire by the reckless +butter-man, for supper. + +He knew that both Dahlia and Rhoda must have told the farmer that he +was not high up in Boyne's Bank, and it fretted him to think that the +mysterious respect entertained for his wealth by the farmer, which +delighted him with a novel emotion, might be dashed by what the farmer +would behold. + +During his last visit to the farm, Anthony had talked of the Funds more +suggestively than usual. He had alluded to his own dealings in them, and +to what he would do and would not do under certain contingencies; thus +shadowing out, dimly luminous and immense, what he could do, if his +sagacity prompted the adventure. The farmer had listened through the +buzzing of his uncertain grief, only sighing for answer. "If ever you +come up to London, brother William John," said Anthony, "you mind you go +about arm-in-arm with me, or you'll be judging by appearances, and says +you, 'Lor', what a thousander fellow this is!' and 'What a millioner +fellow that is!' You'll be giving your millions and your thousands +to the wrong people, when they haven't got a penny. All London 'll be +topsy-turvy to you, unless you've got a guide, and he'll show you a +shabby-coated, head-in-the-gutter old man 'll buy up the lot. Everybody +that doesn't know him says--look at him! but they that knows him--hats +off, I can tell you. And talk about lords! We don't mind their coming +into the city, but they know the scent of cash. I've had a lord take off +his hat to me. It's a fact, I have." + +In spite of the caution Anthony had impressed upon his country relative, +that he should not judge by appearances, he was nevertheless under an +apprehension that the farmer's opinion of him, and the luxurious, almost +voluptuous, enjoyment he had of it, were in peril. When he had purchased +the well-probed fat goose, the shrimps, and the cheese, he was only +half-satisfied. His ideas shot boldly at a bottle of wine, and he +employed a summer-lighted evening in going a round of wine-merchants' +placards, and looking out for the cheapest bottle he could buy. And +he would have bought one--he had sealing-wax of his own and could have +stamped it with the office-stamp of Boyne's Bank for that matter, to +make it as dignified and costly as the vaunted red seals and green seals +of the placards--he would have bought one, had he not, by one of his +lucky mental illuminations, recollected that it was within his power to +procure an order to taste wine at the Docks, where you may get as much +wine as you like out of big sixpenny glasses, and try cask after cask, +walking down gas-lit paths between the huge bellies of wine which groan +to be tapped and tried, that men may know them. The idea of paying +two shillings and sixpence for one miserable bottle vanished at the +richly-coloured prospect. "That'll show him something of what London +is," thought Anthony; and a companion thought told him in addition +that the farmer, with a skinful of wine, would emerge into the open +air imagining no small things of the man who could gain admittance into +those marvellous caverns. "By George! it's like a boy's story-book," +cried Anthony, in his soul, and he chuckled over the vision of the +farmer's amazement--acted it with his arms extended, and his hat +unseated, and plunged into wheezy fits of laughter. + +He met his guests at the station. Mr. Fleming was soberly attired in +what, to Anthony's London eye, was a curiosity costume; but the broad +brim of the hat, the square cut of the brown coat, and the leggings, +struck him as being very respectable, and worthy of a presentation at +any Bank in London. + +"You stick to a leather purse, brother William John?" he inquired, with +an artistic sentiment for things in keeping. + +"I do," said the farmer, feeling seriously at the button over it. + +"All right; I shan't ask ye to show it in the street," Anthony rejoined, +and smote Rhoda's hand as it hung. + +"Glad to see your old uncle--are ye?" + +Rhoda replied quietly that she was, but had come with the principal +object of seeing her sister. + +"There!" cried Anthony, "you never get a compliment out of this gal. +She gives ye the nut, and you're to crack it, and there maybe, or there +mayn't be, a kernel inside--she don't care." + +"But there ain't much in it!" the farmer ejaculated, withdrawing +his fingers from the button they had been teasing for security since +Anthony's question about the purse. + +"Not much--eh! brother William John?" Anthony threw up a puzzled look. +"Not much baggage--I see that--" he exclaimed; "and, Lord be thanked! no +trunks. Aha, my dear"--he turned to Rhoda--"you remember your lesson, +do ye? Now, mark me--I'll remember you for it. Do you know, my dear," he +said to Rhoda confidentially, "that sixpenn'orth of chaff which I made +the cabman pay for--there was the cream of it!--that was better than +Peruvian bark to my constitution. It was as good to me as a sniff of +sea-breeze and no excursion expenses. I'd like another, just to feel +young again, when I'd have backed myself to beat--cabmen? Ah! I've +stood up, when I was a young 'un, and shut up a Cheap Jack at a fair. +Circulation's the soul o' chaff. That's why I don't mind tackling +cabmen--they sit all day, and all they've got to say is 'rat-tat,' and +they've done. But I let the boys roar. I know what I was when a boy +myself. I've got devil in me--never you fear--but it's all on the side +of the law. Now, let's off, for the gentlemen are starin' at you, which +won't hurt ye, ye know, but makes me jealous." + +Before the party moved away from the platform, a sharp tussle took place +between Anthony and the farmer as to the porterage of the bulky bag; but +it being only half-earnest, the farmer did not put out his strength, and +Anthony had his way. + +"I rather astonished you, brother William John," he said, when they were +in the street. + +The farmer admitted that he was stronger than he looked. + +"Don't you judge by appearances, that's all," Anthony remarked, +setting down the bag to lay his finger on one side of his nose for +impressiveness. + +"Now, there we leave London Bridge to the right, and we should away to +the left, and quiet parts." He seized the bag anew. "Just listen. That's +the roaring of cataracts of gold you hear, brother William John. It's a +good notion, ain't it? Hark!--I got that notion from one of your penny +papers. You can buy any amount for a penny, now-a-days--poetry up in a +corner, stories, tales o' temptation--one fellow cut his lucky with +his master's cash, dashed away to Australia, made millions, fit to be +a lord, and there he was! liable to the law! and everybody bowing their +hats and their heads off to him, and his knees knocking at the sight of +a policeman--a man of a red complexion, full habit of body, enjoyed his +dinner and his wine, and on account of his turning white so often, +they called him--'sealing-wax and Parchment' was one name; 'Carrots and +turnips' was another; 'Blumonge and something,' and so on. Fancy his +having to pay half his income in pensions to chaps who could have had +him out of his town or country mansion and popped into gaol in a jiffy. +And found out at last! Them tales set you thinking. Once I was an idle +young scaramouch. But you can buy every idea that's useful to you for +a penny. I tried the halfpenny journals. Cheapness ain't always +profitable. The moral is, Make your money, and you may buy all the +rest." + +Discoursing thus by the way, and resisting the farmer's occasional +efforts to relieve him of the bag, with the observation that appearances +were deceiving, and that he intended, please his Maker, to live and turn +over a little more interest yet, Anthony brought them to Mrs. Wicklow's +house. Mrs. Wicklow promised to put them into the track of the omnibuses +running toward Dahlia's abode in the Southwest, and Mary Ann Wicklow, +who had a burning desire in her bosom to behold even the outside +shell of her friend's new grandeur, undertook very disinterestedly to +accompany them. Anthony's strict injunction held them due at a lamp-post +outside Boyne's Bank, at half-past three o'clock in the afternoon. + +"My love to Dahly," he said. "She was always a head and shoulders over +my size. Tell her, when she rolls by in her carriage, not to mind me. I +got my own notions of value. And if that Mr. Ayrton of hers 'll bank at +Boyne's, I'll behave to him like a customer. This here's the girl for my +money." He touched Rhoda's arm, and so disappeared. + +The farmer chided her for her cold manner to her uncle, murmuring aside +to her: "You heard what he said." Rhoda was frozen with her heart's +expectation, and insensible to hints or reproof. The people who entered +the omnibus seemed to her stale phantoms bearing a likeness to every +one she had known, save to her beloved whom she was about to meet, after +long separation. + +She marvelled pityingly at the sort of madness which kept the streets +so lively for no reasonable purpose. When she was on her feet again, she +felt for the first time, that she was nearing the sister for whom she +hungered, and the sensation beset her that she had landed in a foreign +country. Mary Ann Wicklow chattered all the while to the general ear. It +was her pride to be the discoverer of Dahlia's terrace. + +"Not for worlds would she enter the house," she said, in a general tone; +she knowing better than to present herself where downright entreaty did +not invite her. + +Rhoda left her to count the numbers along the terrace-walk, and stood +out in the road that her heart might select Dahlia's habitation from the +other hueless residences. She fixed upon one, but she was wrong, and +her heart sank. The fair Mary Ann fought her and beat her by means of a +careful reckoning, as she remarked,-- + +"I keep my eyes open; Number 15 is the corner house, the bow-window, to +a certainty." + +Gardens were in front of the houses; or, to speak more correctly, strips +of garden walks. A cab was drawn up close by the shrub-covered iron +gate leading up to No. 15. Mary Ann hurried them on, declaring that they +might be too late even now at a couple of dozen paces distant, seeing +that London cabs, crawlers as they usually were, could, when required, +and paid for it, do their business like lightning. Her observation +was illustrated the moment after they had left her in the rear; for a +gentleman suddenly sprang across the pavement, jumped into a cab, and +was whirled away, with as much apparent magic to provincial eyes, as if +a pantomimic trick had been performed. Rhoda pressed forward a step in +advance of her father. + +"It may have been her husband," she thought, and trembled. The curtains +up in the drawing-room were moved as by a hand; but where was Dahlia's +face? Dahlia knew that they were coming, and she was not on the look-out +for them!--a strange conflict of facts, over which Rhoda knitted her +black brows, so that she looked menacing to the maid opening the +door, whose "Oh, if you please, Miss," came in contact with "My +sister--Mrs.--, she expects me. I mean, Mrs.--" but no other name than +"Dahlia" would fit itself to Rhoda's mouth. + +"Ayrton," said the maid, and recommenced, "Oh, if you please, Miss, and +you are the young lady, Mrs. Ayrton is very sorry, and have left word, +would you call again to-morrow, as she have made a pressing appointment, +and was sure you would excuse her, but her husband was very anxious for +her to go, and could not put it off, and was very sorry, but would you +call again to-morrow at twelve o'clock? and punctually she would be +here." + +The maid smiled as one who had fairly accomplished the recital of her +lesson. Rhoda was stunned. + +"Is Mrs. Ayrton at home?--Not at home?" she said. + +"No: don't ye hear?" quoth the farmer, sternly. + +"She had my letter--do you know?" Rhoda appealed to the maid. + +"Oh, yes, Miss. A letter from the country." + +"This morning?" + +"Yes, Miss; this morning." + +"And she has gone out? What time did she go out? When will she be in?" + +Her father plucked at her dress. "Best not go making the young woman +repeat herself. She says, nobody's at home to ask us in. There's no +more, then, to trouble her for." + +"At twelve o'clock to-morrow?" Rhoda faltered. + +"Would you, if you please, call again at twelve o'clock to-morrow, and +punctually she would be here," said the maid. + +The farmer hung his head and turned. Rhoda followed him from the garden. +She was immediately plied with queries and interjections of wonderment +by Miss Wicklow, and it was not until she said: "You saw him go out, +didn't you?--into the cab?" that Rhoda awakened to a meaning in her +gabble. + +Was it Dahlia's husband whom they had seen? And if so, why was Dahlia +away from her husband? She questioned in her heart, but not for an +answer, for she allowed no suspicions to live. The farmer led on with +his plodding country step, burdened shoulders, and ruddy-fowled, serious +face, not speaking to Rhoda, who had no desire to hear a word from him, +and let him be. Mary Ann steered him and called from behind the turnings +he was to take, while she speculated aloud to Rhoda upon the nature of +the business that had torn Dahlia from the house so inopportunely. +At last she announced that she knew what it was, but Rhoda failed +to express curiosity. Mary Ann was driven to whisper something about +strange things in the way of purchases. At that moment the farmer threw +up his umbrella, shouting for a cab, and Rhoda ran up to him,-- + +"Oh, father, why do we want to ride?" + +"Yes, I tell ye!" said the farmer, chafing against his coat-collar. + +"It is an expense, when we can walk, father." + +"What do I care for th' expense? I shall ride." He roared again for a +cab, and one came that took them in; after which, the farmer, not +being spoken to, became gravely placid as before. They were put down at +Boyne's Bank. Anthony was on the look-out, and signalled them to stand +away some paces from the door. They were kept about a quarter of an hour +waiting between two tides of wayfarers, which hustled them one way +and another, when out, at last, came the old, broad, bent figure, with +little finicking steps, and hurried past them head foremost, his arms +narrowed across a bulgy breast. He stopped to make sure that they were +following, beckoned with his chin, and proceeded at a mighty rate. +Marvellous was his rounding of corners, his threading of obstructions, +his skilful diplomacy with passengers. Presently they lost sight of him, +and stood bewildered; but while they were deliberating they heard his +voice. He was above them, having issued from two swinging bright doors; +and he laughed and nodded, as he ran down the steps, and made signs, by +which they were to understand that he was relieved of a weight. + +"I've done that twenty year of my life, brother William John," he said. +"Eh? Perhaps you didn't guess I was worth some thousands when I got away +from you just now? Let any chap try to stop me! They may just as well +try to stop a railway train. Steam's up, and I'm off." + +He laughed and wiped his forehead. Slightly vexed at the small amount of +discoverable astonishment on the farmer's face, he continued,-- + +"You don't think much of it. Why, there ain't another man but myself +Boyne's Bank would trust. They've trusted me thirty year:--why shouldn't +they go on trusting me another thirty year? A good character, brother +William John, goes on compound-interesting, just like good coin. Didn't +you feel a sort of heat as I brushed by you--eh? That was a matter of +one-two-three-four" Anthony watched the farmer as his voice swelled +up on the heightening numbers: "five-six-six thousand pounds, brother +William John. People must think something of a man to trust him with +that sum pretty near every day of their lives, Sundays excepted--eh? +don't you think so?" + +He dwelt upon the immense confidence reposed in him, and the terrible +temptation it would be to some men, and how they ought to thank their +stars that they were never thrown in the way of such a temptation, of +which he really thought nothing at all--nothing! until the farmer's +countenance was lightened of its air of oppression, for a puzzle was +dissolved in his brain. It was now manifest to him that Anthony was +trusted in this extraordinary manner because the heads and managers +of Boyne's Bank knew the old man to be possessed of a certain very +respectable sum: in all probability they held it in their coffers for +safety and credited him with the amount. Nay, more; it was fair to +imagine that the guileless old fellow, who conceived himself to be so +deep, had let them get it all into their hands without any suspicion of +their prominent object in doing so. + +Mr. Fleming said, "Ah, yes, surely." + +He almost looked shrewd as he smiled over Anthony's hat. The healthy +exercise of his wits relieved his apprehensive paternal heart; and when +he mentioned that Dahlia had not been at home when he called, he at the +same time sounded his hearer for excuses to be raised on her behalf, +himself clumsily suggesting one or two, as to show that he was willing +to swallow a very little for comfort. + +"Oh, of course!" said Anthony, jeeringly. "Out? If you catch her in, +these next three or four days, you'll be lucky. Ah, brother William +John!" + +The farmer, half frightened by Anthony's dolorous shake of his head, +exclaimed: "What's the matter, man?" + +"How proud I should be if only you was in a way to bank at Boyne's!" + +"Ah!" went the farmer in his turn, and he plunged his chin deep in his +neckerchief. + +"Perhaps some of your family will, some day, brother William John." + +"Happen, some of my family do, brother Anthony!" + +"Will is what I said, brother William John; if good gals, and civil, and +marry decently--eh?" and he faced about to Rhoda who was walking with +Miss Wicklow. "What does she look so down about, my dear? Never be down. +I don't mind you telling your young man, whoever he is; and I'd like him +to be a strapping young six-footer I've got in my eye, who farms. What +does he farm with to make farming answer now-a-days? Why, he farms with +brains. You'll find that in my last week's Journal, brother William +John, and thinks I, as I conned it--the farmer ought to read that! You +may tell any young man you like, my dear, that your old uncle's fond of +ye." + +On their arrival home, Mrs. Wicklow met them with a letter in her hand. +It was for Rhoda from Dahlia, saying that Dahlia was grieved to the +heart to have missed her dear father and her darling sister. But her +husband had insisted upon her going out to make particular purchases, +and do a dozen things; and he was extremely sorry to have been obliged +to take her away, but she hoped to see her dear sister and her father +very, very soon. She wished she were her own mistress that she might run +to them, but men when they are husbands require so much waiting on that +she could never call five minutes her own. She would entreat them to +call tomorrow, only she would then be moving to her new lodgings. "But, +oh! my dear, my blessed Rhoda!" the letter concluded, "do keep fast in +your heart that I do love you so, and pray that we may meet soon, as I +pray it every night and all day long. Beg father to stop till we meet. +Things will soon be arranged. They must. Oh! oh, my Rhoda, love! how +handsome you have grown. It is very well to be fair for a time, but the +brunettes have the happiest lot. They last, and when we blonde ones cry +or grow thin, oh! what objects we become!" + +There were some final affectionate words, but no further explanations. + +The wrinkles again settled on the farmer's mild, uncomplaining forehead. + +Rhoda said: "Let us wait, father." + +When alone, she locked the letter against her heart, as to suck the +secret meaning out of it. Thinking over it was useless; except for +this one thought: how did her sister know she had grown very handsome? +Perhaps the housemaid had prattled. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Dahlia, the perplexity to her sister's heart, lay stretched at full +length upon the sofa of a pleasantly furnished London drawing-room, +sobbing to herself, with her handkerchief across her eyes. She had cried +passion out, and sobbed now for comfort. + +She lay in her rich silken dress like the wreck of a joyful creature, +while the large red Winter sun rounded to evening, and threw +deep-coloured beams against the wall above her head. They touched the +nut-brown hair to vivid threads of fire: but she lay faceless. Utter +languor and the dread of looking at her eyelids in the glass kept her +prostrate. + +So, the darkness closed her about; the sickly gas-lamps of the street +showing her as a shrouded body. + +A girl came in to spread the cloth for dinner, and went through her +duties with the stolidity of the London lodging-house maidservant, +poking a clogged fire to perdition, and repressing a songful spirit. + +Dahlia knew well what was being done; she would have given much to have +saved her nostrils from the smell of dinner; it was a great immediate +evil to her sickened senses; but she had no energy to call out, nor will +of any kind. The odours floated to her, and passively she combated them. + +At first she was nearly vanquished; the meat smelt so acrid, the +potatoes so sour; each afflicting vegetable asserted itself peculiarly; +and the bread, the salt even, on the wings of her morbid fancy, came +steaming about her, subtle, penetrating, thick, and hateful, like the +pressure of a cloud out of which disease is shot. + +Such it seemed to her, till she could have shrieked; but only a few +fresh tears started down her cheeks, and she lay enduring it. + +Dead silence and stillness hung over the dinner-service, when the outer +door below was opened, and a light foot sprang up the stairs. + +There entered a young gentleman in evening dress, with a loose black +wrapper drooping from his shoulders. + +He looked on the table, and then glancing at the sofa, said: + +"Oh, there she is!" and went to the window and whistled. + +After a minute of great patience, he turned his face back to the room +again, and commenced tapping his foot on the carpet. + +"Well?" he said, finding these indications of exemplary self-command +unheeded. His voice was equally powerless to provoke a sign of +animation. He now displaced his hat, and said, "Dahlia!" + +She did not move. + +"I am here to very little purpose, then," he remarked. + +A guttering fall of her bosom was perceptible. + +"For heaven's sake, take away that handkerchief, my good child! Why +have you let your dinner get cold? Here," he lifted a cover; "here's +roast-beef. You like it--why don't you eat it? That's only a small piece +of the general inconsistency, I know. And why haven't they put champagne +on the table for you? You lose your spirits without it. If you took it +when these moody fits came on--but there's no advising a woman to do +anything for her own good. Dahlia, will you do me the favour to speak +two or three words with me before I go? I would have dined here, but I +have a man to meet me at the Club. Of what mortal service is it +shamming the insensible? You've produced the required effect, I am as +uncomfortable as I need be. Absolutely! + +"Well," seeing that words were of no avail, he summed up expostulation +and reproach in this sigh of resigned philosophy: "I am going. Let me +see--I have my Temple keys?--yes! I am afraid that even when you are +inclined to be gracious and look at me, I shall not, be visible to you +for some days. I start for Lord Elling's to-morrow morning at five. I +meet my father there by appointment. I'm afraid we shall have to stay +over Christmas. Good-bye." He paused. "Good-bye, my dear." + +Two or three steps nearer the door, he said, "By the way, do you want +anything? Money?--do you happen to want any money? I will send a blank +cheque tomorrow. I have sufficient for both of us. I shall tell the +landlady to order your Christmas dinner. How about wine? There is +champagne, I know, and bottled ale. Sherry? I'll drop a letter to my +wine-merchant; I think the sherry's running dry." + +Her sense of hearing was now afflicted in as gross a manner as had been +her sense of smell. She could not have spoken, though her vitality +had pressed for speech. It would have astonished him to hear that his +solicitude concerning provender for her during his absence was not +esteemed a kindness; for surely it is a kindly thing to think of it; and +for whom but for one for whom he cared would he be counting the bottles +to be left at her disposal, insomuch that the paucity of the bottles of +sherry in the establishment distressed his mental faculties? + +"Well, good-bye," he said, finally. The door closed. + +Had Dahlia's misery been in any degree simulated, her eyes now, as well +as her ears, would have taken positive assurance of his departure. +But with the removal of her handkerchief, the loathsome sight of the +dinner-table would have saluted her, and it had already caused her +suffering enough. She chose to remain as she was, saying to herself, +"I am dead;" and softly revelling in that corpse-like sentiment. She +scarcely knew that the door had opened again. + +"Dahlia!" + +She heard her name pronounced, and more entreatingly, and closer to her. + +"Dahlia, my poor girl!" Her hand was pressed. It gave her no shudders. + +"I am dead," she mentally repeated, for the touch did not run up to her +heart and stir it. + +"Dahlia, do be reasonable! I can't leave you like this. We shall be +separated for some time. And what a miserable fire you've got here! You +have agreed with me that we are acting for the best. It's very hard +on me I try what I can to make you comf--happy; and really, to see you +leaving your dinner to get cold! Your hands are like ice. The meat won't +be eatable. You know I'm not my own master. Come, Dahly, my darling!" + +He gently put his hand to her chin, and then drew away the handkerchief. + +Dahlia moaned at the exposure of her tear-stained face, she turned it +languidly to the wall. + +"Are you ill, my dear?" he asked. + +Men are so considerately practical! He begged urgently to be allowed to +send for a doctor. + +But women, when they choose to be unhappy, will not accept of practical +consolations! She moaned a refusal to see the doctor. + +Then what can I do for her? he naturally thought, and he naturally +uttered it. + +"Say good-bye to me," he whispered. "And my pretty one will write to me. +I shall reply so punctually! I don't like to leave her at Christmas; +and she will give me a line of Italian, and a little French--mind +her accents, though!--and she needn't attempt any of the nasty +German--kshrra-kouzzra-kratz!--which her pretty lips can't do, and won't +do; but only French and Italian. Why, she learnt to speak Italian! 'La +dolcezza ancor dentro me suona.' Don't you remember, and made such fun +of it at first? 'Amo zoo;' 'no amo me?' my sweet!" + +This was a specimen of the baby-lover talk, which is charming in its +season, and maybe pleasantly cajoling to a loving woman at all times, +save when she is in Dahlia's condition. It will serve even then, or she +will pass it forgivingly, as not the food she for a moment requires; +but it must be purely simple in its utterance, otherwise she detects +the poor chicanery, and resents the meanness of it. She resents it with +unutterable sickness of soul, for it is the language of what were to her +the holiest hours of her existence, which is thus hypocritically used +to blind and rock her in a cradle of deception. If corrupt, she maybe +brought to answer to it all the same, and she will do her part of the +play, and babble words, and fret and pout deliciously; and the old days +will seem to be revived, when both know they are dead; and she will +thereby gain any advantage she is seeking. + +But Dahlia's sorrow was deep: her heart was sound. She did not even +perceive the opportunity offered to her for a wily performance. She +felt the hollowness of his speech, and no more; and she said, "Good-bye, +Edward." + +He had been on one knee. Springing cheerfully to his feet, "Good-bye, +darling," he said. "But I must see her sit to table first. Such a +wretched dinner for her!" and he mumbled, "By Jove, I suppose I shan't +get any at all myself!" His watch confirmed it to him that any dinner +which had been provided for him at the Club would be spoilt. + +"Never mind," he said aloud, and examined the roast-beef ruefully, +thinking that, doubtless, it being more than an hour behind the +appointed dinner-time at the Club, his guest must now be gone. + +For a minute or so he gazed at the mournful spectacle. The potatoes +looked as if they had committed suicide in their own steam. There were +mashed turnips, with a glazed surface, like the bright bottom of a tin +pan. One block of bread was by the lonely plate. Neither hot nor cold, +the whole aspect of the dinner-table resisted and repelled the gaze, and +made no pretensions to allure it. + +The thought of partaking of this repast endowed him with a critical +appreciation of its character, and a gush of charitable emotion for +the poor girl who had such miserable dishes awaiting her, arrested the +philosophic reproof which he could have administered to one that knew +so little how a dinner of any sort should be treated. He strode to the +windows, pulled down the blind he had previously raised, rang the bell, +and said,-- + +"Dahlia, there--I'm going to dine with you, my love. I've rung the bell +for more candles. The room shivers. That girl will see you, if you don't +take care. Where is the key of the cupboard? We must have some wine out. +The champagne, at all events, won't be flat." + +He commenced humming the song of complacent resignation. Dahlia was +still inanimate, but as the door was about to open, she rose quickly and +sat in a tremble on the sofa, concealing her face. + +An order was given for additional candles, coals, and wood. When the +maid had disappeared Dahlia got on her feet, and steadied herself by the +wall, tottering away to her chamber. + +"Ah, poor thing!" ejaculated the young man, not without an idea that the +demonstration was unnecessary. For what is decidedly disagreeable is, in +a young man's calculation concerning women, not necessary at all,--quite +the reverse. Are not women the flowers which decorate sublunary life? +It is really irritating to discover them to be pieces of machinery, that +for want of proper oiling, creak, stick, threaten convulsions, and are +tragic and stir us the wrong way. However, champagne does them good: an +admirable wine--a sure specific for the sex! + +He searched around for the keys to get at a bottle and uncork it +forthwith. The keys were on the mantelpiece a bad comment on Dahlia's +housekeeping qualities; but in the hurry of action let it pass. He +welcomed the candles gladly, and soon had all the cupboards in the room +royally open. + +Bustle is instinctively adopted by the human race as the substitute of +comfort. He called for more lights, more plates, more knives and forks. +He sent for ice the maid observed that it was not to be had save at a +distant street: "Jump into a cab--champagne's nothing without ice, even +in Winter," he said, and rang for her as she was leaving the house, to +name a famous fishmonger who was sure to supply the ice. + +The establishment soon understood that Mr. Ayrton intended dining within +those walls. Fresh potatoes were put on to boil. The landlady came +up herself to arouse the fire. The maid was for a quarter of an hour +hovering between the order to get ice and the execution of immediate +commands. One was that she should take a glass of champagne to Mrs. +Ayrton in her room. He drank off one himself. Mrs. Ayrton's glass being +brought back untouched, he drank that off likewise, and as he became +more exhilarated, was more considerate for her, to such a degree, that +when she appeared he seized her hands and only jestingly scolded her +for her contempt of sound medicine, declaring, in spite of her +protestations, that she was looking lovely, and so they sat down to +their dinner, she with an anguished glance at the looking-glass as she +sank in her chair. + +"It's not bad, after all," said he, drenching his tasteless mouthful of +half-cold meat with champagne. "The truth is, that Clubs spoil us. This +is Spartan fare. Come, drink with me, my dearest. One sip." + +She was coaxed by degrees to empty a glass. She had a gentle heart, and +could not hold out long against a visible lively kindliness. It pleased +him that she should bow to him over fresh bubbles; and they went +formally through the ceremony, and she smiled. He joked and laughed and +talked, and she eyed him a faint sweetness. He perceived now that she +required nothing more than the restoration of her personal pride, and +setting bright eyes on her, hazarded a bold compliment. + +Dahlia drooped like a yacht with idle sails struck by a sudden blast, +that dips them in the salt; but she raised her face with the full bloom +of a blush: and all was plain sailing afterward. + +"Has my darling seen her sister?" he asked softly. + +Dahlia answered, "No," in the same tone. + +Both looked away. + +"She won't leave town without seeing you?" + +"I hope--I don't know. She--she has called at our last lodgings twice." + +"Alone?" + +"Yes; I think so." + +Dahlia kept her head down, replying; and his observation of her wavered +uneasily. + +"Why not write to her, then?" + +"She will bring father." + +The sob thickened in her throat; but, alas for him who had at first, +while she was on the sofa, affected to try all measures to revive her, +that I must declare him to know well how certain was his mastery over +her, when his manner was thoroughly kind. He had not much fear of her +relapsing at present. + +"You can't see your father?" + +"No." + +"But, do. It's best." + +"I can't." + +"Why not?" + +"Not--" she hesitated, and clasped her hands in her lap. + +"Yes, yes; I know," said he; "but still! You could surely see him. You +rouse suspicions that need not exist. Try another glass, my dear." + +"No more." + +"Well; as I was saying, you force him to think--and there is no +necessity for it. He maybe as hard on this point as you say; but now +and then a little innocent deception maybe practised. We only require to +gain time. You place me in a very hard position. I have a father too. +He has his own idea of things. He's a proud man, as I've told you; +tremendously ambitious, and he wants to push me, not only at the bar, +but in the money market matrimonial. All these notions I have to contend +against. Things can't be done at once. If I give him a shock--well, +we'll drop any consideration of the consequences. Write to your +sister to tell her to bring your father. If they make particular +inquiries--very unlikely I think--but, if they do, put them at their +ease." + +She sighed. + +"Why was my poor darling so upset, when I came in?" said he. + +There was a difficulty in her speaking. He waited with much patient +twiddling of bread crumbs; and at last she said: + +"My sister called twice at my--our old lodgings. The second time, she +burst into tears. The girl told me so." + +"But women cry so often, and for almost anything, Dahlia." + +"Rhoda cries with her hands closed hard, and her eyelids too." + +"Well, that maybe her way." + +"I have only seen her cry once, and that was when mother was dying, and +asked her to fetch a rose from the garden. I met her on the stairs. She +was like wood. She hates crying. She loves me so." + +The sympathetic tears rolled down Dahlia's cheeks. + +"So, you quite refuse to see your father?" he asked. + +"Not yet!" + +"Not yet," he repeated. + +At the touch of scorn in his voice, she exclaimed: + +"Oh, Edward! not yet, I cannot. I know I am weak. I can't meet him now. +If my Rhoda had come alone, as I hoped--! but he is with her. Don't +blame me, Edward. I can't explain. I only know that I really have not +the power to see him." + +Edward nodded. "The sentiment some women put into things is +inexplicable," he said. "Your sister and father will return home. They +will have formed their ideas. You know how unjust they will be. Since, +however, the taste is for being a victim--eh?" + +London lodging-house rooms in Winter when the blinds are down, and a +cheerless fire is in the grate, or when blinds are up and street-lamps +salute the inhabitants with uncordial rays, are not entertaining places +of residence for restless spirits. Edward paced about the room. He lit a +cigar and puffed at it fretfully. + +"Will you come and try one of the theatres for an hour?" he asked. + +She rose submissively, afraid to say that she thought she should look +ill in the staring lights; but he, with great quickness of perception, +rendered her task easier by naming the dress she was to wear, the +jewels, and the colour of the opera cloak. Thus prompted, Dahlia went to +her chamber, and passively attired herself, thankful to have been spared +the pathetic troubles of a selection of garments from her wardrobe. When +she came forth, Edward thought her marvellously beautiful. + +Pity that she had no strength of character whatever, nor any pointed +liveliness of mind to match and wrestle with his own, and cheer the +domestic hearth! But she was certainly beautiful. Edward kissed her hand +in commendation. Though it was practically annoying that she should +be sad, the hue and spirit of sadness came home to her aspect. Sorrow +visited her tenderly falling eyelids like a sister. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Edward's engagement at his Club had been with his unfortunate cousin +Algernon; who not only wanted a dinner but 'five pounds or so' (the +hazy margin which may extend illimitably, or miserably contract, at the +lender's pleasure, and the necessity for which shows the borrower to be +dancing on Fortune's tight-rope above the old abyss). + +"Over claret," was to have been the time for the asking; and Algernon +waited dinnerless until the healthy-going minutes distended and swelled +monstrous and horrible as viper-bitten bodies, and the venerable +Signior, Time, became of unhealthy hue. For this was the first dinner +which, during the whole course of the young man's career, had ever been +failing to him. Reflect upon the mournful gap! He could scarcely believe +in his ill-luck. He suggested it to himself with an inane grin, as one +of the far-away freaks of circumstances that had struck him--and was it +not comical? + +He waited from the hour of six till the hour of seven. He compared +clocks in the hall and the room. He changed the posture of his legs +fifty times. For a while he wrestled right gallantly with the apparent +menace of the Fates that he was to get no dinner at all that day; it +seemed incredibly derisive, for, as I must repeat, it had never happened +to him by any accident before. "You are born--you dine." Such appeared +to him to be the positive regulation of affairs, and a most proper +one,--of the matters of course following the birth of a young being. + +By what frightful mischance, then, does he miss his dinner? By placing +the smallest confidence in the gentlemanly feeling of another man! +Algernon deduced this reply accurately from his own experience, and +whether it can be said by other "undined" mortals, does not matter in +the least. But we have nothing to do with the constitutionally luckless: +the calamitous history of a simple empty stomach is enough. Here the +tragedy is palpable. Indeed, too sadly so, and I dare apply but a flash +of the microscope to the rageing dilemmas of this animalcule. Five and +twenty minutes had signalled their departure from the hour of seven, +when Algernon pronounced his final verdict upon Edward's conduct by +leaving the Club. He returned to it a quarter of an hour later, and +lingered on in desperate mood till eight. + +He had neither watch in his pocket, nor ring on his finger, nor +disposable stud in his shirt. The sum of twenty-one pence was in his +possession, and, I ask you, as he asked himself, how is a gentleman to +dine upon that? He laughed at the notion. The irony of Providence sent +him by a cook's shop, where the mingled steam of meats and puddings +rushed out upon the wayfarer like ambushed bandits, and seized him and +dragged him in, or sent him qualmish and humbled on his way. + +Two little boys had flattened their noses to the whiteness of winkles +against the jealously misty windows. Algernon knew himself to be +accounted a generous fellow, and remembering his reputation, he, as to +hint at what Fortune might do in his case, tossed some coppers to the +urchins, who ducked to the pavement and slid before the counter, in a +flash, with never a "thank ye" or the thought of it. + +Algernon was incapable of appreciating this childish faith in the +beneficence of the unseen Powers who feed us, which, I must say for him, +he had shared in a very similar manner only two hours ago. He laughed +scornfully: "The little beggars!" considering in his soul that of such +is humanity composed: as many a dinnerless man has said before, and +will again, to point the speech of fools. He continued strolling on, +comparing the cramped misty London aspect of things with his visionary +free dream of the glorious prairies, where his other life was: the +forests, the mountains, the endless expanses; the horses, the flocks, +the slipshod ease of language and attire; and the grog-shops. Aha! There +could be no mistake about him as a gentleman and a scholar out there! +Nor would Nature shut up her pocket and demand innumerable things of +him, as civilization did. This he thought in the vengefulness of his +outraged mind. + +Not only had Algernon never failed to dine every day of his life: he +had no recollection of having ever dined without drinking wine. His +conception did not embrace the idea of a dinner lacking wine. Possibly +he had some embodied understanding that wine did not fall to the lot +of every fellow upon earth: he had heard of gullets unrefreshed even by +beer: but at any rate he himself was accustomed to better things, and he +did not choose to excavate facts from the mass of his knowledge in order +to reconcile himself to the miserable chop he saw for his dinner in the +distance--a spot of meat in the arctic circle of a plate, not shone upon +by any rosy-warming sun of a decanter! + +But metaphorical language, though nothing other will convey the +extremity of his misery, or the form of his thoughts, must be put aside. + +"Egad, and every friend I have is out of town!" he exclaimed, quite +willing to think it part of the plot. + +He stuck his hands in his pockets, and felt vagabond-like and reckless. +The streets were revelling in their winter muck. The carriages rolling +by insulted him with their display of wealth. + +He had democratic sentiments regarding them. Oh for a horse upon the +boundless plains! he sighed to his heart. He remembered bitterly how he +had that day ridden his stool at the bank, dreaming of his wilds, where +bailiff never ran, nor duns obscured the firmament. + +And then there were theatres here--huge extravagant places! Algernon +went over to an entrance of one, to amuse his mind, cynically +criticizing the bill. A play was going forward within, that enjoyed +great popular esteem, "The Holly Berries." Seeing that the pit was +crammed, Algernon made application to learn the state of the boxes, but +hearing that one box was empty, he lost his interest in the performance. + +As he was strolling forth, his attention was taken by a noise at the +pit-doors, which swung open, and out tumbled a tough little old man with +a younger one grasping his coat-collar, who proclaimed that he would +sicken him of pushing past him at the end of every act. + +"You're precious fond of plays," sneered the junior. + +"I'm fond of everything I pay for, young fellow," replied the shaken +senior; "and that's a bit of enjoyment you've got to learn--ain't it?" + +"Well, don't you knock by me again, that's all," cried the choleric +youth. + +"You don't think I'm likely to stop in your company, do you?" + +"Whose expense have you been drinking at?" + +"My country's, young fellow; and mind you don't soon feed at the table. +Let me go." + +Algernon's hunger was appeased by the prospect of some excitement, and +seeing a vicious shake administered to the old man by the young one, he +cried, "Hands off!" and undertook policeman's duty; but as he was not +in blue, his authoritative mandate obtained no respect until he had +interposed his fist. + +When he had done so, he recognized the porter at Boyne's Bank, whose +enemy retired upon the threat that there should be no more pushing past +him to get back to seats for the next act. + +"I paid," said Anthony; "and you're a ticketer, and you ticketers sha' +n't stop me. I'm worth a thousand of you. Holloa, sir," he cried to +Algernon; "I didn't know you. I'm much obliged. These chaps get tickets +given 'm, and grow as cocky in a theatre as men who pay. He never had +such wine in him as I've got. That I'd swear. Ha! ha! I come out for an +airing after every act, and there's a whole pitfall of ticketers yelling +and tearing, and I chaff my way through and back clean as a red-hot +poker." + +Anthony laughed, and rolled somewhat as he laughed. + +"Come along, sir, into the street," he said, boring on to the pavement. +"It's after office hours. And, ha! ha! what do you think? There's old +farmer in there, afraid to move off his seat, and the girl with him, +sticking to him tight, and a good girl too. She thinks we've had too +much. We been to the Docks, wine-tasting: Port--Sherry: Sherry--Port! +and, ha! ha! 'what a lot of wine!' says farmer, never thinking how much +he's taking on board. 'I guessed it was night,' says farmer, as we got +into the air, and to see him go on blinking, and stumbling, and saying +to me, 'You stand wine, brother Tony!' I'm blest if I ain't bottled +laughter. So, says I, 'come and see "The Holly Berries," brother William +John; it's the best play in London, and a suitable winter piece.' 'Is +there a rascal hanged in the piece?' says he. 'Oh, yes!' I let him fancy +there was, and he--ha! ha! old farmer's sticking to his seat, solemn as +a judge, waiting for the gallows to come on the stage." + +A thought quickened Algernon's spirit. It was a notorious secret among +the young gentlemen who assisted in maintaining the prosperity +of Boyne's Bank, that the old porter--the "Old Ant," as he was +called--possessed money, and had no objection to put out small sums for +a certain interest. Algernon mentioned casually that he had left his +purse at home; and "by the way," said he, "have you got a few sovereigns +in your pocket?" + +"What! and come through that crush, sir?" Anthony negatived the question +decisively with a reference to his general knowingness. + +Algernon pressed him; saying at last, "Well, have you got one?" + +"I don't think I've been such a fool," said Anthony, feeling slowly +about his person, and muttering as to the changes that might possibly +have been produced in him by the Docks. + +"Confound it, I haven't dined!" exclaimed Algernon, to hasten his +proceedings; but at this, Anthony eyed him queerly. "What have you been +about then, sir?" + +"Don't you see I'm in evening dress? I had an appointment to dine with +a friend. He didn't keep it. I find I've left my purse in my other +clothes." + +"That's a bad habit, sir," was Anthony's comment. "You don't care much +for your purse." + +"Much for my purse, be hanged!" interjected Algernon. + +"You'd have felt it, or you'd have heard it, if there 'd been any weight +in it," Anthony remarked. + +"How can you hear paper?" + +"Oh, paper's another thing. You keep paper in your mind, don't you--eh? +Forget pound notes? Leave pound notes in a purse? And you Sir William's +nephew, sir, who'd let you bank with him and put down everything in a +book, so that you couldn't forget, or if you did, he'd remember for you; +and you might change your clothes as often as not, and no fear of your +losing a penny." + +Algernon shrugged disgustedly, and was giving the old man up as a bad +business, when Anthony altered his manner. "Oh! well, sir, I don't mind +letting you have what I've got. I'm out for fun. Bother affairs!" + +The sum of twenty shillings was handed to Algernon, after he had +submitted to the indignity of going into a public-house, and writing +his I.O.U. for twenty-three to Anthony Hackbut, which included interest. +Algernon remonstrated against so needless a formality; but Anthony +put the startling supposition to him, that he might die that night. He +signed the document, and was soon feeding and drinking his wine. This +being accomplished, he took some hasty puffs of tobacco, and returned to +the theatre, in the hope that the dark girl Rhoda was to be seen there; +for now that he had dined, Anthony's communication with regard to the +farmer and his daughter became his uppermost thought, and a young man's +uppermost thought is usually the propelling engine to his actions. + +By good chance, and the aid of a fee, he obtained a front seat, +commanding an excellent side-view of the pit, which sat wrapt in +contemplation of a Christmas scene snow, ice, bare twigs, a desolate +house, and a woman shivering--one of man's victims. + +It is a good public, that of Britain, and will bear anything, so long +as villany is punished, of which there was ripe promise in the oracular +utterances of a rolling, stout, stage-sailor, whose nose, to say nothing +of his frankness on the subject, proclaimed him his own worst enemy, +and whose joke, by dint of repetition, had almost become the joke of the +audience too; for whenever he appeared, there was agitation in pit and +gallery, which subsided only on his jovial thundering of the familiar +sentence; whereupon laughter ensued, and a quieting hum of satisfaction. + +It was a play that had been favoured with a great run. Critics had once +objected to it, that it was made to subsist on scenery, a song, and a +stupid piece of cockneyism pretending to be a jest, that was really +no more than a form of slapping the public on the back. But the public +likes to have its back slapped, and critics, frozen by the Medusa-head +of Success, were soon taught manners. The office of critic is now, +in fact, virtually extinct; the taste for tickling and slapping is +universal and imperative; classic appeals to the intellect, and passions +not purely domestic, have grown obsolete. There are captains of the +legions, but no critics. The mass is lord. + +And behold our friend the sailor of the boards, whose walk is even +as two meeting billows, appears upon the lonely moor, and salts that +uninhabited region with nautical interjections. Loose are his hose in +one part, tight in another, and he smacks them. It is cold; so let that +be his excuse for showing the bottom of his bottle to the glittering +spheres. He takes perhaps a sturdier pull at the liquor than becomes +a manifest instrument of Providence, whose services may be immediately +required; but he informs us that his ship was never known not to right +itself when called upon. + +He is alone in the world, he tells us likewise. If his one friend, the +uplifted flask, is his enemy, why then he feels bound to treat his enemy +as his friend. This, with a pathetic allusion to his interior economy, +which was applauded, and the remark "Ain't that Christian?" which was +just a trifle risky; so he secured pit and gallery at a stroke by a +surpassingly shrewd blow at the bishops of our Church, who are, it can +barely be contested, in foul esteem with the multitude--none can say +exactly, for what reason--and must submit to be occasionally offered up +as propitiatory sacrifices. + +This good sailor was not always alone in the world. A sweet girl, whom +he describes as reaching to his kneecap, and pathetically believes still +to be of the same height, once called him brother Jack. To hear that +name again from her lips, and a particular song!--he attempts it +ludicrously, yet touchingly withal. + +Hark! Is it an echo from a spirit in the frigid air? + +The song trembled with a silver ring to the remotest corners of the +house. + +At that moment the breathless hush of the audience was flurried by +hearing "Dahlia" called from the pit. + +Algernon had been spying among the close-packed faces for a sight of +Rhoda. Rhoda was now standing up amid gathering hisses and outcries. Her +eyes were bent on a particular box, across which a curtain was hastily +being drawn. "My sister!" she sent out a voice of anguish, and remained +with clasped hands and twisted eyebrows, looking toward that one spot, +as if she would have flown to it. She was wedged in the mass, and could +not move. + +The exclamation heard had belonged to brother Jack, on the stage, whose +burst of fraternal surprise and rapture fell flat after it, to the +disgust of numbers keenly awakened for the sentiment of this scene. + +Roaring accusations that she was drunk; that she had just escaped from +Bedlam for an evening; that she should be gagged and turned headlong +out, surrounded her; but she stood like a sculptured figure, vital +in her eyes alone. The farmer put his arm about his girl's waist. The +instant, however, that Anthony's head uprose on the other side of her, +the evil reputation he had been gaining for himself all through the +evening produced a general clamour, over which the gallery played, +miauling, and yelping like dogs that are never to be divorced from a +noise. Algernon feared mischief. He quitted his seat, and ran out into +the lobby. + +Half-a-dozen steps, and he came in contact with some one, and they were +mutually drenched with water by the shock. It was his cousin Edward, +bearing a glass in his hand. + +Algernon's wrath at the sight of this offender was stimulated by the +cold bath; but Edward cut him short. + +"Go in there;" he pointed to a box-door. "A lady has fainted. Hold her +up till I come." + +No time was allowed for explanation. Algernon passed into the box, and +was alone with an inanimate shape in blue bournous. The uproar in the +theatre raged; the whole pit was on its legs and shouting. He lifted +the pallid head over one arm, miserably helpless and perplexed, but +his anxiety concerning Rhoda's personal safety in that sea of strife +prompted him to draw back the curtain a little, and he stood exposed. +Rhoda perceived him. She motioned with both her hands in dumb +supplication. In a moment the curtain closed between them. Edward's +sharp white face cursed him mutely for his folly, while he turned and +put the water to Dahlia's lips, and touched her forehead with it. + +"What's the matter?" whispered Algernon. + +"We must get her out as quick as we can. This is the way with women! +Come! she's recovering." Edward nursed her sternly as he spoke. + +"If she doesn't, pretty soon, we shall have the pit in upon us," said +Algernon. "Is she that girl's sister?" + +"Don't ask damned questions." + +Dahlia opened her eyes, staring placidly. + +"Now you can stand up, my dear. Dahlia! all's well. Try," said Edward. + +She sighed, murmuring, "What is the time?" and again, "What noise is +it?" + +Edward coughed in a vexed attempt at tenderness, using all his force to +be gentle with her as he brought her to her feet. The task was difficult +amid the threatening storm in the theatre, and cries of "Show the young +woman her sister!" for Rhoda had won a party in the humane public. + +"Dahlia, in God's name give me your help!" Edward called in her ear. + +The fair girl's eyelids blinked wretchedly in protestation of her +weakness. She had no will either way, and suffered herself to be led out +of the box, supported by the two young men. + +"Run for a cab," said Edward; and Algernon went ahead. + +He had one waiting for them as they came out. They placed Dahlia on a +seat with care, and Edward, jumping in, drew an arm tightly about her. +"I can't cry," she moaned. + +The cab was driving off as a crowd of people burst from the pit-doors, +and Algernon heard the voice of Farmer Fleming, very hoarse. He had +discretion enough to retire. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Robert was to drive to the station to meet Rhoda and her father +returning from London, on a specified day. He was eager to be asking +cheerful questions of Dahlia's health and happiness, so that he might +dispel the absurd general belief that he had ever loved the girl, and +was now regretting her absence; but one look at Rhoda's face when she +stepped from the railway carriage kept him from uttering a word on that +subject, and the farmer's heavier droop and acceptance of a helping hand +into the cart, were signs of bad import. + +Mr. Fleming made no show of grief, like one who nursed it. He took it to +all appearance as patiently as an old worn horse would do, although such +an outward submissiveness will not always indicate a placid spirit in +men. He talked at stale intervals of the weather and the state of the +ground along the line of rail down home, and pointed in contempt or +approval to a field here and there; but it was as one who no longer had +any professional interest in the tilling of the land. + +Doubtless he was trained to have no understanding of a good to be +derived by his communicating what he felt and getting sympathy. Once, +when he was uncertain, and a secret pride in Dahlia's beauty and +accomplishments had whispered to him that her flight was possibly the +opening of her road to a higher fortune, he made a noise for comfort, +believing in his heart that she was still to be forgiven. He knew better +now. By holding his peace he locked out the sense of shame which speech +would have stirred within him. + +"Got on pretty smooth with old Mas' Gammon?" he expressed his hope; and +Robert said, "Capitally. We shall make something out of the old man yet, +never fear." + +Master Gammon was condemned to serve at the ready-set tea-table as a +butt for banter; otherwise it was apprehended well that Mrs. Sumfit +would have scorched the ears of all present, save the happy veteran of +the furrows, with repetitions of Dahlia's name, and wailings about her +darling, of whom no one spoke. They suffered from her in spite of every +precaution. + +"Well, then, if I'm not to hear anything dooring meals--as if I'd +swallow it and take it into my stomach!--I'll wait again for what ye've +got to tell," she said, and finished her cup at a gulp, smoothing her +apron. + +The farmer then lifted his head. + +"Mother, if you've done, you'll oblige me by going to bed," he said. "We +want the kitchen." + +"A-bed?" cried Mrs. Sumfit, with instantly ruffled lap. + +"Upstairs, mother; when you've done--not before." + +"Then bad's the noos! Something have happened, William. You 'm not +going to push me out? And my place is by the tea-pot, which I cling to, +rememberin' how I seen her curly head grow by inches up above the table +and the cups. Mas' Gammon," she appealed to the sturdy feeder, "five +cups is your number?" + +Her hope was reduced to the prolonging of the service of tea, with +Master Gammon's kind assistance. + +"Four, marm," said her inveterate antagonist, as he finished that +amount, and consequently put the spoon in his cup. + +Mrs. Sumfit rolled in her chair. + +"O Lord, Mas' Gammon! Five, I say; and never a cup less so long as here +you've been." + +"Four, marm. I don't know," said Master Gammon, with a slow nod of his +head, "that ever I took five cups of tea at a stretch. Not runnin'." + +"I do know, Mas' Gammon. And ought to: for don't I pour out to ye? It's +five you take, and please, your cup, if you'll hand it over." + +"Four's my number, marm," Master Gammon reiterated resolutely. He sat +like a rock. + +"If they was dumplins," moaned Mrs. Sumfit, "not four, no, nor five, +'d do till enough you'd had, and here we might stick to our chairs, but +you'd go on and on; you know you would." + +"That's eatin', marm;" Master Gammon condescended to explain the nature +of his habits. "I'm reg'lar in my drinkin'." + +Mrs. Sumfit smote her hands together. "O Lord, Mas' Gammon, the +wearisomest old man I ever come across is you. More tea's in the +pot, and it ain't watery, and you won't be comfortable. May you get +forgiveness from above! is all I say, and I say no more. Mr. Robert, +perhaps you'll be so good as let me help you, sir? It's good tea; and +my Dody," she added, cajolingly, "my home girl 'll tell us what she saw. +I'm pinched and starved to hear." + +"By-and-by, mother," interposed the farmer; "tomorrow." He spoke gently, +but frowned. + +Both Rhoda and Robert perceived that they were peculiarly implicated in +the business which was to be discussed without Mrs. Sumfit's assistance. +Her father's manner forbade Rhoda from making any proposal for the +relief of the forlorn old woman. + +"And me not to hear to-night about your play-going!" sighed Mrs. +Sumfit. "Oh, it's hard on me. I do call it cruel. And how my sweet was +dressed--like as for a Ball." + +She saw the farmer move his foot impatiently. + +"Then, if nobody drinks this remaining cup, I will," she pursued. + +No voice save her own was heard till the cup was emptied, upon which +Master Gammon, according to his wont, departed for bed to avoid the +seduction of suppers, which he shunned as apoplectic, and Mrs. Sumfit +prepared, in a desolate way, to wash the tea-things, but the farmer, +saying that it could be done in the morning, went to the door and opened +it for her. + +She fetched a great sigh and folded her hands resignedly. As she was +passing him to make her miserable enforced exit, the heavy severity +of his face afflicted her with a deep alarm; she fell on her knees, +crying,-- + +"Oh, William! it ain't for sake of hearin' talk; but you, that went to +see our Dahly, the blossom, 've come back streaky under the eyes, and +you make the house feel as if we neighboured Judgement Day. Down to tea +you set the first moment, and me alone with none of you, and my love for +my girl known well to you. And now to be marched off! How can I go a-bed +and sleep, and my heart jumps so? It ain't Christian to ask me to. I got +a heart, dear, I have. Do give a bit of comfort to it. Only a word of my +Dahly to me." + +The farmer replied: "Mother, let's have no woman's nonsense. What we've +got to bear, let us bear. And you go on your knees to the Lord, and +don't be a heathen woman, I say. Get up. There's a Bible in your +bedroom. Find you out comfort in that." + +"No, William, no!" she sobbed, still kneeling: "there ain't a dose o' +comfort there when poor souls is in the dark, and haven't got patience +for passages. And me and my Bible!--how can I read it, and not know my +ailing, and a'stract one good word, William? It'll seem only the devil's +shootin' black lightnings across the page, as poor blessed granny used +to say, and she believed witches could do it to you in her time, when +they was evil-minded. No! To-night I look on the binding of the Holy +Book, and I don't, and I won't, I sha' n't open it." + +This violent end to her petition was wrought by the farmer grasping her +arm to bring her to her feet. + +"Go to bed, mother." + +"I shan't open it," she repeated, defiantly. "And it ain't," she +gathered up her comfortable fat person to assist the words "it ain't +good--no, not the best pious ones--I shall, and will say it! as is +al'ays ready to smack your face with the Bible." + +"Now, don't ye be angry," said the farmer. + +She softened instantly. + +"William, dear, I got fifty-seven pounds sterling, and odd shillings, in +a Savings-bank, and that I meant to go to Dahly, and not to yond' dark +thing sitting there so sullen, and me in my misery; I'd give it to you +now for news of my darlin'. Yes, William; and my poor husband's cottage, +in Sussex--seventeen pound per annum. That, if you'll be goodness +itself, and let me hear a word." + +"Take her upstairs," said the farmer to Rhoda, and Rhoda went by her +and took her hands, and by dint of pushing from behind and dragging in +front, Mrs. Sumfit, as near on a shriek as one so fat and sleek +could be, was ejected. The farmer and Robert heard her struggles +and exclamations along the passage, but her resistance subsided very +suddenly. + +"There's power in that girl," said the farmer, standing by the shut +door. + +Robert thought so, too. It affected his imagination, and his heart began +to beat sickeningly. + +"Perhaps she promised to speak--what has happened, whatever that may +be," he suggested. + +"Not she; not she. She respects my wishes." + +Robert did not ask what had happened. + +Mr. Fleming remained by the door, and shut his mouth from a further +word till he heard Rhoda's returning footstep. He closed the door +again behind her, and went up to the square deal table, leaned his body +forward on the knuckles of his trembling fist, and said, "We're pretty +well broken up, as it is. I've lost my taste for life." + +There he paused. Save by the shining of a wet forehead, his face +betrayed nothing of the anguish he suffered. He looked at neither of +them, but sent his gaze straight away under labouring brows to an arm of +the fireside chair, while his shoulders drooped on the wavering support +of his hard-shut hands. Rhoda's eyes, ox-like, as were her father's, +smote full upon Robert's, as in a pang of apprehension of what was about +to be uttered. + +It was a quick blaze of light, wherein he saw that the girl's spirit was +not with him. He would have stopped the farmer at once, but he had not +the heart to do it, even had he felt in himself strength to attract an +intelligent response from that strange, grave, bovine fixity of look, +over which the human misery sat as a thing not yet taken into the dull +brain. + +"My taste for life," the old man resumed, "that's gone. I didn't bargain +at set-out to go on fighting agen the world. It's too much for a man +o' my years. Here's the farm. Shall 't go to pieces?--I'm a farmer of +thirty year back--thirty year back, and more: I'm about no better'n a +farm labourer in our time, which is to-day. I don't cost much. I ask to +be fed, and to work for it, and to see my poor bit o' property safe, +as handed to me by my father. Not for myself, 't ain't; though perhaps +there's a bottom of pride there too, as in most things. Say it's for the +name. My father seems to demand of me out loud, 'What ha' ye done with +Queen Anne's Farm, William?' and there's a holler echo in my ears. Well; +God wasn't merciful to give me a son. He give me daughters." + +Mr. Fleming bowed his head as to the very weapon of chastisement. + +"Daughters!" He bent lower. + +His hearers might have imagined his headless address to them to be also +without a distinct termination, for he seemed to have ended as abruptly +as he had begun; so long was the pause before, with a wearied lifting of +his body, he pursued, in a sterner voice: + +"Don't let none interrupt me." His hand was raised as toward where Rhoda +stood, but he sent no look with it; the direction was wide of her. + +The aspect of the blank blind hand motioning to the wall away from her, +smote an awe through her soul that kept her dumb, though his next words +were like thrusts of a dagger in her side. + +"My first girl--she's brought disgrace on this house. She's got a mother +in heaven, and that mother's got to blush for her. My first girl's gone +to harlotry in London." + +It was Scriptural severity of speech. Robert glanced quick with intense +commiseration at Rhoda. He saw her hands travel upward till they fixed +in at her temples with crossed fingers, making the pressure of an iron +band for her head, while her lips parted, and her teeth, and cheeks, +and eyeballs were all of one whiteness. Her tragic, even, in and out +breathing, where there was no fall of the breast, but the air was taken +and given, as it were the square blade of a sharp-edged sword, was +dreadful to see. She had the look of a risen corpse, recalling some one +of the bloody ends of life. + +The farmer went on,-- + +"Bury her! Now you here know the worst. There's my second girl. She's +got no stain on her; if people 'll take her for what she is herself. +She's idle. But I believe the flesh on her bones she'd wear away for any +one that touched her heart. She's a temper. But she's clean both in body +and in spirit, as I believe, and say before my God. I--what I'd pray for +is, to see this girl safe. All I have shall go to her. That is, to the +man who will--won't be ashamed--marry her, I mean!" + +The tide of his harshness failed him here, and he began to pick +his words, now feeble, now emphatic, but alike wanting in natural +expression, for he had reached a point of emotion upon the limits of his +nature, and he was now wilfully forcing for misery and humiliation right +and left, in part to show what a black star Providence had been over +him. + +"She'll be grateful. I shall be gone. What disgrace I bring to their +union, as father of the other one also, will, I'm bound to hope, be +buried with me in my grave; so that this girl's husband shan't have +to complain that her character and her working for him ain't enough +to cover any harm he's like to think o' the connexion. And he won't be +troubled by relationships after that. + +"I used to think Pride a bad thing. I thank God we've all got it in our +blood--the Flemings. I thank God for that now, I do. We don't face again +them as we offend. Not, that is, with the hand out. We go. We're seen no +more. And she'll be seen no more. On that, rely. + +"I want my girl here not to keep me in the fear of death. For I fear +death while she's not safe in somebody's hands--kind, if I can get him +for her. Somebody--young or old!" + +The farmer lifted his head for the first time, and stared vacantly at +Robert. + +"I'd marry her," he said, "if I was knowing myself dying now or +to-morrow morning, I'd marry her, rather than leave her alone--I'd marry +her to that old man, old Gammon." + +The farmer pointed to the ceiling. His sombre seriousness cloaked and +carried even that suggestive indication to the possible bridegroom's +age and habits, and all things associated with him, through the gates of +ridicule; and there was no laughter, and no thought of it. + +"It stands to reason for me to prefer a young man for her husband. He'll +farm the estate, and won't sell it; so that it goes to our blood, if +not to a Fleming. If, I mean, he's content to farm soberly, and not play +Jack o' Lantern tricks across his own acres. Right in one thing's right, +I grant; but don't argue right in all. It's right only in one thing. +Young men, when they've made a true hit or so, they're ready to think +it's themselves that's right." + +This was of course a reminder of the old feud with Robert, and +sufficiently showed whom the farmer had in view for a husband to Rhoda, +if any doubt existed previously. + +Having raised his eyes, his unwonted power of speech abandoned him, and +he concluded, wavering in look and in tone,-- + +"I'd half forgotten her uncle. I've reckoned his riches when I cared for +riches. I can't say th' amount; but, all--I've had his word for it--all +goes to this--God knows how much!--girl. And he don't hesitate to say +she's worth a young man's fancying. May be so. It depends upon +ideas mainly, that does. All goes to her. And this farm.--I wish ye +good-night." + +He gave them no other sign, but walked in his oppressed way quietly to +the inner door, and forth, leaving the rest to them. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +The two were together, and all preliminary difficulties had been cleared +for Robert to say what he had to say, in a manner to make the saying of +it well-nigh impossible. And yet silence might be misinterpreted by her. +He would have drawn her to his heart at one sign of tenderness. There +came none. The girl was frightfully torn with a great wound of shame. +She was the first to speak. + +"Do you believe what father says of my sister?" + +"That she--?" Robert swallowed the words. "No!" and he made a thunder +with his fist. + +"No!" She drank up the word. "You do not? No! You know that Dahlia is +innocent?" + +Rhoda was trembling with a look for the asseveration; her pale face +eager as a cry for life; but the answer did not come at once hotly as +her passion for it demanded. She grew rigid, murmuring faintly: "speak! +Do speak!" + +His eyes fell away from hers. Sweet love would have wrought in him to +think as she thought, but she kept her heart closed from him, and he +stood sadly judicial, with a conscience of his own, that would not +permit him to declare Dahlia innocent, for he had long been imagining +the reverse. + +Rhoda pressed her hands convulsively, moaning, "Oh!" down a short deep +breath. + +"Tell me what has happened?" said Robert, made mad by that reproachful +agony of her voice. "I'm in the dark. I'm not equal to you all. If +Dahlia's sister wants one to stand up for her, and defend her, whatever +she has done or not done, ask me. Ask me, and I'll revenge her. Here am +I, and I know nothing, and you despise me because--don't think me rude +or unkind. This hand is yours, if you will. Come, Rhoda. Or, let me hear +the case, and I'll satisfy you as best I can. Feel for her? I feel for +her as you do. You don't want me to stand a liar to your question? How +can I speak?" + +A woman's instinct at red heat pierces the partial disingenuousness +which Robert could only have avoided by declaring the doubts he +entertained. Rhoda desired simply to be supported by his conviction +of her sister's innocence, and she had scorn of one who would not +chivalrously advance upon the risks of right and wrong, and rank himself +prime champion of a woman belied, absent, and so helpless. Besides, +there was but one virtue possible in Rhoda's ideas, as regarded Dahlia: +to oppose facts, if necessary, and have her innocent perforce, and fight +to the death them that dared cast slander on the beloved head. + +Her keen instinct served her so far. + +His was alive when she refused to tell him what had taken place during +their visit to London. + +She felt that a man would judge evil of the circumstances. Her father +and her uncle had done so: she felt that Robert would. Love for him +would have prompted her to confide in him absolutely. She was not +softened by love; there was no fire on her side to melt and make them +run in one stream, and they could not meet. + +"Then, if you will not tell me," said Robert, "say what you think of +your father's proposal? He meant that I may ask you to be my wife. +He used to fancy I cared for your sister. That's false. I care for +her--yes; as my sister too; and here is my hand to do my utmost for her, +but I love you, and I've loved you for some time. I'd be proud to marry +you and help on with the old farm. You don't love me yet--which is a +pretty hard thing for me to see to be certain of. But I love you, and I +trust you. I like the stuff you're made of--and nice stuff I'm talking +to a young woman," he added, wiping his forehead at the idea of the fair +and flattering addresses young women expect when they are being wooed. + +As it was, Rhoda listened with savage contempt of his idle talk. Her +brain was beating at the mystery and misery wherein Dahlia lay engulfed. +She had no understanding for Robert's sentimentality, or her father's +requisition. Some answer had to be given, and she said,-- + +"I'm not likely to marry a man who supposes he has anything to pardon." + +"I don't suppose it," cried Robert. + +"You heard what father said." + +"I heard what he said, but I don't think the same. What has Dahlia to do +with you?" + +He was proceeding to rectify this unlucky sentence. All her covert +hostility burst out on it. + +"My sister?--what has my sister to do with me?--you mean!--you mean--you +can only mean that we are to be separated and thought of as two people; +and we are one, and will be till we die. I feel my sister's hand in +mine, though she's away and lost. She is my darling for ever and ever. +We're one!" + +A spasm of anguish checked the girl. + +"I mean," Robert resumed steadily, "that her conduct, good or bad, +doesn't touch you. If it did, it'd be the same to me. I ask you to take +me for your husband. Just reflect on what your father said, Rhoda." + +The horrible utterance her father's lips had been guilty of flashed +through her, filling her with mastering vindictiveness, now that she had +a victim. + +"Yes! I'm to take a husband to remind me of what he said." + +Robert eyed her sharpened mouth admiringly; her defence of her sister +had excited his esteem, wilfully though she rebutted his straightforward +earnestness and he had a feeling also for the easy turns of her neck, +and the confident poise of her figure. + +"Ha! well!" he interjected, with his eyebrows queerly raised, so that +she could make nothing of his look. It seemed half maniacal, it was so +ridged with bright eagerness. + +"By heaven! the task of taming you--that's the blessing I'd beg for in +my prayers! Though you were as wild as a cat of the woods, by heaven! +I'd rather have the taming of you than go about with a leash of +quiet"--he checked himself--"companions." + +Such was the sudden roll of his tongue, that she was lost in the +astounding lead he had taken, and stared. + +"You're the beauty to my taste, and devil is what I want in a woman! +I can make something out of a girl with a temper like yours. You don't +know me, Miss Rhoda. I'm what you reckon a good young man. Isn't that +it?" + +Robert drew up with a very hard smile. + +"I would to God I were! Mind, I feel for you about your sister. I +like you the better for holding to her through thick and thin. But my +sheepishness has gone, and I tell you I'll have you whether you will or +no. I can help you and you can help me. I've lived here as if I had no +more fire in me than old Gammon snoring on his pillow up aloft; and who +kept me to it? Did you see I never touched liquor? What did you guess +from that?--that I was a mild sort of fellow? So I am: but I haven't got +that reputation in other parts. Your father 'd like me to marry you, and +I'm ready. Who kept me to work, so that I might learn to farm, and be a +man, and be able to take a wife? I came here--I'll tell you how. I was +a useless dog. I ran from home and served as a trooper. An old aunt of +mine left me a little money, which just woke me up and gave me a lift of +what conscience I had, and I bought myself out. + +"I chanced to see your father's advertisement--came, looked at you all, +and liked you--brought my traps and settled among you, and lived like a +good young man. I like peace and orderliness, I find. I always thought +I did, when I was dancing like mad to hell. I know I do now, and you're +the girl to keep me to it. I've learnt that much by degrees. With any +other, I should have been playing the fool, and going my old ways, long +ago. I should have wrecked her, and drunk to forget. You're my match. +By-and-by you'll know, me yours! You never gave me, or anybody else that +I've seen, sly sidelooks. + +"Come! I'll speak out now I'm at work. I thought you at some girl's +games in the Summer. You went out one day to meet a young gentleman. +Offence or no offence, I speak and you listen. You did go out. I was in +love with you then, too. I saw London had been doing its mischief. I was +down about it. I felt that he would make nothing of you, but I chose to +take the care of you, and you've hated me ever since. + +"That Mr. Algernon Blancove's a rascal. Stop! You'll say as much as you +like presently. I give you a warning--the man's a rascal. I didn't play +spy on your acts, but your looks. I can read a face like yours, and it's +my home, my home!--by heaven, it is. Now, Rhoda, you know a little more +of me. Perhaps I'm more of a man than you thought. Marry another, if you +will; but I'm the man for you, and I know it, and you'll go wrong if you +don't too. Come! let your father sleep well. Give me your hand." + +All through this surprising speech of Robert's, which was a revelation +of one who had been previously dark to her, she had steeled her +spirit as she felt herself being borne upon unexpected rapids, and she +marvelled when she found her hand in his. + +Dismayed, as if caught in a trap, she said,-- + +"You know I've no love for you at all." + +"None--no doubt," he answered. + +The fit of verbal energy was expended, and he had become listless, +though he looked frankly at her and assumed the cheerfulness which was +failing within him. + +"I wish to remain as I am," she faltered, surprised again by the equally +astonishing recurrence of humility, and more spiritually subdued by it. +"I've no heart for a change. Father will understand. I am safe." + +She ended with a cry: "Oh! my dear, my own sister! I wish you were safe. +Get her here to me and I'll do what I can, if you're not hard on her. +She's so beautiful, she can't do wrong. My Dahlia's in some trouble. Mr. +Robert, you might really be her friend?" + +"Drop the Mister," said Robert. + +"Father will listen to you," she pleaded. "You won't leave us? Tell +him you know I am safe. But I haven't a feeling of any kind while my +sister's away. I will call you Robert, if you like." She reached her +hand forth. + +"That's right," he said, taking it with a show of heartiness: "that's a +beginning, I suppose." + +She shrank a little in his sensitive touch, and he added: "Oh never +fear. I've spoken out, and don't do the thing too often. Now you know +me, that's enough. I trust you, so trust me. I'll talk to your father. +I've got a dad of my own, who isn't so easily managed. You and I, +Rhoda--we're about the right size for a couple. There--don't be +frightened! I was only thinking--I'll let go your hand in a minute. If +Dahlia's to be found, I'll find her. Thank you for that squeeze. You'd +wake a dead man to life, if you wanted to. To-morrow I set about the +business. That's settled. Now your hand's loose. Are you going to say +good night? You must give me your hand again for that. What a rough +fellow I must seem to you! Different from the man you thought I was? I'm +just what you choose to make me, Rhoda; remember that. By heaven! go at +once, for you're an armful--" + +She took a candle and started for the door. + +"Aha! you can look fearful as a doe. Out! make haste!" + +In her hurry at his speeding gestures, the candle dropped; she was going +to pick it up, but as he approached, she stood away frightened. + +"One kiss, my girl," he said. "Don't keep me jealous as fire. One! and +I'm a plighted man. One!--or I shall swear you know what kisses are. Why +did you go out to meet that fellow? Do you think there's no danger in +it? Doesn't he go about boasting of it now, and saying--that girl! But +kiss me and I'll forget it; I'll forgive you. Kiss me only once, and I +shall be certain you don't care for him. That's the thought maddens me +outright. I can't bear it now I've seen you look soft. I'm stronger than +you, mind." He caught her by the waist. + +"Yes," Rhoda gasped, "you are. You are only a brute." + +"A brute's a lucky dog, then, for I've got you!" + +"Will you touch me?" + +"You're in my power." + +"It's a miserable thing, Robert." + +"Why don't you struggle, my girl? I shall kiss you in a minute." + +"You're never my friend again." + +"I'm not a gentleman, I suppose!" + +"Never! after this." + +"It isn't done. And first you're like a white rose, and next you're like +a red. Will you submit?" + +"Oh! shame!" Rhoda uttered. + +"Because I'm not a gentleman?" + +"You are not." + +"So, if I could make you a lady--eh? the lips 'd be ready in a trice. +You think of being made a lady--a lady!" + +His arm relaxed in the clutch of her figure. + +She got herself free, and said: "We saw Mr. Blancove at the theatre with +Dahlia." + +It was her way of meeting his accusation that she had cherished an +ambitious feminine dream. + +He, to hide a confusion that had come upon him, was righting the fallen +candle. + +"Now I know you can be relied on; you can defend yourself," he said, and +handed it to her, lighted. "You keep your kisses for this or that young +gentleman. Quite right. You really can defend yourself. That's all I was +up to. So let us hear that you forgive me. The door's open. You won't be +bothered by me any more; and don't hate me overmuch." + +"You might have learned to trust me without insulting me, Robert," she +said. + +"Do you fancy I'd take such a world of trouble for a kiss of your lips, +sweet as they are?" + +His blusterous beginning ended in a speculating glance at her mouth. + +She saw it would be wise to accept him in his present mood, and go; and +with a gentle "Good night," that might sound like pardon, she passed +through the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Next day, while Squire Blancove was superintending the laying down of +lines for a new carriage drive in his park, as he walked slowly up the +green slope he perceived Farmer Fleming, supported by a tall young +man; and when the pair were nearer, he had the gratification of noting +likewise that the worthy yeoman was very much bent, as with an acute +attack of his well-known chronic malady of a want of money. + +The squire greatly coveted the freehold of Queen Anne's Farm. He had +made offers to purchase it till he was tired, and had gained for himself +the credit of being at the bottom of numerous hypothetical cabals to +injure and oust the farmer from his possession. But if Naboth came with +his vineyard in his hand, not even Wrexby's rector (his quarrel with +whom haunted every turn in his life) could quote Scripture against him +for taking it at a proper valuation. + +The squire had employed his leisure time during service in church to +discover a text that might be used against him in the event of the +farmer's reduction to a state of distress, and his, the squire's, making +the most of it. On the contrary, according to his heathenish reading of +some of the patriarchal doings, there was more to be said in his favour +than not, if he increased his territorial property: nor could he, +throughout the Old Testament, hit on one sentence that looked like a +personal foe to his projects, likely to fit into the mouth of the rector +of Wrexby. + +"Well, farmer," he said, with cheerful familiarity, "winter crops +looking well? There's a good show of green in the fields from my +windows, as good as that land of yours will allow in heavy seasons." + +To this the farmer replied, "I've not heart or will to be round about, +squire. If you'll listen to me--here, or where you give command." + +"Has it anything to do with pen and paper, Fleming? In that case you'd +better be in my study," said the squire. + +"I don't know that it have. I don't know that it have." The farmer +sought Robert's face. + +"Best where there's no chance of interruption," Robert counselled, and +lifted his hat to the squire. + +"Eh? Well, you see I'm busy." The latter affected a particular +indifference, that in such cases, when well acted (as lords of money can +do--squires equally with usurers), may be valued at hundreds of pounds +in the pocket. "Can't you put it off? Come again to-morrow." + +"To-morrow's a day too late," said the farmer, gravely. Whereto +replying, "Oh! well, come along in, then," the squire led the way. + +"You're two to one, if it's a transaction," he said, nodding to Robert +to close the library door. "Take seats. Now then, what is it? And if I +make a face, just oblige me by thinking nothing about it, for my gout's +beginning to settle in the leg again, and shoots like an electric +telegraph from purgatory." + +He wheezed and lowered himself into his arm-chair; but the farmer and +Robert remained standing, and the farmer spoke:-- + +"My words are going to be few, squire. I've got a fact to bring to your +knowledge, and a question to ask." + +Surprise, exaggerated on his face by a pain he had anticipated, made the +squire glare hideously. + +"Confound it, that's what they say to a prisoner in the box. Here's a +murder committed:--Are you the guilty person? Fact and question! Well, +out with 'em, both together." + +"A father ain't responsible for the sins of his children," said the +farmer. + +"Well, that's a fact," the squire emphasized. "I've always maintained +it; but, if you go to your church, farmer--small blame to you if you +don't; that fellow who preaches there--I forget his name--stands out +for just the other way. You are responsible, he swears. Pay your son's +debts, and don't groan over it:--He spent the money, and you're the +chief debtor; that's his teaching. Well: go on. What's your question?" + +"A father's not to be held responsible for the sins of his children, +squire. My daughter's left me. She's away. I saw my daughter at +the theatre in London. She saw me, and saw her sister with me. She +disappeared. It's a hard thing for a man to be saying of his own flesh +and blood. She disappeared. She went, knowing her father's arms open to +her. She was in company with your son." + +The squire was thrumming on the arm of his chair. He looked up vaguely, +as if waiting for the question to follow, but meeting the farmer's +settled eyes, he cried, irritably, "Well, what's that to me?" + +"What's that to you, squire?" + +"Are you going to make me out responsible for my son's conduct? My son's +a rascal--everybody knows that. I paid his debts once, and I've finished +with him. Don't come to me about the fellow. If there's a greater curse +than the gout, it's a son." + +"My girl," said the farmer, "she's my flesh and blood, and I must find +her, and I'm here to ask you to make your son tell me where she's to be +found. Leave me to deal with that young man--leave you me! but I want my +girl." + +"But I can't give her to you," roared the squire, afflicted by his two +great curses at once. "Why do you come to me? I'm not responsible for +the doings of the dog. I'm sorry for you, if that's what you want to +know. Do you mean to say that my son took her away from your house?" + +"I don't do so, Mr. Blancove. I'm seeking for my daughter, and I see her +in company with your son." + +"Very well, very well," said the squire; "that shows his habits; I can't +say more. But what has it got to do with me?" + +The farmer looked helplessly at Robert. + +"No, no," the squire sung out, "no interlopers, no interpreting here. +I listen to you. My son--your daughter. I understand that, so far. It's +between us two. You've got a daughter who's gone wrong somehow: I'm +sorry to hear it. I've got a son who never went right; and it's no +comfort to me, upon my word. If you were to see the bills and the +letters I receive! but I don't carry my grievances to my neighbours. I +should think, Fleming, you'd do best, if it's advice you're seeking, to +keep it quiet. Don't make a noise about it. Neighbours' gossip I find +pretty well the worst thing a man has to bear, who's unfortunate enough +to own children." + +The farmer bowed his head with that bitter humbleness which +characterized his reception of the dealings of Providence toward him. + +"My neighbours 'll soon be none at all," he said. "Let 'em talk. I'm +not abusing you, Mr. Blancove. I'm a broken man: but I want my poor lost +girl, and, by God, responsible for your son or not, you must help me +to find her. She may be married, as she says. She mayn't be. But I must +find her." + +The squire hastily seized a scrap of paper on the table and wrote on it. + +"There!" he handed the paper to the farmer; "that's my son's address, +'Boyne's Bank, City, London.' Go to him there, and you'll find him +perched on a stool, and a good drubbing won't hurt him. You've my hearty +permission, I can assure you: you may say so. 'Boyne's Bank.' Anybody +will show you the place. He's a rascally clerk in the office, and +precious useful, I dare swear. Thrash him, if you think fit." + +"Ay," said the farmer, "Boyne's Bank. I've been there already. He's +absent from work, on a visit down into Hampshire, one of the young +gentlemen informed me; Fairly Park was the name of the place: but I came +to you, Mr. Blancove; for you're his father." + +"Well now, my good Fleming, I hope you think I'm properly punished for +that fact." The squire stood up with horrid contortions. + +Robert stepped in advance of the farmer. + +"Pardon me, sir," he said, though the squire met his voice with a +prodigious frown; "this would be an ugly business to talk about, as you +observe. It would hurt Mr. Fleming in these parts of the country, and he +would leave it, if he thought fit; but you can't separate your name +from your son's--begging you to excuse the liberty I take in mentioning +it--not in public: and your son has the misfortune to be well known +in one or two places where he was quartered when in the cavalry. That +matter of the jeweller--" + +"Hulloa," the squire exclaimed, in a perturbation. + +"Why, sir, I know all about it, because I was a trooper in the regiment +your son, Mr. Algernon Blancove, quitted: and his name, if I may take +leave to remark so, won't bear printing. How far he's guilty before Mr. +Fleming we can't tell as yet; but if Mr. Fleming holds him guilty of +an offence, your son 'll bear the consequences, and what's done will be +done thoroughly. Proper counsel will be taken, as needn't be said. Mr. +Fleming applied to you first, partly for your sake as well as his own. +He can find friends, both to advise and to aid him." + +"You mean, sir," thundered the squire, "that he can find enemies of +mine, like that infernal fellow who goes by the title of Reverend, down +below there. That'll do, that will do; there's some extortion at the +bottom of this. You're putting on a screw." + +"We're putting on a screw, sir," said Robert, coolly. + +"Not a penny will you get by it." + +Robert flushed with heat of blood. + +"You don't wish you were a young man half so much as I do just now," he +remarked, and immediately they were in collision, for the squire made a +rush to the bell-rope, and Robert stopped him. "We're going," he said; +"we don't want man-servants to show us the way out. Now mark me, Mr. +Blancove, you've insulted an old man in his misery: you shall suffer +for it, and so shall your son, whom I know to be a rascal worthy of +transportation. You think Mr. Fleming came to you for money. Look at +this old man, whose only fault is that he's too full of kindness; he +came to you just for help to find his daughter, with whom your rascal of +a son was last seen, and you swear he's come to rob you of money. Don't +you know yourself a fattened cur, squire though you be, and called +gentleman? England's a good place, but you make England a hell to men +of spirit. Sit in your chair, and don't ever you, or any of you cross my +path; and speak a word to your servants before we're out of the house, +and I stand in the hall and give 'em your son's history, and make Wrexby +stink in your nostril, till you're glad enough to fly out of it. Now, +Mr. Fleming, there's no more to be done here; the game lies elsewhere." + +Robert took the farmer by the arm, and was marching out of the enemy's +territory in good order, when the squire, who had presented many +changeing aspects of astonishment and rage, arrested them with a call. +He began to say that he spoke to Mr. Fleming, and not to the young +ruffian of a bully whom the farmer had brought there: and then asked in +a very reasonable manner what he could do--what measures he could adopt +to aid the farmer in finding his child. Robert hung modestly in the +background while the farmer laboured on with a few sentences to explain +the case, and finally the squire said, that his foot permitting (it was +an almost pathetic reference to the weakness of flesh), he would go down +to Fairly on the day following and have a personal interview with his +son, and set things right, as far as it lay in his power, though he was +by no means answerable for a young man's follies. + +He was a little frightened by the farmer's having said that Dahlia, +according to her own declaration was married, and therefore himself the +more anxious to see Mr. Algernon, and hear the truth from his estimable +offspring, whom he again stigmatized as a curse terrible to him as +his gouty foot, but nevertheless just as little to be left to his own +devices. The farmer bowed to these observations; as also when the squire +counselled him, for his own sake, not to talk of his misfortune all over +the parish. + +"I'm not a likely man for that, squire; but there's no telling where +gossips get their crumbs. It's about. It's about." + +"About my son?" cried the squire. + +"My daughter!" + +"Oh, well, good-day," the squire resumed more cheerfully. "I'll go down +to Fairly, and you can't ask more than that." + +When the farmer was out of the house and out of hearing, he rebuked +Robert for the inconsiderate rashness of his behaviour, and pointed out +how he, the farmer, by being patient and peaceful, had attained to the +object of his visit. Robert laughed without defending himself. + +"I shouldn't ha' known ye," the farmer repeated frequently; "I shouldn't +ha' known ye, Robert." + +"No, I'm a trifle changed, may be," Robert agreed. "I'm going to claim a +holiday of you. I've told Rhoda that if Dahlia's to be found, I'll find +her, and I can't do it by sticking here. Give me three weeks. The land's +asleep. Old Gammon can hardly turn a furrow the wrong way. There's +nothing to do, which is his busiest occupation, when he's not +interrupted at it." + +"Mas' Gammon's a rare old man," said the farmer, emphatically. + +"So I say. Else, how would you see so many farms flourishing!" + +"Come, Robert: you hit th' old man hard; you should learn to forgive." + +"So I do, and a telling blow's a man's best road to charity. I'd forgive +the squire and many another, if I had them within two feet of my fist." + +"Do you forgive my girl Rhoda for putting of you off?" + +Robert screwed in his cheek. + +"Well, yes, I do," he said. "Only it makes me feel thirsty, that's all." + +The farmer remembered this when they had entered the farm. + +"Our beer's so poor, Robert," he made apology; "but Rhoda shall get you +some for you to try, if you like. Rhoda, Robert's solemn thirsty." + +"Shall I?" said Rhoda, and she stood awaiting his bidding. + +"I'm not a thirsty subject," replied Robert. "You know I've avoided +drink of any kind since I set foot on this floor. But when I drink," he +pitched his voice to a hard, sparkling heartiness, "I drink a lot, and +the stuff must be strong. I'm very much obliged to you, Miss Rhoda, for +what you're so kind as to offer to satisfy my thirst, and you can't give +better, and don't suppose that I'm complaining; but your father's right, +it is rather weak, and wouldn't break the tooth of my thirst if I drank +at it till Gammon left off thinking about his dinner." + +With that he announced his approaching departure. + +The farmer dropped into his fireside chair, dumb and spiritless. +A shadow was over the house, and the inhabitants moved about their +domestic occupations silent as things that feel the thunder-cloud. +Before sunset Robert was gone on his long walk to the station, and Rhoda +felt a woman's great envy of the liberty of a man, who has not, if it +pleases him not, to sit and eat grief among familiar images, in a home +that furnishes its altar-flame. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Fairly, Lord Elling's seat in Hampshire, lay over the Warbeach river; a +white mansion among great oaks, in view of the summer sails and +winter masts of the yachting squadron. The house was ruled, during +the congregation of the Christmas guests, by charming Mrs. Lovell, +who relieved the invalid Lady of the house of the many serious cares +attending the reception of visitors, and did it all with ease. Under her +sovereignty the place was delightful, and if it was by repute pleasanter +to young men than to any other class, it will be admitted that she +satisfied those who are loudest in giving tongue to praise. + +Edward and Algernon journeyed down to Fairly together, after the +confidence which the astute young lawyer had been compelled to repose in +his cousin. Sir William Blancove was to be at Fairly, and it was at +his father's pointed request that Edward had accepted Mrs. Lovell's +invitation. Half in doubt as to the lady's disposition toward him, +Edward eased his heart with sneers at the soft, sanguinary graciousness +they were to expect, and racked mythology for spiteful comparisons; +while Algernon vehemently defended her with a battering fire of British +adjectives in superlative. He as much as hinted, under instigation, that +he was entitled to defend her; and his claim being by-and-by yawningly +allowed by Edward, and presuming that he now had Edward in his power and +need not fear him, he exhibited his weakness in the guise of a costly +gem, that he intended to present to Mrs. Lovell--an opal set in a cross +pendant from a necklace; a really fine opal, coquetting with the lights +of every gem that is known: it shot succinct red flashes, and green, and +yellow; the emerald, the amethyst, the topaz lived in it, and a remote +ruby; it was veined with lightning hues, and at times it slept in a +milky cloud, innocent of fire, quite maidenlike. + +"That will suit her," was Edward's remark. + +"I didn't want to get anything common," said Algernon, making the gem +play before his eyes. + +"A pretty stone," said Edward. + +"Do you think so?" + +"Very pretty indeed." + +"Harlequin pattern." + +"To be presented to Columbine!" + +"The Harlequin pattern is of the best sort, you know. Perhaps you like +the watery ones best? This is fresh from Russia. There's a set I've my +eye on. I shall complete it in time. I want Peggy Lovell to wear the +jolliest opals in the world. It's rather nice, isn't it?" + +"It's a splendid opal," said Edward. + +"She likes opals," said Algernon. + +"She'll take your meaning at once," said Edward. + +"How? I'll be hanged if I know what my meaning is, Ned." + +"Don't you know the signification of your gift?" + +"Not a bit." + +"Oh! you'll be Oriental when you present it." + +"The deuce I shall!" + +"It means, 'You're the prettiest widow in the world.'" + +"So she is. I'll be right there, old boy." + +"And, 'You're a rank, right-down widow, and no mistake; you're +everything to everybody; not half so innocent as you look: you're green +as jealousy, red as murder, yellow as jaundice, and put on the whiteness +of a virgin when you ought to be blushing like a penitent.' In short, +'You have no heart of your own, and you pretend to possess half a dozen: +you're devoid of one steady beam, and play tricks with every scale of +colour: you're an arrant widow, and that's what you are.' An eloquent +gift, Algy." + +"Gad, if it means all that, it'll be rather creditable to me," said +Algernon. "Do opals mean widows?" + +"Of course," was the answer. + +"Well, she is a widow, and I suppose she's going to remain one, for +she's had lots of offers. If I marry a girl I shall never like her half +as much as Peggy Lovell. She's done me up for every other woman living. +She never lets me feel a fool with her; and she has a way, by Jove, of +looking at me, and letting me know she's up to my thoughts and isn't +angry. What's the use of my thinking of her at all? She'd never go to +the Colonies, and live in a log but and make cheeses, while I tore about +on horseback gathering cattle." + +"I don't think she would," observed Edward, emphatically; "I don't think +she would." + +"And I shall never have money. Confound stingy parents! It's a +question whether I shall get Wrexby: there's no entail. I'm heir to the +governor's temper and his gout, I dare say. He'll do as he likes with +the estate. I call it beastly unfair." + +Edward asked how much the opal had cost. + +"Oh, nothing," said Algernon; "that is, I never pay for jewellery." + +Edward was curious to know how he managed to obtain it. + +"Why, you see," Algernon explained, "they, the jewellers--I've got two +or three in hand--the fellows are acquainted with my position, and they +speculate on my expectations. There is no harm in that if they like it. +I look at their trinkets, and say, 'I've no money;' and they say, 'Never +mind;' and I don't mind much. The understanding is, that I pay them when +I inherit." + +"In gout and bad temper?" + +"Gad, if I inherit nothing else, they'll have lots of that for +indemnification. It's a good system, Ned; it enables a young fellow like +me to get through the best years of his life--which I take to be +his youth--without that squalid poverty bothering him. You can make +presents, and wear a pin or a ring, if it takes your eye. You look well, +and you make yourself agreeable; and I see nothing to complain of in +that." + +"The jewellers, then, have established an institution to correct one of +the errors of Providence." + +"Oh! put it in your long-winded way, if you like," said Algernon; "all I +know is, that I should often have wanted a five-pound note, if--that +is, if I hadn't happened to be dressed like a gentleman. With your +prospects, Ned, I should propose to charming Peggy tomorrow morning +early. We mustn't let her go out of the family. If I can't have her, I'd +rather you would." + +"You forget the incumbrances on one side," said Edward, his face +darkening. + +"Oh! that's all to be managed," Algernon rallied him. "Why, Ned, you'll +have twenty thousand a-year, if you have a penny; and you'll go into +Parliament, and give dinners, and a woman like Peggy Lovell 'd intrigue +for you like the deuce." + +"A great deal too like," Edward muttered. + +"As for that pretty girl," continued Algernon; but Edward peremptorily +stopped all speech regarding Dahlia. His desire was, while he made +holiday, to shut the past behind a brazen gate; which being communicated +sympathetically to his cousin, the latter chimed to it in boisterous +shouts of anticipated careless jollity at Fairly Park, crying out how +they would hunt and snap fingers at Jews, and all mortal sorrows, and +have a fortnight, or three weeks, perhaps a full month, of the finest +life possible to man, with good horses, good dinners, good wines, +good society, at command, and a queen of a woman to rule and order +everything. Edward affected a disdainful smile at the prospect; but was +in reality the weaker of the two in his thirst for it. + +They arrived at Fairly in time to dress for dinner, and in the +drawing-room Mrs. Lovell sat to receive them. She looked up to Edward's +face an imperceptible half-second longer than the ordinary form of +welcome accords--one of the looks which are nothing at all when there +is no spiritual apprehension between young people, and are so much when +there is. To Algernon, who was gazing opals on her, she simply gave her +fingers. At her right hand, was Sir John Capes, her antique devotee; +a pure milky-white old gentleman, with sparkling fingers, who played +Apollo to his Daphne, and was out of breath. Lord Suckling, a boy with +a boisterous constitution, and a guardsman, had his place near her left +hand, as if ready to seize it at the first whisper of encouragement +or opportunity. A very little lady of seventeen, Miss Adeline Gosling, +trembling with shyness under a cover of demureness, fell to Edward's +lot to conduct down to dinner, where he neglected her disgracefully. +His father, Sir William, was present at the table, and Lord Elling, with +whom he was in repute as a talker and a wit. Quickened with his host's +renowned good wine (and the bare renown of a wine is inspiriting), +Edward pressed to be brilliant. He had an epigrammatic turn, and though +his mind was prosaic when it ran alone, he could appear inventive and +fanciful with the rub of other minds. Now, at a table where good talking +is cared for, the triumphs of the excelling tongue are not for a moment +to be despised, even by the huge appetite of the monster Vanity. For a +year, Edward had abjured this feast. Before the birds appeared and the +champagne had ceased to make its circle, he felt that he was now at home +again, and that the term of his wandering away from society was one of +folly. He felt the joy and vigour of a creature returned to his element. +Why had he ever quitted it? Already he looked back upon Dahlia from a +prodigious distance. He knew that there was something to be smoothed +over; something written in the book of facts which had to be smeared +out, and he seemed to do it, while he drank the babbling wine and heard +himself talk. Not one man at that table, as he reflected, would consider +the bond which held him in any serious degree binding. A lady is +one thing, and a girl of the class Dahlia had sprung from altogether +another. He could not help imagining the sort of appearance she would +make there; and the thought even was a momentary clog upon his tongue. +How he used to despise these people! Especially he had despised the +young men as brainless cowards in regard to their views of women and +conduct toward them. All that was changed. He fancied now that they, +on the contrary, would despise him, if only they could be aware of the +lingering sense he entertained of his being in bondage under a sacred +obligation to a farmer's daughter. + +But he had one thing to discover, and that was, why Sir William had made +it a peculiar request that he should come to meet him here. Could the +desire possibly be to reconcile him with Mrs. Lovell? His common sense +rejected the idea at once: Sir William boasted of her wit and tact, and +admired her beauty, but Edward remembered his having responded tacitly +to his estimate of her character, and Sir William was not the man +to court the alliance of his son with a woman like Mrs. Lovell. He +perceived that his father and the fair widow frequently took counsel +together. Edward laughed at the notion that the grave senior had himself +become fascinated, but without utterly scouting it, until he found that +the little lady whom he had led to dinner the first day, was an heiress; +and from that, and other indications, he exactly divined the nature +of his father's provident wishes. But this revelation rendered Mrs. +Lovell's behaviour yet more extraordinary. Could it be credited that +she was abetting Sir William's schemes with all her woman's craft? "Has +she," thought Edward, "become so indifferent to me as to care for my +welfare?" He determined to put her to the test. He made love to Adeline +Gosling. Nothing that he did disturbed the impenetrable complacency of +Mrs. Lovell. She threw them together as she shuffled the guests. She +really seemed to him quite indifferent enough to care for his welfare. +It was a point in the mysterious ways of women, or of widows, that +Edward's experience had not yet come across. All the parties immediately +concerned were apparently so desperately acquiescing in his suit, that +he soon grew uneasy. Mrs. Lovell not only shuffled him into places +with the raw heiress, but with the child's mother; of whom he spoke to +Algernon as of one too strongly breathing of matrimony to appease the +cravings of an eclectic mind. + +"Make the path clear for me, then," said Algernon, "if you don't like +the girl. Pitch her tales about me. Say, I've got a lot in me, though +I don't let it out. The game's up between you and Peggy Lovell, that's +clear. She don't forgive you, my boy." + +"Ass!" muttered Edward, seeing by the light of his perception, that he +was too thoroughly forgiven. + +A principal charm of the life at Fairly to him was that there was no +one complaining. No one looked reproach at him. If a lady was pale and +reserved, she did not seem to accuse him, and to require coaxing. All +faces here were as light as the flying moment, and did not carry the +shadowy weariness of years, like that burdensome fair face in the London +lodging-house, to which the Fates had terribly attached themselves. So, +he was gay. He closed, as it were, a black volume, and opened a new and +a bright one. Young men easily fancy that they may do this, and that +when the black volume is shut the tide is stopped. Saying, "I was a +fool," they believe they have put an end to the foolishness. What father +teaches them that a human act once set in motion flows on for ever to +the great account? Our deathlessness is in what we do, not in what we +are. Comfortable Youth thinks otherwise. + +The days at a well-ordered country-house, where a divining lady rules, +speed to the measure of a waltz, in harmonious circles, dropping like +crystals into the gulfs of Time, and appearing to write nothing in his +book. Not a single hinge of existence is heard to creak. There is no +after-dinner bill. You are waited on, without being elbowed by the +humanity of your attendants. It is a civilized Arcadia. Only, do not +desire, that you may not envy. Accept humbly what rights of citizenship +are accorded to you upon entering. Discard the passions when you cross +the threshold. To breathe and to swallow merely, are the duties which +should prescribe your conduct; or, such is the swollen condition of +the animal in this enchanted region, that the spirit of man becomes +dangerously beset. + +Edward breathed and swallowed, and never went beyond the prescription, +save by talking. No other junior could enter the library, without +encountering the scorn of his elders; so he enjoyed the privilege of +hearing all the scandal, and his natural cynicism was plentifully fed. +It was more of a school to him than he knew. + +These veterans, in their arm-chairs, stripped the bloom from life, and +showed it to be bare bones: They took their wisdom for an experience of +the past: they were but giving their sensations in the present. Not to +perceive this, is Youth's, error when it hears old gentlemen talking at +their ease. + +On the third morning of their stay at Fairly, Algernon came into +Edward's room with a letter in his hand. + +"There! read that!" he said. "It isn't ill-luck; it's infernal +persecution! What, on earth!--why, I took a close cab to the station. +You saw me get out of it. I'll swear no creditor of mine knew I was +leaving London. My belief is that the fellows who give credit have spies +about at every railway terminus in the kingdom. They won't give me three +days' peace. It's enough to disgust any man with civilized life; on my +soul, it is!" + +Edward glanced at the superscription of the letter. "Not posted," he +remarked. + +"No; delivered by some confounded bailiff, who's been hounding me." + +"Bailiffs don't generally deal in warnings." + +"Will you read it!" Algernon shouted. + +The letter ran thus:-- + + "Mr. Algernon Blancove,-- + + "The writer of this intends taking the first opportunity of meeting + you, and gives you warning, you will have to answer his question + with a Yes or a No; and speak from your conscience. The + respectfulness of his behaviour to you as a gentleman will depend + upon that." + +Algernon followed his cousin's eye down to the last letter in the page. + +"What do you think of it?" he asked eagerly. + +Edward's broad thin-lined brows were drawn down in gloom. Mastering +some black meditation in his brain, he answered Algernon's yells for an +opinion,-- + +"I think--well, I think bailiffs have improved in their manners, and +show you they are determined to belong to the social march in an age of +universal progress. Nothing can be more comforting." + +"But, suppose this fellow comes across me?" + +"Don't know him." + +"Suppose he insists on knowing me?" + +"Don't know yourself." + +"Yes; but hang it! if he catches hold of me?" + +"Shake him off." + +"Suppose he won't let go?" + +"Cut him with your horsewhip." + +"You think it's about a debt, then?" + +"Intimidation, evidently." + +"I shall announce to him that the great Edward Blancove is not to be +intimidated. You'll let me borrow your name, old Ned. I've stood by +you in my time. As for leaving Fairly, I tell you I can't. It's too +delightful to be near Peggy Lovell." + +Edward smiled with a peculiar friendliness, and Algernon went off, very +well contented with his cousin. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Within a mile of Fairly Park lay the farm of another yeoman; but he was +of another character. The Hampshireman was a farmer of renown in his +profession; fifth of a family that had cultivated a small domain of one +hundred and seventy acres with sterling profit, and in a style to make +Sutton the model of a perfect farm throughout the country. Royal eyes +had inspected his pigs approvingly; Royal wits had taken hints from +Jonathan Eccles in matters agricultural; and it was his comforting joke +that he had taught his Prince good breeding. In return for the service, +his Prince had transformed a lusty Radical into a devoted Royalist. +Framed on the walls of his parlours were letters from his Prince, +thanking him for specimen seeds and worthy counsel: veritable autograph +letters of the highest value. The Prince had steamed up the salt river, +upon which the Sutton harvests were mirrored, and landed on a spot +marked in honour of the event by a broad grey stone; and from that +day Jonathan Eccles stood on a pinnacle of pride, enabling him to see +horizons of despondency hitherto unknown to him. For he had a son, and +the son was a riotous devil, a most wild young fellow, who had no +taste for a farmer's life, and openly declared his determination not to +perpetuate the Sutton farm in the hands of the Eccleses, by running off +one day and entering the ranks of the British army. + +Those framed letters became melancholy objects for contemplation, +when Jonathan thought that no posterity of his would point them out +gloryingly in emulation. Man's aim is to culminate; but it is the +saddest thing in the world to feel that we have accomplished it. Mr. +Eccles shrugged with all the philosophy he could summon, and transferred +his private disappointment to his country, whose agricultural day was, +he said, doomed. "We shall be beaten by those Yankees." He gave Old +England twenty years of continued pre-eminence (due to the impetus of +the present generation of Englishmen), and then, said he, the Yankees +will flood the market. No more green pastures in Great Britain; no +pretty clean-footed animals; no yellow harvests; but huge chimney pots +everywhere; black earth under black vapour, and smoke-begrimed faces. +In twenty years' time, sooty England was to be a gigantic manufactory, +until the Yankees beat us out of that field as well; beyond which +Jonathan Eccles did not care to spread any distinct border of prophecy; +merely thanking the Lord that he should then be under grass. The decay +of our glory was to be edged with blood; Jonathan admitted that there +would be stuff in the fallen race to deliver a sturdy fight before they +went to their doom. + +For this prodigious curse, England had to thank young Robert, the +erratic son of Jonathan. + +It was now two years since Robert had inherited a small legacy of money +from an aunt, and spent it in waste, as the farmer bitterly supposed. +He was looking at some immense seed-melons in his garden, lying about in +morning sunshine--a new feed for sheep, of his own invention,--when the +call of the wanderer saluted his ears, and he beheld his son Robert at +the gate. + +"Here I am, sir," Robert sang out from the exterior. + +"Stay there, then," was his welcome. + +They were alike in their build and in their manner of speech. The accost +and the reply sounded like reports from the same pistol. The old man was +tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular--a grey edition of the son, upon +whose disorderly attire he cast a glance, while speaking, with settled +disgust. Robert's necktie streamed loose; his hair was uncombed; a +handkerchief dangled from his pocket. He had the look of the prodigal, +returned with impudence for his portion instead of repentance. + +"I can't see how you are, sir, from this distance," said Robert, boldly +assuming his privilege to enter. + +"Are you drunk?" Jonathan asked, as Robert marched up to him. + +"Give me your hand, sir." + +"Give me an answer first. Are you drunk?" + +Robert tried to force the complacent aspect of a mind unabashed, +but felt that he made a stupid show before that clear-headed, +virtuously-living old, man of iron nerves. The alternative to flying +into a passion, was the looking like a fool. + +"Come, father," he said, with a miserable snigger, like a yokel's smile; +"here I am at last. I don't say, kill the fatted calf, and take a +lesson from Scripture, but give me your hand. I've done no man harm but +myself--damned if I've done a mean thing anywhere! and there's no shame +to you in shaking your son's hand after a long absence." + +Jonathan Eccles kept both hands firmly in his pockets. + +"Are you drunk?" he repeated. + +Robert controlled himself to answer, "I'm not." + +"Well, then, just tell me when you were drunk last." + +"This is a pleasant fatherly greeting!" Robert interjected. + +"You get no good by fighting shy of a simple question, Mr. Bob," said +Jonathan. + +Robert cried querulously, "I don't want to fight shy of a simple +question." + +"Well, then; when were you drunk last? answer me that." + +"Last night." + +Jonathan drew his hand from his pocket to thump his leg. + +"I'd have sworn it!" + +All Robert's assurance had vanished in a minute, and he stood like a +convicted culprit before his father. + +"You know, sir, I don't tell lies. I was drunk last night. I couldn't +help it." + +"No more could the little boy." + +"I was drunk last night. Say, I'm a beast." + +"I shan't!" exclaimed Jonathan, making his voice sound as a defence to +this vile charge against the brutish character. + +"Say, I'm worse than a beast, then," cried Robert, in exasperation. +"Take my word that it hasn't happened to me to be in that state for a +year and more. Last night I was mad. I can't give you any reasons. I +thought I was cured but I've trouble in my mind, and a tide swims you +over the shallows--so I felt. Come, sir--father, don't make me mad +again." + +"Where did you get the liquor?" inquired Jonathan. + +"I drank at 'The Pilot.'" + +"Ha! there's talk there of 'that damned old Eccles' for a month to +come--'the unnatural parent.' How long have you been down here?" + +"Eight and twenty hours." + +"Eight and twenty hours. When are you going?" + +"I want lodging for a night." + +"What else?" + +"The loan of a horse that'll take a fence." + +"Go on." + +"And twenty pounds." + +"Oh!" said Jonathan. "If farming came as easy to you as face, you'd be a +prime agriculturalist. Just what I thought! What's become of that money +your aunt Jane was fool enough to bequeath to you?" + +"I've spent it." + +"Are you a Deserter?" + +For a moment Robert stood as if listening, and then white grew his face, +and he swayed and struck his hands together. His recent intoxication had +unmanned him. + +"Go in--go in," said his father in some concern, though wrath was +predominant. + +"Oh, make your mind quiet about me." Robert dropped his arms. "I'm +weakened somehow--damned weak, I am--I feel like a woman when my father +asks me if I've been guilty of villany. Desert? I wouldn't desert from +the hulks. Hear the worst, and this is the worst: I've got no money--I +don't owe a penny, but I haven't got one." + +"And I won't give you one," Jonathan appended; and they stood facing one +another in silence. + +A squeaky voice was heard from the other side of the garden hedge of +clipped yew. + +"Hi! farmer, is that the missing young man?" and presently a neighbour, +by name John Sedgett, came trotting through the gate, and up the garden +path. + +"I say," he remarked, "here's a rumpus. Here's a bobbery up at Fairly. +Oh! Bob Eccles! Bob Eccles! At it again!" + +Mr. Sedgett shook his wallet of gossip with an enjoying chuckle. He was +a thin-faced creature, rheumy of eye, and drawing his breath as from a +well; the ferret of the village for all underlying scandal and tattle, +whose sole humanity was what he called pitifully 'a peakin' at his +chest, and who had retired from his business of grocer in the village +upon the fortune brought to him in the energy and capacity of a third +wife to conduct affairs, while he wandered up and down and knitted +people together--an estimable office in a land where your house is so +grievously your castle. + +"What the devil have you got in you now?" Jonathan cried out to him. + +Mr. Sedgett was seized by his complaint and demanded commiseration, but, +recovering, he chuckled again. + +"Oh, Bob Eccles! Don't you never grow older? And the first day +down among us again, too. Why, Bob, as a military man, you ought to +acknowledge your superiors. Why, Stephen Bilton, the huntsman, says, +Bob, you pulled the young gentleman off his horse--you on foot, and him +mounted. I'd ha' given pounds to be there. And ladies present! Lord +help us! I'm glad you're returned, though. These melons of the farmer's, +they're a wonderful invention; people are speaking of 'em right +and left, and says, says they, Farmer Eccles, he's best farmer +going--Hampshire ought to be proud of him--he's worth two of any others: +that they are fine ones! And you're come back to keep 'em up, eh, Bob? +Are ye, though, my man?" + +"Well, here I am, Mr. Sedgett," said Robert, "and talking to my father." + +"Oh! I wouldn't be here to interrupt ye for the world." Mr. Sedgett made +a show of retiring, but Jonathan insisted upon his disburdening himself +of his tale, saying: "Damn your raw beginnings, Sedgett! What's been up? +Nobody can hurt me." + +"That they can't, neighbour; nor Bob neither, as far as stand up man to +man go. I give him three to one--Bob Eccles! He took 'em when a boy. +He may, you know, he may have the law agin him, and by George! if he +do--why, a man's no match for the law. No use bein' a hero to the +law. The law masters every man alive; and there's law in everything, +neighbour Eccles; eh, sir? Your friend, the Prince, owns to it, as much +as you or me. But, of course, you know what Bob's been doing. What +I dropped in to ask was, why did ye do it, Bob? Why pull the young +gentleman off his horse? I'd ha' given pounds to be there!" + +"Pounds o' tallow candles don't amount to much," quoth Robert. + +"That's awful bad brandy at 'The Pilot,'" said Mr. Sedgett, venomously. + +"Were you drunk when you committed this assault?" Jonathan asked his +son. + +"I drank afterwards," Robert replied. + +"'Pilot' brandy's poor consolation," remarked Mr. Sedgett. + +Jonathan had half a mind to turn his son out of the gate, but the +presence of Sedgett advised him that his doings were naked to the world. + +"You kicked up a shindy in the hunting-field--what about? Who mounted +ye?" + +Robert remarked that he had been on foot. + +"On foot--eh? on foot!" Jonathan speculated, unable to realize the image +of his son as a foot-man in the hunting-field, or to comprehend the +insolence of a pedestrian who should dare to attack a mounted huntsman. +"You were on foot? The devil you were on foot! Foot? And caught a man +out of his saddle?" + +Jonathan gave up the puzzle. He laid out his fore finger decisively,-- + +"If it's an assault, mind, you stand damages. My land gives and my land +takes my money, and no drunken dog lives on the produce. A row in the +hunting-field's un-English, I call it." + +"So it is, sir," said Robert. + +"So it be, neighbour," said Mr. Sedgett. + +Whereupon Robert took his arm, and holding the scraggy wretch forward, +commanded him to out with what he knew. + +"Oh, I don't know no more than what I've told you." Mr. Sedgett twisted +a feeble remonstrance of his bones, that were chiefly his being, at the +gripe; "except that you got hold the horse by the bridle, and wouldn't +let him go, because the young gentleman wouldn't speak as a gentleman, +and--oh! don't squeeze so hard--" + +"Out with it!" cried Robert. + +"And you said, Steeve Bilton said, you said, 'Where is she?' you said, +and he swore, and you swore, and a lady rode up, and you pulled, and +she sang out, and off went the gentleman, and Steeve said she said, 'For +shame.'" + +"And it was the truest word spoken that day!" Robert released him. "You +don't know much, Mr. Sedgett; but it's enough to make me explain the +cause to my father, and, with your leave, I'll do so." + +Mr. Sedgett remarked: "By all means, do;" and rather preferred that his +wits should be accused of want of brightness, than that he should miss +a chance of hearing the rich history of the scandal and its origin. +Something stronger than a hint sent him off at a trot, hugging in his +elbows. + +"The postman won't do his business quicker than Sedgett 'll tap this +tale upon every door in the parish," said Jonathan. + +"I can only say I'm sorry, for your sake;" Robert was expressing his +contrition, when his father caught him up,-- + +"Who can hurt me?--my sake? Have I got the habits of a sot?--what you'd +call 'a beast!' but I know the ways o' beasts, and if you did too, +you wouldn't bring them in to bear your beastly sins. Who can hurt +me?--You've been quarrelling with this young gentleman about a +woman--did you damage him?" + +"If knuckles could do it, I should have brained him, sir," said Robert. + +"You struck him, and you got the best of it?" + +"He got the worst of it any way, and will again." + +"Then the devil take you for a fool! why did you go and drink I could +understand it if you got licked. Drown your memory, then, if that filthy +soaking's to your taste; but why, when you get the prize, we'll say, you +go off headlong into a manure pond?--There! except that you're a damned +idiot!" Jonathan struck the air, as to observe that it beat him, but +for the foregoing elucidation: thundering afresh, "Why did you go and +drink?" + +"I went, sir, I went--why did I go?" Robert slapped his hand +despairingly to his forehead. "What on earth did I go for?--because I'm +at sea, I suppose. Nobody cares for me. I'm at sea, and no rudder to +steer me. I suppose that's it. So, I drank. I thought it best to take +spirits on board. No; this was the reason--I remember: that lady, +whoever she was, said something that stung me. I held the fellow under +her eyes, and shook him, though she was begging me to let him off. Says +she--but I've drunk it clean out of my mind." + +"There, go in and look at yourself in the glass," said Jonathan. + +"Give me your hand first,"--Robert put his own out humbly. + +"I'll be hanged if I do," said Jonathan firmly. "Bed and board you shall +have while I'm alive, and a glass to look at yourself in; but my hand's +for decent beasts. Move one way or t' other: take your choice." + +Seeing Robert hesitate, he added, "I shall have a damned deal more +respect for you if you toddle." He waved his hand away from the +premises. + +"I'm sorry you've taken so to swearing of late, sir," said Robert. + +"Two flints strike fire, my lad. When you keep distant, I'm quiet enough +in my talk to satisfy your aunt Anne." + +"Look here, sir; I want to make use of you, so I'll go in." + +"Of course you do," returned Jonathan, not a whit displeased by his +son's bluntness; "what else is a father good for? I let you know the +limit, and that's a brick wall; jump it, if you can. Don't fancy it's +your aunt Jane you're going in to meet." + +Robert had never been a favourite with his aunt Anne, who was Jonathan's +housekeeper. + +"No, poor old soul! and may God bless her in heaven!" he cried. + +"For leaving you what you turned into a thundering lot of liquor to +consume--eh?" + +"For doing all in her power to make a man of me; and she was close on +it--kind, good old darling, that she was! She got me with that money +of hers to the best footing I've been on yet--bless her heart, or her +memory, or whatever a poor devil on earth may bless an angel for! But +here I am." + +The fever in Robert blazed out under a pressure of extinguishing tears. + +"There, go along in," said Jonathan, who considered drunkenness to be +the main source of water in a man's eyes. "It's my belief you've been at +it already this morning." + +Robert passed into the house in advance of his father, whom he quite +understood and appreciated. There was plenty of paternal love for him, +and a hearty smack of the hand, and the inheritance of the farm, when +he turned into the right way. Meantime Jonathan was ready to fulfil +his parental responsibility, by sheltering, feeding, and not publicly +abusing his offspring, of whose spirit he would have had a higher +opinion if Robert had preferred, since he must go to the deuce, to go +without troubling any of his relatives; as it was, Jonathan submitted +to the infliction gravely. Neither in speech nor in tone did he solicit +from the severe maiden, known as Aunt Anne, that snub for the wanderer +whom he introduced, which, when two are agreed upon the infamous +character of a third, through whom they are suffering, it is always +agreeable to hear. He said, "Here, Anne; here's Robert. He hasn't +breakfasted." + +"He likes his cold bath beforehand," said Robert, presenting his cheek +to the fleshless, semi-transparent woman. + +Aunt Anne divided her lips to pronounce a crisp, subdued "Ow!" to +Jonathan after inspecting Robert; and she shuddered at sight of +Robert, and said "Ow!" repeatedly, by way of an interjectory token of +comprehension, to all that was uttered; but it was a horrified "No!" +when Robert's cheek pushed nearer. + +"Then, see to getting some breakfast for him," said Jonathan. "You're +not anyway bound to kiss a drunken--" + +"Dog's the word, sir," Robert helped him. "Dogs can afford it. I never +saw one in that state; so they don't lose character." + +He spoke lightly, but dejection was in his attitude. When his aunt Anne +had left the room, he exclaimed,-- + +"By jingo! women make you feel it, by some way that they have. She's a +religious creature. She smells the devil in me." + +"More like, the brandy," his father responded. + +"Well! I'm on the road, I'm on the road!" Robert fetched a sigh. + +"I didn't make the road," said his father. + +"No, sir; you didn't. Work hard: sleep sound that's happiness. I've +known it for a year. You're the man I'd imitate, if I could. The devil +came first the brandy's secondary. I was quiet so long. I thought myself +a safe man." + +He sat down and sent his hair distraught with an effort at smoothing it. + +"Women brought the devil into the world first. It's women who raise the +devil in us, and why they--" + +He thumped the table just as his aunt Anne was preparing to spread the +cloth. + +"Don't be frightened, woman," said Jonathan, seeing her start fearfully +back. "You take too many cups of tea, morning and night--hang the +stuff!" + +"Never, never till now have you abused me, Jonathan," she whimpered, +severely. + +"I don't tell you to love him; but wait on him. That's all. And I'll +about my business. Land and beasts--they answer to you." + +Robert looked up. + +"Land and beasts! They sound like blessed things. When next I go to +church, I shall know what old Adam felt. Go along, sir. I shall break +nothing in the house." + +"You won't go, Jonathan?" begged the trembling spinster. + +"Give him some of your tea, and strong, and as much of it as he can +take--he wants bringing down," was Jonathan's answer; and casting a +glance at one of the framed letters, he strode through the doorway, +and Aunt Anne was alone with the flushed face and hurried eyes of her +nephew, who was to her little better than a demon in the flesh. But +there was a Bible in the room. + +An hour later, Robert was mounted and riding to the meet of hounds. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A single night at the Pilot Inn had given life and vigour to Robert's +old reputation in Warbeach village, as the stoutest of drinkers and dear +rascals throughout a sailor-breeding district, where Dibdin was still +thundered in the ale-house, and manhood in a great degree measured by +the capacity to take liquor on board, as a ship takes ballast. There was +a profound affectation of deploring the sad fact that he drank as hard +as ever, among the men, and genuine pity expressed for him by the women +of Warbeach; but his fame was fresh again. As the Spring brings back +its flowers, Robert's presence revived his youthful deeds. There had +not been a boxer in the neighbourhood like Robert Eccles, nor such +a champion in all games, nor, when he set himself to it, such an +invincible drinker. It was he who thrashed the brute, Nic Sedgett, for +stabbing with his clasp-knife Harry Boulby, son of the landlady of the +Pilot Inn; thrashed him publicly, to the comfort of all Warbeach. He had +rescued old Dame Garble from her burning cottage, and made his father +house the old creature, and worked at farming, though he hated it, +to pay for her subsistence. He vindicated the honour of Warbeach by +drinking a match against a Yorkshire skipper till four o'clock in +the morning, when it was a gallant sight, my boys, to see Hampshire +steadying the defeated North-countryman on his astonished zigzag to +his flattish-bottomed billyboy, all in the cheery sunrise on the +river--yo-ho! ahoy! + +Glorious Robert had tried, first the sea, and then soldiering. Now let +us hope he'll settle to farming, and follow his rare old father's ways, +and be back among his own people for good. So chimed the younger ones, +and many of the elder. + +Danish blood had settled round Warbeach. To be a really popular hero +anywhere in Britain, a lad must still, I fear, have something of +a Scandinavian gullet; and if, in addition to his being a powerful +drinker, he is pleasant in his cups, and can sing, and forgive, be +freehanded, and roll out the grand risky phrases of a fired brain, he +stamps himself, in the apprehension of his associates, a king. + +Much of the stuff was required to deal King Robert of Warbeach the +capital stroke, and commonly he could hold on till a puff of cold air +from the outer door, like an admonitory messenger, reminded him that he +was, in the greatness of his soul, a king of swine; after which his way +of walking off, without a word to anybody, hoisting his whole stature, +while others were staggering, or roaring foul rhymes, or feeling +consciously mortal in their sensation of feverishness, became a theme +for admiration; ay, and he was fresh as an orchard apple in the morning! +there lay his commandership convincingly. What was proved overnight was +confirmed at dawn. + +Mr. Robert had his contrast in Sedgett's son, Nicodemus Sedgett, whose +unlucky Christian name had assisted the wits of Warbeach in bestowing +on him a darkly-luminous relationship. Young Nic loved also to steep his +spirit in the bowl; but, in addition to his never paying for his luxury, +he drank as if in emulation of the colour of his reputed patron, and +neighbourhood to Nic Sedgett was not liked when that young man became +thoughtful over his glass. + +The episode of his stabbing the landlady's son Harry clung to him +fatally. The wound was in the thigh, and nothing serious. Harry was +up and off to sea before Nic had ceased to show the marks of Robert's +vengeance upon him; but blood-shedding, even on a small scale, is so +detested by Englishmen, that Nic never got back to his right hue in the +eyes of Warbeach. None felt to him as to a countryman, and it may be +supposed that his face was seen no more in the house of gathering, the +Pilot Inn. + +He rented one of the Fairly farms, known as the Three-Tree Farm, +subsisting there, men fancied, by the aid of his housekeeper's money. +For he was of those evil fellows who disconcert all righteous prophecy, +and it was vain for Mrs. Boulby and Warbeach village to declare that no +good could come to him, when Fortune manifestly kept him going. + +He possessed the rogue's most serviceable art: in spite of a countenance +that was not attractive, this fellow could, as was proved by evidence, +make himself pleasing to women. "The truth of it is," said Mrs. Boulby, +at a loss for any other explanation, and with a woman's love of sharp +generalization, "it's because my sex is fools." + +He had one day no money to pay his rent, and forthwith (using for +the purpose his last five shillings, it was said) advertized for a +housekeeper; and before Warbeach had done chuckling over his folly, an +agreeable woman of about thirty-five was making purchases in his name; +she made tea, and the evening brew for such friends as he could collect, +and apparently paid his rent for him, after a time; the distress was not +in the house three days. It seemed to Warbeach an erratic proceeding on +the part of Providence, that Nic should ever be helped to swim; but +our modern prophets have small patience, and summon Destiny to strike +without a preparation of her weapons or a warning to the victim. + +More than Robert's old occasional vice was at the bottom of his +popularity, as I need not say. Let those who generalize upon ethnology +determine whether the ancient opposition of Saxon and Norman be at an +end; but it is certain, to my thinking, that when a hero of the +people can be got from the common popular stock, he is doubly dear. A +gentleman, however gallant and familiar, will hardly ever be as much +beloved, until he dies to inform a legend or a ballad: seeing that death +only can remove the peculiar distinctions and distances which the people +feel to exist between themselves and the gentleman-class, and which, not +to credit them with preternatural discernment, they are carefully taught +to feel. Dead Britons are all Britons, but live Britons are not quite +brothers. + +It was as the son of a yeoman, showing comprehensible accomplishments, +that Robert took his lead. He was a very brave, a sweet-hearted, and a +handsome young man, and he had very chivalrous views of life, that were +understood by a sufficient number under the influence of ale or brandy, +and by a few in default of that material aid; and they had a family +pride in him. The pride was mixed with fear, which threw over it a +tender light, like a mother's dream of her child. The people, I have +said, are not so lost in self-contempt as to undervalue their best men, +but it must be admitted that they rarely produce young fellows wearing +the undeniable chieftain's stamp, and the rarity of one like Robert lent +a hue of sadness to him in their thoughts. + +Fortune, moreover, the favourer of Nic Sedgett, blew foul whichever the +way Robert set his sails. He would not look to his own advantage; and +the belief that man should set his little traps for the liberal hand +of his God, if he wishes to prosper, rather than strive to be merely +honourable in his Maker's eye, is almost as general among poor people as +it is with the moneyed classes, who survey them from their height. + +When jolly Butcher Billing, who was one of the limited company which had +sat with Robert at the Pilot last night, reported that he had quitted +the army, he was hearkened to dolefully, and the feeling was universal +that glorious Robert had cut himself off from his pension and his +hospital. + +But when gossip Sedgett went his rounds, telling that Robert was down +among them again upon the darkest expedition their minds could conceive, +and rode out every morning for the purpose of encountering one of the +gentlemen up at Fairly, and had already pulled him off his horse and +laid him in the mud, calling him scoundrel and challenging him either +to yield his secret or to fight; and that he followed him, and was out +after him publicly, and matched himself against that gentleman, who +had all the other gentlemen, and the earl, and the law to back him, the +little place buzzed with wonder and alarm. Faint hearts declared that +Robert was now done for. All felt that he had gone miles beyond the +mark. Those were the misty days when fogs rolled up the salt river +from the winter sea, and the sun lived but an hour in the clotted sky, +extinguished near the noon. + +Robert was seen riding out, and the tramp of his horse was heard as he +returned homeward. He called no more at the Pilot. Darkness and mystery +enveloped him. There were nightly meetings under Mrs. Boulby's roof, +in the belief that he could not withstand her temptations; nor did she +imprudently discourage them; but the woman at last overcame the landlady +within her, and she wailed: "He won't come because of the drink. Oh! why +was I made to sell liquor, which he says sends him to the devil, poor +blessed boy? and I can't help begging him to take one little drop. I +did, the first night he was down, forgetting his ways; he looked so +desperate, he did, and it went on and went on, till he was primed, and +me proud to see him get out of his misery. And now he hates the thought +of me." + +In her despair she encouraged Sedgett to visit her bar and parlour, and +he became everywhere a most important man. + +Farmer Eccles's habits of seclusion (his pride, some said), and more +especially the dreaded austere Aunt Anne, who ruled that household, kept +people distant from the Warbeach farm-house, all excepting Sedgett, +who related that every night on his return, she read a chapter from the +Bible to Robert, sitting up for him patiently to fulfil her duty; and +that the farmer's words to his son had been: "Rest here; eat and drink, +and ride my horse; but not a penny of my money do you have." + +By the help of Steeve Bilton, the Fairly huntsman, Sedgett was enabled +to relate that there was a combination of the gentlemen against Robert, +whose behaviour none could absolutely approve, save the landlady and +jolly Butcher Billing, who stuck to him with a hearty blind faith. + +"Did he ever," asked the latter, "did Bob Eccles ever conduct himself +disrespectful to his superiors? Wasn't he always found out at his +wildest for to be right--to a sensible man's way of thinking?--though +not, I grant ye, to his own interests--there's another tale." And Mr. +Billing's staunch adherence to the hero of the village was cried out +to his credit when Sedgett stated, on Stephen Bilton's authority, that +Robert's errand was the defence of a girl who had been wronged, and +whose whereabout, that she might be restored to her parents, was all he +wanted to know. This story passed from mouth to mouth, receiving much +ornament in the passage. The girl in question became a lady; for it +is required of a mere common girl that she should display remarkable +character before she can be accepted as the fitting companion of a +popular hero. She became a young lady of fortune, in love with Robert, +and concealed by the artifice of the offending gentleman whom Robert had +challenged. Sedgett told this for truth, being instigated to boldness of +invention by pertinacious inquiries, and the dignified sense which the +whole story hung upon him. + +Mrs. Boulby, who, as a towering woman, despised Sedgett's weak frame, +had been willing to listen till she perceived him to be but a man of +fiction, and then she gave him a flat contradiction, having no esteem +for his custom. + +"Eh! but, Missis, I can tell you his name--the gentleman's name," +said Sedgett, placably. "He's a Mr. Algernon Blancove, and a cousin by +marriage, or something, of Mrs. Lovell." + +"I reckon you're right about that, goodman," replied Mrs. Boulby, with +intuitive discernment of the true from the false, mingled with a desire +to show that she was under no obligation for the news. "All t' other's a +tale of your own, and you know it, and no more true than your rigmaroles +about my brandy, which is French; it is, as sure as my blood's British." + +"Oh! Missis," quoth Sedgett, maliciously, "as to tales, you've got +witnesses enough it crassed chann'l. Aha! Don't bring 'em into the box. +Don't you bring 'em into ne'er a box." + +"You mean to say, Mr. Sedgett, they won't swear?" + +"No, Missis; they'll swear, fast and safe, if you teach 'em. Dashed if +they won't run the Pilot on a rock with their swearin'. It ain't a good +habit." + +"Well, Mr. Sedgett, the next time you drink my brandy and find the +consequences bad, you let me hear of it." + +"And what'll you do, Missis, may be?" + +Listeners were by, and Mrs. Boulby cruelly retorted; "I won't send you +home to your wife;" which created a roar against this hen-pecked man. + +"As to consequences, Missis, it's for your sake I'm looking at them," +Sedgett said, when he had recovered from the blow. + +"You say that to the Excise, Mr. Sedgett; it, belike, 'll make 'em +sorry." + +"Brandy's your weak point, it appears, Missis." + +"A little in you would stiffen your back, Mr. Sedgett." + +"Poor Bob Eccles didn't want no stiffening when he come down first," +Sedgett interjected. + +At which, flushing enraged, Mrs. Boulby cried: "Mention him, indeed! And +him and you, and that son of your'n--the shame of your cheeks if people +say he's like his father. Is it your son, Nic Sedgett, thinks to inform +against me, as once he swore to, and to get his wage that he may step +out of a second bankruptcy? and he a farmer! You let him know that he +isn't feared by me, Sedgett, and there's one here to give him a +second dose, without waiting for him to use clasp-knives on harmless +innocents." + +"Pacify yourself, ma'am, pacify yourself," remarked Sedgett, hardened +against words abroad by his endurance of blows at home. "Bob Eccles, +he's got his hands full, and he, maybe, 'll reach the hulks before my +Nic do, yet. And how 'm I answerable for Nic, I ask you?" + +"More luck to you not to be, I say; and either, Sedgett, you does +woman's work, gossipin' about like a cracked bell-clapper, or men's the +biggest gossips of all, which I believe; for there's no beating you at +your work, and one can't wish ill to you, knowing what you catch." + +"In a friendly way, Missis,"--Sedgett fixed on the compliment to his +power of propagating news--"in a friendly way. You can't accuse me +of leavin' out the 'l' in your name, now, can you? I make that +observation,"--the venomous tattler screwed himself up to the widow +insinuatingly, as if her understanding could only be seized at close +quarters, "I make that observation, because poor Dick Boulby, your +lamented husband--eh! poor Dick! You see, Missis, it ain't the tough +ones last longest: he'd sing, 'I'm a Sea Booby,' to the song, 'I'm a +green Mermaid:' poor Dick! 'a-shinin' upon the sea-deeps.' He kept the +liquor from his head, but didn't mean it to stop down in his leg." + +"Have you done, Mr. Sedgett?" said the widow, blandly. + +"You ain't angry, Missis?" + +"Not a bit, Mr. Sedgett; and if I knock you over with the flat o' my +hand, don't you think so." + +Sedgett threw up the wizened skin of his forehead, and retreated from +the bar. At a safe distance, he called: "Bad news that about Bob Eccles +swallowing a blow yesterday!" + +Mrs. Boulby faced him complacently till he retired, and then observed to +those of his sex surrounding her, "Don't 'woman-and-dog-and-walnut-tree' +me! Some of you men 'd be the better for a drubbing every day of your +lives. Sedgett yond' 'd be as big a villain as his son, only for what he +gets at home." + +That was her way of replying to the Parthian arrow; but the barb was +poisoned. The village was at fever heat concerning Robert, and this +assertion that he had swallowed a blow, produced almost as great a +consternation as if a fleet of the enemy had been reported off Sandy +Point. + +Mrs. Boulby went into her parlour and wrote a letter to Robert, which +she despatched by one of the loungers about the bar, who brought back +news that three of the gentlemen of Fairly were on horseback, talking to +Farmer Eccles at his garden gate. Affairs were waxing hot. The gentlemen +had only to threaten Farmer Eccles, to make him side with his son, +right or wrong. In the evening, Stephen Bilton, the huntsman, presented +himself at the door of the long parlour of the Pilot, and loud cheers +were his greeting from a full company. + +"Gentlemen all," said Stephen, with dapper modesty; and acted as if no +excitement were current, and he had nothing to tell. + +"Well, Steeve?" said one, to encourage him. + +"How about Bob, to-day?" said another. + +Before Stephen had spoken, it was clear to the apprehension of the whole +room that he did not share the popular view of Robert. He declined to +understand who was meant by "Bob." He played the questions off; and then +shrugged, with, "Oh, let's have a quiet evening." + +It ended in his saying, "About Bob Eccles? There, that's summed up +pretty quick--he's mad." + +"Mad!" shouted Warbeach. + +"That's a lie," said Mrs. Boulby, from the doorway. + +"Well, mum, I let a lady have her own opinion." Stephen nodded to her. +"There ain't a doubt as t' what the doctors 'd bring him in I ain't +speaking my ideas alone. It's written like the capital letters in a +newspaper. Lunatic's the word! And I'll take a glass of something warm, +Mrs. Boulby. We had a stiff run to-day." + +"Where did ye kill, Steeve?" asked a dispirited voice. + +"We didn't kill at all: he was one of those 'longshore dog-foxes,' and +got away home on the cliff." Stephen thumped his knee. "It's my belief +the smell o' sea gives 'em extra cunning." + +"The beggar seems to have put ye out rether--eh, Steeve?" + +So it was generally presumed: and yet the charge of madness was very +staggering; madness being, in the first place, indefensible, and +everybody's enemy when at large; and Robert's behaviour looked extremely +like it. It had already been as a black shadow haunting enthusiastic +minds in the village, and there fell a short silence, during which +Stephen made his preparations for filling and lighting a pipe. + +"Come; how do you make out he's mad?" + +Jolly Butcher Billing spoke; but with none of the irony of confidence. + +"Oh!" Stephen merely clapped both elbows against his sides. + +Several pairs of eyes were studying him. He glanced over them in turn, +and commenced leisurely the puff contemplative. + +"Don't happen to have a grudge of e'er a kind against old Bob, Steeve?" + +"Not I!" + +Mrs. Boulby herself brought his glass to Stephen, and, retreating, left +the parlour-door open. + +"What causes you for to think him mad, Steeve?" + +A second "Oh!" as from the heights dominating argument, sounded from +Stephen's throat, half like a grunt. This time he condescended to add,-- + +"How do you know when a dog's gone mad? Well, Robert Eccles, he's gone +in like manner. If you don't judge a man by his actions, you've got no +means of reckoning. He comes and attacks gentlemen, and swears he'll go +on doing it." + +"Well, and what does that prove?" said jolly Butcher Billing. + +Mr. William Moody, boatbuilder, a liver-complexioned citizen, undertook +to reply. + +"What does that prove? What does that prove when the midshipmite was +found with his head in the mixedpickle jar? It proved that his head was +lean, and t' other part was rounder." + +The illustration appeared forcible, but not direct, and nothing more was +understood from it than that Moody, and two or three others who had been +struck by the image of the infatuated young naval officer, were going +over to the enemy. The stamp of madness upon Robert's acts certainly +saved perplexity, and was the easiest side of the argument. By this time +Stephen had finished his glass, and the effect was seen. + +"Hang it!" he exclaimed, "I don't agree he deserves shooting. And he may +have had harm done to him. In that case, let him fight. And I say, too, +let the gentleman give him satisfaction." + +"Hear! hear!" cried several. + +"And if the gentleman refuse to give him satisfaction in a fair stand-up +fight, I say he ain't a gentleman, and deserves to be treated as such. +My objection's personal. I don't like any man who spoils sport, and +ne'er a rascally vulpeci' spoils sport as he do, since he's been down in +our parts again. I'll take another brimmer, Mrs. Boulby." + +"To be sure you will, Stephen," said Mrs. Boulby, bending as in a +curtsey to the glass; and so soft with him that foolish fellows thought +her cowed by the accusation thrown at her favourite. + +"There's two questions about they valpecies, Master Stephen," said +Farmer Wainsby, a farmer with a grievance, fixing his elbow on his knee +for serious utterance. "There's to ask, and t' ask again. Sport, I grant +ye. All in doo season. But," he performed a circle with his pipe stem, +and darted it as from the centre thereof toward Stephen's breast, with +the poser, "do we s'pport thieves at public expense for them to keep +thievin'--black, white, or brown--no matter, eh? Well, then, if the +public wunt bear it, dang me if I can see why individles shud bear it. +It ent no manner o' reason, net as I can see; let gentlemen have their +opinion, or let 'em not. Foxes be hanged!" + +Much slow winking was interchanged. In a general sense, Farmer Wainsby's +remarks were held to be un-English, though he was pardoned for them as +one having peculiar interests at stake. + +"Ay, ay! we know all about that," said Stephen, taking succour from the +eyes surrounding him. + +"And so, may be, do we," said Wainsby. + +"Fox-hunting 'll go on when your great-grandfather's your youngest son, +farmer; or t' other way." + +"I reckon it'll be a stuffed fox your chil'ern 'll hunt, Mr. Steeve; +more straw in 'em than bow'ls." + +"If the country," Stephen thumped the table, "were what you'd make of +it, hang me if my name 'd long be Englishman!" + +"Hear, hear, Steeve!" was shouted in support of the Conservative +principle enunciated by him. + +"What I say is, flesh and blood afore foxes!" + +Thus did Farmer Wainsby likewise attempt a rallying-cry; but Stephen's +retort, "Ain't foxes flesh and blood?" convicted him of clumsiness, and, +buoyed on the uproar of cheers, Stephen pursued, "They are; to kill 'em +in cold blood's beast-murder, so it is. What do we do? We give 'em +a fair field--a fair field and no favour! We let 'em trust to the +instincts Nature, she's given 'em; and don't the old woman know best? +If they cap, get away, they win the day. All's open, and honest, and +aboveboard. Kill your rats and kill your rabbits, but leave foxes to +your betters. Foxes are gentlemen. You don't understand? Be hanged if +they ain't! I like the old fox, and I don't like to see him murdered +and exterminated, but die the death of a gentleman, at the hands of +gentlemen--" + +"And ladies," sneered the farmer. + +All the room was with Stephen, and would have backed him uproariously, +had he not reached his sounding period without knowing it, and thus +allowed his opponent to slip in that abominable addition. + +"Ay, and ladies," cried the huntsman, keen at recovery. "Why shouldn't +they? I hate a field without a woman in it; don't you? and you? and you? +And you, too, Mrs. Boulby? There you are, and the room looks better for +you--don't it, lads? Hurrah!" + +The cheering was now aroused, and Stephen had his glass filled again +in triumph, while the farmer meditated thickly over the ruin of his +argument from that fatal effort at fortifying it by throwing a hint to +the discredit of the sex, as many another man has meditated before. + +"Eh! poor old Bob!" Stephen sighed and sipped. "I can cry that with any +of you. It's worse for me to see than for you to hear of him. Wasn't I +always a friend of his, and said he was worthy to be a gentleman, many +a time? He's got the manners of a gentleman now; offs with his hat, +if there's a lady present, and such a neat way of speaking. But there, +acting's the thing, and his behaviour's beastly bad! You can't call +it no other. There's two Mr. Blancoves up at Fairly, relations of +Mrs. Lovell's--whom I'll take the liberty of calling My Beauty, and no +offence meant: and it's before her that Bob only yesterday rode up--one +of the gentlemen being Mr. Algernon, free of hand and a good seat in the +saddle, t' other's Mr. Edward; but Mr. Algernon, he's Robert Eccles's +man--up rides Bob, just as we was tying Mr. Reenard's brush to the +pommel of the lady's saddle, down in Ditley Marsh; and he bows to the +lady. Says he--but he's mad, stark mad!" + +Stephen resumed his pipe amid a din of disappointment that made the +walls ring and the glasses leap. + +"A little more sugar, Stephen?" said Mrs. Boulby, moving in lightly from +the doorway. + +"Thank ye, mum; you're the best hostess that ever breathed." + +"So she be; but how about Bob?" cried her guests--some asking whether he +carried a pistol or flourished a stick. + +"Ne'er a blessed twig, to save his soul; and there's the madness written +on him;" Stephen roared as loud as any of them. "And me to see him +riding in the ring there, and knowing what the gentleman had sworn to +do if he came across the hunt; and feeling that he was in the wrong! I +haven't got a oath to swear how mad I was. Fancy yourselves in my place. +I love old Bob. I've drunk with him; I owe him obligations from since +I was a boy up'ard; I don't know a better than Bob in all England. And +there he was: and says to Mr. Algernon, 'You know what I'm come for.' +I never did behold a gentleman so pale--shot all over his cheeks as +he was, and pinkish under the eyes; if you've ever noticed a chap laid +hands on by detectives in plain clothes. Smack at Bob went Mr. Edward's +whip." + +"Mr. Algernon's," Stephen was corrected. + +"Mr. Edward's, I tell ye--the cousin. And right across the face. My +Lord! it made my blood tingle." + +A sound like the swish of a whip expressed the sentiments of that +assemblage at the Pilot. + +"Bob swallowed it?" + +"What else could he do, the fool? He had nothing to help him but his +hand. Says he, 'That's a poor way of trying to stop me. My business is +with this gentleman;' and Bob set his horse at Mr. Algernon, and Mrs. +Lovell rode across him with her hand raised; and just at that moment up +jogged the old gentleman, Squire Blancove, of Wrexby: and Robert Eccles +says to him, 'You might have saved your son something by keeping your +word.' It appears according to Bob, that the squire had promised to see +his son, and settle matters. All Mrs. Lovell could do was hardly enough +to hold back Mr. Edward from laying out at Bob. He was like a white +devil, and speaking calm and polite all the time. Says Bob, 'I'm willing +to take one when I've done with the other;' and the squire began talking +to his son, Mrs. Lovell to Mr. Edward, and the rest of the gentlemen all +round poor dear old Bob, rather bullying--like for my blood; till Bob +couldn't help being nettled, and cried out, 'Gentlemen, I hold him in my +power, and I'm silent so long as there's a chance of my getting him to +behave like a man with human feelings.' If they'd gone at him then, I +don't think I could have let him stand alone: an opinion's one thing, +but blood's another, and I'm distantly related to Bob; and a man who's +always thinking of the value of his place, he ain't worth it. But Mrs. +Lovell, she settled the case--a lady, Farmer Wainsby, with your leave. +There's the good of having a lady present on the field. That's due to a +lady!" + +"Happen she was at the bottom of it," the farmer returned Stephen's nod +grumpily. + +"How did it end, Stephen, my lad?" said Butcher Billing, indicating a +"never mind him." + +"It ended, my boy, it ended like my glass here--hot and strong stuff, +with sugar at the bottom. And I don't see this, so glad as I saw that, +my word of honour on it! Boys all!" Stephen drank the dregs. + +Mrs. Boulby was still in attendance. The talk over the circumstances was +sweeter than the bare facts, and the replenished glass enabled Stephen +to add the picturesque bits of the affray, unspurred by a surrounding +eagerness of his listeners--too exciting for imaginative effort. In +particular, he dwelt on Robert's dropping the reins and riding with his +heels at Algernon, when Mrs. Lovell put her horse in his way, and the +pair of horses rose like waves at sea, and both riders showed their +horsemanship, and Robert an adroit courtesy, for which the lady thanked +him with a bow of her head. + +"I got among the hounds, pretending to pacify them, and call 'em +together," said Stephen, "and I heard her say--just before all was over, +and he turned off--I heard her say: 'Trust this to me: I will meet you.' +I'll swear to them exact words, though there was more, and a 'where' in +the bargain, and that I didn't hear. Aha! by George! thinks I, old Bob, +you're a lucky beggar, and be hanged if I wouldn't go mad too for a +minute or so of short, sweet, private talk with a lovely young widow +lady as ever the sun did shine upon so boldly--oho! + + You've seen a yacht upon the sea, + She dances and she dances, O! + As fair is my wild maid to me... + +Something about 'prances, O!' on her horse, you know, or you're a hem'd +fool if you don't. I never could sing; wish I could! It's the joy of +life! It's utterance! Hey for harmony!" + +"Eh! brayvo! now you're a man, Steeve! and welcomer and welcomest; +yi--yi, O!" jolly Butcher Billing sang out sharp. "Life wants watering. +Here's a health to Robert Eccles, wheresoever and whatsoever! and ne'er +a man shall say of me I didn't stick by a friend like Bob. Cheers, my +lads!" + +Robert's health was drunk in a thunder, and praises of the purity of the +brandy followed the grand roar. Mrs. Boulby received her compliments on +that head. + +"'Pends upon the tide, Missis, don't it?" one remarked with a grin broad +enough to make the slyness written on it easy reading. + +"Ah! first a flow and then a ebb," said another. + + "It's many a keg I plant i' the mud, + Coastguardsman, come! and I'll have your blood!" + +Instigation cried, "Cut along;" but the defiant smuggler was deficient +in memory, and like Steeve Bilton, was reduced to scatter his concluding +rhymes in prose, as "something about;" whereat jolly Butcher Billing, a +reader of song-books from a literary delight in their contents, scraped +his head, and then, as if he had touched a spring, carolled,-- + + "In spite of all you Gov'ment pack, + I'll land my kegs of the good Cognyac"-- + +"though," he took occasion to observe when the chorus and a sort of +cracker of irrelevant rhymes had ceased to explode; "I'm for none of +them games. Honesty!--there's the sugar o' my grog." + +"Ay, but you like to be cock-sure of the stuff you drink, if e'er a man +did," said the boatbuilder, whose eye blazed yellow in this frothing +season of song and fun. + +"Right so, Will Moody!" returned the jolly butcher: "which means--not +wrong this time!" + +"Then, what's understood by your sticking prongs into your hostess +here concerning of her brandy? Here it is--which is enough, except for +discontented fellows." + +"Eh, Missus?" the jolly butcher appealed to her, and pointed at Moody's +complexion for proof. + +It was quite a fiction that kegs of the good cognac were sown at low +water, and reaped at high, near the river-gate of the old Pilot Inn +garden; but it was greatly to Mrs. Boulby's interest to encourage the +delusion which imaged her brandy thus arising straight from the very +source, without villanous contact with excisemen and corrupting dealers; +and as, perhaps, in her husband's time, the thing had happened, and +still did, at rare intervals, she complacently gathered the profitable +fame of her brandy being the best in the district. + +"I'm sure I hope you're satisfied, Mr. Billing," she said. + +The jolly butcher asked whether Will Moody was satisfied, and Mr. +William Moody declaring himself thoroughly satisfied, "then I'm +satisfied too!" said the jolly butcher; upon which the boatbuilder +heightened the laugh by saying he was not satisfied at all; and to +escape from the execrations of the majority, pleaded that it was because +his glass was empty: thus making his peace with them. Every glass in the +room was filled again. + +The young fellows now loosened tongue; and Dick Curtis, the promising +cricketer of Hampshire, cried, "Mr. Moody, my hearty! that's your fourth +glass, so don't quarrel with me, now!" + +"You!" Moody fired up in a bilious frenzy, and called him a this and +that and t' other young vagabond; for which the company, feeling +the ominous truth contained in Dick Curtis's remark more than its +impertinence, fined Mr. Moody in a song. He gave the-- + + "So many young Captains have walked o'er my pate, + It's no wonder you see me quite bald, sir," + +with emphatic bitterness, and the company thanked him. Seeing him stand +up as to depart, however, a storm of contempt was hurled at him; some +said he was like old Sedgett, and was afraid of his wife; and some, that +he was like Nic Sedgett, and drank blue. + + "You're a bag of blue devils, oh dear! oh dear!" + +sang Dick to the tune of "The Campbells are coming." + +"I ask e'er a man present," Mr. Moody put out his fist, "is that to be +borne? Didn't you," he addressed Dick Curtis,--"didn't you sing into my +chorus--" + + 'It's no wonder to hear how you squall'd, sir?' + +"You did!" + +"Don't he,"--Dick addressed the company, "make Mrs. Boulby's brandy look +ashamed of itself in his face? I ask e'er a gentleman present." + +Accusation and retort were interchanged, in the course of which, Dick +called Mr. Moody Nic Sedgett's friend; and a sort of criminal inquiry +was held. It was proved that Moody had been seen with Nic Sedgett; and +then three or four began to say that Nic Sedgett was thick with some of +the gentlemen up at Fairly;--just like his luck! Stephen let it be known +that he could confirm this fact; he having seen Mr. Algernon Blancove +stop Nic on the road and talk to him. + +"In that case," said Butcher Billing, "there's mischief in a state of +fermentation. Did ever anybody see Nic and the devil together?" + +"I saw Nic and Mr. Moody together," said Dick Curtis. "Well, I'm only +stating a fact," he exclaimed, as Moody rose, apparently to commence an +engagement, for which the company quietly prepared, by putting chairs +out of his way: but the recreant took his advantage from the error, and +got away to the door, pursued. + +"Here's an example of what we lose in having no President," sighed +the jolly butcher. "There never was a man built for the chair like Bob +Eccles I say! Our evening's broke up, and I, for one, 'd ha' made it +morning. Hark, outside; By Gearge! they're snowballing." + +An adjournment to the front door brought them in view of a white +and silent earth under keen stars, and Dick Curtis and the bilious +boatbuilder, foot to foot, snowball in hand. A bout of the smart +exercise made Mr. Moody laugh again, and all parted merrily, delivering +final shots as they went their several ways. + +"Thanks be to heaven for snowing," said Mrs. Boulby; "or when I should +have got to my bed, Goodness only can tell!" With which, she closed the +door upon the empty inn. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +The night was warm with the new-fallen snow, though the stars sparkled +coldly. A fleet of South-westerly rainclouds had been met in mid-sky by +a sharp puff from due North, and the moisture had descended like a woven +shroud, covering all the land, the house-tops, and the trees. + +Young Harry Boulby was at sea, and this still weather was just what a +mother's heart wished for him. The widow looked through her bed-room +window and listened, as if the absolute stillness must beget a sudden +cry. The thought of her boy made her heart revert to Robert. She was +thinking of Robert when the muffled sound of a horse at speed caused her +to look up the street, and she saw one coming--a horse without a rider. +The next minute he was out of sight. + +Mrs. Boulby stood terrified. The silence of the night hanging everywhere +seemed to call on her for proof that she had beheld a real earthly +spectacle, and the dead thump of the hooves on the snow-floor in passing +struck a chill through her as being phantom-like. But she had seen +a saddle on the horse, and the stirrups flying, and the horse looked +affrighted. The scene was too earthly in its suggestion of a tale +of blood. What if the horse were Robert's? She tried to laugh at her +womanly fearfulness, and had almost to suppress a scream in doing +so. There was no help for it but to believe her brandy as good and +efficacious as her guests did, so she went downstairs and took a +fortifying draught; after which her blood travelled faster, and the +event galloped swiftly into the recesses of time, and she slept. + +While the morning was still black, and the streets without a sign +of life, she was aroused by a dream of some one knocking at her +grave-stone. "Ah, that brandy!" she sighed. "This is what a poor woman +has to pay for custom!" Which we may interpret as the remorseful morning +confession of a guilt she had been the victim of over night. She knew +that good brandy did not give bad dreams, and was self-convicted. +Strange were her sensations when the knocking continued; and presently +she heard a voice in the naked street below call in a moan, "Mother!" + +"My darling!" she answered, divided in her guess at its being Harry or +Robert. + +A glance from the open window showed Robert leaning in the quaint old +porch, with his head bound by a handkerchief; but he had no strength to +reply to a question at that distance, and when she let him in he made +two steps and dropped forward on the floor. + +Lying there, he plucked at her skirts. She was shouting for help, but +with her ready apprehension of the pride in his character, she knew what +was meant by his broken whisper before she put her ear to his lips, and +she was silent, miserable sight as was his feeble efforts to rise on an +elbow that would not straighten. + +His head was streaming with blood, and the stain was on his neck and +chest. He had one helpless arm; his clothes were torn as from a fierce +struggle. + +"I'm quite sensible," he kept repeating, lest she should relapse into +screams. + +"Lord love you for your spirit!" exclaimed the widow, and there they +remained, he like a winged eagle, striving to raise himself from time +to time, and fighting with his desperate weakness. His face was to the +ground; after a while he was still. In alarm the widow stooped over him: +she feared that he had given up his last breath; but the candle-light +showed him shaken by a sob, as it seemed to her, though she could scarce +believe it of this manly fellow. Yet it proved true; she saw the very +tears. He was crying at his helplessness. + +"Oh, my darling boy!" she burst out; "what have they done to ye? the +cowards they are! but do now have pity on a woman, and let me get some +creature to lift you to a bed, dear. And don't flap at me with your hand +like a bird that's shot. You're quite, quite sensible, I know; quite +sensible, dear; but for my sake, Robert, my Harry's good friend, only +for my sake, let yourself be a carried to a clean, nice bed, till I get +Dr. Bean to you. Do, do." + +Her entreaties brought on a succession of the efforts to rise, and at +last, getting round on his back, and being assisted by the widow, he +sat up against the wall. The change of posture stupified him with a +dizziness. He tried to utter the old phrase, that he was sensible, but +his hand beat at his forehead before the words could be shaped. + +"What pride is when it's a man!" the widow thought, as he recommenced +the grievous struggle to rise on his feet; now feeling them up to the +knee with a questioning hand, and pausing as if in a reflective wonder, +and then planting them for a spring that failed wretchedly; groaning and +leaning backward, lost in a fit of despair, and again beginning, patient +as an insect imprisoned in a circle. + +The widow bore with his man's pride, until her nerves became afflicted +by the character of his movements, which, as her sensations conceived +them, were like those of a dry door jarring loose. She caught him in her +arms: "It's let my back break, but you shan't fret to death there, under +my eyes, proud or humble, poor dear," she said, and with a great pull +she got him upright. He fell across her shoulder with so stiff a groan +that for a moment she thought she had done him mortal injury. + +"Good old mother," he said boyishly, to reassure her. + +"Yes; and you'll behave to me like a son," she coaxed him. + +They talked as by slow degrees the stairs were ascended. + +"A crack o' the head, mother--a crack o' the head," said he. + +"Was it the horse, my dear?" + +"A crack o' the head, mother." + +"What have they done to my boy Robert?" + +"They've,"--he swung about humorously, weak as he was and throbbing with +pain--"they've let out some of your brandy, mother...got into my head." + +"Who've done it, my dear?" + +"They've done it, mother." + +"Oh, take care o' that nail at your foot; and oh, that beam to your poor +poll--poor soul! he's been and hurt himself again. And did they do it to +him? and what was it for?" she resumed in soft cajolery. + +"They did it, because--" + +"Yes, my dear; the reason for it?" + +"Because, mother, they had a turn that way." + +"Thanks be to Above for leaving your cunning in you, my dear," said the +baffled woman, with sincere admiration. "And Lord be thanked, if you're +not hurt bad, that they haven't spoilt his handsome face," she added. + +In the bedroom, he let her partially undress him, refusing all doctor's +aid, and commanding her to make no noise about him and then he lay down +and shut his eyes, for the pain was terrible--galloped him and threw +him with a shock--and galloped him and threw him again, whenever his +thoughts got free for a moment from the dizzy aching. + +"My dear," she whispered, "I'm going to get a little brandy." + +She hastened away upon this mission. + +He was in the same posture when she returned with bottle and glass. + +She poured out some, and made much of it as a specific, and of the great +things brandy would do; but he motioned his hand from it feebly, till +she reproached him tenderly as perverse and unkind. + +"Now, my dearest boy, for my sake--only for my sake. Will you? Yes, you +will, my Robert!" + +"No brandy, mother." + +"Only one small thimbleful?" + +"No more brandy for me!" + +"See, dear, how seriously you take it, and all because you want the +comfort." + +"No brandy," was all he could say. + +She looked at the label on the bottle. Alas! she knew whence it came, +and what its quality. She could cheat herself about it when herself only +was concerned--but she wavered at the thought of forcing it upon Robert +as trusty medicine, though it had a pleasant taste, and was really, as +she conceived, good enough for customers. + +She tried him faintly with arguments in its favour; but his resolution +was manifested by a deaf ear. + +With a perfect faith in it she would, and she was conscious that she +could, have raised his head and poured it down his throat. The crucial +test of her love for Robert forbade the attempt. She burst into an +uncontrollable fit of crying. + +"Halloa! mother," said Robert, opening his eyes to the sad candlelight +surrounding them. + +"My darling boy! whom I do love so; and not to be able to help you! What +shall I do--what shall I do!" + +With a start, he cried, "Where's the horse!" + +"The horse?" + +"The old dad 'll be asking for the horse to-morrow." + +"I saw a horse, my dear, afore I turned to my prayers at my bedside, +coming down the street without his rider. He came like a rumble +of deafness in my ears. Oh, my boy, I thought, Is it Robert's +horse?--knowing you've got enemies, as there's no brave man has not got +'em--which is our only hope in the God of heaven!" + +"Mother, punch my ribs." + +He stretched himself flat for the operation, and shut his mouth. + +"Hard, mother!--and quick!--I can't hold out long." + +"Oh! Robert," moaned the petrified woman "strike you?" + +"Straight in the ribs. Shut your fist and do it--quick." + +"My dear!--my boy!--I haven't the heart to do it!" + +"Ah!" Robert's chest dropped in; but tightening his muscles again, he +said, "now do it--do it!" + +"Oh! a poke at a poor fire puts it out, dear. And make a murderess of +me, you call mother! Oh! as I love the name, I'll obey you, Robert. +But!--there!" + +"Harder, mother." + +"There!--goodness forgive me!" + +"Hard as you can--all's right." + +"There!--and there!--oh!--mercy!" + +"Press in at my stomach." + +She nerved herself to do his bidding, and, following his orders, took +his head in her hands, and felt about it. The anguish of the touch wrung +a stifled scream from him, at which she screamed responsive. He laughed, +while twisting with the pain. + +"You cruel boy, to laugh at your mother," she said, delighted by the +sound of safety in that sweet human laughter. "Hey! don't ye shake +your brain; it ought to lie quiet. And here's the spot of the wicked +blow--and him in love--as I know he is! What would she say if she saw +him now? But an old woman's the best nurse--ne'er a doubt of it." + +She felt him heavy on her arm, and knew that he had fainted. Quelling +her first impulse to scream, she dropped him gently on the pillow, and +rapped to rouse up her maid. + +The two soon produced a fire and hot water, bandages, vinegar in a +basin, and every crude appliance that could be thought of, the maid +followed her mistress's directions with a consoling awe, for Mrs. Boulby +had told her no more than that a man was hurt. + +"I do hope, if it's anybody, it's that ther' Moody," said the maid. + +"A pretty sort of a Christian you think yourself, I dare say," Mrs. +Boulby replied. + +"Christian or not, one can't help longin' for a choice, mum. We ain't +all hands and knees." + +"Better for you if you was," said the widow. "It's tongues, you're to +remember, you're not to be. Now come you up after me--and you'll not +utter a word. You'll stand behind the door to do what I tell you. You're +a soldier's daughter, Susan, and haven't a claim to be excitable." + +"My mother was given to faints," Susan protested on behalf of her +possible weakness. + +"You may peep." Thus Mrs. Boulby tossed a sop to her frail woman's +nature. + +But for her having been appeased by the sagacious accordance of this +privilege, the maid would never have endured to hear Robert's voice in +agony, and to think that it was really Robert, the beloved of Warbeach, +who had come to harm. Her apprehensions not being so lively as her +mistress's, by reason of her love being smaller, she was more terrified +than comforted by Robert's jokes during the process of washing off the +blood, cutting the hair from the wound, bandaging and binding up the +head. + +His levity seemed ghastly; and his refusal upon any persuasion to see a +doctor quite heathenish, and a sign of one foredoomed. + +She believed that his arm was broken, and smarted with wrath at her +mistress for so easily taking his word to the contrary. More than all, +his abjuration of brandy now when it would do him good to take +it, struck her as an instance of that masculine insanity in the +comprehension of which all women must learn to fortify themselves. There +was much whispering in the room, inarticulate to her, before Mrs. Boulby +came out; enjoining a rigorous silence, and stating that the patient +would drink nothing but tea. + +"He begged," she said half to herself, "to have the window blinds up +in the morning, if the sun wasn't strong, for him to look on our river +opening down to the ships." + +"That looks as if he meant to live," Susan remarked. + +"He!" cried the widow, "it's Robert Eccles. He'd stand on his last +inch." + +"Would he, now!" ejaculated Susan, marvelling at him, with no question +as to what footing that might be. + +"Leastways," the widow hastened to add, "if he thought it was only +devils against him. I've heard him say, 'It's a fool that holds out +against God, and a coward as gives in to the devil;' and there's my +Robert painted by his own hand." + +"But don't that bring him to this so often, Mum?" Susan ruefully +inquired, joining teapot and kettle. + +"I do believe he's protected," said the widow. + +With the first morning light Mrs. Boulby was down at Warbeach Farm, and +being directed to Farmer Eccles in the stables, she found the sturdy +yeoman himself engaged in grooming Robert's horse. + +"Well, Missis," he said, nodding to her; "you win, you see. I thought +you would; I'd have sworn you would. Brandy's stronger than blood, with +some of our young fellows." + +"If you please, Mr. Eccles," she replied, "Robert's sending of me was to +know if the horse was unhurt and safe." + +"Won't his legs carry him yet, Missis?" + +"His legs have been graciously spared, Mr. Eccles; it's his head." + +"That's where the liquor flies, I'm told." + +"Pray, Mr. Eccles, believe me when I declare he hasn't touched a drop of +anything but tea in my house this past night." + +"I'm sorry for that; I'd rather have him go to you. If he takes it, let +him take it good; and I'm given to understand that you've a reputation +that way. Just tell him from me, he's at liberty to play the devil with +himself, but not with my beasts." + +The farmer continued his labour. + +"No, you ain't a hard man, surely," cried the widow. "Not when I say he +was sober, Mr. Eccles; and was thrown, and made insensible?" + +"Never knew such a thing to happen to him, Missis, and, what's more, +I don't believe it. Mayhap you're come for his things: his Aunt Anne's +indoors, and she'll give 'em up, and gladly. And my compliments to +Robert, and the next time he fancies visiting Warbeach, he'd best +forward a letter to that effect." + +Mrs. Boulby curtseyed humbly. "You think bad of me, sir, for keeping a +public; but I love your son as my own, and if I might presume to say so, +Mr. Eccles, you will be proud of him too before you die. I know no more +than you how he fell yesterday, but I do know he'd not been drinking, +and have got bitter bad enemies." + +"And that's not astonishing, Missis." + +"No, Mr. Eccles; and a man who's brave besides being good soon learns +that." + +"Well spoken, Missis." + +"Is Robert to hear he's denied his father's house?" + +"I never said that, Mrs. Boulby. Here's my principle--My house is open +to my blood, so long as he don't bring downright disgrace on it, and +then any one may claim him that likes I won't give him money, because +I know of a better use for it; and he shan't ride my beasts, because he +don't know how to treat 'em. That's all." + +"And so you keep within the line of your duty, sir," the widow summed +his speech. + +"So I hope to," said the farmer. + +"There's comfort in that," she replied. + +"As much as there's needed," said he. + +The widow curtseyed again. "It's not to trouble you, sir, I called. +Robert--thanks be to Above!--is not hurt serious, though severe." + +"Where's he hurt?" the farmer asked rather hurriedly. + +"In the head, it is." + +"What have you come for?" + +"First, his best hat." + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the farmer. "Well, if that 'll mend his head +it's at his service, I'm sure." + +Sick at his heartlessness, the widow scattered emphasis over her +concluding remarks. "First, his best hat, he wants; and his coat and +clean shirt; and they mend the looks of a man, Mr. Eccles; and it's to +look well is his object: for he's not one to make a moan of himself, and +doctors may starve before he'd go to any of them. And my begging prayer +to you is, that when you see your son, you'll not tell him I let you +know his head or any part of him was hurt. I wish you good morning, Mr. +Eccles." + +"Good morning to you, Mrs. Boulby. You're a respectable woman." + +"Not to be soaped," she murmured to herself in a heat. + +The apparently medicinal articles of attire were obtained from Aunt +Anne, without a word of speech on the part of that pale spinster. The +deferential hostility between the two women acknowledged an intervening +chasm. Aunt Anne produced a bundle, and placed the hat on it, upon which +she had neatly pinned a tract, "The Drunkard's Awakening!" Mrs. Boulby +glanced her eye in wrath across this superscription, thinking to +herself, "Oh, you good people! how you make us long in our hearts for +trouble with you." She controlled the impulse, and mollified her +spirit on her way home by distributing stray leaves of the tract to the +outlying heaps of rubbish, and to one inquisitive pig, who was looking +up from a badly-smelling sty for what the heavens might send him. + +She found Robert with his arm doubled over a basin, and Susan sponging +cold water on it. + +"No bones broken, mother!" he sang out. "I'm sound; all right again. Six +hours have done it this time. Is it a thaw? You needn't tell me what the +old dad has been saying. I shall be ready to breakfast in half an hour." + +"Lord, what a big arm it is!" exclaimed the widow. "And no wonder, or +how would you be a terror to men? You naughty boy, to think of stirring! +Here you'll lie." + +"Ah, will I?" said Robert: and he gave a spring, and sat upright in the +bed, rather white with the effort, which seemed to affect his mind, for +he asked dubiously, "What do I look like, mother?" + +She brought him the looking-glass, and Susan being dismissed, he +examined his features. + +"Dear!" said the widow, sitting down on the bed; "it ain't much for me +to guess you've got an appointment." + +"At twelve o'clock, mother." + +"With her?" she uttered softly. + +"It's with a lady, mother." + +"And so many enemies prowling about, Robert, my dear! Don't tell me they +didn't fall upon you last night. I said nothing, but I'd swear it on the +Book. Do you think you can go?" + +"Why, mother, I go by my feelings, and there's no need to think at all, +or God knows what I should think." + +The widow shook her head. "Nothing 'll stop you, I suppose?" + +"Nothing inside of me will, mother." + +"Doesn't she but never mind. I've no right to ask, Robert; and if I +have curiosity, it's about last night, and why you should let villains +escape. But there's no accounting for a man's notions; only, this I say, +and I do say it, Nic Sedgett, he's at the bottom of any mischief brewed +against you down here. And last night Stephen Bilton, or somebody, +declared that Nic Sedgett had been seen up at Fairly." + +"Selling eggs, mother. Why shouldn't he? We mustn't complain of his +getting an honest livelihood." + +"He's black-blooded, Robert; and I never can understand why the Lord did +not make him a beast in face. I'm told that creature's found pleasing by +the girls." + +"Ugh, mother, I'm not." + +"She won't have you, Robert?" + +He laughed. "We shall see to-day." + +"You deceiving boy!" cried the widow; "and me not know it's Mrs. Lovell +you're going to meet! and would to heaven she'd see the worth of ye, for +it's a born lady you ought to marry." + +"Just feel in my pockets, mother, and you won't be so ready with your +talk of my marrying. And now I'll get up. I feel as if my legs had to +learn over again how to bear me. The old dad, bless his heart! gave me +sound wind and limb to begin upon, so I'm not easily stumped, you see, +though I've been near on it once or twice in my life." + +Mrs. Boulby murmured, "Ah! are you still going to be at war with those +gentlemen, Robert?" + +He looked at her steadily, while a shrewd smile wrought over his face, +and then taking her hand, he said, "I'll tell you a little; you +deserve it, and won't tattle. My curse is, I'm ashamed to talk about +my feelings; but there's no shame in being fond of a girl, even if she +refuses to have anything to say to you, is there? No, there isn't. +I went with my dear old aunt's money to a farmer in Kent, and learnt +farming; clear of the army first, by--But I must stop that burst of +swearing. Half the time I've been away, I was there. The farmer's a +good, sober, downhearted man--a sort of beaten Englishman, who don't +know it, tough, and always backing. He has two daughters: one went to +London, and came to harm, of a kind. The other I'd prick this vein +for and bleed to death, singing; and she hates me! I wish she did. She +thought me such a good young man! I never drank; went to bed early, was +up at work with the birds. Mr. Robert Armstrong! That changeing of my +name was like a lead cap on my head. I was never myself with it, felt +hang-dog--it was impossible a girl could care for such a fellow as I +was. Mother, just listen: she's dark as a gipsy. She's the faithfullest, +stoutest-hearted creature in the world. She has black hair, large brown +eyes; see her once! She's my mate. I could say to her, 'Stand there; +take guard of a thing;' and I could be dead certain of her--she'd perish +at her post. Is the door locked? Lock the door; I won't be seen when I +speak of her. Well, never mind whether she's handsome or not. She isn't +a lady; but she's my lady; she's the woman I could be proud of. She +sends me to the devil! I believe a woman 'd fall in love with her +cheeks, they are so round and soft and kindly coloured. Think me a fool; +I am. And here am I, away from her, and I feel that any day harm may +come to her, and she 'll melt, and be as if the devils of hell were +mocking me. Who's to keep harm from her when I'm away? What can I do +but drink and forget? Only now, when I wake up from it, I'm a crawling +wretch at her feet. If I had her feet to kiss! I've never kissed +her--never! And no man has kissed her. Damn my head! here's the ache +coming on. That's my last oath, mother. I wish there was a Bible handy, +but I'll try and stick to it without. My God! when I think of her, I +fancy everything on earth hangs still and doubts what's to happen. I'm +like a wheel, and go on spinning. Feel my pulse now. Why is it I can't +stop it? But there she is, and I could crack up this old world to know +what's coming. I was mild as milk all those days I was near her. My +comfort is, she don't know me. And that's my curse too! If she did, +she'd know as clear as day I'm her mate, her match, the man for her. I +am, by heaven!--that's an oath permitted. To see the very soul I want, +and to miss her! I'm down here, mother; she loves her sister, and I +must learn where her sister's to be found. One of those gentlemen up at +Fairly's the guilty man. I don't say which; perhaps I don't know. But +oh, what a lot of lightnings I see in the back of my head!" + +Robert fell back on the pillow. Mrs. Boulby wiped her eyes. Her feelings +were overwhelmed with mournful devotion to the passionate young man; and +she expressed them practically: "A rump-steak would never digest in his +poor stomach!" + +He seemed to be of that opinion too, for when, after lying till eleven, +he rose and appeared at the breakfast-table, he ate nothing but crumbs +of dry bread. It was curious to see his precise attention to the +neatness of his hat and coat, and the nervous eye he cast upon the +clock, while brushing and accurately fixing these garments. The hat +would not sit as he was accustomed to have it, owing to the bruise on +his head, and he stood like a woman petulant with her milliner before +the glass; now pressing the hat down till the pain was insufferable, and +again trying whether it presented him acceptably in the enforced style +of his wearing it. He persisted in this, till Mrs. Boulby's exclamation +of wonder admonished him of the ideas received by other eyes than his +own. When we appear most incongruous, we are often exposing the key to +our characters; and how much his vanity, wounded by Rhoda, had to do +with his proceedings down at Warbeach, it were unfair to measure just +yet, lest his finer qualities be cast into shade, but to what degree it +affected him will be seen. + +Mrs. Boulby's persuasions induced him to take a stout silver-topped +walking-stick of her husband's, a relic shaped from the wood of the +Royal George; leaning upon which rather more like a Naval pensioner than +he would have cared to know, he went forth to his appointment with the +lady. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The park-sward of Fairly, white with snow, rolled down in long sweeps to +the salt water: and under the last sloping oak of the park there was +a gorse-bushed lane, green in Summer, but now bearing cumbrous +blossom--like burdens of the crisp snow-fall. Mrs. Lovell sat on +horseback here, and alone, with her gauntleted hand at her waist, +charmingly habited in tone with the landscape. She expected a cavalier, +and did not perceive the approach of a pedestrian, but bowed quietly +when Robert lifted his hat. + +"They say you are mad. You see, I trust myself to you." + +"I wish I could thank you for your kindness, madam." + +"Are you ill?" + +"I had a fall last night, madam." + +The lady patted her horse's neck. + +"I haven't time to inquire about it. You understand that I cannot give +you more than a minute." + +She glanced at her watch. + +"Let us say five exactly. To begin: I can't affect to be ignorant of +the business which brings you down here. I won't pretend to lecture you +about the course you have taken; but, let me distinctly assure you, that +the gentleman you have chosen to attack in this extraordinary manner, +has done no wrong to you or to any one. It is, therefore, disgracefully +unjust to single him out. You know he cannot possibly fight you. I speak +plainly." + +"Yes, madam," said Robert. "I'll answer plainly. He can't fight a man +like me. I know it. I bear him no ill-will. I believe he's innocent +enough in this matter, as far as acts go." + +"That makes your behaviour to him worse!" + +Robert looked up into her eyes. + +"You are a lady. You won't be shocked at what I tell you." + +"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Lovell, hastily: "I have learnt--I am aware of the +tale. Some one has been injured or, you think so. I don't accuse you of +madness, but, good heavens! what means have you been pursuing! Indeed, +sir, let your feelings be as deeply engaged as possible, you have gone +altogether the wrong way to work." + +"Not if I have got your help by it, madam." + +"Gallantly spoken." + +She smiled with a simple grace. The next moment she consulted her watch. + +"Time has gone faster than I anticipated. I must leave you. Let this be +our stipulation:" + +She lowered her voice. + +"You shall have the address you require. I will undertake to see her +myself, when next I am in London. It will be soon. In return, sir, +favour me with your word of honour not to molest this gentleman any +further. Will you do that? You may trust me." + +"I do, madam, with all my soul!" said Robert. + +"That's sufficient. I ask no more. Good morning." + +Her parting bow remained with him like a vision. Her voice was like the +tinkling of harp-strings about his ears. The colour of her riding-habit +this day, harmonious with the snow-faced earth, as well as the gentle +mission she had taken upon herself, strengthened his vivid fancy in +blessing her as something quite divine. + +He thought for the first time in his life bitterly of the great fortune +which fell to gentlemen in meeting and holding equal converse with so +adorable a creature; and he thought of Rhoda as being harshly earthly; +repulsive in her coldness as that black belt of water contrasted against +the snow on the shores. + +He walked some paces in the track of Mrs. Lovell's horse, till his doing +so seemed too presumptuous, though to turn the other way and retrace +his steps was downright hateful: and he stood apparently in profound +contemplation of a ship of war and the trees of the forest behind the +masts. Either the fatigue of standing, or emotion, caused his head to +throb, so that he heard nothing, not even men's laughter; but looking +up suddenly, he beheld, as in a picture, Mrs. Lovell with some gentlemen +walking their horses toward him. The lady gazed softly over his head, +letting her eyes drop a quiet recognition in passing; one or two of the +younger gentlemen stared mockingly. + +Edward Blancove was by Mrs. Lovell's side. His eyes fixed upon Robert +with steady scrutiny, and Robert gave him a similar inspection, though +not knowing why. It was like a child's open look, and he was feeling +childish, as if his brain had ceased to act. One of the older gentlemen, +with a military aspect, squared his shoulders, and touching an end of +his moustache, said, half challengingly,-- + +"You are dismounted to-day?" + +"I have only one horse," Robert simply replied. + +Algernon Blancove came last. He neither spoke nor looked at his enemy, +but warily clutched his whip. All went by, riding into line some paces +distant; and again they laughed as they bent forward to the lady, +shouting. + +"Odd, to have out the horses on a day like this," Robert thought, and +resumed his musing as before. The lady's track now led him homeward, for +he had no will of his own. Rounding the lane, he was surprised to see +Mrs. Boulby by the hedge. She bobbed like a beggar woman, with a rueful +face. + +"My dear," she said, in apology for her presence, "I shouldn't ha' +interfered, if there was fair play. I'm Englishwoman enough for that. +I'd have stood by, as if you was a stranger. Gentlemen always give fair +play before a woman. That's why I come, lest this appointment should ha' +proved a pitfall to you. Now you'll come home, won't you; and forgive +me?" + +"I'll come to the old Pilot now, mother," said Robert, pressing her +hand. + +"That's right; and ain't angry with me for following of you?" + +"Follow your own game, mother." + +"I did, Robert; and nice and vexed I am, if I'm correct in what I heard +say, as that lady and her folk passed, never heeding an old woman's +ears. They made a bet of you, dear, they did." + +"I hope the lady won," said Robert, scarce hearing. + +"And it was she who won, dear. She was to get you to meet her, and give +up, and be beaten like, as far as I could understand their chatter; +gentlefolks laugh so when they talk; and they can afford to laugh, for +they has the best of it. But I'm vexed; just as if I'd felt big and had +burst. I want you to be peaceful, of course I do; but I don't like my +boy made a bet of." + +"Oh, tush, mother," said Robert impatiently. + +"I heard 'em, my dear; and complimenting the lady they was, as they +passed me. If it vexes you my thinking it, I won't, dear; I reelly +won't. I see it lowers you, for there you are at your hat again. It is +lowering, to be made a bet of. I've that spirit, that if you was well +and sound, I'd rather have you fighting 'em. She's a pleasant enough +lady to look at, not a doubt; small-boned, and slim, and fair." + +Robert asked which way they had gone. + +"Back to the stables, my dear; I heard 'em say so, because one gentleman +said that the spectacle was over, and the lady had gained the day; and +the snow was balling in the horses' feet; and go they'd better, before +my lord saw them out. And another said, you were a wild man she'd tamed; +and they said, you ought to wear a collar, with Mrs. Lovell's, her +name, graved on it. But don't you be vexed; you may guess they're not +my Robert's friends. And, I do assure you, Robert, your hat's neat, +if you'd only let it be comfortable: such fidgeting worries the brim. +You're best in appearance--and I always said it--when stripped for +boxing. Hats are gentlemen's things, and becomes them like as if a title +to their heads; though you'd bear being Sir Robert, that you would; and +for that matter, your hat is agreeable to behold, and not like the run +of our Sunday hats; only you don't seem easy in it. Oh, oh! my tongue's +a yard too long. It's the poor head aching, and me to forget it. It's +because you never will act invalidy; and I remember how handsome you +were one day in the field behind our house, when you boxed a wager +with Simon Billet, the waterman; and you was made a bet of then, for my +husband betted on you; and that's what made me think of comparisons of +you out of your hat and you in it." + +Thus did Mrs. Boulby chatter along the way. There was an eminence a +little out of the road, overlooking the Fairly stables. Robert left +her and went to this point, from whence he beheld the horsemen with the +grooms at the horses' heads. + +"Thank God, I've only been a fool for five minutes!" he summed up his +sensations at the sight. He shut his eyes, praying with all his might +never to meet Mrs. Lovell more. It was impossible for him to combat the +suggestion that she had befooled him; yet his chivalrous faith in +women led him to believe, that as she knew Dahlia's history, she would +certainly do her best for the poor girl, and keep her word to him. +The throbbing of his head stopped all further thought. It had become +violent. He tried to gather his ideas, but the effort was like that of +a light dreamer to catch the sequence of a dream, when blackness follows +close up, devouring all that is said and done. In despair, he thought +with kindness of Mrs. Boulby's brandy. + +"Mother," he said, rejoining her, "I've got a notion brandy can't hurt +a man when he's in bed. I'll go to bed, and you shall brew me some; and +you'll let no one come nigh me; and if I talk light-headed, it's blank +paper and scribble, mind that." + +The widow promised devoutly to obey all his directions; but he had begun +to talk light-headed before he was undressed. He called on the name of +a Major Waring, of whom Mrs. Boulby had heard him speak tenderly as a +gentleman not ashamed to be his friend; first reproaching him for not +being by, and then by the name of Percy, calling to him endearingly, and +reproaching himself for not having written to him. + +"Two to one, and in the dark!" he kept moaning "and I one to twenty, +Percy, all in broad day. Was it fair, I ask?" + +Robert's outcries became anything but "blank paper and scribble" to the +widow, when he mentioned Nic Sedgett's name, and said: "Look over his +right temple he's got my mark a second time." + +Hanging by his bedside, Mrs. Boulby strung together, bit by bit, the +history of that base midnight attack, which had sent her glorious boy +bleeding to her. Nic Sedgett; she could understand, was the accomplice +of one of the Fairly gentlemen; but of which one, she could not +discover, and consequently set him down as Mr. Algernon Blancove. + +By diligent inquiry, she heard that Algernon had been seen in company +with the infamous Nic, and likewise that the countenance of Nicodemus +was reduced to accept the consolation of a poultice, which was +confirmation sufficient. By nightfall Robert was in the doctor's hands, +unconscious of Mrs. Boulby's breach of agreement. His father and his +aunt were informed of his condition, and prepared, both of them, to +bow their heads to the close of an ungodly career. It was known over +Warbeach, that Robert lay in danger, and believed that he was dying. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Mrs. Boulby's ears had not deceived her; it had been a bet: and the day +would have gone disastrously with Robert, if Mrs. Lovell had not won +her bet. What was heroism to Warbeach, appeared very outrageous +blackguardism up at Fairly. It was there believed by the gentlemen, +though rather against evidence, that the man was a sturdy ruffian, +and an infuriated sot. The first suggestion was to drag him before +the magistrates; but against this Algernon protested, declaring his +readiness to defend himself, with so vehement a magnanimity, that it was +clearly seen the man had a claim on him. Lord Elling, however, when he +was told of these systematic assaults upon one of his guests, announced +his resolve to bring the law into operation. Algernon heard it as the +knell to his visit. + +He was too happy, to go away willingly; and the great Jew City of London +was exceedingly hot for him at that period; but to stay and risk an +exposure of his extinct military career, was not possible. In his +despair, he took Mrs. Lovell entirely into his confidence; in doing +which, he only filled up the outlines of what she already knew +concerning Edward. He was too useful to the lady for her to afford to +let him go. No other youth called her "angel" for listening complacently +to strange stories of men and their dilemmas; no one fetched and carried +for her like Algernon; and she was a woman who cherished dog-like +adoration, and could not part with it. She had also the will to reward +it. + +At her intercession, Robert was spared an introduction to the +magistrates. She made light of his misdemeanours, assuring everybody +that so splendid a horseman deserved to be dealt with differently from +other offenders. The gentlemen who waited upon Farmer Eccles went in +obedience to her orders. + +Then came the scene on Ditley Marsh, described to that assembly at the +Pilot, by Stephen Bilton, when she perceived that Robert was manageable +in silken trammels, and made a bet that she would show him tamed. She +won her bet, and saved the gentlemen from soiling their hands, for which +they had conceived a pressing necessity, and they thanked her, and paid +their money over to Algernon, whom she constituted her treasurer. She +was called "the man-tamer," gracefully acknowledging the compliment. +Colonel Barclay, the moustachioed horseman, who had spoken the few words +to Robert in passing, now remarked that there was an end of the military +profession. + +"I surrender my sword," he said gallantly. + +Another declared that ladies would now act in lieu of causing an appeal +to arms. + +"Similia similibus, &c.," said Edward. "They can, apparently, cure what +they originate." + +"Ah, the poor sex!" Mrs. Lovell sighed. "When we bring the millennium to +you, I believe you will still have a word against Eve." + +The whole parade back to the stables was marked by pretty speeches. + +"By Jove! but he ought to have gone down on his knees, like a horse when +you've tamed him," said Lord Suckling, the young guardsman. + +"I would mark a distinction between a horse and a brave man, Lord +Suckling," said the lady; and such was Mrs. Lovell's dignity when an +allusion to Robert was forced on her, and her wit and ease were so +admirable, that none of those who rode with her thought of sitting in +judgement on her conduct. Women can make for themselves new spheres, +new laws, if they will assume their right to be eccentric as an +unquestionable thing, and always reserve a season for showing forth like +the conventional women of society. + +The evening was Mrs. Lovell's time for this important re-establishment +of her position; and many a silly youth who had sailed pleasantly with +her all the day, was wrecked when he tried to carry on the topics where +she reigned the lady of the drawing-room. Moreover, not being eccentric +from vanity, but simply to accommodate what had once been her tastes, +and were now her necessities, she avoided slang, and all the insignia of +eccentricity. + +Thus she mastered the secret of keeping the young men respectfully +enthusiastic; so that their irrepressible praises did not (as is usual +when these are in acclamation) drag her to their level; and the female +world, with which she was perfectly feminine, and as silkenly insipid +every evening of her life as was needed to restore her reputation, +admitted that she belonged to it, which is everything to an adventurous +spirit of that sex: indeed, the sole secure basis of operations. + +You are aware that men's faith in a woman whom her sisters +discountenance, and partially repudiate, is uneasy, however deeply +they may be charmed. On the other hand, she maybe guilty of prodigious +oddities without much disturbing their reverence, while she is in the +feminine circle. + +But what fatal breath was it coming from Mrs. Lovell that was always +inflaming men to mutual animosity? What encouragement had she given to +Algernon, that Lord Suckling should be jealous of him? And what to Lord +Suckling, that Algernon should loathe the sight of the young lord? And +why was each desirous of showing his manhood in combat before an eminent +peacemaker? + +Edward laughed--"Ah-ha!" and rubbed his hands as at a special +confirmation of his prophecy, when Algernon came into his room and +said, "I shall fight that fellow Suckling. Hang me if I can stand his +impudence! I want to have a shot at a man of my own set, just to let +Peggy Lovell see! I know what she thinks." + +"Just to let Mrs. Lovell see!" Edward echoed. "She has seen it lots of +times, my dear Algy. Come; this looks lively. I was sure she would soon +be sick of the water-gruel of peace." + +"I tell you she's got nothing to do with it, Ned. Don't be confoundedly +unjust. She didn't tell me to go and seek him. How can she help his +whispering to her? And then she looks over at me, and I swear I'm not +going to be defended by a woman. She must fancy I haven't got the pluck +of a flea. I know what her idea of young fellows is. Why, she said +to me, when Suckling went off from her, the other day, 'These are our +Guards.' I shall fight him." + +"Do," said Edward. + +"Will you take a challenge?" + +"I'm a lawyer, Mr. Mars." + +"You won't take a challenge for a friend, when he's insulted?" + +"I reply again, I am a lawyer. But this is what I'll do, if you like. +I'll go to Mrs. Lovely and inform her that it is your desire to gain her +esteem by fighting with pistols. That will accomplish the purpose you +seek. It will possibly disappoint her, for she will have to stop the +affair; but women are born to be disappointed--they want so much." + +"I'll fight him some way or other," said Algernon, glowering; and +then his face became bright: "I say, didn't she manage that business +beautifully this morning? Not another woman in the world could have done +it." + +"Oh, Una and the Lion! Mrs. Valentine and Orson! Did you bet with the +rest?" his cousin asked. + +"I lost my tenner; but what's that!" + +"There will be an additional five to hand over to the man Sedgett. +What's that!" + +"No, hang it!" Algernon shouted. + +"You've paid your ten for the shadow cheerfully. Pay your five for the +substance." + +"Do you mean to say that Sedgett--" Algernon stared. + +"Miracles, if you come to examine them, Algy, have generally had a +pathway prepared for them; and the miracle of the power of female +persuasion exhibited this morning was not quite independent of the +preliminary agency of a scoundrel." + +"So that's why you didn't bet." Algernon signified the opening of his +intelligence with his eyelids, pronouncing "by jingos" and "by Joves," +to ease the sudden rush of ideas within him. "You might have let me +into the secret, Ned. I'd lose any number of tens to Peggy Lovell, but a +fellow don't like to be in the dark." + +"Except, Algy, that when you carry light, you're a general illuminator. +Let the matter drop. Sedgett has saved you from annoyance. Take him his +five pounds." + +"Annoyance be hanged, my good Ned!" Algernon was aroused to reply. "I +don't complain, and I've done my best to stand in front of you; and as +you've settled the fellow, I say nothing; but, between us two, who's the +guilty party, and who's the victim?" + +"Didn't he tell you he had you in his power?" + +"I don't remember that he did." + +"Well, I heard him. The sturdy cur refused to be bribed, so there was +only one way of quieting him; and you see what a thrashing does for that +sort of beast. I, Algy, never abandon a friend; mark that. Take the five +pounds to Sedgett." + +Algernon strode about the room. "First of all, you stick me up in a +theatre, so that I'm seen with a girl; and then you get behind me, and +let me be pelted," he began grumbling. "And ask a fellow for money, who +hasn't a farthing! I shan't literally have a farthing till that horse +'Templemore' runs; and then, by George! I'll pay my debts. Jews are +awful things!" + +"How much do you require at present?" said Edward, provoking his +appetite for a loan. + +"Oh, fifty--that is, just now. More like a thousand when I get to town. +And where it's to come from! but never mind. 'Pon my soul, I pity the +fox I run down here. I feel I'm exactly in his case in London. However, +if I can do you any service, Ned--" + +Edward laughed. "You might have done me the service of not excusing +yourself to the squire when he came here, in such a way as to implicate +me." + +"But I was so tremendously badgered, Ned." + +"You had a sort of gratification in letting the squire crow over his +brother. And he did crow for a time." + +"On my honour, Ned, as to crowing! he went away cursing at me. Peggy +Lovell managed it somehow for you. I was really awfully badgered." + +"Yes; but you know what a man my father is. He hasn't the squire's +philosophy in those affairs." + +"'Pon my soul, Mr. Ned, I never guessed it before; but I rather fancy +you got clear with Sir Billy the banker by washing in my basin--eh, did +you?" + +Edward looked straight at his cousin, saying, "You deserved worse than +that. You were treacherous. You proved you were not to be trusted; and +yet, you see, I trust you. Call it my folly. Of course (and I don't mind +telling you) I used my wits to turn the point of the attack. I may be +what they call unscrupulous when I'm surprised. I have to look to +money as well as you; and if my father thought it went in a--what he +considers--wrong direction, the source would be choked by paternal +morality. You betrayed me. Listen." + +"I tell you, Ned, I merely said to my governor--" + +"Listen to me. You betrayed me. I defended myself; that is, I've managed +so that I may still be of service to you. It was a near shave; but you +now see the value of having a character with one's father. Just open my +writing-desk there, and toss out the cheque-book. I confess I can't see +why you should have objected--but let that pass. How much do you want? +Fifty? Say forty-five, and five I'll give you to pay to Sedgett--making +fifty. Eighty before, and fifty--one hundred and thirty. Write that you +owe me that sum, on a piece of paper. I can't see why you should wish to +appear so uncommonly virtuous." + +Algernon scribbled the written acknowledgment, which he despised himself +for giving, and the receiver for taking, but was always ready to give +for the money, and said, as he put the cheque in his purse: "It was this +infernal fellow completely upset me. If you were worried by a bull-dog, +by Jove, Ned, you'd lose your coolness. He bothered my head off. Ask me +now, and I'll do anything on earth for you. My back's broad. Sir Billy +can't think worse of me than he does. Do you want to break positively +with that pretty rival to Peggy L.? I've got a scheme to relieve you, +my poor old Ned, and make everybody happy. I'll lay the foundations of a +fresh and brilliant reputation for myself." + +Algernon took a chair. Edward was fathoms deep in his book. + +The former continued: "I'd touch on the money-question last, with any +other fellow than you; but you always know that money's the hinge, and +nothing else lifts a man out of a scrape. It costs a stiff pull on your +banker, and that reminds me, you couldn't go to Sir Billy for it; you'd +have to draw in advance, by degrees anyhow, look here:--There are lots +of young farmers who want to emigrate and want wives and money. I know +one. It's no use going into particulars, but it's worth thinking over. +Life is made up of mutual help, Ned. You can help another fellow better +than yourself. As for me, when I'm in a hobble, I give you my word of +honour, I'm just like a baby, and haven't an idea at my own disposal. +The same with others. You can't manage without somebody's assistance. +What do you say, old boy?" + +Edward raised his head from his book. "Some views of life deduced +from your private experience?" he observed; and Algernon cursed at +book-worms, who would never take hints, and left him. + +But when he was by himself, Edward pitched his book upon the floor and +sat reflecting. The sweat started on his forehead. He was compelled to +look into his black volume and study it. His desire was to act humanely +and generously; but the question inevitably recurred: "How can I utterly +dash my prospects in the world?" It would be impossible to bring Dahlia +to great houses; and he liked great houses and the charm of mixing among +delicately-bred women. On the other hand, lawyers have married beneath +them--married cooks, housemaids, governesses, and so forth. And what has +a lawyer to do with a dainty lady, who will constantly distract him with +finicking civilities and speculations in unprofitable regions? What he +does want is a woman amiable as a surface of parchment, serviceable +as his inkstand; one who will be like the wig in which he closes his +forensic term, disreputable from overwear, but suited to the purpose. + +"Ah! if I meant to be nothing but a lawyer!" Edward stopped the flow of +this current in Dahlia's favour. His passion for her was silent. Was it +dead? It was certainly silent. Since Robert had come down to play his +wild game of persecution at Fairly, the simple idea of Dahlia had been +Edward's fever. He detested brute force, with a finely-witted man's full +loathing; and Dahlia's obnoxious champion had grown to be associated +in his mind with Dahlia. He swept them both from his recollection +abhorrently, for in his recollection he could not divorce them. He +pretended to suppose that Dahlia, whose only reproach to him was her +suffering, participated in the scheme to worry him. He could even forget +her beauty--forget all, save the unholy fetters binding him. She seemed +to imprison him in bare walls. He meditated on her character. She had +no strength. She was timid, comfort-loving, fond of luxury, credulous, +preposterously conventional; that is, desirous more than the ordinary +run of women of being hedged about and guarded by ceremonies--"mere +ceremonies," said Edward, forgetting the notion he entertained of women +not so protected. But it may be, that in playing the part of fool and +coward, we cease to be mindful of the absolute necessity for sheltering +the weak from that monstrous allied army, the cowards and the fools. +He admitted even to himself that he had deceived her, at the same time +denouncing her unheard-of capacity of belief, which had placed him in a +miserable hobble, and that was the truth. + +Now, men confessing themselves in a miserable hobble, and knowing they +are guilty of the state of things lamented by them, intend to drown that +part of their nature which disturbs them by its outcry. The submission +to a tangle that could be cut through instantaneously by any exertion of +a noble will, convicts them. They had better not confide, even to their +secret hearts, that they are afflicted by their conscience and the +generosity of their sentiments, for it will be only to say that these +high qualities are on the failing side. Their inclination, under +the circumstances, is generally base, and no less a counsellor than +uncorrupted common sense, when they are in such a hobble, will sometimes +advise them to be base. But, in admitting the plea which common sense +puts forward on their behalf, we may fairly ask them to be masculine in +their baseness. Or, in other words, since they must be selfish, let them +be so without the poltroonery of selfishness. Edward's wish was to be +perfectly just, as far as he could be now--just to himself as well; for +how was he to prove of worth and aid to any one depending on him, if he +stood crippled? Just, also, to his family; to his possible posterity; +and just to Dahlia. His task was to reconcile the variety of justness +due upon all sides. The struggle, we will assume, was severe, for he +thought so; he thought of going to Dahlia and speaking the word of +separation; of going to her family and stating his offence, without +personal exculpation; thus masculine in baseness, he was in idea; but +poltroonery triumphed, the picture of himself facing his sin and its +victims dismayed him, and his struggle ended in his considering as +to the fit employment of one thousand pounds in his possession, the +remainder of a small legacy, hitherto much cherished. + +A day later, Mrs. Lovell said to him: "Have you heard of that +unfortunate young man? I am told that he lies in great danger from a +blow on the back of his head. He looked ill when I saw him, and however +mad he may be, I'm sorry harm should have come to one who is really +brave. Gentle means are surely best. It is so with horses, it must be so +with men. As to women, I don't pretend to unriddle them." + +"Gentle means are decidedly best," said Edward, perceiving that her +little dog Algy had carried news to her, and that she was setting +herself to fathom him. "You gave an eminent example of it yesterday. I +was so sure of the result that I didn't bet against you." + +"Why not have backed me?" + +The hard young legal face withstood the attack of her soft blue eyes, +out of which a thousand needles flew, seeking a weak point in the mask. + +"The compliment was, to incite you to a superhuman effort." + +"Then why not pay the compliment?" + +"I never pay compliments to transparent merit; I do not hold candles to +lamps." + +"True," said she. + +"And as gentle means are so admirable, it would be as well to stop +incision and imbruing between those two boys." + +"Which?" she asked innocently. + +"Suckling and Algy." + +"Is it possible? They are such boys." + +"Exactly of the kind to do it. Don't you know?" and Edward explained +elaborately and cruelly the character of the boys who rushed into +conflicts. Colour deep as evening red confused her cheeks, and she said, +"We must stop them." + +"Alas!" he shook his head; "if it's not too late." + +"It never is too late." + +"Perhaps not, when the embodiment of gentle means is so determined." + +"Come; I believe they are in the billiard room now, and you shall see," +she said. + +The pair were found in the billiard room, even as a pair of terriers +that remember a bone. Mrs. Lovell proposed a game, and offered herself +for partner to Lord Suckling. + +"Till total defeat do us part," the young nobleman acquiesced; and total +defeat befell them. During the play of the balls, Mrs. Lovell threw a +jealous intentness of observation upon all the strokes made by Algernon; +saying nothing, but just looking at him when he did a successful thing. +She winked at some quiet stately betting that went on between him and +Lord Suckling. + +They were at first preternaturally polite and formal toward one another; +by degrees, the influence at work upon them was manifested in a thaw +of their stiff demeanour, and they fell into curt dialogues, which Mrs. +Lovell gave herself no concern to encourage too early. + +Edward saw, and was astonished himself to feel that she had ceased to +breathe that fatal inciting breath, which made men vindictively emulous +of her favour, and mad to match themselves for a claim to the chief +smile. No perceptible change was displayed. She was Mrs. Lovell still; +vivacious and soft; flame-coloured, with the arrowy eyelashes; a +pleasant companion, who did not play the woman obtrusively among men, +and show a thirst for homage. All the difference appeared to be, that +there was an absence as of some evil spiritual emanation. + +And here a thought crossed him--one of the memorable little evanescent +thoughts which sway us by our chance weakness; "Does she think me +wanting in physical courage?" + +Now, though the difference between them had been owing to a scornful +remark that she had permitted herself to utter, on his refusal to accept +a quarrel with one of her numerous satellites, his knowledge of her +worship of brains, and his pride in his possession of the burdensome +weight, had quite precluded his guessing that she might haply suppose +him to be deficient in personal bravery. He was astounded by the +reflection that she had thus misjudged him. It was distracting; +sober-thoughted as he was by nature. He watched the fair simplicity of +her new manner with a jealous eye. Her management of the two youths +was exquisite; but to him, Edward, she had never condescended to show +herself thus mediating and amiable. Why? Clearly, because she conceived +that he had no virile fire in his composition. Did the detestable little +devil think silly duelling a display of valour? Did the fair seraph +think him anything less than a man? + +How beautifully hung the yellow loop of her hair as she leaned over the +board! How gracious she was and like a Goddess with these boys, as he +called them! She rallied her partner, not letting him forget that he +had the honour of being her partner; while she appeared envious of +Algernon's skill, and talked to both and got them upon common topics, +and laughed, and was like a fair English flower of womanhood; nothing +deadly. + +"There, Algy; you have beaten us. I don't think I'll have Lord Suckling +for my partner any more," she said, putting up her wand, and pouting. + +"You don't bear malice?" said Algernon, revived. + +"There is my hand. Now you must play a game alone with Lord Suckling, +and beat him; mind you beat him, or it will redound to my discredit." + +With which, she and Edward left them. + +"Algy was a little crestfallen, and no wonder," she said. "He is soon +set up again. They will be good friends now." + +"Isn't it odd, that they should be ready to risk their lives for +trifles?" + +Thus Edward tempted her to discuss the subject which he had in his mind. + +She felt intuitively the trap in his voice. + +"Ah, yes," she replied; "it must be because they know their lives are +not precious." + +So utterly at her mercy had he fallen, that her pronunciation of that +word "precious" carried a severe sting to him, and it was not spoken +with peculiar emphasis; on the contrary, she wished to indicate that she +was of his way of thinking, as regarded this decayed method of settling +disputes. He turned to leave her. + +"You go to your Adeline, I presume," she said. + +"Ah! that reminds me. I have never thanked you." + +"For my good services? such as they are. Sir William will be very happy, +and it was for him, a little more than for you, that I went out of my +way to be a matchmaker." + +"It was her character, of course, that struck you as being so eminently +suited to mine." + +"Can I tell what is the character of a girl? She is mild and shy, and +extremely gentle. In all probability she has a passion for battles and +bloodshed. I judged from your father's point of view. She has money, and +you are to have money; and the union of money and money is supposed to +be a good thing. And besides, you are variable, and off to-morrow what +you are on to-day; is it not so? and heiresses are never jilted. Colonel +Barclay is only awaiting your retirement. Le roi est mort; vive le roi! +Heiresses may cry it like kingdoms." + +"I thought," said Edward, meaningly, "the colonel had better taste." + +"Do you not know that my friends are my friends because they are not +allowed to dream they will do anything else? If they are taken poorly, I +commend them to a sea-voyage--Africa, the North-West Passage, the source +of the Nile. Men with their vanity wounded may discover wonders! They +return friendly as before, whether they have done the Geographical +Society a service or not. That is, they generally do." + +"Then I begin to fancy I must try those latitudes." + +"Oh! you are my relative." + +He scarcely knew that he had uttered "Margaret." + +She replied to it frankly, "Yes, Cousin Ned. You have made the voyage, +you see, and have come back friends with me. The variability of opals! +Ah! Sir John, you join us in season. We were talking of opals. Is the +opal a gem that stands to represent women?" + +Sir John Capes smoothed his knuckles with silken palms, and with +courteous antique grin, responded, "It is a gem I would never dare to +offer to a lady's acceptance." + +"It is by repute unlucky; so you never can have done so. + +"Exquisite!" exclaimed the veteran in smiles, "if what you deign to +imply were only true!" + +They entered the drawing-room among the ladies. + +Edward whispered in Mrs. Lovell's ear, "He is in need of the voyage." + +"He is very near it," she answered in the same key, and swam into +general conversation. + +Her cold wit, Satanic as the gleam of it struck through his mind, gave +him a throb of desire to gain possession of her, and crush her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +The writing of a letter to Dahlia had previously been attempted and +abandoned as a sickening task. Like an idle boy with his holiday +imposition, Edward shelved it among the nightmares, saying, "How can I +sit down and lie to her!" and thinking that silence would prepare her +bosom for the coming truth. + +Silence is commonly the slow poison used by those who mean to murder +love. There is nothing violent about it; no shock is given; Hope is not +abruptly strangled, but merely dreams of evil, and fights with gradually +stifling shadows. When the last convulsions come they are not terrific; +the frame has been weakened for dissolution; love dies like natural +decay. It seems the kindest way of doing a cruel thing. But Dahlia +wrote, crying out her agony at the torture. Possibly your nervously +organized natures require a modification of the method. + +Edward now found himself able to conduct a correspondence. He despatched +the following:-- + + "My Dear Dahlia,--Of course I cannot expect you to be aware of the + bewildering occupations of a country house, where a man has + literally not five minutes' time to call his own; so I pass by your + reproaches. My father has gone at last. He has manifested an + extraordinary liking for my society, and I am to join him elsewhere + --perhaps run over to Paris (your city)--but at present for a few + days I am my own master, and the first thing I do is to attend to + your demands: not to write 'two lines,' but to give you a good long + letter. + + "What on earth makes you fancy me unwell? You know I am never + unwell. And as to your nursing me--when has there ever been any + need for it? + + "You must positively learn patience. I have been absent a week or + so, and you talk of coming down here and haunting the house! Such + ghosts as you meet with strange treatment when they go about + unprotected, let me give you warning. You have my full permission + to walk out in the Parks for exercise. I think you are bound to do + it, for your health's sake. + + "Pray discontinue that talk about the alteration in your looks. You + must learn that you are no longer a child. Cease to write like a + child. If people stare at you, as you say, you are very well aware + it is not because you are becoming plain. You do not mean it, I + know; but there is a disingenuousness in remarks of this sort that + is to me exceedingly distasteful. Avoid the shadow of hypocrisy. + Women are subject to it--and it is quite innocent, no doubt. I + won't lecture you. + + "My cousin Algernon is here with me. He has not spoken of your + sister. Your fears in that direction are quite unnecessary. He is + attached to a female cousin of ours, a very handsome person, witty, + and highly sensible, who dresses as well as the lady you talk about + having seen one day in Wrexby Church. Her lady's-maid is a + Frenchwoman, which accounts for it. You have not forgotten the + boulevards? + + "I wish you to go on with your lessons in French. Educate yourself, + and you will rise superior to these distressing complaints. I + recommend you to read the newspapers daily. Buy nice picture-books, + if the papers are too matter-of-fact for you. By looking eternally + inward, you teach yourself to fret, and the consequence is, or will + be, that you wither. No constitution can stand it. All the ladies + here take an interest in Parliamentary affairs. They can talk to + men upon men's themes. It is impossible to explain to you how + wearisome an everlasting nursery prattle becomes. The idea that men + ought never to tire of it is founded on some queer belief that they + are not mortal. + + "Parliament opens in February. My father wishes me to stand for + Selborough. If he or some one will do the talking to the tradesmen, + and provide the beer and the bribes, I have no objection. In that + case my Law goes to the winds. I'm bound to make a show of + obedience, for he has scarcely got over my summer's trip. He holds + me a prisoner to him for heaven knows how long--it may be months. + + "As for the heiress whom he has here to make a match for me, he and + I must have a pitched battle about her by and by. At present my + purse insists upon my not offending him. When will old men + understand young ones? I burn your letters, and beg you to follow + the example. Old letters are the dreariest ghosts in the world, and + you cannot keep more treacherous rubbish in your possession. A + discovery would exactly ruin me. + + "Your purchase of a black-velvet bonnet with pink ribands, was very + suitable. Or did you write 'blue' ribands? But your complexion can + bear anything. + + "You talk of being annoyed when you walk out. Remember, that no + woman who knows at all how to conduct herself need for one moment + suffer annoyance. + + "What is the 'feeling' you speak of? I cannot conceive any + 'feeling' that should make you helpless when you consider that you + are insulted. There are women who have natural dignity, and women + who have none. + + "You ask the names of the gentlemen here:--Lord Carey, Lord Wippern + (both leave to-morrow), Sir John Capes, Colonel Barclay, Lord + Suckling. The ladies:--Mrs. Gosling, Miss Gosling, Lady Carey. + Mrs. Anybody--to any extent. + + "They pluck hen's feathers all day and half the night. I see them + out, and make my bow to the next batch of visitors, and then I don't + know where I am. + + "Read poetry, if it makes up for my absence, as you say. Repeat it + aloud, minding the pulsation of feet. Go to the theatre now and + then, and take your landlady with you. If she's a cat, fit one of + your dresses on the servant-girl, and take her. You only want a + companion--a dummy will do. Take a box and sit behind the curtain, + back to the audience. + + "I wrote to my wine-merchant to send Champagne and Sherry. I hope + he did: the Champagne in pints and half-pints; if not, return them + instantly. I know how Economy, sitting solitary, poor thing, would + not dare to let the froth of a whole pint bottle fly out. + + "Be an obedient girl and please me. + + "Your stern tutor, + + "Edward the First." + +He read this epistle twice over to satisfy himself that it was a warm +effusion, and not too tender; and it satisfied him. By a stretch of +imagination, he could feel that it represented him to her as in a higher +atmosphere, considerate for her, and not so intimate that she could +deem her spirit to be sharing it. Another dose of silence succeeded this +discreet administration of speech. + +Dahlia replied with letter upon letter; blindly impassioned, and again +singularly cold; but with no reproaches. She was studying, she said. +Her head ached a little; only a little. She walked; she read poetry; +she begged him to pardon her for not drinking wine. She was glad that +he burnt her letters, which were so foolish that if she could have the +courage to look at them after they were written, they would never be +sent. He was slightly revolted by one exclamation: "How ambitious you +are!" + +"Because I cannot sit down for life in a London lodging-house!" he +thought, and eyed her distantly as a poor good creature who had already +accepted her distinctive residence in another sphere than his. From such +a perception of her humanity, it was natural that his livelier sense of +it should diminish. He felt that he had awakened; and he shook her off. + +And now he set to work to subdue Mrs. Lovell. His own subjugation was +the first fruit of his effort. It was quite unacknowledged by him: but +when two are at this game, the question arises--"Which can live without +the other?" and horrid pangs smote him to hear her telling musically of +the places she was journeying to, the men she would see, and the chances +of their meeting again before he was married to the heiress Adeline. + +"I have yet to learn that I am engaged to her," he said. Mrs. Lovell +gave him a fixed look,-- + +"She has a half-brother." + +He stepped away in a fury. + +"Devil!" he muttered, absolutely muttered it, knowing that he fooled and +frowned like a stage-hero in stagey heroics. "You think to hound me into +this brutal stupidity of fighting, do you? Upon my honour," he added in +his natural manner, "I believe she does, though!" + +But the look became his companion. It touched and called up great vanity +in his breast, and not till then could he placably confront the look. +He tried a course of reading. Every morning he was down in the library, +looking old in an arm-chair over his book; an intent abstracted figure. + +Mrs. Lovell would enter and eye him carelessly; utter little +commonplaces and go forth. The silly words struck on his brain. The +book seemed hollow; sounded hollow as he shut it. This woman breathed of +active striving life. She was a spur to black energies; a plumed glory; +impulsive to chivalry. Everything she said and did held men in scales, +and approved or rejected them. + +Intoxication followed this new conception of her. He lost altogether his +right judgement; even the cooler after-thoughts were lost. What sort of +man had Harry been, her first husband? A dashing soldier, a quarrelsome +duellist, a dull dog. But, dull to her? She, at least, was reverential +to the memory of him. + +She lisped now and then of "my husband," very prettily, and with intense +provocation; and yet she worshipped brains. Evidently she thirsted +for that rare union of brains and bravery in a man, and would never +surrender till she had discovered it. Perhaps she fancied it did not +exist. It might be that she took Edward as the type of brains, and +Harry of bravery, and supposed that the two qualities were not to be had +actually in conjunction. + +Her admiration of his (Edward's) wit, therefore, only strengthened the +idea she entertained of his deficiency in that other companion manly +virtue. + +Edward must have been possessed, for he ground his teeth villanously in +supposing himself the victim of this outrageous suspicion. And how +to prove it false? How to prove it false in a civilized age, among +sober-living men and women, with whom the violent assertion of bravery +would certainly imperil his claim to brains? His head was like a +stew-pan over the fire, bubbling endlessly. + +He railed at her to Algernon, and astonished the youth, who thought them +in a fair way to make an alliance. "Milk and capsicums," he called her, +and compared her to bloody mustard-haired Saxon Queens of history, and +was childishly spiteful. And Mrs. Lovell had it all reported to her, as +he was-quite aware. + +"The woman seeking for an anomaly wants a master." + +With this pompous aphorism, he finished his reading of the fair Enigma. + +Words big in the mouth serve their turn when there is no way of +satisfying the intelligence. + +To be her master, however, one must not begin by writhing as her slave. + +The attempt to read an inscrutable woman allows her to dominate us too +commandingly. So the lordly mind takes her in a hard grasp, cracks the +shell, and drawing forth the kernel, says, "This was all the puzzle." + +Doubtless it is the fate which women like Mrs. Lovell provoke. The truth +was, that she could read a character when it was under her eyes; but +its yesterday and to-morrow were a blank. She had no imaginative hold +on anything. For which reason she was always requiring tangible signs of +virtues that she esteemed. + +The thirst for the shows of valour and wit was insane with her; but she +asked for nothing that she herself did not give in abundance, and with +beauty super-added. Her propensity to bet sprang of her passion for +combat; she was not greedy of money, or reckless in using it; but a +difference of opinion arising, her instinct forcibly prompted her to +back her own. If the stake was the risk of a lover's life, she was ready +to put down the stake, and would have marvelled contemptuously at the +lover complaining. "Sheep! sheep!" she thought of those who dared not +fight, and had a wavering tendency to affix the epithet to those who +simply did not fight. + +Withal, Mrs. Lovell was a sensible person; clearheaded and shrewd; +logical, too, more than the run of her sex: I may say, profoundly +practical. So much so, that she systematically reserved the after-years +for enlightenment upon two or three doubts of herself, which struck her +in the calm of her spirit, from time to time. + +"France," Edward called her, in one of their colloquies. + +It was an illuminating title. She liked the French (though no one was +keener for the honour of her own country in opposition to them), she +liked their splendid boyishness, their unequalled devotion, their +merciless intellects; the oneness of the nation when the sword is bare +and pointing to chivalrous enterprise. + +She liked their fine varnish of sentiment, which appears so much on the +surface that Englishmen suppose it to have nowhere any depth; as if the +outer coating must necessarily exhaust the stock, or as if what is at +the source of our being can never be made visible. + +She had her imagination of them as of a streaming banner in the jaws +of storm, with snows among the cloud-rents and lightning in the +chasms:--which image may be accounted for by the fact that when a girl +she had in adoration kissed the feet of Napoleon, the giant of the later +ghosts of history. + +It was a princely compliment. She received it curtseying, and disarmed +the intended irony. In reply, she called him "Great Britain." I regret +to say that he stood less proudly for his nation. Indeed, he flushed. +He remembered articles girding at the policy of peace at any price, and +half felt that Mrs. Lovell had meant to crown him with a Quaker's +hat. His title fell speedily into disuse; but, "Yes, France," and "No, +France," continued, his effort being to fix the epithet to frivolous +allusions, from which her ingenuity rescued it honourably. + +Had she ever been in love? He asked her the question. She stabbed him +with so straightforward an affirmative that he could not conceal the +wound. + +"Have I not been married?" she said. + +He began to experience the fretful craving to see the antecedents of the +torturing woman spread out before him. He conceived a passion for her +girlhood. He begged for portraits of her as a girl. She showed him the +portrait of Harry Lovell in a locket. He held the locket between his +fingers. Dead Harry was kept very warm. Could brains ever touch her +emotions as bravery had done? + +"Where are the brains I boast of?" he groaned, in the midst of these +sensational extravagances. + +The lull of action was soon to be disturbed. A letter was brought to +him. + +He opened it and read-- + + "Mr. Edward Blancove,--When you rode by me under Fairly Park, I did + not know you. I can give you a medical certificate that since then + I have been in the doctor's hands. I know you now. I call upon you + to meet me, with what weapons you like best, to prove that you are + not a midnight assassin. The place shall be where you choose to + appoint. If you decline I will make you publicly acknowledge what + you have done. If you answer, that I am not a gentleman and you are + one, I say that you have attacked me in the dark, when I was on + horseback, and you are now my equal, if I like to think so. You + will not talk about the law after that night. The man you employed + I may punish or I may leave, though he struck the blow. But I will + meet you. To-morrow, a friend of mine, who is a major in the army, + will be down here, and will call on you from me; or on any friend of + yours you are pleased to name. I will not let you escape. Whether + I shall face a guilty man in you, God knows; but I know I have a + right to call upon you to face me. + + "I am, Sir, + + "Yours truly, + + "Robert Eccles." + +Edward's face grew signally white over the contents of this +unprecedented challenge. The letter had been brought in to him at the +breakfast table. "Read it, read it," said Mrs. Lovell, seeing him put it +by; and he had read it with her eyes on him. + +The man seemed to him a man of claws, who clutched like a demon. Would +nothing quiet him? Edward thought of bribes for the sake of peace; but a +second glance at the letter assured his sagacious mind that bribes were +powerless in this man's case; neither bribes nor sticks were of service. +Departure from Fairly would avail as little: the tenacious devil would +follow him to London; and what was worse, as a hound from Dahlia's +family he was now on the right scent, and appeared to know that he was. +How was a scandal to be avoided? By leaving Fairly instantly for any +place on earth, he could not avoid leaving the man behind; and if the +man saw Mrs. Lovell again, her instincts as a woman of her class were +not to be trusted. As likely as not she would side with the ruffian; +that is, she would think he had been wronged--perhaps think that he +ought to have been met. There is the democratic virus secret in +every woman; it was predominant in Mrs. Lovell, according to Edward's +observation of the lady. The rights of individual manhood were, as he +angrily perceived, likely to be recognized by her spirit, if only they +were stoutly asserted; and that in defiance of station, of reason, of +all the ideas inculcated by education and society. + +"I believe she'll expect me to fight him," he exclaimed. At least, he +knew she would despise him if he avoided the brutal challenge without +some show of dignity. + +On rising from the table, he drew Algernon aside. It was an insufferable +thought that he was compelled to take his brainless cousin into his +confidence, even to the extent of soliciting his counsel, but there was +no help for it. In vain Edward asked himself why he had been such an +idiot as to stain his hands with the affair at all. He attributed it to +his regard for Algernon. Having commonly the sway of his passions, he +was in the habit of forgetting that he ever lost control of them; and +the fierce black mood, engendered by Robert's audacious persecution, had +passed from his memory, though it was now recalled in full force. + +"See what a mess you drag a man into," he said. + +Algernon read a line of the letter. "Oh, confound this infernal fellow!" +he shouted, in sickly wonderment; and snapped sharp, "drag you into the +mess? Upon my honour, your coolness, Ned, is the biggest part about you, +if it isn't the best." + +Edward's grip fixed on him, for they were only just out of earshot of +Mrs. Lovell. They went upstairs, and Algernon read the letter through. + +"'Midnight assassin,'" he repeated; "by Jove! how beastly that sounds. +It's a lie that you attacked him in the dark, Ned--eh?" + +"I did not attack him at all," said Edward. "He behaved like a ruffian +to you, and deserved shooting like a mad dog." + +"Did you, though," Algernon persisted in questioning, despite his +cousin's manifest shyness of the subject "did you really go out with +that man Sedgett, and stop this fellow on horseback? He speaks of a +blow. You didn't strike him, did you, Ned? I mean, not a hit, except in +self-defence?" + +Edward bit his lip, and shot a level reflective side-look, peculiar to +him when meditating. He wished his cousin to propose that Mrs. Lovell +should see the letter. He felt that by consulting with her, he could +bring her to apprehend the common sense of the position, and be so far +responsible for what he might do, that she would not dare to let her +heart be rebellious toward him subsequently. If he himself went to her +it would look too much like pleading for her intercession. The subtle +directness of the woman's spirit had to be guarded against at every +point. + +He replied to Algernon,-- + +"What I did was on your behalf. Oblige me by not interrogating me. I +give you my positive assurance that I encouraged no unmanly assault on +him." + +"That'll do, that'll do," said Algernon, eager not to hear more, lest +there should come an explanation of what he had heard. "Of course, then, +this fellow has no right--the devil's in him! If we could only make him +murder Sedgett and get hanged for it! He's got a friend who's a major in +the army? Oh, come, I say; this is pitching it too stiff. I shall insist +upon seeing his commission. Really, Ned, I can't advise. I'll stand by +you, that you may be sure of--stand by you; but what the deuce to say +to help you! Go before the magistrate.... Get Lord Elling to issue a +warrant to prevent a breach of the peace. No; that won't do. This quack +of a major in the army's to call to-morrow. I don't mind, if he shows +his credentials all clear, amusing him in any manner he likes. I can't +see the best scheme. Hang it, Ned, it's very hard upon me to ask me +to do the thinking. I always go to Peggy Lovell when I'm bothered. +There--Mrs. Lovell! Mistress Lovell! Madame! my Princess Lovell, if you +want me to pronounce respectable titles to her name. You're too proud to +ask a woman to help you, ain't you, Ned?" + +"No," said Edward, mildly. "In some cases their wits are keen enough. +One doesn't like to drag her into such a business." + +"Hm," went Algernon. "I don't think she's so innocent of it as you +fancy." + +"She's very clever," said Edward. + +"She's awfully clever!" cried Algernon. He paused to give room for more +praises of her, and then pursued: + +"She's so kind. That's what you don't credit her for. I'll go and +consult her, if positively you don't mind. Trust her for keeping it +quiet. Come, Ned, she's sure to hit upon the right thing. May I go?" + +"It's your affair, more than mine," said Edward. + +"Have it so, if you like," returned the good-natured fellow. "It's worth +while consulting her, just to see how neatly she'll take it. Bless your +heart, she won't know a bit more than you want her to know. I'm off to +her now." He carried away the letter. + +Edward's own practical judgement would have advised his instantly +sending a short reply to Robert, explaining that he was simply in +conversation with the man Sedgett, when Robert, the old enemy of the +latter, rode by, and, that while regretting Sedgett's proceedings, he +could not be held accountable for them. But it was useless to think of +acting in accordance with his reason. Mrs. Lovell was queen, and sat +in reason's place. It was absolutely necessary to conciliate her +approbation of his conduct in this dilemma, by submitting to the decided +unpleasantness of talking with her on a subject that fevered him, and of +allowing her to suppose he required the help of her sagacity. Such was +the humiliation imposed upon him. Further than this he had nothing to +fear, for no woman could fail to be overborne by the masculine force +of his brain in an argument. The humiliation was bad enough, and half +tempted him to think that his old dream of working as a hard student, +with fair and gentle Dahlia ministering to his comforts, and too happy +to call herself his, was best. Was it not, after one particular step +had been taken, the manliest life he could have shaped out? Or did +he imagine it so at this moment, because he was a coward, and because +pride, and vanity, and ferocity alternately had to screw him up to meet +the consequences of his acts, instead of the great heart? + +If a coward, Dahlia was his home, his refuge, his sanctuary. Mrs. Lovell +was perdition and its scorching fires to a man with a taint of cowardice +in him. + +Whatever he was, Edward's vanity would not permit him to acknowledge +himself that. Still, he did not call on his heart to play inspiriting +music. His ideas turned to subterfuge. His aim was to keep the +good opinion of Mrs. Lovell while he quieted Robert; and he entered +straightway upon that very perilous course, the attempt, for the sake of +winning her, to bewilder and deceive a woman's instincts. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Over a fire in one of the upper sitting-rooms of the Pilot Inn, Robert +sat with his friend, the beloved friend of whom he used to speak to +Dahlia and Rhoda, too proudly not to seem betraying the weaker point of +pride. This friend had accepted the title from a private soldier of his +regiment; to be capable of doing which, a man must be both officer and +gentleman in a sterner and less liberal sense than is expressed by that +everlasting phrase in the mouth of the military parrot. Major Percy +Waring, the son of a clergyman, was a working soldier, a slayer, if you +will, from pure love of the profession of arms, and all the while the +sweetest and gentlest of men. I call him a working soldier in opposition +to the parading soldier, the coxcomb in uniform, the hero by accident, +and the martial boys of wealth and station, who are of the army of +England. He studied war when the trumpet slumbered, and had no place but +in the field when it sounded. To him the honour of England was as a babe +in his arms: he hugged it like a mother. He knew the military history of +every regiment in the service. Disasters even of old date brought groans +from him. This enthusiastic face was singularly soft when the large dark +eyes were set musing. The cast of it being such, sometimes in speaking +of a happy play of artillery upon congregated masses, an odd effect +was produced. Ordinarily, the clear features were reflective almost to +sadness, in the absence of animation; but an exulting energy for action +would now and then light them up. Hilarity of spirit did not belong to +him. He was, nevertheless, a cheerful talker, as could be seen in +the glad ear given to him by Robert. Between them it was "Robert" and +"Percy." Robert had rescued him from drowning on the East Anglian +shore, and the friendship which ensued was one chief reason for Robert's +quitting the post of trooper and buying himself out. It was against +Percy's advice, who wanted to purchase a commission for him; but the +humbler man had the sturdy scruples of his rank regarding money, and +his romantic illusions being dispersed by an experience of the absolute +class-distinctions in the service, Robert; that he might prevent his +friend from violating them, made use of his aunt's legacy to obtain +release. Since that date they had not met; but their friendship was +fast. Percy had recently paid a visit to Queen Anne's Farm, where he had +seen Rhoda and heard of Robert's departure. Knowing Robert's birthplace, +he had come on to Warbeach, and had seen Jonathan Eccles, who referred +him to Mrs. Boulby, licenced seller of brandy, if he wished to enjoy an +interview with Robert Eccles. + +"The old man sent up regularly every day to inquire how his son was +faring on the road to the next world," said Robert, laughing. "He's +tough old English oak. I'm just to him what I appear at the time. It's +better having him like that than one of your jerky fathers, who seem to +belong to the stage of a theatre. Everybody respects my old dad, and I +can laugh at what he thinks of me. I've only to let him know I've +served an apprenticeship in farming, and can make use of some of his +ideas--sound! every one of 'em; every one of 'em sound! And that I say +of my own father." + +"Why don't you tell him?" Percy asked. + +"I want to forget all about Kent and drown the county," said Robert. +"And I'm going to, as far as my memory's concerned." + +Percy waited for some seconds. He comprehended perfectly this state of +wilfulness in an uneducated sensitive man. + +"She has a steadfast look in her face, Robert. She doesn't look as if +she trifled. I've really never seen a finer, franker girl in my life, if +faces are to be trusted." + +"It's t' other way. There's no trifling in her case. She's frank. She +fires at you point blank." + +"You never mentioned her in your letters to me, Robert." + +"No. I had a suspicion from the first I was going to be a fool about the +girl." + +Percy struck his hand. + +"You didn't do quite right." + +"Do you say that?" + +Robert silenced him with this question, for there was a woman in Percy's +antecedent history. + +The subject being dismissed, they talked more freely. Robert related the +tale of Dahlia, and of his doings at Fairly. + +"Oh! we agree," he said, noting a curious smile that Percy could +not smooth out of sight. "I know it was odd conduct. I do respect my +superiors; but, believe me or not, Percy, injury done to a girl makes me +mad, and I can't hold back; and she's the sister of the girl you saw. By +heaven! if it weren't for my head getting blind now when my blood boils, +I've the mind to walk straight up to the house and screw the secret out +of one of them. What I say is--Is there a God up aloft? Then, he sees +all, and society is vapour, and while I feel the spirit in me to do it, +I go straight at my aim." + +"If, at the same time, there's no brandy in you," said Percy, "which +would stop your seeing clear or going straight." + +The suggestion was a cruel shock. Robert nodded. "That's true. I suppose +it's my bad education that won't let me keep cool. I'm ashamed of myself +after it. I shout and thunder, and the end of it is, I go away and think +about the same of Robert Eccles that I've frightened other people into +thinking. Perhaps you'll think me to blame in this case? One of those +Mr. Blancoves--not the one you've heard of--struck me on the field +before a lady. I bore it. It was part of what I'd gone out to meet. I +was riding home late at night, and he stood at the corner of the +lane, with an old enemy of mine, and a sad cur that is! Sedgett's his +name--Nic, the Christian part of it. There'd just come a sharp snowfall +from the north, and the moonlight shot over the flying edge of the +rear-cloud; and I saw Sedgett with a stick in his hand; but the +gentleman had no stick. I'll give Mr. Edward Blancove credit for not +meaning to be active in a dastardly assault. + +"But why was he in consultation with my enemy? And he let my enemy--by +the way, Percy, you dislike that sort of talk of 'my enemy,' I know. You +like it put plain and simple: but down in these old parts again, I catch +at old habits; and I'm always a worse man when I haven't seen you for +a time. Sedgett, say. Sedgett, as I passed, made a sweep at my horse's +knees, and took them a little over the fetlock. The beast reared. While +I was holding on he swung a blow at me, and took me here." + +Robert touched his head. "I dropped like a horse-chestnut from the tree. +When I recovered, I was lying in the lane. I think I was there flat, +face to the ground, for half an hour, quite sensible, looking at the +pretty colour of my blood on the snow. The horse was gone. I just +managed to reel along to this place, where there's always a home for me. +Now, will you believe it possible? I went out next day: I saw Mr. Edward +Blancove, and I might have seen a baby and felt the same to it. I didn't +know him a bit. Yesterday morning your letter was sent up from Sutton +farm. Somehow, the moment I'd read it, I remembered his face. I sent +him word there was a matter to be settled between us. You think I was +wrong?" + +Major Waring had set a deliberately calculating eye on him. + +"I want to hear more," he said. + +"You think I have no claim to challenge a man in his position?" + +"Answer me first, Robert. You think this Mr. Blancove helped, or +instigated this man Sedgett in his attack upon you?" + +"I haven't a doubt that he did." + +"It's not plain evidence." + +"It's good circumstantial evidence." + +"At any rate, you are perhaps justified in thinking him capable of this: +though the rule is, to believe nothing against a gentleman until it is +flatly proved--when we drum him out of the ranks. But, if you can fancy +it true, would you put yourself upon an equal footing with him?" + +"I would," said Robert. + +"Then you accept his code of morals." + +"That's too shrewd for me: but men who preach against duelling, or any +kind of man-to-man in hot earnest, always fence in that way." + +"I detest duelling," Major Waring remarked. "I don't like a system that +permits knaves and fools to exercise a claim to imperil the lives of +useful men. Let me observe, that I am not a preacher against it. I +think you know my opinions; and they are not quite those of the English +magistrate, and other mild persons who are wrathful at the practice upon +any pretence. Keep to the other discussion. You challenge a man--you +admit him your equal. But why do I argue with you? I know your mind as +well as my own. You have some other idea in the background." + +"I feel that he's the guilty man," said Robert. + +"You feel called upon to punish him." + +"No. Wait: he will not fight; but I have him and I'll hold him. I feel +he's the man who has injured this girl, by every witness of facts that I +can bring together; and as for the other young fellow I led such a dog's +life down here, I could beg his pardon. This one's eye met mine. I +saw it wouldn't have stopped short of murder--opportunity given. Why? +Because I pressed on the right spring. I'm like a woman in seeing some +things. He shall repent. By--! Slap me on the face, Percy. I've taken to +brandy and to swearing. Damn the girl who made me forget good lessons! +Bless her heart, I mean. She saw you, did she? Did she colour when she +heard your name?" + +"Very much," said Major Waring. + +"Was dressed in--?" + +"Black, with a crimson ribbon round the collar." + +Robert waved the image from his eyes. + +"I'm not going to dream of her. Peace, and babies, and farming, and +pride in myself with a woman by my side--there! You've seen her--all +that's gone. I might as well ask the East wind to blow West. Her face is +set the other way. Of course, the nature and value of a man is shown by +how he takes this sort of pain; and hark at me! I'm yelling. I thought +I was cured. I looked up into the eyes of a lady ten times +sweeter--when?--somewhen! I've lost dates. But here's the girl at me +again. She cuddles into me--slips her hand into my breast and tugs at +strings there. I can't help talking to you about her, now we've got over +the first step. I'll soon give it up. + +"She wore a red ribbon? If it had been Spring, you'd have seen roses. +Oh! what a stanch heart that girl has. Where she sets it, mind! Her life +where that creature sets her heart! But, for me, not a penny of comfort! +Now for a whole week of her, day and night, in that black dress with +the coloured ribbon. On she goes: walking to church; sitting at table; +looking out of the window! + +"Will you believe I thought those thick eyebrows of hers ugly once--a +tremendous long time ago. Yes; but what eyes she has under them! And if +she looks tender, one corner of her mouth goes quivering; and the eyes +are steady, so that it looks like some wonderful bit of mercy. + +"I think of that true-hearted creature praying and longing for her +sister, and fearing there's shame--that's why she hates me. I wouldn't +say I was certain her sister had not fallen into a pit. I couldn't. I +was an idiot. I thought I wouldn't be a hypocrite. I might have said I +believed as she did. There she stood ready to be taken--ready to have +given herself to me, if I had only spoken a word! It was a moment of +heaven, and God the Father could not give it to me twice The chance has +gone. + +"Oh! what a miserable mad dog I am to gabble on in this way.--Come in! +come in, mother." + +Mrs. Boulby entered, with soft footsteps, bearing a letter. + +"From the Park," she said, and commenced chiding Robert gently, to +establish her right to do it with solemnity. + +"He will talk, sir. He's one o' them that either they talk or they hang +silent, and no middle way will they take; and the doctor's their foe, +and health they despise; and since this cruel blow, obstinacy do seem to +have been knocked like a nail into his head so fast, persuasion have not +a atom o' power over him." + +"There must be talking when friends meet, ma'am," said Major Waring. + +"Ah!" returned the widow, "if it wouldn't be all on one side." + +"I've done now, mother," said Robert. + +Mrs. Boulby retired, and Robert opened the letter. + +It ran thus:-- + + "Sir, I am glad you have done me the favour of addressing me + temperately, so that I am permitted to clear myself of an unjust and + most unpleasant imputation. I will, if you please, see you, or your + friend; to whom perhaps I shall better be able to certify how + unfounded is the charge you bring against me. I will call upon you + at the Pilot Inn, where I hear that you are staying; or, if you + prefer it, I will attend to any appointment you may choose to direct + elsewhere. But it must be immediate, as the term of my residence in + this neighbourhood is limited. + + "I am, + + "Sir, + + "Yours obediently, + + "Edward Blancove." + +Major Waning read the lines with a critical attention. + +"It seems fair and open," was his remark. + +"Here," Robert struck his breast, "here's what answers him. What shall I +do? Shall I tell him to come?" + +"Write to say that your friend will meet him at a stated place." + +Robert saw his prey escaping. "I'm not to see him?" + +"No. The decent is the right way in such cases. You must leave it to me. +This will be the proper method between gentlemen." + +"It appears to my idea," said Robert, "that gentlemen are always, +somehow, stopped from taking the straight-ahead measure." + +"You," Percy rejoined, "are like a civilian before a fortress. Either he +finds it so easy that he can walk into it, or he gives it up in despair +as unassailable. You have followed your own devices, and what have you +accomplished?" + +"He will lie to you smoothly." + +"Smoothly or not, if I discover that he has spoken falsely, he is +answerable to me." + +"To me, Percy." + +"No; to me. He can elude you; and will be acquitted by the general +verdict. But when he becomes answerable to me, his honour, in the +conventional, which is here the practical, sense, is at stake, and I +have him." + +"I see that. Yes; he can refuse to fight me," Robert sighed. "Hey, Lord! +it's a heavy world when we come to methods. But will you, Percy, will +you put it to him at the end of your fist--'Did you deceive the girl, +and do you know where the girl now is?' Why, great heaven! we only ask +to know where she is. She may have been murdered. She's hidden from her +family. Let him confess, and let him go." + +Major Waring shook his head. "You see like a woman perhaps, Robert. You +certainly talk like a woman. I will state your suspicions. When I have +done so, I am bound to accept his reply. If we discover it to have been +false, I have my remedy." + +"Won't you perceive, that it isn't my object to punish him by and by, +but to tear the secret out of him on the spot--now--instantly," Robert +cried. + +"I perceive your object, and you have experienced some of the results +of your system. It's the primitive action of an appeal to the god of +combats, that is exploded in these days. You have no course but to take +his word." + +"She said"--Robert struck his knee--"she said I should have the girl's +address. She said she would see her. She pledged that to me. I'm +speaking of the lady up at Fairly. Come! things get clearer. If she +knows where Dahlia is, who told her? This Mr. Algernon--not Edward +Blancove--was seen with Dahlia in a box at the Playhouse. He was there +with Dahlia, yet I don't think him the guilty man. There's a finger of +light upon that other." + +"Who is this lady?" Major Waring asked, with lifted eyebrows. + +"Mrs. Lovell." + +At the name, Major Waring sat stricken. + +"Lovell!" he repeated, under his breath. "Lovell! Was she ever in +India?" + +"I don't know, indeed." + +"Is she a widow?" + +"Ay; that I've heard." + +"Describe her." + +Robert entered upon the task with a dozen headlong exclamations, and +very justly concluded by saying that he could give no idea of her; but +his friend apparently had gleaned sufficient. + +Major Waring's face was touched by a strange pallor, and his smile had +vanished. He ran his fingers through his hair, clutching it in a knot, +as he sat eyeing the red chasm in the fire, where the light of old days +and wild memories hangs as in a crumbling world. + +Robert was aware of there being a sadness in Percy's life, and that he +had loved a woman and awakened from his passion. Her name was unknown to +him. In that matter, his natural delicacy and his deference to Percy had +always checked him from sounding the subject closely. He might be, as +he had said, keen as a woman where his own instincts were in action; +but they were ineffective in guessing at the cause for Percy's sudden +depression. + +"She said--this lady, Mrs. Lovell, whoever she may be--she said you +should have the girl's address:--gave you that pledge of her word?" +Percy spoke, half meditating. "How did this happen? When did you see +her?" + +Robert related the incident of his meeting with her, and her effort to +be a peacemaker, but made no allusion to Mrs. Boulby's tale of the bet. + +"A peacemaker!" Percy interjected. "She rides well?" + +"Best horsewoman I ever saw in my life," was Robert's ready answer. + +Major Waring brushed at his forehead, as in impatience of thought. + +"You must write two letters: one to this Mrs. Lovell. Say, you are +about to leave the place, and remind her of her promise. It's +incomprehensible; but never mind. Write that first. Then to the man. Say +that your friend--by the way, this Mrs. Lovell has small hands, has she? +I mean, peculiarly small? Did you notice, or not? I may know her. Never +mind. Write to the man. Say--don't write down my name--say that I will +meet him." Percy spoke on as in a dream. "Appoint any place and hour. +To-morrow at ten, down by the river--the bridge. Write briefly. Thank +him for his offer to afford you explanations. Don't argue it with me any +more. Write both the letters straight off." + +His back was to Robert as he uttered the injunction. Robert took pen and +paper, and did as he was bidden, with all the punctilious obedience of a +man who consents perforce to see a better scheme abandoned. + +One effect of the equality existing between these two of diverse rank in +life and perfect delicacy of heart, was, that the moment Percy assumed +the lead, Robert never disputed it. Muttering simply that he was +incapable of writing except when he was in a passion, he managed to +produce what, in Percy's eyes, were satisfactory epistles, though Robert +had horrible misgivings in regard to his letter to Mrs. Lovell--the +wording of it, the cast of the sentences, even down to the character of +the handwriting. These missives were despatched immediately. + +"You are sure she said that?" Major Waring inquired more than once +during the afternoon, and Robert assured him that Mrs. Lovell had given +him her word. He grew very positive, and put it on his honour that she +had said it. + +"You may have heard incorrectly." + +"I've got the words burning inside me," said Robert. + +They walked together, before dark, to Sutton Farm, but Jonathan Eccles +was abroad in his fields, and their welcome was from Mistress Anne, whom +Major Waring had not power to melt; the moment he began speaking praise +of Robert, she closed her mouth tight and crossed her wrists meekly. + +"I see," said Major Waring, as they left the farm, "your aunt is of the +godly who have no forgiveness." + +"I'm afraid so," cried Robert. "Cold blood never will come to an +understanding with hot blood, and the old lady's is like frozen milk. +She's right in her way, I dare say. I don't blame her. Her piety's right +enough, take it as you find it." + +Mrs. Boulby had a sagacious notion that gentlemen always dined well +every day of their lives, and claimed that much from Providence as their +due. She had exerted herself to spread a neat little repast for Major +Waring, and waited on the friends herself; grieving considerably to +observe that the major failed in his duty as a gentleman, as far as the +relish of eating was concerned. + +"But," she said below at her bar, "he smokes the beautifullest--smelling +cigars, and drinks coffee made in his own way. He's very particular." +Which was reckoned to be in Major Waring's favour. + +The hour was near midnight when she came into the room, bearing another +letter from the Park. She thumped it on the table, ruffling and making +that pretence at the controlling of her bosom which precedes a feminine +storm. Her indignation was caused by a communication delivered by Dick +Curtis, in the parlour underneath, to the effect that Nicodemus Sedgett +was not to be heard of in the neighbourhood. + +Robert laughed at her, and called her Hebrew woman--eye-for-eye and +tooth-for-tooth woman. + +"Leave real rascals to the Lord above, mother. He's safe to punish them. +They've stepped outside the chances. That's my idea. I wouldn't go out +of my way to kick them--not I! It's the half-and-half villains we've got +to dispose of. They're the mischief, old lady." + +Percy, however, asked some questions about Sedgett, and seemed to think +his disappearance singular. He had been examining the handwriting of the +superscription to the letter. His face was flushed as he tossed it for +Robert to open. Mrs. Boulby dropped her departing curtsey, and Robert +read out, with odd pauses and puzzled emphasis: + + "Mrs. Lovell has received the letter which Mr. Robert Eccles has + addressed to her, and regrets that a misconception should have + arisen from anything that was uttered during their interview. The + allusions are obscure, and Mrs. Lovell can only remark, that she is + pained if she at all misled Mr. Eccles in what she either spoke or + promised. She is not aware that she can be of any service to him. + Should such an occasion present itself, Mr. Eccles may rest assured + that she will not fail to avail herself of it, and do her utmost to + redeem a pledge to which he has apparently attached a meaning she + can in no way account for or comprehend." + +When Robert had finished, "It's like a female lawyer," he said. +"That woman speaking, and that woman writing, they're two different +creatures--upon my soul, they are! Quick, sharp, to the point, when she +speaks; and read this! Can I venture to say of a lady, she's a liar?" + +"Perhaps you had better not," said Major Waring, who took the letter in +his hand and seemed to study it. After which he transferred it to his +pocket. + +"To-morrow? To-morrow's Sunday," he observed. "We will go to church +to-morrow." His eyes glittered. + +"Why, I'm hardly in the mood," Robert protested. "I haven't had the +habit latterly." + +"Keep up the habit," said Percy. "It's a good thing for men like you." + +"But what sort of a fellow am I to be showing myself there among all +the people who've been talking about me--and the people up at Fairly!" +Robert burst out in horror of the prospect. "I shall be a sight among +the people. Percy, upon my honour, I don't think I well can. I'll read +the Bible at home if you like." + +"No; you'll do penance," said Major Waring. + +"Are you meaning it?" + +"The penance will be ten times greater on my part, believe me." + +Robert fancied him to be referring to some idea of mocking the +interposition of religion. + +"Then we'll go to Upton Church," he said. "I don't mind it at Upton." + +"I intend to go to the church attended by 'The Family,' as we say in our +parts; and you must come with me to Warbeach." + +Clasping one hand across his forehead, Robert cried, "You couldn't ask +me to do a thing I hate so much. Go, and sit, and look sheepish, and +sing hymns with the people I've been badgering; and everybody seeing me! +How can it be anything to you like what it is to me?" + +"You have only to take my word for it that it is, and far more," said +Major Waring, sinking his voice. "Come; it won't do you any harm to make +an appointment to meet your conscience now and then. You will never be +ruled by reason, and your feelings have to teach you what you learn. At +any rate, it's my request." + +This terminated the colloquy upon that topic. Robert looked forward to a +penitential Sabbath-day. + +"She is a widow still," thought Major Waring, as he stood alone in his +bed-room, and, drawing aside the curtains of his window, looked up at +the white moon. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +When the sun takes to shining in winter, and the Southwest to blowing, +the corners of the earth cannot hide from him--the mornings are like +halls full of light. Robert had spent his hopes upon a wet day that +would have kept the congregation sparse and the guests at Fairly absent +from public devotions. + +He perceived at once that he was doomed to be under everybody's eyes +when he walked down the aisle, for everybody would attend the service on +such a morning as this. + +Already he had met his conscience, in so far as that he shunned asking +Percy again what was the reason for their going to church, and he +had not the courage to petition to go in the afternoon instead of the +morning. + +The question, "Are you ashamed of yourself, then?" sang in his ears as a +retort ready made. + +There was no help for it; so he set about assisting his ingenuity +to make the best appearance possible--brushing his hat and coat with +extraordinary care. + +Percy got him to point out the spot designated for the meeting, and +telling him to wait in the Warbeach churchyard, or within sight of it, +strolled off in the direction of the river. His simple neatness and +quiet gentlemanly air abashed Robert, and lured him from his intense +conception of abstract right and wrong, which had hitherto encouraged +and incited him, so that he became more than ever crestfallen at +the prospect of meeting the eyes of the church people, and with the +trembling sensitiveness of a woman who weighs the merits of a lover when +passion is having one of its fatal pauses, he looked at himself, and +compared himself with the class of persons he had outraged, and tried +to think better of himself, and to justify himself, and sturdily reject +comparisons. They would not be beaten back. His enemies had never +suggested them, but they were forced on him by the aspect of his friend. + +Any man who takes the law into his own hands, and chooses to stand +against what is conventionally deemed fitting:--against the world, as we +say, is open to these moods of degrading humility. Robert waited for the +sound of the bells with the emotions of a common culprit. Could he have +been driven to the church and deposited suddenly in his pew, his mind +would have been easier. + +It was the walking there, the walking down the aisle, the sense of his +being the fellow who had matched himself against those well-attired +gentlemen, which entirely confused him. And not exactly for his own +sake--for Percy's partly. He sickened at the thought of being seen by +Major Waring's side. His best suit and his hat were good enough, as +far as they went, only he did not feel that he wore them--he could not +divine how it was--with a proper air, an air of signal comfort. In +fact, the graceful negligence of an English gentleman's manner had been +unexpectedly revealed to him; and it was strange, he reflected, that +Percy never appeared to observe how deficient he was, and could still +treat him as an equal, call him by his Christian name, and not object to +be seen with him in public. + +Robert did not think at the same time that illness had impoverished his +blood. Your sensational beings must keep a strong and a good flow of +blood in their veins to be always on a level with the occasion which +they provoke. He remembered wonderingly that he had used to be easy +in gait and ready of wit when walking from Queen Anne's Farm to Wrexby +village church. Why was he a different creature now? He could not answer +the question. + +Two or three of his Warbeach acquaintances passed him in the lanes. They +gave him good day, and spoke kindly, and with pleasant friendly looks. + +Their impression when they left him was that he was growing proud. + +The jolly butcher of Warbeach, who had a hearty affection for him, +insisted upon clapping his hand, and showing him to Mrs. Billing, and +showing their two young ones to Robert. With a kiss to the children, and +a nod, Robert let them pass. + +Here and there, he was hailed by young fellows who wore their hats on +one side, and jaunty-fashioned coats--Sunday being their own bright day +of exhibition. He took no notice of the greetings. + +He tried to feel an interest in the robins and twittering wrens, and +called to mind verses about little birds, and kept repeating them, +behind a face that chilled every friendly man who knew him. + +Moody the boat-builder asked him, with a stare, if he was going to +church, and on Robert's replying that perhaps he was, said "I'm dashed!" +and it was especially discouraging to one in Robert's condition. + +Further to inspirit him, he met Jonathan Eccles, who put the same +question to him, and getting the same answer, turned sharp round and +walked homeward. + +Robert had a great feeling of relief when the bells were silent, and +sauntered with a superior composure round the holly and laurel bushes +concealing the church. Not once did he ponder on the meeting between +Major Waring and Mr. Edward Blancove, until he beheld the former +standing alone by the churchyard gate, and then he thought more of the +empty churchyard and the absence of carriages, proclaiming the dreadful +admonition that he must immediately consider as to the best way of +comporting himself before an observant and censorious congregation. + +Major Waring remarked, "You are late." + +"Have I kept you waiting?" said Robert. + +"Not long. They are reading the lessons." + +"Is it full inside?" + +"I dare say it is." + +"You have seen him, I suppose?" + +"Oh yes; I have seen him." + +Percy was short in his speech, and pale as Robert had never seen him +before. He requested hastily to be told the situation of Lord Elling's +pew. + +"Don't you think of going into the gallery?" said Robert, but received +no answer, and with an inward moan of "Good God! they'll think I've come +here in a sort of repentance," he found himself walking down the aisle; +and presently, to his amazement, settled in front of the Fairly pew, and +with his eyes on Mrs. Lovell. + +What was the matter with her? Was she ill? Robert forgot his own +tribulation in an instant. Her face was like marble, and as she stood +with the prayer-book in her hand, her head swayed over it: her lips made +a faint effort at smiling, and she sat quietly down, and was concealed. +Algernon and Sir John Capes were in the pew beside her, as well as Lady +Elling, who, with a backward-turned hand and disregarding countenance, +reached out her smelling-bottle. + +"Is this because she fancies I know of her having made a bet of me?" +thought Robert, and it was not his vanity prompted the supposition, +though his vanity was awakened by it. "Or is she ashamed of her +falsehood?" he thought again, and forgave her at the sight of her sweet +pale face. The singing of the hymns made her evident suffering seem holy +as a martyr's. He scarce had the power to conduct himself reverently, so +intense was his longing to show her his sympathy. + +"That is Mrs. Lovell--did you see her just now?" he whispered. + +"Ah?" said Major Waring. + +"I'm afraid she has fainted." + +"Possibly." + +But Mrs. Lovell had not fainted. She rose when the time for rising came +again, and fixing her eyes with a grave devotional collectedness upon +the vicar at his reading-desk, looked quite mistress of herself--but +mistress of herself only when she kept them so fixed. When they moved, +it was as if they had relinquished some pillar of support, and they +wavered; livid shades chased her face, like the rain-clouds on a grey +lake-water. Some one fronting her weighed on her eyelids. This was +evident. Robert thought her a miracle of beauty. She was in colour like +days he had noted thoughtfully: days with purple storm, and with golden +horizon edges. She had on a bonnet of black velvet, with a delicate +array of white lace, that was not suffered to disturb the contrast to +her warm yellow hair. Her little gloved hands were both holding the +book; at times she perused it, or, the oppression becoming unendurable, +turned her gaze toward the corner of the chancel, and thence once more +to her book. Robert rejected all idea of his being in any way the cause +of her strange perturbation. He cast a glance at his friend. He had +begun to nourish a slight suspicion; but it was too slight to bear up +against Percy's self-possession; for, as he understood the story, Percy +had been the sufferer, and the lady had escaped without a wound. How, +then, if such were the case, would she be showing emotion thus deep, +while he stood before her with perfect self-command? + +Robert believed that if he might look upon that adorable face for many +days together, he could thrust Rhoda's from his memory. The sermon was +not long enough for him; and he was angry with Percy for rising before +there was any movement for departure in the Fairly pew. In the doorway +of the church Percy took his arm, and asked him to point out the family +tombstone. They stood by it, when Lady Elling and Mrs. Lovell came forth +and walked to the carriage, receiving respectful salutes from the people +of Warbeach. + +"How lovely she is!" said Robert. + +"Do you think her handsome?" said Major Waring. + +"I can't understand such a creature dying." Robert stepped over an open +grave. + +The expression of Percy's eyes was bitter. + +"I should imagine she thinks it just as impossible." + +The Warbeach villagers waited for Lady Elling's carriage to roll away, +and with a last glance at Robert, they too went off in gossiping groups. +Robert's penance was over, and he could not refrain from asking what +good his coming to church had done. + +"I can't assist you," said Percy. "By the way, Mr. Blancove denies +everything. He thinks you mad. He promises, now that you have adopted +reasonable measures, to speak to his cousin, and help, as far as he can, +to discover the address you are in search of." + +"That's all?" cried Robert. + +"That is all." + +"Then where am I a bit farther than when I began?" + +"You are only at the head of another road, and a better one." + +"Oh, why do I ever give up trusting to my right hand--" Robert muttered. + +But the evening brought a note to him from Algernon Blancove. It +contained a dignified condemnation of Robert's previous insane +behaviour, and closed by giving Dahlia's address in London. + +"How on earth was this brought about?" Robert now questioned. + +"It's singular, is it not?" said Major blaring; "but if you want a dog +to follow you, you don't pull it by the collar; and if you want a potato +from the earth, you plant the potato before you begin digging. You are +a soldier by instinct, my good Robert: your first appeal is to force. +I, you see, am a civilian: I invariably try the milder methods. Do +you start for London tonight? I remain. I wish to look at the +neighbourhood." + +Robert postponed his journey to the morrow, partly in dread of his +approaching interview with Dahlia, but chiefly to continue a little +longer by the side of him whose gracious friendship gladdened his life. +They paid a second visit to Sutton Farm. Robert doggedly refused to +let a word be said to his father about his having taken to farming, +and Jonathan listened to all Major Waring said of his son like a man +deferential to the accomplishment of speaking, but too far off to hear +more than a chance word. He talked, in reply, quite cheerfully of +the weather and the state of the ground; observed that the soil was +a perpetual study, but he knew something of horses and dogs, and +Yorkshiremen were like Jews in the trouble they took to over-reach in +a bargain. "Walloping men is poor work, if you come to compare it +with walloping Nature," he said, and explained that, according to +his opinion, "to best a man at buying and selling was as wholesome an +occupation as frowzlin' along the gutters for parings and strays." He +himself preferred to go to the heart of things: "Nature makes you rich, +if your object is to do the same for her. Yorkshire fellows never think +except of making theirselves rich by fattening on your blood, like +sheep-ticks." In fine, Jonathan spoke sensibly, and abused Yorkshire, +without hesitating to confess that a certain Yorkshireman, against whom +he had matched his wits in a purchase of horseflesh, had given him a +lively recollection of the encounter. + +Percy asked him what he thought of his country. "I'll tell you," said +Jonathan; "Englishmen's business is to go to war with the elements, and +so long as we fight them, we're in the right academy for learnin' how +the game goes. Our vulnerability commences when we think we'll sit +down and eat the fruits, and if I don't see signs o' that, set me +mole-tunnelling. Self-indulgence is the ruin of our time." + +This was the closest remark he made to his relations with Robert, who +informed him that he was going to London on the following day. Jonathan +shook his hand heartily, without troubling himself about any inquiries. + +"There's so much of that old man in me," said Robert, when Percy praised +him, on their return, "that I daren't call him a Prince of an old +boy: and never a spot of rancour in his soul. Have a claim on him--and +there's your seat at his table: take and offend him--there's your seat +still. Eat and drink, but you don't get near his heart. I'll surprise +him some day. He fancies he's past surprises." + +"Well," said Percy, "you're younger than I am, and may think the future +belongs to you." + +Early next morning they parted. Robert was in town by noon. He lost no +time in hurrying to the Western suburb. As he neared the house where +he was to believe Dahlia to be residing, he saw a man pass through the +leafless black shrubs by the iron gate; and when he came to the gate +himself the man was at the door. The door opened and closed on this man. +It was Nicodemus Sedgett, or Robert's eyes did him traitorous service. +He knocked at the door violently, and had to knock a second and a third +time. Dahlia was denied to him. He was told that Mrs. Ayrton had lived +there, but had left, and her present address was unknown. He asked to +be allowed to speak a word to the man who had just entered the house. +No one had entered for the last two hours, was the reply. Robert had +an impulse to rush by the stolid little female liar, but Percy's recent +lesson to him acted as a restraint; though, had it been a brawny woman +or a lacquey in his path, he would certainly have followed his natural +counsel. He turned away, lingering outside till it was dusk and the +bruise on his head gave great throbs, and then he footed desolately +farther and farther from the house. To combat with evil in his own +country village had seemed a simple thing enough, but it appeared a +superhuman task in giant London. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +It requires, happily, many years of an ordinary man's life to teach him +to believe in the exceeding variety and quantity of things money can +buy: yet, when ingenuous minds have fully comprehended the potent +character of the metal, they are likely enough to suppose that it will +buy everything: after which comes the groaning anxiety to possess it. + +This stage of experience is a sublime development in the great souls of +misers. It is their awakening moment, and it is their first real sense +of a harvest being in their hands. They have begun under the influence +of the passion for hoarding, which is but a blind passion of the +finger-ends. The idea that they have got together, bit by bit, a +power, travels slowly up to their heavy brains. Once let it be grasped, +however, and they clutch a god. They feed on everybody's hunger for it. +And, let us confess, they have in that a mighty feast. + +Anthony Hackbut was not a miser. He was merely a saving old man. His +vanity was, to be thought a miser, envied as a miser. He lived in daily +hearing of the sweet chink of gold, and loved the sound, but with a +poetical love, rather than with the sordid desire to amass gold pieces. +Though a saving old man, he had his comforts; and if they haunted him +and reproached him subsequently, for indulging wayward appetites for +herrings and whelks and other sea-dainties that render up no account to +you when they have disappeared, he put by copper and silver continually, +weekly and monthly, and was master of a sum. + +He knew the breadth of this sum with accuracy, and what it would expand +to this day come a year, and probably this day come five years. He knew +it only too well. The sum took no grand leaps. It increased, but did not +seem to multiply. And he was breathing in the heart of the place, of all +places in the world, where money did multiply. + +He was the possessor of twelve hundred pounds, solid, and in haven; that +is, the greater part in the Bank of England, and a portion in Boyne's +Bank. He had besides a few skirmishing securities, and some such bits of +paper as Algernon had given him in the public-house on that remarkable +night of his visit to the theatre. + +These, when the borrowers were defaulters in their payments and pleaded +for an extension of time, inspired him with sentiments of grandeur that +the solid property could not impart. Nevertheless, the anti-poetical +tendency within him which warred with the poetical, and set him reducing +whatsoever he claimed to plain figures, made it but a fitful hour of +satisfaction. + +He had only to fix his mind upon Farmer Fleming's conception of his +wealth, to feel the miserable smallness of what seemed legitimately his +own; and he felt it with so poignant an emotion that at times his fears +of death were excited by the knowledge of a dead man's impotence to +suggest hazy margins in the final exposure of his property. There it +would lie, dead as himself! contracted, coffined, contemptible! + +What would the farmer think when he came to hear that his brother Tony's +estate was not able to buy up Queen Anne's Farm?--when, in point of +fact, he found that he had all along been the richer man of the two! + +Anthony's comfort was in the unfaltering strength of his constitution. +He permitted his estimate of it to hint at the probability of his +outlasting his brother William John, to whom he wished no earthly ill, +but only that he should not live with a mitigated veneration for him. He +was really nourished by the farmer's gluttonous delight in his supposed +piles of wealth. Sometimes, for weeks, he had the gift of thinking +himself one of the Bank with which he had been so long connected; and +afterward a wretched reaction set in. + +It was then that his touch upon Bank money began to intoxicate him +strangely. He had at times thousands hugged against his bosom, and his +heart swelled to the money-bags immense. He was a dispirited, but a +grateful creature, after he had delivered them up. The delirium came by +fits, as if a devil lurked to surprise him. + +"With this money," said the demon, "you might speculate, and in two days +make ten times the amount." + +To which Anthony answered: "My character's worth fifty times the +amount." + +Such was his reply, but he did not think it. He was honest, and his +honesty had become a habit; but the money was the only thing which acted +on his imagination; his character had attained to no sacred halo, and +was just worth his annual income and the respect of the law for his +person. The money fired his brain! + +"Ah! if it was mine!" he sighed. "If I could call it mine for just forty +or fifty hours! But it ain't, and I can't." + +He fought dogged battles with the tempter, and beat him off again and +again. One day he made a truce with him by saying that if ever the +farmer should be in town of an afternoon he would steal ten minutes +or so, and make an appointment with him somewhere and show him the +money-bags without a word: let him weigh and eye them: and then the plan +was for Anthony to talk of politics, while the farmer's mind was in a +ferment. + +With this arrangement the infernal Power appeared to be content, and +Anthony was temporarily relieved of his trouble. In other words, the +intermittent fever of a sort of harmless rascality was afflicting this +old creature. He never entertained the notion of running clear away with +the money entrusted to him. + +Whither could an aged man fly? He thought of foreign places as of spots +that gave him a shivering sense of its being necessary for him to be +born again in nakedness and helplessness, if ever he was to see them and +set foot on them. + +London was his home, and clothed him about warmly and honourably, and so +he said to the demon in their next colloquy. + +Anthony had become guilty of the imprudence of admitting him to +conferences and arguing with him upon equal terms. They tell us, that +this is the imprudence of women under temptation; and perhaps Anthony +was pushed to the verge of the abyss from causes somewhat similar to +those which imperil them, and employed the same kind of efforts in his +resistance. + +In consequence of this compromise, the demon by degrees took seat at +his breakfast-table, when Mrs. Wicklow, his landlady, could hear Anthony +talking in the tone of voice of one who was pushed to his sturdiest +arguments. She conceived that the old man's head was softening. + +He was making one of his hurried rushes with the porterage of money on +an afternoon in Spring, when a young female plucked at his coat, and his +wrath at offenders against the law kindled in a minute into fury. + +"Hands off, minx!" he cried. "You shall be given in charge. Where's a +policeman?" + +"Uncle!" she said. + +"You precious swindler in petticoats!" Anthony fumed. + +But he had a queer recollection of her face, and when she repeated +piteously: "Uncle!" he peered at her features, saying,-- + +"No!" in wonderment, several times. + +Her hair was cut like a boy's. She was in common garments, with a +close-shaped skull-cap and a black straw bonnet on her head; not gloved, +of ill complexion, and with deep dark lines slanting down from the +corners of her eyes. Yet the inspection convinced him that he beheld +Dahlia, his remembering the niece. He was amazed; but speedily priceless +trust in his arms, and the wickedness of the streets, he bade her +follow him. She did so with some difficulty, for he ran, and dodged, and +treated the world as his enemy, suddenly vanished, and appeared again +breathing freely. + +"Why, my girl?" he said: "Why, Dahl--Mrs. What's-your-name? Why, who'd +have known you? Is that"--he got his eyes close to her hair; "is that +the ladies' fashion now? 'Cause, if it is, our young street scamps has +only got to buy bonnets, and--I say, you don't look the Pomp. Not as you +used to, Miss Ma'am, I mean--no, that you don't. Well, what's the news? +How's your husband?" + +"Uncle," said Dahlia; "will you, please, let me speak to you somewhere?" + +"Ain't we standing together?" + +"Oh! pray, out of the crowd!" + +"Come home with me, if my lodgings ain't too poor for you," said +Anthony. + +"Uncle, I can't. I have been unwell. I cannot walk far. Will you take me +to some quiet place?" + +"Will you treat me to a cab?" Anthony sneered vehemently. + +"I have left off riding, uncle." + +"What! Hulloa!" Anthony sang out. "Cash is down in the mouth at home, is +it? Tell me that, now?" + +Dahlia dropped her eyelids, and then entreated him once more to conduct +her to a quiet place where they might sit together, away from noise. She +was very earnest and very sad, not seeming to have much strength. + +"Do you mind taking my arm?" said Anthony. + +She leaned her hand on his arm, and he dived across the road with her, +among omnibuses and cabs, shouting to them through the roar,-- + +"We're the Independence on two legs, warranted sound, and no +competition;" and saying to Dahlia: "Lor' bless you! there's no retort +in 'em, or I'd say something worth hearing. It's like poking lions in +cages with raw meat, afore you get a chaffing-match out o' them. Some +of 'em know me. They'd be good at it, those fellows. I've heard of +good things said by 'em. But there they sit, and they've got no +circulation--ain't ready, except at old women, or when they catch you in +a mess, and getting the worst of it. Let me tell you; you'll never +get manly chaff out of big bundles o' fellows with ne'er an atom o' +circulation. The river's the place for that. I've heard uncommon good +things on the river--not of 'em, but heard 'em. T' other's most part +invention. And, they tell me, horseback's a prime thing for chaff. +Circulation, again. Sharp and lively, I mean; not bawl, and answer +over your back--most part impudence, and nothing else--and then out +of hearing. That sort o' chaff's cowardly. Boys are stiff young +parties--circulation--and I don't tackle them pretty often, 'xcept when +I'm going like a ball among nine-pins. It's all a matter o' circulation. +I say, my dear," Anthony addressed her seriously, "you should never lay +hold o' my arm when you see me going my pace of an afternoon. I took you +for a thief, and worse--I did. That I did. Had you been waiting to see +me?" + +"A little," Dahlia replied, breathless. + +"You have been ill?" + +"A little," she said. + +"You've written to the farm? O' course you have!" + +"Oh! uncle, wait," moaned Dahlia. + +"But, ha' you been sick, and not written home?" + +"Wait; please, wait," she entreated him. + +"I'll wait," said Anthony; "but that's no improvement to queerness; and +'queer''s your motto. Now we cross London Bridge. There's the Tower that +lived in times when no man was safe of keeping his own money, 'cause of +grasping kings--all claws and crown. I'm Republican as far as 'none o' +them'--goes. There's the ships. The sun rises behind 'em, and sets +afore 'em, and you may fancy, if you like, there's always gold in their +rigging. Gals o' your sort think I say, come! tell me, if you are a +lady?" + +"No, uncle, no!" Dahlia cried, and then drawing in her breath, added: +"not to you." + +"Last time I crossed this bridge with a young woman hanging on my arm, +it was your sister; they say she called on you, and you wouldn't see +her; and a gal so good and a gal so true ain't to be got for a sister +every day in the year! What are you pulling me for?" + +Dahlia said nothing, but clung to him with a drooping head, and so they +hurried along, until Anthony stopped in front of a shop displaying cups +and muffins at the window, and leprous-looking strips of bacon, and +sausages that had angled for appetites till they had become pallid +sodden things, like washed-out bait. + +Into this shop he led her, and they took possession of a compartment, +and ordered tea and muffins. + +The shop was empty. + +"It's one of the expenses of relationship," Anthony sighed, after +probing Dahlia unsatisfactorily to see whether she intended to pay for +both, or at least for herself; and finding that she had no pride at all. +"My sister marries your father, and, in consequence--well! a muffin now +and then ain't so very much. We'll forget it, though it is a breach, +mind, in counting up afterwards, and two-pences every day's equal to a +good big cannonball in the castle-wall at the end of the year. Have you +written home?" + +Dahlia's face showed the bright anguish of unshed tears. + +"Uncle-oh! speak low. I have been near death. I have been ill for so +long a time. I have come to you to hear about them--my father and Rhoda. +Tell me what they are doing, and do they sleep and eat well, and are not +in trouble? I could not write. I was helpless. I could not hold a pen. +Be kind, dear uncle, and do not reproach me. Please, tell me that they +have not been sorrowful." + +A keenness shot from Anthony's eyes. "Then, where's your husband?" he +asked. + +She made a sad attempt at smiling. "He is abroad." + +"How about his relations? Ain't there one among 'em to write for you +when you're ill?" + +"He... Yes, he has relatives. I could not ask them. Oh! I am not strong, +uncle; if you will only leave following me so with questions; but tell +me, tell me what I want to know." + +"Well, then, you tell me where your husband banks," returned Anthony. + +"Indeed, I cannot say." + +"Do you," Anthony stretched out alternative fingers, "do you get money +from him to make payments in gold, or, do you get it in paper?" + +She stared as in terror of a pit-fall. "Paper," she said at a venture. + +"Well, then, name your Bank." + +There was no cunning in her eye as she answered: "I don't know any bank, +except the Bank of England." + +"Why the deuce didn't you say so at once--eh?" cried Anthony. "He gives +you bank-notes. Nothing better in the world. And he a'n't been givin' +you many lately--is that it? What's his profession, or business?" + +"He is...he is no profession." + +"Then, what is he? Is he a gentleman?" + +"Yes," she breathed plaintively. + +"Your husband's a gentleman. Eh?--and lost his money?" + +"Yes." + +"How did he lose it?" + +The poor victim of this pertinacious interrogatory now beat about within +herself for succour. "I must not say," she replied. + +"You're going to try to keep a secret, are ye?" said Anthony; and she, +in her relief at the pause to her torment, said: "I am," with a little +infantile, withering half-smile. + +"Well, you've been and kept yourself pretty secret," the old man +pursued. "I suppose your husband's proud? He's proud, ain't he? He's +of a family, I'll be bound. Is he of a family? How did he like your +dressing up like a mill'ner gal to come down in the City and see me?" + +Dahlia's guile was not ready. "He didn't mind," she said. + +"He didn't mind, didn't he? He don't mind your cutting of your hair +so?--didn't mind that?" + +She shook her head. "No." + +Anthony was down upon her like a hawk. + +"Why, he's abroad!" + +"Yes; I mean, he did not see me." + +With which, in a minute, she was out of his grasp; but her heart beat +thick, her lips were dry, and her thoughts were in disorder. + +"Then, he don't know you've been and got shaved, and a poll like a +turnip-head of a thief? That's something for him to learn, is it?" + +The picture of her beauty gone, seared her eyes like heated brass. She +caught Anthony's arm with one firm hand to hold him silent, and with the +other hand covered her sight and let the fit of weeping pass. + +When the tears had spent themselves, she relinquished her hold of the +astonished old man, who leaned over the table to her, and dominated by +the spirit of her touch, whispered, like one who had accepted a bond +of secresy: "Th' old farmer's well. So's Rhoda--my darkie lass. They've +taken on a bit. And then they took to religion for comfort. Th' old +farmer attends Methody meetin's, and quotes Scriptur' as if he was fixed +like a pump to the Book, and couldn't fetch a breath without quotin'. +Rhoda's oftenest along with your rector's wife down there, and does +works o' charity, sicknussin', readin'--old farmer does the preachin'. +Old mother Sumfit's fat as ever, and says her money's for you. Old +Gammon goes on eatin' of the dumplins. Hey! what a queer old ancient he +is. He seems to me to belong to a time afore ever money was. That Mr. +Robert's off...never been down there since he left, 'cause my darkie +lass thought herself too good for him. So she is!--too good for anybody. +They're going to leave the farm; sell, and come to London." + +"Oh, no!" exclaimed Dahlia; "not going to leave the dear old farm, and +our lane, and the old oaks, leading up to the heath. Are they? Father +will miss it. Rhoda will mourn so. No place will ever be like that to +them. I love it better than any place on earth." + +"That's queer," said Anthony. "Why do you refuse to go, or won't +let your husband take you down there; if you like the place that +raving-like? But 'queer''s your motto. The truth is this--you just +listen. Hear me--hush! I won't speak in a bawl. You're a reasonable +being, and you don't--that's to say, you do understand, the old farmer +feels it uncomfortable--" + +"But I never helped him when I was there," said Dahlia, suddenly +shrinking in a perceptible tremble of acute divination. "I was no use. I +never helped him--not at all. I was no--no use!" + +Anthony blinked his eyes, not knowing how it was that he had thus been +thrown out of his direct road. He began again, in his circumlocutory +delicacy: "Never mind; help or no help, what th' old farmer feels +is--and quite nat'ral. There's sensations as a father, and sensations as +a man; and what th' old farmer feels is--" + +"But Rhoda has always been more to father than I have," Dahlia cried, +now stretching forward with desperate courage to confront her uncle, +distract his speech, and avert the saying of the horrible thing she +dreaded. "Rhoda was everything to him. Mother perhaps took to me--my +mother!" + +The line of her long underlie drawn sharp to check her tears, stopped +her speaking. + +"All very well about Rhoda," said Anthony. "She's everything to me, +too." + +"Every--everybody loves her!" Dahlia took him up. + +"Let 'em, so long as they don't do no harm to her," was Anthony's +remark. There was an idea in this that he had said, and the light of it +led off his fancy. It was some time before he returned to the attack. + +"Neighbours gossip a good deal. O' course you know that." + +"I never listen to them," said Dahlia, who now felt bare at any instant +for the stab she saw coming. + +"No, not in London; but country's different, and a man hearing of his +child 'it's very odd!' and 'keepin' away like that!' and 'what's become +of her?' and that sort of thing, he gets upset." + +Dahlia swallowed in her throat, as in perfect quietude of spirit, and +pretended to see no meaning for herself in Anthony's words. + +But she said, inadvertently, "Dear father!" and it gave Anthony his +opening. + +"There it is. No doubt you're fond of him. You're fond o' th' old +farmer, who's your father. Then, why not make a entry into the village, +and show 'em? I loves my father, says you. I can or I can't bring my +husband, you seems to say; but I'm come to see my old father. Will you +go down to-morrow wi' me?" + +"Oh!" Dahlia recoiled and abandoned all defence in a moan: "I can't--I +can't!" + +"There," said Anthony, "you can't. You confess you can't; and there's +reason for what's in your father's mind. And he hearin' neighbours' +gossip, and it comes to him by a sort of extractin'--'Where's her +husband?' bein' the question; and 'She ain't got one,' the answer--it's +nat'ral for him to leave the place. I never can tell him how you went +off, or who's the man, lucky or not. You went off sudden, on a morning, +after kissin' me at breakfast; and no more Dahly visible. And he +suspects--he more'n suspects. Farm's up for sale. Th' old farmer thinks +it's unbrotherly of me not to go and buy, and I can't make him see I +don't understand land: it's about like changeing sovereigns for lumps +o' clay, in my notions; and that ain't my taste. Long and the short +is--people down there at Wrexby and all round say you ain't married. He +ain't got a answer for 'em; it's cruel to hear, and crueller to think: +he's got no answer, poor old farmer! and he's obliged to go inter exile. +Farm's up for sale." + +Anthony thumped with his foot conclusively. + +"Say I'm not married!" said Dahlia, and a bad colour flushed her +countenance. "They say--I'm not married. I am--I am. It's false. It's +cruel of father to listen to them--wicked people! base--base people! I +am married, uncle. Tell father so, and don't let him sell the farm. Tell +him, I said I was married. I am. I'm respected. I have only a little +trouble, and I'm sure others have too. We all have. Tell father not to +leave. It breaks my heart. Oh! uncle, tell him that from me." + +Dahlia gathered her shawl close, and set an irresolute hand upon her +bonnet strings, that moved as if it had forgotten its purpose. She could +say no more. She could only watch her uncle's face, to mark the effect +of what she had said. + +Anthony nodded at vacancy. His eyebrows were up, and did not descend +from their elevation. "You see, your father wants assurances; he wants +facts. They're easy to give, if give 'em you can. Ah, there's a weddin' +ring on your finger, sure enough. Plain gold--and, Lord! how bony your +fingers ha' got, Dahly. If you are a sinner, you're a bony one now, and +that don't seem so bad to me. I don't accuse you, my dear. Perhaps I'd +like to see your husband's banker's book. But what your father hears, +is--You've gone wrong." + +Dahlia smiled in a consummate simulation of scorn. + +"And your father thinks that's true." + +She smiled with an equal simulation of saddest pity. + +"And he says this: 'Proof,' he says, 'proof's what I want, that she's +an honest woman.' He asks for you to clear yourself. He says, 'It's hard +for an old man'--these are his words 'it's hard for an old man to hear +his daughter called...'" + +Anthony smacked his hand tight on his open mouth. + +He was guiltless of any intended cruelty, and Dahlia's first impulse +when she had got her breath, was to soothe him. She took his hand. "Dear +father! poor father! Dear, dear father!" she kept saying. + +"Rhoda don't think it," Anthony assured her. + +"No?" and Dahlia's bosom exulted up to higher pain. + +"Rhoda declares you are married. To hear that gal fight for you--there's +ne'er a one in Wrexby dares so much as hint a word within a mile of +her." + +"My Rhoda! my sister!" Dahlia gasped, and the tears came pouring down +her face. + +In vain Anthony lifted her tea-cup and the muffin-plate to her for +consolation. His hushings and soothings were louder than her weeping. +Incapable of resisting such a protest of innocence, he said, "And I +don't think it, neither." + +She pressed his fingers, and begged him to pay the people of the shop: +at which sign of her being probably moneyless, Anthony could not help +mumbling, "Though I can't make out about your husband, and why he lets +ye be cropped--that he can't help, may be--but lets ye go about dressed +like a mill'ner gal, and not afford cabs. Is he very poor?" + +She bowed her head. + +"Poor?" + +"He is very poor." + +"Is he, or ain't he, a gentleman?" + +Dahlia seemed torn by a new anguish. + +"I see," said Anthony. "He goes and persuades you he is, and you've +been and found out he's nothin' o' the sort--eh? That'd be a way of +accounting for your queerness, more or less. Was it that fellow that +Wicklow gal saw ye with?" + +Dahlia signified vehemently, "No." + +"Then, I've guessed right; he turns out not to be a gentleman--eh, +Dahly? Go on noddin', if ye like. Never mind the shop people; we're +well-conducted, and that's all they care for. I say, Dahly, he ain't a +gentleman? You speak out or nod your head. You thought you'd caught a +gentleman and 'taint the case. Gentlemen ain't caught so easy. They +all of 'em goes to school, and that makes 'em knowin'. Come; he ain't a +gentleman?" + +Dahlia's voice issued, from a terrible inward conflict, like a voice of +the tombs. "No," she said. + +"Then, will you show him to me? Let me have a look at him." + +Pushed from misery to misery, she struggled within herself again, and +again in the same hollow manner said, "Yes." + +"You will?" + +"Yes." + +"Seein's believin'. If you'll show him to me, or me to him..." + +"Oh! don't talk of it." Dahlia struck her fingers in a tight lock. + +"I only want to set eye on him, my gal. Whereabouts does he live?" + +"Down--down a great--very great way in the West." + +Anthony stared. + +She replied to the look: "In the West of London--a long way down." + +"That's where he is?" + +"Yes." + +"I thought--hum!" went the old man suspiciously. "When am I to see him? +Some day?" + +"Yes; some day." + +"Didn't I say, Sunday?" + +"Next Sunday?"--Dahlia gave a muffled cry. + +"Yes, next Sunday. Day after to-morrow. And I'll write off to-morrow, +and ease th' old farmer's heart, and Rhoda 'll be proud for you. She +don't care about gentleman--or no gentleman. More do th' old farmer. +It's let us, live and die respectable, and not disgrace father nor +mother. Old-fashioned's best-fashioned about them things, I think. +Come, you bring him--your husband--to me on Sunday, if you object to my +callin' on you. Make up your mind to." + +"Not next Sunday--the Sunday after," Dahlia pleaded. "He is not here +now." + +"Where is he?" Anthony asked. + +"He's in the country." + +Anthony pounced on her, as he had done previously. + +"You said to me he was abroad." + +"In the country--abroad. Not--not in the great cities. I could not make +known your wishes to him." + +She gave this cool explanation with her eyelids fluttering timorously, +and rose as she uttered it, but with faint and ill-supporting limbs, +for during the past hour she had gone through the sharpest trial of her +life, and had decided for the course of her life. Anthony was witless +thereof, and was mystified by his incapability of perceiving where and +how he had been deluded; but he had eaten all the muffin on the plate, +and her rising proclaimed that she had no intention of making him call +for another; which was satisfactory. He drank off her cup of tea at a +gulp. + +The waitress named the sum he was to pay, and receiving a meditative +look in return for her air of expectancy after the amount had been laid +on the table, at once accelerated their passage from the shop by opening +the door. + +"If ever I did give pennies, I'd give 'em to you," said Anthony, when +he was out of her hearing. "Women beat men in guessing at a man by his +face. Says she--you're honourable--you're legal--but prodigal ain't your +portion. That's what she says, without the words, unless she's a reader. +Now, then, Dahly, my lass, you take my arm. Buckle to. We'll to the +West. Don't th' old farmer pronounce like 'toe' the West? We'll 'toe' +the West. I can afford to laugh at them big houses up there. + +"Where's the foundation, if one of them's sound? Why, in the City. + +"I'll take you by our governor's house. You know--you know--don't ye, +Dahly, know we been suspecting his nephew? 'cause we saw him with you at +the theatre. + +"I didn't suspect. I knew he found you there by chance, somehow. And I +noticed your dress there. No wonder your husband's poor. He wanted to +make you cut a figure as one of the handsomes, and that's as ruinous as +cabs--ha! ha!" + +Anthony laughed, but did not reveal what had struck him. + +"Sir William Blancove's house is a first-rater. I've been in it. He +lives in the library. All the other rooms--enter 'em, and if 'taint like +a sort of, a social sepulchre! Dashed if he can get his son to live with +him; though they're friends, and his son'll get all the money, and go +into Parliament, and cut a shine, never fear. + +"By the way, I've seen Robert, too. He called on me at the Bank. Asked +after you. + +"'Seen her?' says he. + +"'No,' I says. + +"'Ever see Mr. Edward Blancove here?' he says. + +"I told him, I'd heard say, Mr. Edward was Continentalling. And then +Robert goes off. His opinion is you ain't in England; 'cause a policeman +he spoke to can't find you nowhere. + +"'Come," says I, 'let's keep our detectives to catch thieves, and not go +distracting of 'em about a parcel o' women.' + +"He's awfully down about Rhoda. She might do worse than take him. I +don't think he's got a ounce of a chance now Religion's set in, though +he's the mildest big 'un I ever come across. I forgot to haul him +over about what he 'd got to say about Mr. Edward. I did remark, I +thought--ain't I right?--Mr. Algernon's not the man?--eh? How come you +in the theatre with him?" + +Dahlia spoke huskily. "He saw me. He had seen me at home. It was an +accident." + +"Exactly how I put it to Robert. And he agreed with me. There's sense +in that young man. Your husband wouldn't let you come to us there--eh? +because he...why was that?" + +Dahlia had it on her lips to say it "Because he was poorer than I +thought;" but in the intensity of her torment, the wretchedness of +this lie, revolted her. "Oh! for God's sake, uncle, give me peace about +that." + +The old man murmured: "Ay, ay;" and thought it natural that she should +shun an allusion to the circumstance. + +They crossed one of the bridges, and Dahlia stopped and said: "Kiss me, +uncle." + +"I ain't ashamed," said Anthony. + +This being over, she insisted on his not accompanying her farther. + +Anthony made her pledge her word of honour as a married woman, to bring +her husband to the identical spot where they stood at three o'clock in +the afternoon of Sunday week. She promised it. + +"I'll write home to th' old farmer--a penny," said Anthony, showing that +he had considered the outlay and was prepared for it. + +"And uncle," she stipulated in turn, "they are not to see me yet. Very +soon; but not yet. Be true to me, and come alone, or it will be your +fault--I shall not appear. Now, mind. And beg them not to leave +the farm. It will kill father. Can you not," she said, in the faded +sweetness of her speech, "could you not buy it, and let father be your +tenant, uncle? He would pay you regularly." + +Anthony turned a rough shoulder on her. + +"Good-bye, Dahly. You be a good girl, and all 'll go right. Old farmer +talks about praying. If he didn't make it look so dark to a chap, I'd be +ready to fancy something in that. You try it. You try, Dahly. Say a bit +of a prayer to-night." + +"I pray every night," Dahlia answered. + +Her look of meek despair was hauntingly sad with Anthony on his way +home. + +He tracked her sorrowfulness to the want of money; and another of his +terrific vague struggles with the money-demon set in. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Sir William Blancove did business at his Bank till the hour of three in +the afternoon, when his carriage conveyed him to a mews near the park of +Fashion, where he mounted horse and obeyed the bidding of his doctor for +a space, by cantering in a pleasant, portly, cock-horsey style, up and +down the Row. + +It was the day of the great race on Epsom Downs, and elderly gentlemen +pricked by the doctors were in the ascendant in all London congregations +on horseback. + +Like Achilles (if the bilious Shade will permit the impudent +comparison), they dragged their enemy, Gout, at their horses' heels +for a term, and vengeance being accomplished went to their dinners and +revived him. + +Sir William was disturbed by his son's absence from England. A youth +to whom a baronetcy and wealth are to be bequeathed is an important +organism; and Sir William, though his faith reposed in his son, was +averse to his inexplicably prolonged residence in the French metropolis, +which, a school for many things, is not a school for the study of our +Parliamentary system, and still less for that connubial career Sir +William wished him to commence. + +Edward's delightful cynical wit--the worldly man's profundity--and his +apt quotations of the wit of others, would have continued to exercise +their charm, if Sir William had not wanted to have him on the spot that +he might answer certain questions pertinaciously put by Mama Gosling on +behalf of her daughter. + +"There is no engagement," Edward wrote; "let the maiden wait and discern +her choice: let her ripen;" and he quoted Horace up to a point. + +Nor could his father help smiling and completing the lines. He laughed, +too, as he read the jog of a verse: "Were I to marry the Gosling, pray, +which would be the goose?" + +He laughed, but with a shade of disappointment in the fancy that +he perceived a wearing away of the robust mental energy which had +characterized his son: and Sir William knew the danger of wit, and how +the sharp blade cuts the shoots of the sapling. He had thought that +Edward was veritable tough oak, and had hitherto encouraged his light +play with the weapon. + +It became a question with him now, whether Wit and Ambition may dwell +together harmoniously in a young man: whether they will not give such +manifestation of their social habits as two robins shut in a cage +will do: of which pretty birds one will presently be discovered with a +slightly ruffled bosom amid the feathers of his defunct associate. + +Thus painfully revolving matters of fact and feeling, Sir William +cantered, and, like a cropped billow blown against by the wind, drew up +in front of Mrs. Lovell, and entered into conversation with that lady, +for the fine needles of whose brain he had the perfect deference of an +experienced senior. She, however, did not give him comfort. She informed +him that something was wrong with Edward; she could not tell what. She +spoke of him languidly, as if his letters contained wearisome trifling. + +"He strains to be Frenchy," she said. "It may be a good compliment for +them to receive: it's a bad one for him to pay." + +"Alcibiades is not the best of models," murmured Sir William. "He +doesn't mention Miss Gosling." + +"Oh dear, yes. I have a French acrostic on her name." + +"An acrostic!" + +A more contemptible form of mental exercise was not to be found, +according to Sir William's judgement. + +"An acrostic!" he made it guttural. "Well!" + +"He writes word that he hears Moliere every other night. That can't harm +him. His reading is principally Memoirs, which I think I have heard you +call 'The backstairs of history.' We are dull here, and I should not +imagine it to be a healthy place to dwell in, if the absence of friends +and the presence of sunshine conspire to dullness. Algy, of course, is +deep in accounts to-day?" + +Sir William remarked that he had not seen the young man at the office, +and had not looked for him; but the mention of Algernon brought +something to his mind, and he said,-- + +"I hear he is continually sending messengers from the office to you +during the day. You rule him with a rod of iron. Make him discontinue +that practice. I hear that he despatched our old porter to you yesterday +with a letter marked 'urgent.'" + +Mrs. Lovell laughed pleadingly for Algernon. + +"No; he shall not do it again. It occurred yesterday, and on no other +occasion that I am aware of. He presumes that I am as excited as he is +himself about the race--" + +The lady bowed to a passing cavalier; a smarting blush dyed her face. + +"He bets, does he!" said Sir William. "A young man, whose income, at the +extreme limit, is two hundred pounds a year." + +"May not the smallness of the amount in some degree account for the +betting?" she asked whimsically. "You know, I bet a little--just a +little. If I have but a small sum, I already regard it as a stake; I am +tempted to bid it fly." + +"In his case, such conduct puts him on the high road to rascality," said +Sir William severely. "He is doing no good." + +"Then the squire is answerable for such conduct, I think." + +"You presume to say that he is so because he allows his son very little +money to squander? How many young men have to contain their expenses +within two hundred pounds a year!" + +"Not sons of squires and nephews of baronets," said Mrs. Lovell. "Adieu! +I think I see a carrier-pigeon flying overhead, and, as you may suppose, +I am all anxiety." + +Sir William nodded to her. He disliked certain of her ways; but they +were transparent bits of audacity and restlessness pertaining to a +youthful widow, full of natural dash; and she was so sweetly mistress of +herself in all she did, that he never supposed her to be needing caution +against excesses. Old gentlemen have their pets, and Mrs. Lovell was a +pet of Sir William's. + +She was on the present occasion quite mistress of herself, though the +stake was large. She was mistress of herself when Lord Suckling, who had +driven from the Downs and brushed all save a spot of white dust out of +his baby moustache to make himself presentable, rode up to her to say +that the horse Templemore was beaten, and that his sagacity in always +betting against favourites would, in this last instance, transfer a "pot +of money" from alien pockets to his own. + +"Algy Blancove's in for five hundred to me," he said; adding with +energy, "I hope you haven't lost? No, don't go and dash my jolly feeling +by saying you have. It was a fine heat; neck-and-neck past the Stand. +Have you?" + +"A little," she confessed. "It's a failing of mine to like favourites. +I'm sorry for Algy." + +"I'm afraid he's awfully hit." + +"What makes you think so?" + +"He took it so awfully cool." + +"That may mean the reverse." + +"It don't with him. But, Mrs. Lovell, do tell me you haven't lost. +Not much, is it? Because, I know there's no guessing, when you are +concerned." + +The lady trifled with her bridle-rein. + +"I really can't tell you yet. I may have lost. I haven't won. I'm not +cool-blooded enough to bet against favourites. Addio, son of Fortune! +I'm at the Opera to-night." + +As she turned her horse from Lord Suckling, the cavalier who had saluted +her when she was with Sir William passed again. She made a signal to her +groom, and sent the man flying in pursuit of him, while she turned and +cantered. She was soon overtaken. + +"Madam, you have done me the honour." + +"I wish to know why it is your pleasure to avoid me, Major Waring?" + +"In this place?" + +"Wherever we may chance to meet." + +"I must protest." + +"Do not. The thing is evident." + +They rode together silently. + +Her face was toward the sunset. The light smote her yellow hair, and +struck out her grave and offended look, as in a picture. + +"To be condemned without a hearing!" she said. "The most dastardly +criminal gets that. Is it imagined that I have no common feelings? Is it +manly to follow me with studied insult? I can bear the hatred of fools. +Contempt I have not deserved. Dead! I should be dead, if my conscience +had once reproached me. I am a mark for slander, and brave men should +beware of herding with despicable slanderers." + +She spoke, gazing frontward all the while. The pace she maintained in no +degree impeded the concentrated passion of her utterance. + +But it was a more difficult task for him, going at that pace, to make +explanations, and she was exquisitely fair to behold! The falling beams +touched her with a mellow sweetness that kindled bleeding memories. + +"If I defend myself?" he said. + +"No. All I ask is that you should Accuse me. Let me know what I have +done--done, that I have not been bitterly punished for? What is it? what +is it? Why do you inflict a torture on me whenever you see me? Not +by word, not by look. You are too subtle in your cruelty to give me +anything I can grasp. You know how you wound me. And I am alone." + +"That is supposed to account for my behaviour?" + +She turned her face to him. "Oh, Major blaring! say nothing unworthy of +yourself. That would be a new pain to me." + +He bowed. In spite of a prepossessing anger, some little softness crept +through his heart. + +"You may conceive that I have dropped my pride," she said. "That is the +case, or my pride is of a better sort." + +"Madam, I fully hope and trust," said he. + +"And believe," she added, twisting his words to the ironic tongue. "You +certainly must believe that my pride has sunk low. Did I ever speak to +you in this manner before?" + +"Not in this manner, I can attest." + +"Did I speak at all, when I was hurt?" She betrayed that he had planted +a fresh sting. + +"If my recollection serves me," said he, "your self-command was +remarkable." + +Mrs. Lovell slackened her pace. + +"Your recollection serves you too well, Major Waring. I was a girl. You +judged the acts of a woman. I was a girl, and you chose to put your own +interpretation on whatever I did. You scourged me before the whole army. +Was not that enough? I mean, enough for you? For me, perhaps not, for I +have suffered since, and may have been set apart to suffer. I saw you in +that little church at Warbeach; I met you in the lanes; I met you on the +steamer; on the railway platform; at the review. Everywhere you kept +up the look of my judge. You! and I have been 'Margaret' to you. Major +Waring, how many a woman in my place would attribute your relentless +condemnation of her to injured vanity or vengeance? In those days I +trifled with everybody. I played with fire. I was ignorant of life. +I was true to my husband; and because I was true, and because I was +ignorant, I was plunged into tragedies I never suspected. This is to be +what you call a coquette. Stamping a name saves thinking. Could I +read my husband's temper? Would not a coquette have played her cards +differently? There never was need for me to push my husband to a +contest. I never had the power to restrain him. Now I am wiser; and now +is too late; and now you sit in judgement on me. Why? It is not fair; it +is unkind." + +Tears were in her voice, though not in her eyes. + +Major Waring tried to study her with the coolness of a man who has +learnt to doubt the truth of women; but he had once yearned in a young +man's frenzy of love to take that delicate shape in his arms, and he was +not proof against the sedate sweet face and keen sad ring of the voice. + +He spoke earnestly. + +"You honour me by caring for my opinion. The past is buried. I have some +forgiveness to ask. Much, when I think of it--very much. I did you a +public wrong. From a man to a woman it was unpardonable. It is a blot on +my career. I beg you humbly to believe that I repent it." + +The sun was flaming with great wings red among the vapours; and in the +recollection of the two, as they rode onward facing it, arose that day +of the forlorn charge of English horse in the Indian jungle, the thunder +and the dust, the fire and the dense knot of the struggle. And like +a ghost sweeping across her eyeballs, Mrs. Lovell beheld, part in his +English freshness, part ensanguined, the image of the gallant boy who +had ridden to perish at the spur of her mad whim. She forgot all present +surroundings. + +"Percy!" she said. + +"Madam?" + +"Percy!" + +"Margaret?" + +"Oh, what an undying day, Percy!" + +And then she was speechless. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +The Park had been empty, but the opera-house was full; and in the +brilliance of the lights and divine soaring of the music, the genius of +Champagne luncheons discussed the fate of the horse Templemore; some, as +a matter of remote history; some, as another delusion in horse-flesh +the greater number, however, with a determination to stand by the beaten +favourite, though he had fallen, and proclaim him the best of racers +and an animal foully mishandled on the course. There were whispers, +and hints, and assertions; now implicating the jockey, now the owner +of Templemore. The Manchester party, and the Yorkshire party, and their +diverse villanous tricks, came under review. Several offered to back +Templemore at double the money they had lost, against the winner. A +favourite on whom money has been staked, not only has friends, but in +adversity he is still believed in; nor could it well be otherwise, for +the money, no doubt, stands for faith, or it would never have been put +up to the risks of a forfeit. + +Foremost and wildest among the excited young men who animated the +stalls, and rushed about the lobby, was Algernon. He was the genius of +Champagne luncheon incarnate. On him devolves, for a time, the movement +of this story, and we shall do well to contemplate him, though he may +seem possibly to be worthless. What is worthless, if it be well +looked at? Nay, the most worthless creatures are most serviceable for +examination, when the microscope is applied to them, as a simple study +of human mechanism. This youth is one of great Nature's tom-fools: +an elegant young gentleman outwardly, of the very large class who are +simply the engines of their appetites, and, to the philosophic eye, +still run wild in woods, as did the primitive nobleman that made a noise +in the earlier world. + +Algernon had this day lost ten times more than he could hope to be in a +position to pay within ten years, at the least, if his father continued +to argue the matter against Providence, and live. He had lost, and might +speedily expect to be posted in all good betting circles as something +not pleasantly odoriferous for circles where there is no betting. +Nevertheless, the youth was surcharged with gaiety. The soul of mingled +chicken and wine illumined his cheeks and eyes. He laughed and joked +about the horse--his horse, as he called Templemore--and meeting Lord +Suckling, won five sovereigns of him by betting that the colours of one +of the beaten horses, Benloo, were distinguished by a chocolate bar. The +bet was referred to a dignified umpire, who, a Frenchman, drew his right +hand down an imperial tuft of hair dependent from his chin, and gave a +decision in Algernon's favour. Lord Suckling paid the money on the spot, +and Algernon pocketed it exulting. He had the idea that it was the first +start in his making head against the flood. The next instant he could +have pitched himself upon the floor and bellowed. For, a soul of chicken +and wine, lightly elated, is easily dashed; and if he had but said to +Lord Suckling that, it might as well be deferred, the thing would have +become a precedent, and his own debt might have been held back. He went +on saying, as he rushed forward alone: "Never mind, Suckling. Oh, hang +it! put it in your pocket;" and the imperative necessity for talking, +and fancying what was adverse to fact, enabled him to feel for a time +as if he had really acted according to the prompting of his wisdom. It +amazed him to see people sitting and listening. The more he tried it, +the more unendurable it became. Those sitters and loungers appeared like +absurd petrifactions to him. If he abstained from activity for ever so +short a term, he was tormented by a sense of emptiness; and, as he said +to himself, a man who has eaten a chicken, and part of a game-pie, and +drunk thereto Champagne all day, until the popping of the corks has +become as familiar as minute-guns, he can hardly be empty. It +was peculiar. He stood, just for the sake of investigating the +circumstance--it was so extraordinary. The music rose in a triumphant +swell. And now he was sure that he was not to be blamed for thinking +this form of entertainment detestable. How could people pretend to +like it? "Upon my honour!" he said aloud. The hypocritical nonsense of +pretending to like opera-music disgusted him. + +"Where is it, Algy?" a friend of his and Suckling's asked, with a +languid laugh. + +"Where's what?" + +"Your honour." + +"My honour? Do you doubt my honour?" Algernon stared defiantly at the +inoffensive little fellow. + +"Not in the slightest. Very sorry to, seeing that I have you down in my +book." + +"Latters? Ah, yes," said Algernon, musically, and letting his under-lip +hang that he might restrain the impulse to bite it. "Fifty, or a +hundred, is it? I lost my book on the Downs." + +"Fifty; but wait till settling-day, my good fellow, and don't fiddle at +your pockets as if I'd been touching you up for the money. Come and sup +with me to-night." + +Algernon muttered a queer reply in a good-tempered tone, and escaped +him. + +He was sobered by that naming of settling-day. He could now listen to +the music with attention, if not with satisfaction. As he did so, the +head of drowned memory rose slowly up through the wine-bubbles in his +brain, and he flung out a far thought for relief: "How, if I were to +leave England with that dark girl Rhoda at Wrexby, marry her like a man, +and live a wild ramping life in the colonies?" A curtain closed on the +prospect, but if memory was resolved that it would not be drowned, he +had at any rate dosed it with something fresh to occupy its digestion. + +His opera-glass had been scouring the house for a sight of Mrs. Lovell, +and at last she appeared in Lord Elling's box. + +"I can give you two minutes, Algy," she said, as he entered and found +her opportunely alone. "We have lost, I hear. No interjection, pray. Let +it be, fors l'honneur, with us. Come to me to-morrow. You have tossed +trinkets into my lap. They were marks of esteem, my cousin. Take them in +the same light back from me. Turn them into money, and pay what is most +pressing. Then go to Lord Suckling. He is a good boy, and won't distress +you; but you must speak openly to him at once. Perhaps he will help you. +I will do my best, though whether I can, I have yet to learn." + +"Dear Mrs. Lovell!" Algernon burst out, and the corners of his mouth +played nervously. + +He liked her kindness, and he was wroth at the projected return of his +gifts. A man's gifts are an exhibition of the royalty of his soul, and +they are the last things which should be mentioned to him as matters to +be blotted out when he is struggling against ruin. The lady had blunt +insight just then. She attributed his emotion to gratitude. + +"The door may be opened at any minute," she warned him. + +"It's not about myself," he said; "it's you. I believe I tempted you to +back the beastly horse. And he would have won--a fair race, and he would +have won easy. He was winning. He passed the stand a head ahead. He did +win. It's a scandal to the Turf. There's an end of racing in England. +It's up. They've done for themselves to-day. There's a gang. It's in the +hands of confederates." + +"Think so, if it consoles you," said Mrs. Lovell, "don't mention your +thoughts, that is all." + +"I do think so. Why should we submit to a robbery? It's a sold affair. +That Frenchman, Baron Vistocq, says we can't lift our heads after it." + +"He conducts himself with decency, I hope." + +"Why, he's won!" + +"Imitate him." + +Mrs. Lovell scanned the stalls. + +"Always imitate the behaviour of the winners when you lose," she +resumed. "To speak of other things: I have had no letter of late from +Edward. He should be anxious to return. I went this morning to see that +unhappy girl. She consents." + +"Poor creature," murmured Algernon; and added "Everybody wants money." + +"She decides wisely; for it is the best she can do. She deserves pity, +for she has been basely used." + +"Poor old Ned didn't mean," Algernon began pleading on his cousin's +behalf, when Mrs. Lovell's scornful eye checked the feeble attempt. + +"I am a woman, and, in certain cases, I side with my sex." + +"Wasn't it for you?" + +"That he betrayed her? If that were so, I should be sitting in ashes." + +Algernon's look plainly declared that he thought her a mystery. + +The simplicity of his bewilderment made her smile. + +"I think your colonies are the right place for you, Algy, if you can get +an appointment; which must be managed by-and-by. Call on me to-morrow, +as I said." + +Algernon signified positively that he would not, and doggedly refused to +explain why. + +"Then I will call on you," said Mrs. Lovell. + +He was going to say something angrily, when Mrs. Lovell checked him: +"Hush! she is singing." + +Algernon listened to the prima donna in loathing; he had so much to +inquire about, and so much to relate: such a desire to torment and be +comforted! + +Before he could utter a word further, the door opened, and Major Waring +appeared, and he beheld Mrs. Lovell blush strangely. Soon after, Lord +Elling came in, and spoke the ordinary sentence or two concerning the +day's topic--the horse Templemore. Algernon quitted the box. His ears +were surcharged with sound entirely foreign to his emotions, and he +strolled out of the house and off to his dingy chambers, now tenanted by +himself alone, and there faced the sealed letters addressed to Edward, +which had, by order, not been forwarded. No less than six were in +Dahlia's handwriting. He had imagination sufficient to conceive the +lamentations they contained, and the reproach they were to his own +subserviency in not sending them. He looked at the postmarks. The last +one was dated two months back. + +"How can she have cared a hang for Ned, if she's ready to go and marry a +yokel, for the sake of a home and respectability?" he thought, rather in +scorn; and, having established this contemptuous opinion of one of the +sex, he felt justified in despising all. "Just like women! They--no! +Peggy Lovell isn't. She's a trump card, and she's a coquette--can't +help being one. It's in the blood. I never saw her look so confoundedly +lovely as when that fellow came into the box. One up, one down. Ned's +away, and it's this fellow's turn. Why the deuce does she always +think I'm a boy? or else, she pretends to. But I must give my mind to +business." + +He drew forth the betting-book which his lively fancy had lost on the +Downs. Prompted by an afterthought, he went to the letter-box, saying,-- + +"Who knows? Wait till the day's ended before you curse your luck." + +There was a foreign letter in it from Edward, addressed to him, and +another addressed to "Mr. Blancuv," that he tore open and read with +disgusted laughter. It was signed "N. Sedgett." Algernon read it twice +over, for the enjoyment of his critical detection of the vile grammar, +with many "Oh! by Joves!" and a concluding, "This is a curiosity!" + +It was a countryman's letter, ill-spelt, involved, and of a character +to give Algernon a fine scholarly sense of superiority altogether novel. +Everybody abused Algernon for his abuse of common Queen's English in his +epistles: but here was a letter in comparison with which his own were +doctorial, and accordingly he fell upon it with an acrimonious rapture +of pedantry known to dull wits that have by extraordinary hazard pounced +on a duller. + +"You're 'willing to forgeit and forgeive,' are you, you dog!" he +exclaimed, half dancing. "You'd forge anything, you rascal, if you could +disguise your hand--that, I don't doubt. You 'expeck the thousand pound +to be paid down the day of my marriage,' do you, you impudent ruffian! +'acording to agremint.' What a mercenary vagabond this is!" + +Algernon reflected a minute. The money was to pass through his hands. He +compressed a desire to dispute with Sedgett that latter point about the +agreement, and opened Edward's letter. + +It contained an order on a firm of attorneys to sell out so much Bank +Stock and pay over one thousand pounds to Mr. A. Blancove. + +The beautiful concision of style in this document gave Algernon a +feeling of profound deference toward the law and its officers. + +"Now, that's the way to Write!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Accompanying this pleasant, pregnant bit of paper, possessed of such +admirable literary excellence, were the following flimsy lines from +Edward's self, to Algernon incomprehensible. + +As there is a man to be seen behind these lines in the dull unconscious +process of transformation from something very like a villain to +something by a few degrees more estimable, we may as well look at the +letter in full. + +It begins with a neat display of consideration for the person addressed, +common to letters that are dictated by overpowering egoism:-- + + "Dear Algy,--I hope you are working and attending regularly to + office business. Look to that and to your health at present. + Depend upon it, there is nothing like work. Fix your teeth in it. + Work is medicine. A truism! Truisms, whether they lie in the + depths of thought, or on the surface, are at any rate the pearls of + experience. + + "I am coming home. Let me know the instant this affair is over. I + can't tell why I wait here. I fall into lethargies. I write to no + one but to you. Your supposition that I am one of the hangers-on of + the coquette of her time, and that it is for her I am seeking to get + free, is conceived with your usual discrimination. For Margaret + Lovell? Do you imagine that I desire to be all my life kicking the + beam, weighed in capricious scales, appraised to the direct nicety, + petulantly taken up, probed for my weakest point, and then flung + into the grate like a child's toy? That's the fate of the several + asses who put on the long-eared Lovell-livery. + + "All women are the same. Know one, know all. Aware of this, and + too wise to let us study them successfully, Nature pretty language + this is for you, Algy! I can do nothing but write nonsense. I am + sick of life. I feel choked. After a month, Paris is sweet + biscuit. + + "I have sent you the order for the money. If it were two, or + twenty, thousand pounds, it would be the same to me. + + "I swear to heaven that my lowest cynical ideas of women, and the + loathing with which their simply animal vagaries inspires a + thoughtful man, are distanced and made to seem a benevolent + criticism, by the actualities of my experience. I say that you + cannot put faith in a woman. Even now, I do not--it's against + reason--I do not believe that she--this Dahlia--means to go through + with it. She is trying me. I have told her that she was my wife. + Her self-respect--everything that keeps a woman's head up--must have + induced her to think so. Why, she is not a fool! How can she mean + to give herself to an ignorant country donkey? She does not: mark + me. For her, who is a really--I may say, the most refined nature I + have ever met, to affect this, and think of deceiving me, does not + do credit to her wits--and she is not without her share. + + "I did once mean that she should be honourably allied to me. It's + comforting that the act is not the wife of the intention, or I + should now be yoked to a mere thing of the seasons and the hours--a + creature whose 'No' to-day is the 'Yes' of to-morrow. Women of this + cast are sure to end comfortably for themselves, they are so + obedient to the whips of Providence. + + "But I tell you candidly, Algy, I believe she's pushing me, that she + may see how far I will let her go. I do not permit her to play at + this game with me." The difficulty is in teaching women that we are + not constituted as they are, and that we are wilfully earnest, while + they, who never can be so save under compulsion, carry it on with + us, expecting that at a certain crisis a curtain will drop, and we + shall take a deep breath, join hands, and exclaim, 'What an exciting + play!'--weeping luxuriously. The actualities of life must be + branded on their backs--you can't get their brains to apprehend + them. + + "Poor things! they need pity. I am ready to confess I did not keep + my promise to her. I am very sorry she has been ill. Of course, + having no brains--nothing but sensations wherewith to combat every + new revolution of fortune, she can't but fall ill. But I think of + her; and I wish to God I did not. She is going to enter her own + sphere--though, mark me, it will turn out as I say, that, when it + comes to the crisis, there will be shrieks and astonishment that the + curtain doesn't fall and the whole resolve itself to what they call + a dream in our language, a farce. + + "I am astonished that there should be no letters for me. I can + understand her not writing at first; but apparently she cherishes + rancour. It is not like her. I can't help thinking there must be + one letter from her, and that you keep it back. I remember that I + told you when I left England I desired to have no letter forwarded + to me, but I have repeatedly asked you since if there was a letter, + and it appears to me that you have shuffled in your answer. I + merely wish to know if there is a letter; because I am at present + out in my study of her character. It seems monstrous that she + should never have written! Don't you view it in that light? To be + ready to break with me, without one good-bye!--it's gratifying, but + I am astonished; for so gentle and tender a creature, such as I knew + her, never existed to compare with her. Ce qui est bien la preuve + que je ne la connaissais pas! I thought I did, which was my error. + I have a fatal habit of trusting to my observation less than to my + divining wit; and La Rochefoucauld is right: 'on est quelquefois un + sot avec de l'esprit; mais on ne Pest jamais avec du jugement.' + Well! better be deceived in a character than doubt it. + + "This will soon be over. Then back to the dear old dusky chambers, + with the pick and the axe in the mine of law, till I strike a gold + vein, and follow it to the woolsack. I want peace. I begin to hate + pleading. I hope to meet Death full-wigged. By my troth, I will + look as grimly at him as he at me. Meantime, during a vacation, I + will give you holiday (or better, in the February days, if I can + spare time and Equity is dispensed without my aid), dine you, and + put you in the whirl of Paris. You deserve a holiday. Nunc est + bibendum! You shall sing it. Tell me what you think of her + behaviour. You are a judge of women. I think I am developing + nerves. In fact, work is what I need--a file to bite. And send me + also the name of this man who has made the bargain--who is to be her + husband. Give me a description of him. It is my duty to see that + he has principle; at least we're bound to investigate his character, + if it's really to go on. I wonder whether you will ever perceive + the comedy of, life. I doubt whether a man is happier when he does + perceive it. Perhaps the fact is, that he has by that time lost his + power of laughter; except in the case of here and there a very + tremendous philosopher. + + "I believe that we comic creatures suffer more than your tragic + personages. We, do you see, are always looking to be happy and + comfortable; but in a tragedy, the doomed wretches are + liver-complexioned from the opening act. Their laughter is the owl: + their broadest smile is twilight. All the menacing horrors of an + eclipse are ours, for we have a sun over us; but they are born in + shades, with the tuck of a curtain showing light, and little can be + taken from them; so that they find scarce any terrors in the + inevitable final stroke. No; the comedy is painfullest. You and I, + Algy, old bachelors, will earn the right just to chuckle. We will + take the point of view of science, be the stage carpenters, and let + the actors move on and off. By this, we shall learn to take a + certain pride in the machinery. To become stage carpenter, is to + attain to the highest rank within the reach of intellectual man. + But your own machinery must be sound, or you can't look after that + of the theatre. Don't over-tax thy stomach, O youth! + + "And now, farewell, my worthy ass! You have been thinking me one + through a fair half of this my letter, so I hasten to be in advance + of you, by calling you one. You are one: I likewise am one. We are + all one. The universal language is hee-haw, done in a grievous + yawn. + + "Yours, + + "Edward B. + + "P.S.--Don't fail to send a letter by the next post; then, go and + see her; write again exactly what she says, and let me know the + man's name. You will not lose a minute. Also, don't waste ink in + putting Mrs. Lovell's name to paper: I desire not to hear anything + of the woman." + +Algernon read this letter in a profound mystification, marvelling how it +could possibly be that Edward and Mrs. Lovell had quarrelled once more, +and without meeting. + +They had parted, he knew or supposed that he knew, under an engagement +to arrange the preliminaries of an alliance, when Edward should return +from France; in other words, when Edward had thrown grave-dust on a +naughty portion of his past; severing an unwise connection. Such had +certainly been Edward's view of the matter. But Mrs. Lovell had never +spoken to Algernon on that subject. She had spoken willingly and in deep +sympathy of Dahlia. She had visited her, pitied her, comforted her; and +Algernon remembered that she had looked very keen and pinched about +the mouth in alluding to Dahlia; but how she and Edward had managed to +arrive at another misunderstanding was a prodigious puzzle to him; and +why, if their engagement had snapped, each consented to let Dahlia's +marriage (which was evidently distasteful to both) go on to the +conclusion of the ceremony, he could not comprehend. There were, +however, so many things in the world that he could not comprehend, and +he had grown so accustomed, after an effort to master a difficulty, +to lean his head back upon downy ignorance, that he treated this +significant letter of Edward's like a tough lesson, and quietly put it +by, together with every recommendation it contained. For all that was +practical in it, it might just as well not have been written. + +The value of the letter lies in the exhibition it presents of a rather +mark-worthy young man, who has passed through the hands of a--(what I +must call her; and in doing so, I ask pardon of all the Jack Cades of +Letters, who, in the absence of a grammatical king and a government, +sit as lords upon the English tongue) a crucible woman. She may be +inexcusable herself; but you for you to be base, for you to be cowardly, +even to betray a weakness, though it be on her behalf,--though you can +plead that all you have done is for her, yea, was partly instigated by +her,--it will cause her to dismiss you with the inexorable contempt of +Nature, when she has tried one of her creatures and found him wanting. + +Margaret Lovell was of this description: a woman fashioned to do both +harm and good, and more of harm than of good; but never to sanction +a scheme of evil or blink at it in alliance with another: a woman, in +contact with whom you were soon resolved to your component elements. +Separated from a certain fascination that there was for her in Edward's +acerb wit, she saw that he was doing a dastardly thing in cold blood. We +need not examine their correspondence. In a few weeks she had contrived +to put a chasm between them as lovers. Had he remained in England, +boldly facing his own evil actions, she would have been subjugated, for +however keenly she might pierce to the true character of a man, the show +of an unflinching courage dominated her; but his departure, leaving all +the brutality to be done for him behind his back, filled this woman with +a cutting spleen. It is sufficient for some men to know that they are +seen through, in order to turn away in loathing from her whom they have +desired; and when they do thus turn away, they not uncommonly turn with +a rush of old affection to those who have generously trusted them in the +days past, and blindly thought them estimable beings. + +Algernon was by no means gifted to perceive whether this was the case +with his cousin in Paris. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +So long as the fool has his being in the world, he will be a part of +every history, nor can I keep him from his place in a narrative that is +made to revolve more or less upon its own wheels. Algernon went to +bed, completely forgetting Edward and his own misfortunes, under the +influence of the opiate of the order for one thousand pounds, to +be delivered to him upon application. The morning found him calmly +cheerful, until a little parcel was brought to his door, together with +a note from Mrs. Lovell, explaining that the parcel contained those +jewels, his precious gifts of what she had insultingly chosen to call +"esteem" for her. + +Algernon took it in his hand, and thought of flinging it through the +window; but as the window happened to be open, he checked the impulse, +and sent it with great force into a corner of the room: a perfectly +fool-like proceeding, for the fool is, after his fashion, prudent, and +will never, if he can help it, do himself thorough damage, that he may +learn by it and be wiser. + +"I never stand insult," he uttered, self-approvingly, and felt manlier. +"No; not even from you, ma'am," he apostrophized Mrs. Lovell's portrait, +that had no rival now upon the wall, and that gave him a sharp fight +for the preservation of his anger, so bewitching she was to see. Her not +sending up word that she wished him to come to her rendered his battle +easier. + +"It looks rather like a break between us," he said. "If so, you won't +find me so obedient to your caprices, Mrs. Margaret L.; though you are a +pretty woman, and know it. Smile away. I prefer a staunch, true sort of +a woman, after all. And the colonies it must be, I begin to suspect." +This set him conjuring before his eyes the image of Rhoda, until he +cried, "I'll be hanged if the girl doesn't haunt me!" and considered the +matter with some curiosity. + +He was quickly away, and across the square of Lincoln's Inn Fields to +the attorney's firm, where apparently his coming was expected, and he +was told that the money would be placed in his hands on the following +day. He then communicated with Edward, in the brief Caesarian tongue +of the telegraph: "All right. Stay. Ceremony arranged." After which, he +hailed a skimming cab, and pronouncing the word "Epsom," sank back in +it, and felt in his breast-pocket for his cigar-case, without casting +one glance of interest at the deep fit of cogitation the cabman had been +thrown into by the suddenness of the order. + +"Dash'd if it ain't the very thing I went and gone and dreamed last +night," said the cabman, as he made his dispositions to commence the +journey. + +Certain boys advised him to whip it away as hard as he could, and he +would come in the winner. + +"Where shall I grub, sir?" the cabman asked through the little door +above, to get some knowledge of the quality of his fare. + +"Eat your 'grub' on the course," said Algernon. + +"Ne'er a hamper to take up nowheres, is there, sir?" + +"Do you like the sight of one?" + +"Well, it ain't what I object to." + +"Then go fast, my man, and you will soon see plenty." + +"If you took to chaffin' a bit later in the day, it'd impart more +confidence to my bosom," said the cabman; but this he said to that bosom +alone. + +"Ain't no particular colours you'd like me to wear, is there? I'll get +a rosette, if you like, sir, and enter in triumph. Gives ye something to +stand by. That's always my remark, founded on observation." + +"Go to the deuce! Drive on," Algernon sang out. "Red, yellow, and +green." + +"Lobster, ale, and salad!" said the cabman, flicking his whip; "and good +colours too. Tenpenny Nail's the horse. He's the colours I stick to." +And off he drove, envied of London urchins, as mortals would have envied +a charioteer driving visibly for Olympus. + +Algernon crossed his arms, with the frown of one looking all inward. + +At school this youth had hated sums. All arithmetical difficulties had +confused and sickened him. But now he worked with indefatigable industry +on an imaginary slate; put his postulate, counted probabilities, allowed +for chances, added, deducted, multiplied, and unknowingly performed +algebraic feats, till his brows were stiff with frowning, and his brain +craved for stimulant. + +This necessity sent his hand to his purse, for the calling of the +cab had not been a premeditated matter. He discovered therein some +half-crowns and a sixpence, the latter of which he tossed in contempt at +some boys who were cheering the vehicles on their gallant career. + +There was something desperately amusing to him in the thought that he +had not even money enough to pay the cabman, or provide for a repast. He +rollicked in his present poverty. Yesterday he had run down with a party +of young guardsmen in a very royal manner; and yesterday he had lost. +To-day he journeyed to the course poorer than many of the beggars he +would find there; and by a natural deduction, to-day he was to win. + +He whistled mad waltzes to the measure of the wheels. He believed that +he had a star. He pitched his half-crowns to the turnpike-men, and +sought to propitiate Fortune by displaying a signal indifference to +small change; in which method of courting her he was perfectly serious. +He absolutely rejected coppers. They "crossed his luck." Nor can we say +that he is not an authority on this point: the Goddess certainly does +not deal in coppers. + +Anxious efforts at recollection perplexed him. He could not remember +whether he had "turned his money" on looking at the last new moon. When +had he seen the last new moon, and where? A cloud obscured it; he had +forgotten. He consoled himself by cursing superstition. Tenpenny +Nail was to gain the day in spite of fortune. Algernon said this, and +entrenched his fluttering spirit behind common sense, but he found it a +cold corner. The longing for Champagne stimulant increased in fervour. +Arithmetic languished. + +As he was going up the hill, the wheels were still for a moment, and +hearing "Tenpenny Nail" shouted, he put forth his head, and asked what +the cry was, concerning that horse. + +"Gone lame," was the answer. + +It hit the centre of his nerves, without reaching his comprehension, and +all Englishmen being equal on Epsom Downs, his stare at the man who had +spoken, and his sickly colour, exposed him to pungent remarks. + +"Hullos! here's another Ninepenny--a penny short!" and similar specimens +of Epsom wit, encouraged by the winks and retorts of his driver, +surrounded him; but it was empty clamour outside. A rage of emotions +drowned every idea in his head, and when he got one clear from the mass, +it took the form of a bitter sneer at Providence, for cutting off his +last chance of reforming his conduct and becoming good. What would he +not have accomplished, that was brilliant, and beautiful, and soothing, +but for this dead set against him! + +It was clear that Providence cared "not a rap," whether he won or +lost--was good or bad. One might just as well be a heathen; why not? + +He jumped out of the cab (tearing his coat in the acts minor evil, +but "all of a piece," as he said), and made his way to the Ring. The +bee-swarm was thick as ever on the golden bough. Algernon heard no +curses, and began to nourish hope again, as he advanced. He began to +hope wildly that this rumour about the horse was a falsity, for there +was no commotion, no one declaiming. + +He pushed to enter the roaring circle, which the demand for an +entrance-fee warned him was a privilege, and he stammered, and forgot +the gentlemanly coolness commonly distinguishing him, under one of the +acuter twinges of his veteran complaint of impecuniosity. And then the +cabman made himself heard: a civil cabman, but without directions, and +uncertain of his dinner and his pay, tolerably hot, also, from threading +a crowd after a deaf gentleman. His half-injured look restored to +Algernon his self-possession. + +"Ah! there you are:--scurry away and fetch my purse out of the bottom of +the cab. I've dropped it." + +On this errand, the confiding cabman retired. Holding to a gentleman's +purse is even securer than holding to a gentleman. + +While Algernon was working his forefinger in his waistcoat-pocket +reflectively, a man at his elbow said, with a show of familiar +deference,-- + +"If it's any convenience to you, sir," and showed the rim of a gold +piece 'twixt finger and thumb. + +"All right," Algernon replied readily, and felt that he was known, but +tried to keep his eyes from looking at the man's face; which was a vain +effort. He took the money, nodded curtly, and passed in. + +Once through the barrier, he had no time to be ashamed. He was in the +atmosphere of challenges. He heard voices, and saw men whom not to +challenge, or try a result with, was to acknowledge oneself mean, and to +abandon the manliness of life. Algernon's betting-book was soon out and +in operation. While thus engaged, he beheld faces passing and repassing +that were the promise of luncheon and a loan; and so comfortable was the +assurance thereof to him, that he laid the thought of it aside, quite in +the background, and went on betting with an easy mind. + +Small, senseless bets, they merely occupied him; and winning them was +really less satisfactory than losing, which, at all events, had the +merit of adding to the bulk of his accusation against the ruling Powers +unseen. + +Algernon was too savage for betting when the great race was run. He +refused both at taunts and cajoleries; but Lord Suckling coming by, said +"Name your horse," and, caught unawares, Algernon named Little John, one +of the ruck, at a hazard. Lord Suckling gave him fair odds, asking: "In +tens?--fifties?" + +"Silver," shrugged Algernon, implacable toward Fortune; and the kindly +young nobleman nodded, and made allowance for his ill-temper and want of +spirit, knowing the stake he had laid on the favourite. + +Little John startled the field by coming in first at a canter. + +"Men have committed suicide for less than this" said Algernon within +his lips, and a modest expression of submission to fate settled on his +countenance. He stuck to the Ring till he was haggard with fatigue. His +whole nature cried out for Champagne, and now he burst away from that +devilish circle, looking about for Lord Suckling and a hamper. Food and +a frothing drink were all that he asked from Fortune. It seemed to him +that the concourse on the downs shifted in a restless way. + +"What's doing, I wonder?" he thought aloud. + +"Why, sir, the last race ain't generally fashionable," said his cabman, +appearing from behind his shoulder. "Don't you happen to be peckish, +sir?--'cause, luck or no luck, that's my case. I couldn't see, your +purse, nowheres." + +"Confound you! how you hang about me! What do you want?" Algernon cried; +and answered his own question, by speeding the cabman to a booth with +what money remained to him, and appointing a place of meeting for the +return. After which he glanced round furtively to make sure that he was +not in view of the man who had lent him the sovereign. It became evident +that the Downs were flowing back to London. + +He hurried along the lines of carriages, all getting into motion. The +ghastly conviction overtook him that he was left friendless, to starve. +Wherever he turned, he saw strangers and empty hampers, bottles, straw, +waste paper--the ruins of the feast: Fate's irony meantime besetting him +with beggars, who swallowed his imprecations as the earnest of coming +charity in such places. + +At last, he was brought almost to sigh that he might see the man who had +lent him the sovereign, and his wish was hardly formed, when Nicodemus +Sedgett approached, waving a hat encircled by preposterous wooden +figures, a trifle less lightly attired than the ladies of the ballet, +and as bold in the matter of leg as the female fashion of the period. + +Algernon eyed the lumpy-headed, heavy-browed rascal with what disgust he +had left in him, for one who came as an instrument of the Fates to help +him to some poor refreshment. Sedgett informed him that he had never had +such fun in his life. + +"Just 'fore matrimony," he communicated in a dull whisper, "a fellow +ought to see a bit o' the world, I says--don't you, sir? and this has +been rare sport, that it has! Did ye find your purse, sir? Never mind +'bout that ther' pound. I'll lend you another, if ye like. How sh'll it +be? Say the word." + +Algernon was meditating, apparently on a remote subject. He nodded +sharply. + +"Yes. Call at my chambers to-morrow." + +Another sovereign was transferred to him: but Sedgett would not be +shaken off. + +"I just wanted t' have a bit of a talk with you," he spoke low. + +"Hang it! I haven't eaten all day," snapped the irritable young +gentleman, fearful now of being seen in the rascal's company. + +"You come along to the jolliest booth--I'll show it to you," said +Sedgett, and lifted one leg in dancing attitude. "Come along, sir: the +jolliest booth I ever was in, dang me if it ain't! Ale and music--them's +my darlings!" the wretch vented his slang. "And I must have a talk with +you. I'll stick to you. I'm social when I'm jolly, that I be: and I +don't know a chap on these here downs. Here's the pint: Is all square? +Am I t' have the cash in cash counted down, I asks? And is it to be +before, or is it to be after, the ceremony? There! bang out! say, yes or +no." + +Algernon sent him to perdition with infinite heartiness, but he was dry, +dispirited, and weak, and he walked on, Sedgett accompanying him. He +entered a booth, and partook of ale and ham, feeling that he was in the +dregs of calamity. Though the ale did some service in reviving, it +did not cheer him, and he had a fit of moral objection to Sedgett's +discourse. + +Sedgett took his bluntness as a matter to be endured for the honour of +hob-a-nobbing with a gentleman. Several times he recurred to the theme +which he wanted, as he said, to have a talk upon. + +He related how he had courted the young woman, "bashful-like," and had +been so; for she was a splendid young woman; not so handsome now, as +she used to be when he had seen her in the winter: but her illness had +pulled her down and made her humble: they had cut her hair during the +fever, which had taken her pride clean out of her; and when he had put +the question to her on the evening of last Sunday, she had gone into a +sort of faint, and he walked away with her affirmative locked up in his +breast-pocket, and was resolved always to treat her well--which he swore +to. + +"Married, and got the money, and the lease o' my farm disposed of, I'm +off to Australia and leave old England behind me, and thank ye, mother, +thank ye! and we shan't meet again in a hurry. And what sort o' song I'm +to sing for 'England is my nation, ain't come across me yet. Australia's +such a precious big world; but that'll come easy in time. And there'll I +farm, and damn all you gentlemen, if you come anigh me." + +The eyes of the fellow were fierce as he uttered this; they were +rendered fierce by a peculiar blackish flush that came on his brows and +cheek-bones; otherwise, the yellow about the little brown dot in the +centre of the eyeball had not changed; but the look was unmistakably +savage, animal, and bad. He closed the lids on them, and gave a sort of +churlish smile immediately afterward. + +"Harmony's the game. You act fair, I act fair. I've kept to the +condition. She don't know anything of my whereabouts--res'dence, I mean; +and thinks I met you in her room for the first time. That's the truth, +Mr. Blancove. And thinks me a sheepish chap, and I'm that, when I'm +along wi' her. She can't make out how I come to call at her house and +know her first. Gives up guessing, I suppose, for she's quiet about it; +and I pitch her tales about Australia, and life out there. I've got her +to smile, once or twice. She'll turn her hand to making cheeses, never +you fear. Only, this I say. I must have the money. It's a thousand and a +bargain. No thousand, and no wife for me. Not that I don't stand by the +agreement. I'm solid." + +Algernon had no power of encountering a human eye steadily, or he would +have shown the man with a look how repulsive he was to a gentleman. His +sensations grew remorseful, as if he were guilty of handing a victim to +the wretch. + +But the woman followed her own inclination, did she not? There was no +compulsion: she accepted this man. And if she could do that, pity was +wasted on her! + +So thought he: and so the world would think of the poor forlorn soul +striving to expiate her fault, that her father and sister might be at +peace, without shame. + +Algernon signified to Sedgett that the agreement was fixed and +irrevocable on his part. + +Sedgett gulped some ale. + +"Hands on it," he said, and laid his huge hand open across the table. + +This was too much. + +"My word must satisfy you," said Algernon, rising. + +"So it shall. So it do," returned Sedgett, rising with him. "Will you +give it in writing?" + +"I won't." + +"That's blunt. Will you come and have a look at a sparring-match in +yond' brown booth, sir?" + +"I am going back to London." + +"London and the theayter that's the fun, now, ain't it!" Sedgett +laughed. + +Algernon discerned his cabman and the conveyance ready, and beckoned +him. + +"Perhaps, sir," said Sedgett, "if I might make so bold--I don't want to +speak o' them sovereigns--but I've got to get back too, and cash is run +low. D' ye mind, sir? Are you kind-hearted?" + +A constitutional habit of servility to his creditor when present before +him signalized Algernon. He detested the man, but his feebleness was +seized by the latter question, and he fancied he might, on the road to +London, convey to Sedgett's mind that it would be well to split that +thousand, as he had previously devised. + +"Jump in," he said. + +When Sedgett was seated, Algernon would have been glad to walk the +distance to London to escape from the unwholesome proximity. He took the +vacant place, in horror of it. The man had hitherto appeared respectful; +and in Dahlia's presence he had seemed a gentle big fellow with a +reverent, affectionate heart. Sedgett rallied him. + +"You've had bad luck--that's wrote on your hatband. Now, if you was a +woman, I'd say, tak' and go and have a peroose o' your Bible. That's +what my young woman does; and by George! it's just like medicine to +her--that 'tis! I've read out to her till I could ha' swallowed two +quart o' beer at a gulp--I was that mortal thirsty. It don't somehow +seem to improve men. It didn't do me no good. There was I, cursin' at +the bother, down in my boots, like, and she with her hands in a knot, +staring the fire out o' count'nance. They're weak, poor sort o' things." + +The intolerable talk of the ruffian prompted Algernon to cry out, for +relief,-- + +"A scoundrel like you must be past any good to be got from reading his +Bible." + +Sedgett turned his dull brown eyes on him, the thick and hateful flush +of evil blood informing them with detestable malignity. + +"Come; you be civil, if you're going to be my companion," he said. "I +don't like bad words; they don't go down my windpipe. 'Scoundrel 's +a name I've got a retort for, and if it hadn't been you, and you a +gentleman, you'd have had it spanking hot from the end o' my fist. +Perhaps you don't know what sort of a arm I've got? Just you feel that +ther' muscle." + +He doubled his arm, the knuckles of the fist toward Algernon's face. + +"Down with it, you dog!" cried Algernon, crushing his hat as he started +up. + +"It'll come on your nose, if I downs with it, my lord," said Sedgett. +"You've what they Londoners calls 'bonneted yourself.'" + +He pulled Algernon by the coat-tail into his seat. + +"Stop!" Algernon shouted to the cabman. + +"Drive ahead!" roared Sedgett. + +This signal of a dissension was heard along the main street of Epsom, +and re-awakened the flagging hilarity of the road. + +Algernon shrieked his commands; Sedgett thundered his. They tussled, +and each having inflicted an unpleasant squeeze on the other, they came +apart by mutual consent, and exchanged half-length blows. Overhead, the +cabman--not merely a cabman, but an individual--flicked the flanks of +his horse, and cocked his eye and head in answer to gesticulations from +shop-doors and pavement. + +"Let 'em fight it out, I'm impartial," he remarked; and having lifted +his little observing door, and given one glance, parrot-wise, below, +he shut away the troubled prospect of those mortals, and drove along +benignly. + +Epsom permitted it; but Ewell contained a sturdy citizen, who, smoking +his pipe under his eaves, contemplative of passers-by, saw strife +rushing on like a meteor. He raised the waxed end of his pipe, and with +an authoritative motion of his head at the same time, pointed out the +case to a man in a donkey-cart, who looked behind, saw pugnacity upon +wheels, and manoeuvred a docile and wonderfully pretty-stepping little +donkey in such a manner that the cabman was fain to pull up. + +The combatants jumped into the road. + +"That's right, gentlemen; I don't want to spile sport," said the +donkey's man. "O' course you ends your Epsom-day with spirit." + +"There's sunset on their faces," said the cabman. "Would you try a +by-lane, gentlemen?" + +But now the donkey's man had inspected the figures of the antagonistic +couple. + +"Taint fair play," he said to Sedgett. "You leave that gentleman alone, +you, sir?" + +The man with the pipe came up. + +"No fighting," he observed. "We ain't going to have our roads disgraced. +It shan't be said Englishmen don't know how to enjoy themselves without +getting drunk and disorderly. You drop your fists." + +The separation had to be accomplished by violence, for Algernon's blood +was up. + +A crowd was not long in collecting, which caused a stoppage of vehicles +of every description. + +A gentleman leaned from an open carriage to look at the fray critically, +and his companion stretching his neck to do likewise, "Sedgett!" burst +from his lips involuntarily. + +The pair of original disputants (for there were many by this time) +turned their heads simultaneously toward the carriage. + +"Will you come on?" Sedgett roared, but whether to Algernon, or to one +of the gentlemen, or one of the crowd, was indefinite. None responding, +he shook with ox-like wrath, pushed among shoulders, and plunged back to +his seat, making the cabman above bound and sway, and the cab-horse to +start and antic. + +Greatly to the amazement of the spectators, the manifest gentleman (by +comparison) who had recently been at a pummelling match with him, and +bore the stains of it, hung his head, stepped on the cab, and suffered +himself to be driven away. + +"Sort of a 'man-and-wife' quarrel," was the donkey's man's comment. +"There's something as corks 'em up, and something uncorks 'em; but what +that something is, I ain't, nor you ain't, man enough to inform the +company." + +He rubbed his little donkey's nose affectionately. + +"Any gentleman open to a bet I don't overtake that ere Hansom within +three miles o' Ewell?" he asked, as he took the rein. + +But his little donkey's quality was famous in the neighbourhood. + +"Come on, then," he said; "and show what you can do, without emilation, +Master Tom." + +Away the little donkey trotted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Those two in the open carriage, one of whom had called out Sedgett's +name, were Robert and Major Waring. When the cab had flown by, they fell +back into their seats, and smoked; the original stipulation for the day +having been that no harassing matter should be spoken of till nightfall. + +True to this, Robert tried to think hard on the scene of his recent +enjoyment. Horses were to him what music is to a poet, and the glory +of the Races he had witnessed was still quick in heart, and partly +counteracted his astonishment at the sight of his old village enemy in +company with Algernon Blancove. + +It was not astonishing at all to him that they should have quarrelled +and come to blows; for he knew Sedgett well, and the imperative +necessity for fighting him, if only to preserve a man's self-respect and +the fair division of peace, when once he had been allowed to get upon +terms sufficiently close to assert his black nature; but how had it come +about? How was it that a gentleman could consent to appear publicly +with such a fellow? He decided that it meant something, and something +ominous--but what? Whom could it affect? Was Algernon Blancove such a +poor creature that, feeling himself bound by certain dark dealings with +Sedgett to keep him quiet, he permitted the bullying dog to hang to his +coat-tail? It seemed improbable that any young gentleman should be so +weak, but it might be the case; and "if so," thought Robert, "and I let +him know I bear him no ill-will for setting Sedgett upon me, I may be +doing him a service." + +He remembered with pain Algernon's glance of savage humiliation upward, +just before he turned to follow Sedgett into the cab; and considered +that he ought in kindness to see him and make him comfortable by +apologizing, as if he himself had no complaint to make. + +He resolved to do it when the opportunity should come. Meantime, what on +earth brought them together? + +"How white the hedges are!" he said. + +"There's a good deal of dust," Major Waring replied. + +"I wasn't aware that cabs came to the races." + +"They do, you see." + +Robert perceived that Percy meant to fool him if he attempted a breach +of the bond; but he longed so much for Percy's opinion of the strange +alliance between Sedgett and Algernon Blancove, that at any cost he was +compelled to say, "I can't get to the bottom of that." + +"That squabble in the road?" said Percy. "We shall see two or three more +before we reach home." + +"No. What's the meaning of a gentleman consorting with a blackguard?" +Robert persisted. + +"One or the other has discovered an assimilation, I suppose," Percy gave +answer. "That's an odd remark on returning from Epsom. Those who jump +into the same pond generally come out the same colour." + +Robert spoke low. + +"Has it anything to do with the poor girl, do you think?" + +"I told you I declined to think till we were home again. Confound it, +man, have you no idea of a holiday?" + +Robert puffed his tobacco-smoke. + +"Let's talk of Mrs. Lovell," he said. + +"That's not a holiday for me," Percy murmured but Robert's mind was too +preoccupied to observe the tone, and he asked,-- + +"Is she to be trusted to keep her word faithfully this time?" + +"Come," said Percy, "we haven't betted to-day. I'll bet you she will, if +you like. Will you bet against it?" + +"I won't. I can't nibble at anything. Betting's like drinking." + +"But you can take a glass of wine. This sort of bet is much the same. +However, don't; for you would lose." + +"There," said Robert; "I've heard of being angry with women for +fickleness, changeableness, and all sorts of other things. She's a +lady I couldn't understand being downright angry with, and here's the +reason--it ain't a matter of reason at all--she fascinates me. I do, +I declare, clean forget Rhoda; I forget the girl, if only I see Mrs. +Lovell at a distance. How's that? I'm not a fool, with nonsensical +fancies of any kind. I know what loving a woman is; and a man in my +position might be ass enough to--all sorts of things. It isn't that; +it's fascination. I'm afraid of her. If she talks to me, I feel +something like having gulped a bottle of wine. Some women you have a +respect for; some you like or you love; some you despise: with her, I +just feel I'm intoxicated." + +Major Waring eyed him steadily. He said: "I'll unriddle it, if I can, to +your comprehension. She admires you for what you are, and she lets you +see it; I dare say she's not unwilling that you should see it. She has a +worship for bravery: it's a deadly passion with her." + +Robert put up a protesting blush of modesty, as became him. "Then why, +if she does me the honour to think anything of me, does she turn against +me?" + +"Ah! now you go deeper. She is giving you what assistance she can; at +present: be thankful, if you can be satisfied with her present doings. +Perhaps I'll answer the other question by-and-by. Now we enter London, +and our day is over. How did you like it?" + +Robert's imagination rushed back to the downs. + +"The race was glorious. I wish we could go at that pace in life; I +should have a certainty of winning. How miserably dull the streets look; +and the people creep along--they creep, and seem to like it. Horseback's +my element." + +They drove up to Robert's lodgings, where, since the Winter, he had been +living austerely and recklessly; exiled by his sensitiveness from his +two homes, Warbeach and Wrexby; and seeking over London for Dahlia--a +pensioner on his friend's bounty; and therein had lain the degrading +misery to a man of his composition. Often had he thought of enlisting +again, and getting drafted to a foreign station. Nothing but the +consciousness that he was subsisting on money not his own would have +kept him from his vice. As it was, he had lived through the months +between Winter and Spring, like one threading his way through the +tortuous lengths of a cavern; never coming to the light, but coming +upon absurd mishaps in his effort to reach it. His adventures in London +partook somewhat of the character of those in Warbeach, minus the +victim; for whom two or three gentlemen in public thoroughfares had been +taken. These misdemeanours, in the face of civil society, Robert made no +mention of in his letters to Percy. + +But there was light now, though at first it gave but a faint glimmer, +in a lady's coloured envelope, lying on the sitting-room table. Robert +opened it hurriedly, and read it; seized Dahlia's address, with a brain +on fire, and said: + +"It's signed 'Margaret Lovell.' This time she calls me 'Dear Sir.'" + +"She could hardly do less," Percy remarked. + +"I know: but there is a change in her. There's a summer in her writing +now. She has kept her word, Percy. She's the dearest lady in the world. +I don't ask why she didn't help me before." + +"You acknowledge the policy of mild measures," said Major Waring. + +"She's the dearest lady in the world," Robert repeated. He checked his +enthusiasm. "Lord in heaven! what an evening I shall have." + +The thought of his approaching interview with Dahlia kept him dumb. + +As they were parting in the street, Major Waring said, "I will be here +at twelve. Let me tell you this, Robert: she is going to be married; say +nothing to dissuade her; it's the best she can do; take a manly view of +it. Good-bye." + +Robert was but slightly affected by the intelligence. His thoughts were +on Dahlia as he had first seen her, when in her bloom, and the sister +of his darling; now miserable; a thing trampled to earth! With him, pity +for a victim soon became lost in rage at the author of the wrong, and +as he walked along he reflected contemptuously on his feeble efforts to +avenge her at Warbeach. She lived in a poor row of cottages, striking +off from one of the main South-western suburb roads, not very distant +from his own lodgings, at which he marvelled, as at a cruel irony. He +could not discern the numbers, and had to turn up several of the dusky +little strips of garden to read the numbers on the doors. A faint smell +of lilac recalled the country and old days, and some church bells began +ringing. The number of the house where he was to find Dahlia was seven. +He was at the door of the house next to it, when he heard voices in the +garden beside him. + +A man said, "Then I have your answer?" + +A woman said, "Yes; yes." + +"You will not trust to my pledged honour?" + +"Pardon me; not that. I will not live in disgrace." + +"When I promise, on my soul, that the moment I am free I will set you +right before the world?" + +"Oh! pardon me." + +"You will?" + +"No; no! I cannot." + +"You choose to give yourself to an obscure dog, who'll ill-treat you, +and for whom you don't care a pin's-head; and why? that you may be +fenced from gossip, and nothing more. I thought you were a woman above +that kind of meanness. And this is a common countryman. How will you +endure that kind of life? You were made for elegance and happiness: you +shall have it. I met you before your illness, when you would not listen +to me: I met you after. I knew you at once. Am I changed? I swear to you +I have dreamed of you ever since, and love you. Be as faded as you like; +be hideous, if you like; but come with me. You know my name, and what I +am. Twice I have followed you, and found your name and address; twice I +have written to you, and made the same proposal. And you won't trust +to my honour? When I tell you I love you tenderly? When I give you my +solemn assurance that you shall not regret it? You have been deceived by +one man: why punish me? I know--I feel you are innocent and good. This +is the third time that you have permitted me to speak to you: let it +be final. Say you will trust yourself to me--trust in my honour. Say +it shall be to-morrow. Yes; say the word. To-morrow. My sweet +creature--do!" + +The man spoke earnestly, but a third person and extraneous hearer could +hardly avoid being struck by the bathetic conclusion. At least, in tone +it bordered on a fall; but the woman did not feel it so. + +She replied: "You mean kindly to me, sir. I thank you indeed, for I am +very friendless. Oh! pardon me: I am quite--quite determined. Go--pray, +forget me." + +This was Dahlia's voice. + +Robert was unconscious of having previously suspected it. Heartily +ashamed of letting his ears be filled with secret talk, he went from the +garden and crossed the street. + +He knew this to be one of the temptations of young women in London. + +Shortly after, the man came through the iron gateway of the garden. He +passed under lamplight, and Robert perceived him to be a gentleman in +garb. + +A light appeared in the windows of the house. Now that he had heard +her voice, the terrors of his interview were dispersed, and he had only +plain sadness to encounter. He knocked at the door quietly. There was +a long delay after he had sent in his name; but finally admission was +given. + +"If I had loved her!" groaned Robert, before he looked on her; but when +he did look on her, affectionate pity washed the selfish man out of +him. All these false sensations, peculiar to men, concerning the soiled +purity of woman, the lost innocence; the brand of shame upon her, which +are commonly the foul sentimentalism of such as can be too eager in +the chase of corruption when occasion suits, and are another side of +pruriency, not absolutely foreign to the best of us in our youth--all +passed away from him in Dahlia's presence. + +The young man who can look on them we call fallen women with a noble +eye, is to my mind he that is most nobly begotten of the race, and +likeliest to be the sire of a noble line. Robert was less than he; but +Dahlia's aspect helped him to his rightful manliness. He saw that her +worth survived. + +The creature's soul had put no gloss upon her sin. She had sinned, and +her suffering was manifest. + +She had chosen to stand up and take the scourge of God; after which the +stones cast by men are not painful. + +By this I mean that she had voluntarily stripped her spirit bare of +evasion, and seen herself for what she was; pleading no excuse. His +scourge is the Truth, and she had faced it. + +Innumerable fanciful thoughts, few of them definite, beset the mind at +interviews such as these; but Robert was distinctly impressed by her +look. It was as that of one upon the yonder shore. Though they stood +close together, he had the thought of their being separate--a gulf +between. + +The colourlessness of her features helped to it, and the odd +little close-fitting white linen cap which she wore to conceal the +stubborn-twisting clipped curls of her shorn head, made her unlike women +of our world. She was dressed in black up to the throat. Her eyes were +still luminously blue, and she let them dwell on Robert one gentle +instant, giving him her hand humbly. + +"Dahlia!--my dear sister, I wish I could say; but the luck's against +me," Robert began. + +She sat, with her fingers locked together in her lap, gazing forward on +the floor, her head a little sideways bent. + +"I believe," he went on--"I haven't heard, but I believe Rhoda is well." + +"She and father are well, I know," said Dahlia. + +Robert started: "Are you in communication with them?" + +She shook her head. "At the end of some days I shall see them." + +"And then perhaps you'll plead my cause, and make me thankful to you for +life, Dahlia?" + +"Rhoda does not love you." + +"That's the fact, if a young woman's to be trusted to know her own mind, +in the first place, and to speak it, in the second." + +Dahlia, closed her lips. The long-lined underlip was no more very red. +Her heart knew that it was not to speak of himself that he had come; but +she was poor-witted, through weakness of her blood, and out of her +own immediate line of thought could think neither far nor deep. He +entertained her with talk of his notions of Rhoda, finishing: + +"But at the end of a week you will see her, and I dare say she'll give +you her notions of me. Dahlia! how happy this'll make them. I do say +thank God! from my soul, for this." + +She pressed her hands in her lap, trembling. "If you will, please, not +speak of it, Mr. Robert." + +"Say only you do mean it, Dahlia. You mean to let them see you?" + +She shivered out a "Yes." + +"That's right. Because, a father and a sister--haven't they a claim? +Think a while. They've had a terrible time. And it's true that you've +consented to a husband, Dahlia? I'm glad, if it is; and he's good and +kind. Right soul-glad I am." + +While he was speaking, her eyelids lifted and her eyes became fixed on +him in a stony light of terror, like a creature in anguish before her +executioner. Then again her eyelids dropped. She had not moved from her +still posture. + +"You love him?" he asked, in some wonderment. + +She gave no answer. + +"Don't you care for him?" + +There was no reply. + +"Because, Dahlia, if you do not I know I have no right to fancy you do +not. How is it? Tell me. Marriage is an awful thing, where there's +no love. And this man, whoever he is--is he in good circumstances? I +wouldn't speak of him; but, you see, I must, as your friend--and I'm +that. Come: he loves you? Of course he does. He has said so. I believe +it. And he's a man you can honour and esteem? You wouldn't consent +without, I'm sure. What makes me anxious--I look on you as my sister, +whether Rhoda will have it so or not; I'm anxious because--I'm anxious +it should be over, for then Rhoda will be proud of the faith she had in +you, and it will lighten the old man's heart." + +Once more the inexplicable frozen look struck over him from her opened +eyes, as if one of the minutes of Time had yawned to show him its deep, +mute, tragic abyss, and was extinguished. + +"When does it take place, Dahlia?" + +Her long underlip, white almost as the row of teeth it revealed, hung +loose. + +"When?" he asked, leaning forward to hear, and the word was "Saturday," +uttered with a feeble harshness, not like the gentle voice of Dahlia. + +"This coming Saturday?" + +"No." + +"Saturday week?" + +She fell into a visible trembling. + +"You named the day?" + +He pushed for an indication of cheerful consent to the act she was about +to commit, or of reluctance. + +Possibly she saw this, for now she answered, "I did." The sound was deep +in her throat. + +"Saturday week," said Robert. "I feel to the man as a brother, already. +Do you live--you'll live in the country?" + +"Abroad." + +"Not in Old England? I'm sorry for that. But--well! Things must be as +they're ordered. Heigho! I've got to learn it." + +Dahlia smiled kindly. + +"Rhoda will love you. She is firm when she loves." + +"When she loves. Where's the consolation to me?" + +"Do you think she loves me as much--as much" + +"As much as ever? She loves her sister with all her heart--all, for I +haven't a bit of it." + +"It is because," said Dahlia slowly, "it is because she thinks I am--" + +Here the poor creature's bosom heaved piteously. + +"What has she said of me? I wish her to have blamed me--it is less +pain." + +"Listen," said Robert. "She does not, and couldn't blame you, for it's a +sort of religion with her to believe no wrong of you. And the reason why +she hates me is, that I, knowing something more of the world, suspected, +and chose to let her know it--I said it, in fact--that you had been +deceived by a--But this isn't the time to abuse others. She would +have had me, if I had thought proper to think as she thinks, or play +hypocrite, and pretend to. I'll tell you openly, Dahlia; your father +thinks the worst. Ah! you look the ghost again. It's hard for you to +hear, but you give me a notion of having got strength to hear it. It's +your father's way to think the worst. Now, when you can show him your +husband, my dear, he'll lift his head. He's old English. He won't dream +of asking questions. He'll see a brave and honest young man who must +love you, or--he does love you, that's settled. Your father'll shake his +hand, and as for Rhoda, she'll triumph. The only person to speak out to, +is the man who marries you, and that you've done." + +Robert looked the interrogation he did not utter. + +"I have," said Dahlia. + +"Good: if I may call him brother, some day, all the better for me. Now, +you won't leave England the day you're married." + +"Soon. I pray that it may be soon." + +"Yes; well, on that morning, I'll have your father and Rhoda at my +lodgings, not wide from here: if I'd only known it earlier!--and you and +your husband shall come there and join us. It'll be a happy meeting at +last." + +Dahlia stopped her breathing. + +"Will you see Rhoda?" + +"I'll go to her to-morrow, if you like." + +"If I might see her, just as I am leaving England! not before." + +"That's not generous," said Robert. + +"Isn't it?" she asked like a child. + +"Fancy!--to see you she's been longing for, and the ship that takes you +off, perhaps everlastingly, as far as this world's concerned!" + +"Mr. Robert, I do not wish to deceive my sister. Father need not be +distressed. Rhoda shall know. I will not be guilty of falsehoods any +more--no more! Will you go to her? Tell her--tell Rhoda what I am. Say I +have been ill. It will save her from a great shock." + +She covered her eyes. + +"I said in all my letters that my husband was a gentleman." + +It was her first openly penitential utterance in his presence, and her +cheeks were faintly reddened. It may have been this motion of her blood +which aroused the sunken humanity within her; her heart leaped, and she +cried "I can see her as I am, I can. I thought it impossible. Oh! I can. +Will she come to me? My sister is a Christian and forgives. Oh! let me +see her. And go to her, dear Mr. Robert, and ask her--tell her all, and +ask her if I may be spared, and may work at something--anything, for my +livelihood near my sister. It is difficult for women to earn money, +but I think I can. I have done so since my illness. I have been in the +hospital with brain fever. He was lodging in the house with me before. +He found me at the hospital. When I came out, he walked with me to +support me: I was very weak. He read to me, and then asked me to marry +him. He asked again. I lay in bed one night, and with my eyes open, I +saw the dangers of women, and the trouble of my father and sister; +and pits of wickedness. I saw like places full of snakes. I had such a +yearning for protection. I gave him my word I would be his wife, if he +was not ashamed of a wife like me. I wished to look once in father's +face. I had fancied that Rhoda would spurn me, when she discovered my +falsehood. She--sweet dear! would she ever? Go to her. Say, I do not +love any man. I am heart-dead. I have no heart except for her. I cannot +love a husband. He is good, and it is kind: but, oh! let me be spared. +His face!--" + +She pressed her hands tight into the hollow of her eyes. + +"No; it can't be meant. Am I very ungrateful? This does not seem to be +what God orders. Only if this must be! only if it must be! If my sister +cannot look on me without! He is good, and it is unselfish to take a +moneyless, disgraced creature: but, my misery!--If my sister will see +me, without my doing this!--Go to her, Mr. Robert. Say, Dahlia was +false, and repents, and has worked with her needle to subsist, and can, +and will, for her soul strives to be clean. Try to make her understand. +If Rhoda could love you, she would know. She is locked up--she is only +ideas. My sweet is so proud. I love her for her pride, if she will only +let me creep to her feet, kiss her feet. Dear Mr. Robert, help me! help +me! I will do anything she says. If she says I am to marry him, I will. +Don't mind my tears--they mean nothing now. Tell my dear, I will obey +her. I will not be false any more to her. I wish to be quite stripped. +And Rhoda may know me, and forgive me, if she can. And--Oh! if she +thinks, for father's sake, I ought, I will submit and speak the words; I +will; I am ready. I pray for mercy." + +Robert sat with his fist at his temples, in a frowning meditation. + +Had she declared her reluctance to take the step, in the first moments +of their interview, he might have been ready to support her: but a +project fairly launched becomes a reality in the brain--a thing once +spoken of attracts like a living creature, and does not die voluntarily. +Robert now beheld all that was in its favour, and saw nothing but +flighty flimsy objections to it. He was hardly moved by her unexpected +outburst. + +Besides, there was his own position in the case. Rhoda would smile on +him, if he brought Dahlia to her, and brought her happy in the world's +eye. It will act as a sort of signal for general happiness. But if he +had to go and explain matters base and mournful to her, there would be +no smile on her face, and not much gratitude in her breast. There would +be none for a time, certainly. Proximity to her faded sister made him +conceive her attainable, and thrice precious by contrast. + +He fixed his gaze on Dahlia, and the perfect refinement of her +simplicity caused him to think that she might be aware of an +inappropriateness in the contemplated union. + +"Is he a clumsy fellow? I mean, do you read straight off that he has no +pretension to any manners of a gentleman--nothing near it?" + +To this question, put with hesitation by Robert, Dahlia made answer, "I +respect him." + +She would not strengthen her prayer by drawing the man's portrait. +Speedily she forgot how the doing so would in any way have strengthened +her prayer. The excitement had left her brain dull. She did little more +than stare mildly, and absently bend her head, while Robert said that he +would go to Rhoda on the morrow, and speak seriously with her. + +"But I think I can reckon her ideas will side with mine, that it is to +your interest, my dear, to make your feelings come round warm to a man +you can respect, and who offers you a clear path," he said. + +Whereat Dahlia quietly blinked her eyes. + +When he stood up, she rose likewise. + +"Am I to take a kiss to Rhoda?" he said, and seeing her answer, bent his +forehead, to which she put her lips. + +"And now I must think all night long about the method of transferring +it. Good-bye, Dahlia. You shall hear from your sister the morning after +to-morrow. Good-bye!" + +He pressed her hand, and went to the door. + +"There's nothing I can do for you, Dahlia?" + +"Not anything." + +"God bless you, my dear!" + +Robert breathed with the pleasant sense of breathing, when he was again +in the street. Amazement, that what he had dreaded so much should be so +easily over, set him thinking, in his fashion, on the marvels of life, +and the naturalness in the aspect of all earthly things when you look at +them with your eyes. + +But in the depths of his heart there was disquiet. + +"It's the best she can do; she can do no better," he said; and said it +more frequently than it needed by a mind established in the conviction. +Gradually he began to feel that certain things seen with the eyes, +natural as they may then appear and little terrible, leave distinct, +solid, and grave impressions. Something of what our human tragedy may +show before high heaven possessed him. He saw it bare of any sentiment, +in the person of the girl Dahlia. He could neither put a halo of +imagination about her, nor could he conceive one degraded thought of the +creature. She stood a naked sorrow, haunting his brain. + +And still he continued saying, "It's the best she can do: it's best for +all. She can do nothing better." + +He said it, unaware that he said it in self-defence. + +The pale nun-like ghostly face hung before him, stronger in outline the +farther time widened between him and that suffering flesh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +The thousand pounds were in Algernon's hands at last. He had made his +escape from Boyne's Bank early in the afternoon, that he might obtain +the cheque and feel the money in his pocket before that day's sun +was extinguished. There was a note for five hundred; four notes for a +hundred severally; and two fifties. And all had come to him through the +mere writing down of his name as a recipient of the sum! + +It was enough to make one in love with civilization. Money, when it is +once in your pocket, seems to have come there easily, even if you have +worked for it; but if you have done no labour whatever, and still find +it there, your sensations (supposing you to be a butterfly youth--the +typical child of a wealthy country) exult marvellously, and soar above +the conditions of earth. + +He knew the very features of the notes. That gallant old Five Hundred, +who might have been a Thousand, but that he had nobly split himself into +centurions and skirmishers, stood in his imaginative contemplation +like a grand white-headed warrior, clean from the slaughter and in +court-ruffles--say, Blucher at the court of the Waterloo Regent. The +Hundreds were his Generals; the Fifties his captains; and each one +was possessed of unlimited power of splitting himself into serviceable +regiments, at the call of his lord, Algernon. + +He scarcely liked to make the secret confession that it was the +largest sum he had ever as yet carried about; but, as it heightened his +pleasure, he did confess it for half an instant. Five Hundred in the +bulk he had never attained to. He felt it as a fortification against +every mishap in life. + +To a young man commonly in difficulties with regard to the paying of his +cabman, and latterly the getting of his dinner, the sense of elevation +imparted by the sum was intoxicating. But, thinking too much of the +Five Hundred waxed dangerous for the fifties; it dwarfed them to such +insignificance that it made them lose their self-respect. So, Algernon, +pursuing excellent tactics, set his mind upon some stray shillings that +he had a remainder of five pounds borrowed from old Anthony, when he +endeavoured to obtain repayment of the one pound and interest dating +from the night at the theatre. Algernon had stopped his mouth on +that point, as well as concerning his acquaintance with Dahlia, by +immediately attempting to borrow further, whenever Anthony led the way +for a word in private. A one-pound creditor had no particular terrors +for him, and he manoeuvred the old man neatly, saying, as previously, +"Really, I don't know the young person you allude to: I happened to +meet her, or some one like her, casually," and dropping his voice, "I'm +rather short--what do you think? Could you?--a trifling accommodation?" +from which Anthony fled. + +But on the day closing the Epsom week he beckoned Anthony secretly to +follow him out of the office, and volunteered to give news that he had +just heard of Dahlia. + +"Oh," said Anthony, "I've seen her." + +"I haven't," said Algernon, "upon my honour." + +"Yes, I've seen her, sir, and sorry to hear her husband's fallen a bit +low." Anthony touched his pocket. "What they calls 'nip' tides, ain't +it?" + +Algernon sprang a compliment under him, which sent the vain old fellow +up, whether he would or not, to the effect that Anthony's tides were not +subject to lunar influence. + +"Now, Mr. Blancove, you must change them notions o' me. I don't say I +shouldn't be richer if I'd got what's owing to me." + +"You'd have to be protected; you'd be Bullion on two legs," said +Algernon, always shrewd in detecting a weakness. "You'd have to go about +with sentries on each side, and sleep in an iron safe!" + +The end of the interview was a visit to the public-house, and the +transferring of another legal instrument from Algernon to Anthony. The +latter departed moaning over his five pounds ten shillings in paper; the +former rejoicing at his five pounds in gold. That day was Saturday. On +Monday, only a few shillings of the five pounds remained; but they were +sufficient to command a cab, and, if modesty in dining was among the +prescriptions for the day, a dinner. Algernon was driven to the West. + +He remembered when he had plunged in the midst of the fashionable +whirlpool, having felt reckless there formerly, but he had become +remarkably sedate when he stepped along the walks. A certain equipage, +or horse, was to his taste, and once he would have said: "That's the +thing for me;" being penniless. Now, on the contrary, he reckoned the +possible cost, grudgingly, saying "Eh?" to himself, and responding "No," +faintly, and then more positively, "Won't do." + +He was by no means acting as one on a footing of equality with the +people he beholds. A man who is ready to wager a thousand pounds that no +other man present has that amount in his pocket, can hardly feel unequal +to his company. + +Charming ladies on horseback cantered past. "Let them go," he thought. +Yesterday, the sight of one would have set him dreaming on grand +alliances. When you can afford to be a bachelor, the case is otherwise. +Presently, who should ride by but Mrs. Lovell! She was talking more +earnestly than was becoming, to that easy-mannered dark-eyed fellow; the +man who had made him savage by entering the opera-box. + +"Poor old Ned!" said Algernon; "I must put him on his guard." But, even +the lifting of a finger--a hint on paper--would bring Edward over from +Paris, as he knew; and that was not in his scheme; so he only determined +to write to his cousin. + +A flood of evening gold lay over the Western park. + +"The glory of this place," Algernon said to himself, "is, that you're +sure of meeting none but gentlemen here;" and he contrasted it with +Epsom Downs. + +A superstitious horror seized him when, casting his eyes ahead, he +perceived Sedgett among the tasteful groups--as discordant a figure as +could well be seen, and clumsily aware of it, for he could neither step +nor look like a man at ease. Algernon swung round and retraced his way; +but Sedgett had long sight. + +"I'd heard of London"--Algernon soon had the hated voice in his +ears,--"and I've bin up to London b'fore; I came here to have a wink +at the fash'nables--hang me, if ever I see such a scrumptious lot. It's +worth a walk up and down for a hour or more. D' you come heer often, +sir?" + +"Eh? Who are you? Oh!" said Algernon, half mad with rage. "Excuse me;" +and he walked faster. + +"Fifty times over," Sedgett responded cheerfully. "I'd pace you for a +match up and down this place if you liked. Ain't the horses a spectacle? +I'd rather be heer than there at they Races. As for the ladies, I'll +tell you what: ladies or no ladies, give my young woman time for her +hair to grow; and her colour to come, by George! if she wouldn't shine +against e'er a one--smite me stone blind, if she wouldn't! So she shall! +Australia'll see. I owe you my thanks for interdoocin' me, and never +fear my not remembering." + +Where there was a crowd, Algernon could elude his persecutor by +threading his way rapidly; but the open spaces condemned him to +merciless exposure, and he flew before eyes that his imagination +exaggerated to a stretch of supernatural astonishment. The tips of +his fingers, the roots of his hair, pricked with vexation, and still, +manoeuvre as he might, Sedgett followed him. + +"Call at my chambers," he said sternly. + +"You're never at home, sir." + +"Call to-morrow morning, at ten." + +"And see a great big black door, and kick at it till my toe comes +through my boot. Thank ye." + +"I tell you, I won't have you annoying me in public; once for all." + +"Why, sir; I thought we parted friends, last time. Didn't you shake my +hand, now, didn't you shake my hand, sir? I ask you, whether you shook +my hand, or whether you didn't? A plain answer. We had a bit of a +scrimmage, coming home. I admit we had; but shaking hands, means +'friends again we are.' I know you're a gentleman, and a man like me +shouldn't be so bold as fur to strike his betters. Only, don't you see, +sir, Full-o'-Beer's a hasty chap, and up in a minute; and he's sorry for +it after." + +Algernon conceived a brilliant notion. Drawing five shillings from his +pocket, he held them over to Sedgett, and told him to drive down to his +chambers, and await his coming. Sedgett took the money; but it was five +shillings lost. He made no exhibition of receiving orders, and it was +impossible to address him imperiously without provoking observations of +an animated kind from the elegant groups parading and sitting. + +Young Harry Latters caught Algernon's eye; never was youth more joyfully +greeted. Harry spoke of the Friday's race, and the defection of the +horse Tenpenny Nail. A man passed with a nod and "How d' ye do?" for +which he received in reply a cool stare. + +"Who's that?" Algernon asked. + +"The son of a high dignitary," said Harry. + +"You cut him." + +"I can do the thing, you see, when it's a public duty." + +"What's the matter with him?" + +"Merely a black-leg, a grec, a cheat, swindler, or whatever name you +like," said Harry. "We none of us nod to the professionals in this line; +and I won't exchange salutes with an amateur. I'm peculiar. He chose to +be absent on the right day last year; so from that date; I consider +him absent in toto; 'none of your rrrrr--m reckonings, let's have the +rrrrr--m toto;'--you remember Suckling's story of the Yankee fellow? +Bye-bye; shall see you the day after to-morrow. You dine with me and +Suckling at the club." + +Latters was hailed by other friends. Algernon was forced to let him +go. He dipped under the iron rail, and crossed the row at a run; an +indecorous proceeding; he could not help it. The hope was that Sedgett +would not have the like audacity, or might be stopped, and Algernon's +reward for so just a calculation was, that on looking round, he found +himself free. He slipped with all haste out of the Park. Sedgett's +presence had the deadening power of the torpedo on the thousand pounds. + +For the last quarter of an hour, Algernon had not felt a motion of it. A +cab, to make his escape certain, was suggested to his mind; and he would +have called a cab, had not the novel apparition of economy, which now +haunted him, suggested that he had recently tossed five shillings into +the gutter. A man might dine on four shillings and sixpence, enjoying +a modest half-pint of wine, and he possessed that sum. To pinch himself +and deserve well of Providence, he resolved not to drink wine, but beer, +that day. He named the beverage; a pint-bottle of ale; and laughed, as a +royal economist may, who punishes himself to please himself. + +"Mighty jolly, ain't it, sir?" said Sedgett, at his elbow. + +Algernon faced about, and swore an oath from his boots upward; so +vehement was his disgust, and all-pervading his amazement. + +"I'll wallop you at that game," said Sedgett. + +"You infernal scoundrel!" + +"If you begin swearing," Sedgett warned him. + +"What do you want with me?" + +"I'll tell you, sir. I don't want to go to ne'er a cock-fight, nor +betting hole." + +"Here, come up this street," said Algernon, leading the way into a +dusky defile from a main parade of fashion. "Now, what's your business, +confound you!" + +"Well, sir, I ain't goin' to be confounded: that, I'll--I'll swear to. +The long and the short is, I must have some money 'fore the week's out." + +"You won't have a penny from me." + +"That's blunt, though it ain't in my pocket," said Sedgett, grinning. +"I say, sir, respectful as you like, I must. I've got to pay for +passengerin' over the sea, self and wife; and quick it must be. There's +things to buy on both sides. A small advance and you won't be bothered. +Say, fifty. Fifty, and you don't see me till Saturday, when, accordin' +to agreement, you hand to me the cash, outside the church door; and then +we parts to meet no more. Oh! let us be joyful--I'll sing." + +Algernon's loathing of the coarseness and profanity of villany increased +almost to the depth of a sentiment as he listened to Sedgett. + +"I do nothing of the sort," he said. "You shall not have a farthing. Be +off. If you follow me, I give you into custody of a policeman." + +"You durst n't." Sedgett eyed him warily. + +He could spy a physical weakness, by affinity of cowardice, as quickly +as Algernon a moral weakness, by the same sort of relationship to it. + +"You don't dare," Sedgett pursued. "And why should you, sir? there's +ne'er a reason why. I'm civil. I asks for my own: no more 'n my own, it +ain't. I call the bargain good: why sh'd I want fur to break it? I want +the money bad. I'm sick o' this country. I'd like to be off in the first +ship that sails. Can't you let me have ten till to-morrow? then t' other +forty. I've got a mortal need for it, that I have. Come, it's no use +your walking at that rate; my legs are's good as yours." + +Algernon had turned back to the great thoroughfare. He was afraid that +ten pounds must be forfeited to this worrying demon in the flesh, and +sought the countenance of his well-dressed fellows to encourage him in +resisting. He could think of no subterfuge; menace was clearly useless: +and yet the idea of changeing one of the notes and for so infamous a +creature, caused pangs that helped him further to endure his dogging +feet and filthy tongue. This continued until he saw a woman's hand +waving from a cab. Presuming that such a signal, objectionable as it +was, must be addressed to himself, he considered whether he should lift +his hat, or simply smile as a favoured, but not too deeply flattered, +man. The cab drew up, and the woman said, "Sedgett." She was a +well-looking woman, strongly coloured, brown-eyed, and hearty in +appearance. + +"What a brute you are, Sedgett, not to be at home when you brought me up +to London with all the boxes and bedding--my goodness! It's a Providence +I caught you in my eye, or I should have been driving down to the docks, +and seeing about the ship. You are a brute. Come in, at once." + +"If you're up to calling names, I've got one or two for you," Sedgett +growled. + +Algernon had heard enough. Sure that he had left Sedgett in hands not +likely to relinquish him, he passed on with elastic step. Wine was +greatly desired, after his torments. Where was credit to be had? True, +he looked contemptuously on the blooming land of credit now, but an +entry to it by one of the back doors would have been convenient, so that +he might be nourished and restored by a benevolent dinner, while he kept +his Thousand intact. However, he dismissed the contemplation of credit +and its transient charms. "I won't dine at all," he said. + +A beggar woman stretched out her hand--he dropped a shilling in it. + +"Hang me, if I shall be able to," was his next reflection; and with +the remaining three and sixpence, he crossed the threshold of a +tobacconist's shop and bought cigars, to save himself from excesses +in charity. After gravely reproaching the tobacconist for the growing +costliness of cigars, he came into the air, feeling extraordinarily +empty. Of this he soon understood the cause, and it amused him. +Accustomed to the smell of tobacco always when he came from his dinner, +it seemed, as the fumes of the shop took his nostril, that demands were +being made within him by an inquisitive spirit, and dissatisfaction +expressed at the vacancy there. + +"What's the use? I can't dine," he uttered argumentatively. "I'm not +going to change a note, and I won't dine. I've no Club. There's not a +fellow I can see who'll ask me to dine. I'll lounge along home. There is +some Sherry there." + +But Algernon bore vividly in mind that he did not approve of that +Sherry. + +"I've heard of fellows frying sausages at home, and living on something +like two shillings a day," he remarked in meditation; and then it struck +him that Mrs. Lovell's parcel of returned jewels lay in one of +his drawers at home--that is, if the laundress had left the parcel +untouched. + +In an agony of alarm, he called a cab, and drove hotly to the Temple. +Finding the packet safe, he put a couple of rings and the necklace with +the opal in his waistcoat pocket. The cabman must be paid, of course; +so a jewel must be pawned. Which shall it be? diamond or opal? Change a +dozen times and let it be the trinket in the right hand--the opal; let +it be the opal. How much would the opal fetch? The pawnbroker can best +inform us upon that point. So he drove to the pawnbroker; one whom he +knew. The pawnbroker offered him five-and-twenty pounds on the security +of the opal. + +"What on earth is it that people think disgraceful in your entering a +pawnbroker's shop?" Algernon asked himself when, taking his ticket and +the five-and-twenty pounds, he repelled the stare of a man behind a +neighbouring partition. + +"There are not many of that sort in the kingdom," he said to the +pawnbroker, who was loftily fondling the unlucky opal. + +"Well--h'm; perhaps there's not;" the pawnbroker was ready to admit it, +now that the arrangement had been settled. + +"I shan't be able to let you keep it long." + +"As quick back as you like, sir." + +Algernon noticed as he turned away that the man behind the partition, +who had more the look of a dapper young shopman than of a needy +petitioner for loans or securities, stretched over the counter to look +at the opal; and he certainly heard his name pronounced. It enraged +him; but policy counselled a quiet behaviour in this place, and no +quarrelling with his pawnbroker. Besides, his whole nature cried out for +dinner. He dined and had his wine; as good, he ventured to assert, +as any man could get for the money; for he knew the hotels with the +venerable cellars. + +"I should have made a first-rate courier to a millionaire," he said, +with scornful candour, but without abusing the disposition of things +which had ordered his being a gentleman. Subsequently, from his having +sat so long over his wine without moving a leg, he indulged in the +belief that he had reflected profoundly; out of which depths he started, +very much like a man who has dozed, and felt a discomfort in his limbs +and head. + +"I must forget myself," he said. Nor was any grave mentor by, to assure +him that his tragic state was the issue of an evil digestion of his +dinner and wine. "I must forget myself. I'm under some doom. I see it +now. Nobody cares for me. I don't know what happiness is. I was born +under a bad star. My fate's written." Following his youthful wisdom, +this wounded hart dragged his slow limbs toward the halls of brandy and +song. + +One learns to have compassion for fools, by studying them: and the +fool, though Nature is wise, is next door to Nature. He is naked in +his simplicity; he can tell us much, and suggest more. My excuse for +dwelling upon him is, that he holds the link of my story. Where fools +are numerous, one of them must be prominent now and then in a veracious +narration. There comes an hour when the veil drops on him, he not being +always clean to the discreeter touch. + +Algernon was late at the Bank next day, and not cheerful, though he +received his customary reprimand with submission. This day was after the +pattern of the day preceding, except that he did not visit the Park; the +night likewise. + +On Wednesday morning, he arose with the conviction that England was no +place for him to dwell in. What if Rhoda were to accompany him to one of +the colonies? The idea had been gradually taking shape in his mind from +the moment that he had possessed the Thousand. Could she not make butter +and cheeses capitally, while he rode on horseback through space? She was +a strong girl, a loyal girl, and would be a grateful wife. + +"I'll marry her," he said; and hesitated. "Yes, I'll marry her." But it +must be done immediately. + +He resolved to run down to Wrexby, rejoice her with a declaration of +love, astound her with a proposal of marriage, bewilder her little brain +with hurrying adjectives, whisk her up to London, and in little +more than a week be sailing on the high seas, new born; nothing of +civilization about him, save a few last very first-rate cigars which he +projected to smoke on the poop of the vessel, and so dream of the world +he left behind. + +He went down to the Bank in better spirits, and there wrote off a +straightforward demand of an interview, to Rhoda, hinting at the purpose +of it. While at his work, he thought of Harry Latters and Lord +Suckling, and the folly of his dining with men in his present position. +Settling-day, it or yesterday might be, but a colonist is not supposed +to know anything of those arrangements. One of his fellow-clerks +reminded him of a loan he had contracted, and showed him his name +written under obligatory initials. He paid it, ostentatiously drawing +out one of his fifties. Up came another, with a similar strip of paper. +"You don't want me to change this, do you?" said Algernon; and heard a +tale of domestic needs--and a grappling landlady. He groaned inwardly: +"Odd that I must pay for his landlady being a vixen!" The note was +changed; the debt liquidated. On the door-step, as he was going to +lunch, old Anthony waylaid him, and was almost noisily persistent in +demanding his one pound three and his five pound ten. Algernon paid +the sums, ready to believe that there was a suspicion abroad of his +intention to become a colonist. + +He employed the luncheon hour in a visit to a colonial shipping office, +and nearly ran straight upon Sedgett at the office-door. The woman who +had hailed him from the cab, was in Sedgett's company, but Sedgett saw +no one. His head hung and his sullen brows were drawn moodily. Algernon +escaped from observation. His first inquiry at the office was as to the +business of the preceding couple, and he was satisfied by hearing that +Sedgett wanted berths for himself and wife. + +"Who's the woman, I wonder!" Algernon thought, and forgot her. + +He obtained some particular information, and returning to the Bank, +was called before his uncle, who curtly reckoned up his merits in a +contemptuous rebuke, and confirmed him in his resolution to incur this +sort of thing no longer. In consequence, he promised Sir William that +he would amend his ways, and these were the first hopeful words that Sir +William had ever heard from him. + +Algernon's design was to dress, that evening, in the uniform of society, +so that, in the event of his meeting Harry Latters, he might assure him +he was coming to his Club, and had been compelled to dine elsewhere with +his uncle, or anybody. When he reached the door of his chambers, a man +was standing there, who said,-- + +"Mr. Algernon Blancove?" + +"Yes," Algernon prolonged an affirmative, to diminish the confidence it +might inspire, if possible. + +"May I speak with you, sir?" + +Algernon told him to follow in. The man was tall and large-featured, +with an immense blank expression of face. + +"I've come from Mr. Samuels, sir," he said, deferentially. + +Mr. Samuels was Algernon's chief jeweller. + +"Oh," Algernon remarked. "Well, I don't want anything; and let me say, +I don't approve of this touting for custom. I thought Mr. Samuels was +above it." + +The man bowed. "My business is not that, sir. Ahem! I dare say you +remember an opal you had from our house. It was set in a necklace." + +"All right; I remember it, perfectly," said Algernon; cool, but not of +the collected colour. + +"The cost of it was fifty-five pounds, sir." + +"Was it? Well, I've forgotten." + +"We find that it has been pawned for five-and-twenty." + +"A little less than half," said Algernon. "Pawnbrokers are simply +cheats." + +"They mayn't be worse than others," the man observed. + +Algernon was exactly in the position where righteous anger is the proper +weapon, if not the sole resource. He flushed, but was not sure of his +opportunity for the explosion. The man read the flush. + +"May I ask you, did you pawn it, sir? I'm obliged to ask the question." + +"I?--I really don't--I don't choose to answer impudent questions. What +do you mean by coming here?" + +"I may as well be open with you, sir, to prevent misunderstandings. One +of the young men was present when you pawned it. He saw the thing done." + +"Suppose he did?" + +"He would be a witness." + +"Against me? I've dealt with Samuels for three-four years." + +"Yes, sir; but you have never yet paid any account; and I believe I am +right in saying that this opal is not the first thing coming from +our house that has been pledged--I can't say you did it on the other +occasions." + +"You had better not," rejoined Algernon. + +He broke an unpleasant silence by asking, "What further?" + +"My master has sent you his bill." + +Algernon glanced at the prodigious figures. + +"Five hun--!" he gasped, recoiling; and added, "Well, I can't pay it on +the spot." + +"Let me tell you, you're liable to proceedings you'd better avoid, sir, +for the sake of your relations." + +"You dare to threaten to expose me to my relatives?" Algernon said +haughtily, and immediately perceived that indignation at this point was +a clever stroke; for the man, while deprecating the idea of doing so, +showed his more established belief in the possible virtue of such a +threat. + +"Not at all, sir; but you know that pledging things not paid for is +illegal, and subject to penalties. No tradesman likes it; they can't +allow it. I may as well let you know that Mr. Samuels--" + +"There, stop!" cried Algernon, laughing, as he thought, heartily. "Mr. +Samuels is a very tolerable Jew; but he doesn't seem to understand +dealing with gentlemen. Pressure comes;" he waved his hand swimmingly; +"one wants money, and gets it how one can. Mr. Samuels shall not go to +bed thinking he has been defrauded. I will teach Mr. Samuels to think +better of us Gentiles. Write me a receipt." + +"For what amount, sir?" said the man, briskly. + +"For the value of the opal--that is to say, for the value put upon it by +Mr. Samuels. Con! hang! never mind. Write the receipt." + +He cast a fluttering fifty and a fluttering five on the table, and +pushed paper to the man for a receipt. + +The man reflected, and refused to take them. + +"I don't think, sir," he said, "that less than two-thirds of the bill +will make Mr. Samuels easy. You see, this opal was in a necklace. It +wasn't like a ring you might have taken off your finger. It's a lady's +ornament; and soon after you obtain it from us; you make use of it by +turning it into cash. It's a case for a criminal prosecution, which, for +the sake of your relations, Mr. Samuels wouldn't willingly bring on. +The criminal box is no place for you, sir; but Mr. Samuels must have his +own. His mind is not easy. I shouldn't like, sir, to call a policeman." + +"Hey!" shouted Algernon; "you'd have to get a warrant." + +"It's out, sir." + +Though inclined toward small villanies, he had not studied law, and +judging from his own affrighted sensations, and the man's impassive +face, Algernon supposed that warrants were as lightly granted as writs +of summons. + +He tightened his muscles. In his time he had talked glibly of Perdition; +but this was hot experience. He and the man measured the force of their +eyes. Algernon let his chest fall. + +"Do you mean?" he murmured. + +"Why, sir, it's no use doing things by halves. When a tradesman says he +must have his money, he takes his precautions." + +"Are you in Mr. Samuels' shop?" + +"Not exactly, sir." + +"You're a detective?" + +"I have been in the service, sir." + +"Ah! now I understand." Algernon raised his head with a strain +at haughtiness. "If Mr. Samuels had accompanied you, I would have +discharged the debt: It's only fair that I should insist upon having a +receipt from him personally, and for the whole amount." + +With this, he drew forth his purse and displayed the notable Five +hundred. + +His glow of victory was short. The impassive man likewise had something +to exhibit. + +"I assure you, sir," he said, "Mr. Samuels does know how to deal with +gentlemen. If you will do me the honour, sir, to run up with me to Mr. +Samuels' shop? Or, very well, sir; to save you that annoyance here is +his receipt to the bill." + +Algernon mechanically crumpled up his note. + +"Samuels?" ejaculated the unhappy fellow. "Why, my mother dealt with +Samuels. My aunt dealt with Samuels. All my family have dealt with him +for years; and he talks of proceeding against me, because--upon my +soul, it's too absurd! Sending a policeman, too! I'll tell you what--the +exposure would damage Mister Samuels most materially. Of course, my +father would have to settle the matter; but Mister--Mister Samuels would +not recover so easily. He'd be glad to refund the five hundred--what is +it?--and twenty-five--why not, 'and sixpence three farthings?' I tell +you, I shall let my father pay. Mr. Samuels had better serve me with +a common writ. I tell you, I'm not going to denude myself of money +altogether. I haven't examined the bill. Leave it here. You can tear off +the receipt. Leave it here." + +The man indulged in a slight demonstration of dissent. + +"No, sir, that won't do." + +"Half the bill," roared Algernon; "half the bill, I wouldn't mind +paying." + +"About two-thirds, sir, is what Mr. Samuels asked for, and he'll stop, +and go on as before." + +"He'll stop and he'll go on, will he? Mr. Samuels is amazingly like one +of his own watches," Algernon sneered vehemently. "Well," he pursued, in +fancied security, "I'll pay two-thirds." + +"Three hundred, sir." + +"Ay, three hundred. Tell him to send a receipt for the three hundred, +and he shall have it. As to my entering his shop again, that I shall +have to think over." + +"That's what gentlemen in Mr. Samuels' position have to run risk of, +sir," said the man. + +Algernon, more in astonishment than trepidation, observed him feeling +at his breast-pocket. The action resulted in an exhibition of a second +bill, with a legal receipt attached to it, for three hundred pounds. + +"Mr. Samuels is anxious to accommodate you in every way, sir. It isn't +the full sum he wants; it's a portion. He thought you might prefer to +discharge a portion." + +After this exhibition of foresight on the part of the jeweller, there +was no more fight in Algernon beyond a strenuous "Faugh!" of uttermost +disgust. + +He examined the bill and receipt in the man's hand with great apparent +scrupulousness; not, in reality, seeing a clear syllable. + +"Take it and change it," he threw his Five hundred down, but recovered +it from the enemy's grasp; and with a "one, two, three," banged his +hundreds on the table: for which he had the loathsome receipt handed to +him. + +"How," he asked, chokingly, "did Mr. Samuels know I could--I had money?" + +"Why, sir, you see," the man, as one who throws off a mask, smiled +cordially, after buttoning up the notes; "credit 'd soon give up the +ghost, if it hadn't its own dodges,' as I may say. This is only a feeler +on Mr. Samuels' part. He heard of his things going to pledge. Halloa! +he sings out. And tradesmen are human, sir. Between us, I side with +gentlemen, in most cases. Hows'-ever, I'm, so to speak, in Mr. Samuels' +pay. A young gentleman in debt, give him a good fright, out comes his +money, if he's got any. Sending of a bill receipted's a good trying +touch. It's a compliment to him to suppose he can pay. Mr. Samuels, sir, +wouldn't go issuing a warrant: if he could, he wouldn't. You named a +warrant; that set me up to it. I shouldn't have dreamed of a gentleman +supposing it otherwise. Didn't you notice me show a wall of a face? +I shouldn't ha' dared to have tried that on an old hand--begging your +pardon; I mean a real--a scoundrel. The regular ones must see features: +we mustn't be too cunning with them, else they grow suspicious: they're +keen as animals; they are. Good afternoon to you, sir." + +Algernon heard the door shut. He reeled into a chair, and muffling his +head in his two arms on the table, sobbed desperately; seeing himself +very distinctly reflected in one of the many facets of folly. Daylight +became undesireable to him. He went to bed. + +A man who can, in such extremities of despair, go premeditatingly to +his pillow, obeys an animal instinct in pursuit of oblivion, that will +befriend his nerves. Algernon awoke in deep darkness, with a delicious +sensation of hunger. He jumped up. Six hundred and fifty pounds of the +money remained intact; and he was joyful. He struck a light to look at +his watch: the watch had stopped;--that was a bad sign. He could not +forget it. Why had his watch stopped? A chilling thought as to whether +predestination did not govern the world, allayed all tumult in his mind. +He dressed carefully, and soon heard a great City bell, with horrid +gulfs between the strokes, tell him that the hour was eleven toward +midnight. "Not late," he said. + +"Who'd have thought it?" cried a voice on the landing of the stairs, as +he went forth. + +It was Sedgett. + +Algernon had one inclination to strangle, and another to mollify the +wretch. + +"Why, sir, I've been lurking heer for your return from your larks. Never +guessed you was in." + +"It's no use," Algernon began. + +"Ay; but it is, though," said Sedgett, and forced his way into the room. +"Now, just listen. I've got a young woman I want to pack out o' the +country. I must do it, while I'm a--a bachelor boy. She must go, or we +shall be having shindies. You saw how she caught me out of a cab. She's +sure to be in the place where she ain't wanted. She goes to America. +I've got to pay her passage, and mine too. Here's the truth: she thinks +I'm off with her. She knows I'm bankrup' at home. So I am. All the more +reason for her thinking me her companion. I get her away by train to the +vessel, and on board, and there I give her the slip. + +"Ship's steaming away by this time t'morrow night. I've paid for +her--and myself too, she thinks. Leave it to me. I'll manage all that +neatly enough. But heer's the truth: I'm stumped. I must, and I will +have fifty; I don't want to utter ne'er a threat. I want the money, and +if you don't give it, I break off; and you mind this, Mr. Blancove: you +don't come off s' easy, if I do break off, mind. I know all about your +relations, and by--! I'll let 'em know all about you. Why, you're as +quiet heer, sir, as if you was miles away, in a wood cottage, and ne'er +a dog near." + +So Algernon was thinking; and without a light, save the gas lamp in the +square, moreover. + +They wrangled for an hour. When Algernon went forth a second time, he +was by fifty pounds poorer. He consoled himself by thinking that the +money had only anticipated its destination as arranged, and it became a +partial gratification to him to reflect that he had, at any rate, paid +so much of the sum, according to his bond in assuming possession of it. + +And what were to be his proceedings? They were so manifestly in the +hands of fate, that he declined to be troubled on that head. + +Next morning came the usual short impatient scrawl on thin blue paper +from Edward, scarce worthy of a passing thought. In a postscript, he +asked: "Are there, on your oath, no letters for me? If there are, send +them immediately--every one, bills as well. Don't fail. I must have +them." + +Algernon was at last persuaded to pack up Dahlia's letters, saying: +"I suppose they can't do any harm now." The expense of the postage +afflicted him; but "women always cost a dozen to our one," he remarked. +On his way to the City, he had to decide whether he would go to the +Bank, or take the train leading to Wrexby. He chose the latter course, +until, feeling that he was about to embark in a serious undertaking, he +said to himself, "No! duty first;" and postponed the expedition for the +day following. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +Squire Blancove, having business in town, called on his brother at the +Bank, asking whether Sir William was at home, with sarcastic emphasis +on the title, which smelt to him of commerce. Sir William invited him to +dine and sleep at his house that night. + +"You will meet Mrs. Lovell, and a Major Waring, a friend of hers, who +knew her and her husband in India," said the baronet. + +"The deuce I shall," said the squire, and accepted maliciously. + +Where the squire dined, he drank, defying ladies and the new-fangled +subserviency to those flustering teabodies. This was understood; +so, when the Claret and Port had made a few rounds, Major Waring was +permitted to follow Mrs. Lovell, and the squire and his brother settled +to conversation; beginning upon gout. Sir William had recently had a +touch of the family complaint, and spoke of it in terms which gave +the squire some fraternal sentiment. From that, they fell to talking +politics, and differed. The breach was healed by a divergence to their +sons. The squire knew his own to be a scamp. + +"You'll never do anything with him," he said. + +"I don't think I shall," Sir William admitted. + +"Didn't I tell you so?" + +"You did. But, the point is, what will you do with him?" + +"Send him to Jericho to ride wild jackasses. That's all he's fit for." + +The superior complacency of Sir William's smile caught the squire's +attention. + +"What do you mean to do with Ned?" he asked. + +"I hope," was the answer, "to have him married before the year is out." + +"To the widow?" + +"The widow?" Sir William raised his eyebrows. + +"Mrs. Lovell, I mean." + +"What gives you that idea?" + +"Why, Ned has made her an offer. Don't you know that?" + +"I know nothing of the sort." + +"And don't believe it? He has. He's only waiting now, over there in +Paris, to get comfortably out of a scrape--you remember what I told you +at Fairly--and then Mrs. Lovell's going to have him--as he thinks; but, +by George, it strikes me this major you've got here, knows how to follow +petticoats and get in his harvest in the enemy's absence." + +"I think you're quite under a delusion, in both respects," observed Sir +William. + +"What makes you think that?" + +"I have Edward's word." + +"He lies as naturally as an infant sucks." + +"Pardon me; this is my son you are speaking of." + +"And this is your Port I'm drinking; so I'll say no more." + +The squire emptied his glass, and Sir William thrummed on the table. + +"Now, my dog has got his name," the squire resumed. "I'm not ambitious +about him. You are, about yours; and you ought to know him. He spends +or he don't spend. It's not the question whether he gets into debt, +but whether he does mischief with what he spends. If Algy's a bad +fish, Ned's a bit of a serpent; damned clever, no doubt. I suppose, you +wouldn't let him marry old Fleming's daughter, now, if he wanted to?" + +"Who is Fleming?" Sir William thundered out. + +"Fleming's the father of the girl. I'm sorry for him. He sells his +farm-land which I've been looking at for years; so I profit by it; but +I don't like to see a man like that broken up. Algy, I said before, 's a +bad fish. Hang me, if I think he'd have behaved like Ned. If he had, I'd +have compelled him to marry her, and shipped them both off, clean out of +the country, to try their luck elsewhere. + +"You're proud; I'm practical. I don't expect you to do the same. I'm up +in London now to raise money to buy the farm--Queen's Anne's Farm; it's +advertized for sale, I see. Fleeting won't sell it to me privately, +because my name's Blancove, and I'm the father of my son, and he fancies +Algy's the man. Why? he saw Algy at the theatre in London with this +girl of his;--we were all young fellows once!--and the rascal took Ned's +burden on his shoulders. So, I shall have to compete with other buyers, +and pay, I dare say, a couple of hundred extra for the property. Do you +believe what I tell you now?" + +"Not a word of it," said Sir William blandly. + +The squire seized the decanter and drank in a fury. + +"I had it from Algy." + +"That would all the less induce me to believe it." + +"H'm!" the squire frowned. "Let me tell you--he's a dog--but it's a +damned hard thing to hear one's own flesh and blood abused. Look here: +there's a couple. One of them has made a fool of a girl. It can't be my +rascal--stop a minute--he isn't the man, because she'd have been sure to +have made a fool of him, that's certain. He's a soft-hearted dog. He'd +aim at a cock-sparrow, and be glad if he missed. There you have him. +He was one of your good boys. I used to tell his poor mother, 'When you +leave off thinking for him, he'll go to the first handy villain--and +that's the devil.' And he's done it. But, here's the difference. He goes +himself; he don't send another. I'll tell you what: if you don't know +about Mr. Ned's tricks, you ought. And you ought to make him marry the +girl, and be off to New Zealand, or any of the upside-down places, where +he might begin by farming, and soon, with his abilities, be cock o' the +walk. He would, perhaps, be sending us a letter to say that he preferred +to break away from the mother country and establish a republic. He's got +the same political opinions as you. Oh! he'll do well enough over here; +of course he will. He's the very fellow to do well. Knock at him, he's +hard as nails, and 'll stick anywhere. You wouldn't listen to me, when +I told you about this at Fairly, where some old sweetheart of the girl +mistook that poor devil of a scapegoat, Algy, for him, and went pegging +at him like a madman." + +"No," said Sir William; "No, I would not. Nor do I now. At least," he +struck out his right hand deprecatingly, "I listen." + +"Can you tell me what he was doing when he went to Italy?" + +"He went partly at my suggestion." + +"Turns you round his little finger! He went off with this girl: wanted +to educate her, or some nonsense of the sort. That was Mr. Ned's +business. Upon my soul, I'm sorry for old Fleming. I'm told he takes it +to heart. It's done him up. Now, if it should turn out to be Ned, would +you let him right the girl by marrying her? You wouldn't!" + +"The principle of examining your hypothesis before you proceed to +decide by it, is probably unknown to you," Sir William observed, after +bestowing a considerate smile on his brother, who muffled himself up +from the chilling sententiousness, and drank. + +Sir William, in the pride of superior intellect, had heard as good as +nothing of the charge against his son. + +"Well," said the squire, "think as you like, act as you like; all's one +to me. You're satisfied; that's clear; and I'm some hundred of pounds +out of pocket. This major's paying court to the widow, is he?" + +"I can't say that he is." + +"It would be a good thing for her to get married." + +"I should be glad." + +"A good thing for her, I say." + +"A good thing for him, let us hope." + +"If he can pay her debts." + +Sir William was silent, and sipped his wine. + +"And if he can keep a tight hand on the reins. That's wanted," said the +squire. + +The gentleman whose road to happiness was thus prescribed stood by Mrs. +Lovell's chair, in the drawing-room. He held a letter in his hand, for +which her own was pleadingly extended. + +"I know you to be the soul of truth, Percy," she was saying. + +"The question is not that; but whether you can bear the truth." + +"Can I not? Who would live without it?" + +"Pardon me; there's more. You say, you admire this friend of mine; no +doubt you do. Mind, I am going to give you the letter. I wish you simply +to ask yourself now, whether you are satisfied at my making a confidant +of a man in Robert Eccles's position, and think it natural and just--you +do?" + +"Quite just," said Mrs. Lovell; "and natural? Yes, natural; though not +common. Eccentric; which only means, hors du commun; and can be natural. +It is natural. I was convinced he was a noble fellow, before I knew that +you had made a friend of him. I am sure of it now. And did he not save +your life, Percy?" + +"I have warned you that you are partly the subject of the letter." + +"Do you forget that I am a woman, and want it all the more impatiently?" + +Major Waring suffered the letter to be snatched from his hand, and stood +like one who is submitting to a test, or watching the effect of a potent +drug. + +"It is his second letter to you," Mrs. Lovell murmured. "I see; it is a +reply to yours." + +She read a few lines, and glanced up, blushing. "Am I not made to bear +more than I deserve?" + +"If you can do such mischief, without meaning any, to a man who is in +love with another woman--," said Percy. + +"Yes," she nodded, "I perceive the deduction; but inferences are like +shadows on the wall--they are thrown from an object, and are monstrous +distortions of it. That is why you misjudge women. You infer one thing +from another, and are ruled by the inference." + +He simply bowed. Edward would have answered her in a bright strain, and +led her on to say brilliant things, and then have shown her, as by a +sudden light, that she had lost herself, and reduced her to feel the +strength and safety of his hard intellect. That was the idea in her +brain. The next moment her heart ejected it. + +"Petty, when I asked permission to look at this letter, I was not aware +how great a compliment it would be to me if I was permitted to see it. +It betrays your friend." + +"It betrays something more," said he. + +Mrs. Lovell cast down her eyes and read, without further comment. + +These were the contents:-- + + "My Dear Percy,--Now that I see her every day again, I am worse than + ever; and I remember thinking once or twice that Mrs. L. had cured + me. I am a sort of man who would jump to reach the top of a + mountain. I understand how superior Mrs. L. is to every woman in + the world I have seen; but Rhoda cures me on that head. Mrs. Lovell + makes men mad and happy, and Rhoda makes them sensible and + miserable. I have had the talk with Rhoda. It is all over. I have + felt like being in a big room with one candle alight ever since. + She has not looked at me, and does nothing but get by her father + whenever she can, and takes his hand and holds it. I see where the + blow has struck her: it has killed her pride; and Rhoda is almost + all pride. I suppose she thinks our plan is the best. She has not + said she does, and does not mention her sister. She is going to + die, or she turns nun, or marries a gentleman. I shall never get + her. She will not forgive me for bringing this news to her. I told + you how she coloured, the first day I came; which has all gone now. + She just opens her lips to me. You remember Corporal Thwaites--you + caught his horse, when he had his foot near wrenched off, going + through the gate--and his way of breathing through the under-row of + his teeth--the poor creature was in such pain--that's just how she + takes her breath. It makes her look sometimes like that woman's + head with the snakes for her hair. This bothers me--how is it you + and Mrs. Lovell manage to talk together of such things? Why, two + men rather hang their heads a bit. My notion is, that women-- + ladies, in especial, ought never to hear of sad things of this sort. + Of course, I mean, if they do, it cannot harm them. It only upsets + me. Why are ladies less particular than girls in Rhoda's place?" + + ("Shame being a virtue," was Mrs. Lovell's running comment.) + + "She comes up to town with her father to-morrow. The farm is + ruined. The poor old man had to ask me for a loan to pay the + journey. Luckily, Rhoda has saved enough with her pennies and + two-pences. Ever since I left the farm, it has been in the hands + of an old donkey here, who has worked it his own way. What is in + the ground will stop there, and may as well. + + "I leave off writing, I write such stuff; and if I go on + writing to you, I shall be putting these things '--!--!--!' The way + you write about Mrs. Lovell, convinces me you are not in my scrape, + or else gentlemen are just as different from their inferiors as + ladies are from theirs. That's the question. What is the meaning + of your 'not being able to leave her for a day, for fear she should + fall under other influences'? Then, I copy your words, you say, + 'She is all things to everybody, and cannot help it.' In that case, + I would seize my opportunity and her waist, and tell her she was + locked up from anybody else. Friendship with men--but I cannot + understand friendship with women, and watching them to keep them + right, which must mean that you do not think much of them." + +Mrs. Lovell, at this point, raised her eyes abruptly from the letter and +returned it. + +"You discuss me very freely with your friend," she said. + +Percy drooped to her. "I warned you when you wished to read it." + +"But, you see, you have bewildered him. It was scarcely wise to write +other than plain facts. Men of that class." She stopped. + +"Of that class?" said he. + +"Men of any class, then: you yourself: if any one wrote to you such +things, what would you think? It is very unfair. I have the honour of +seeing you daily, because you cannot trust me out of your sight? What is +there inexplicable about me? Do you wonder that I talk openly of women +who are betrayed, and do my best to help them?". + +"On the contrary; you command my esteem," said Percy. + +"But you think me a puppet?" + +"Fond of them, perhaps?" his tone of voice queried in a manner that made +her smile. + +"I hate them," she said, and her face expressed it. + +"But you make them." + +"How? You torment me." + +"How can I explain the magic? Are you not making one of me now, where I +stand?" + +"Then, sit." + +"Or kneel?" + +"Oh, Percy! do nothing ridiculous." + +Inveterate insight was a characteristic of Major Waring; but he was +not the less in Mrs. Lovell's net. He knew it to be a charm that she +exercised almost unknowingly. She was simply a sweet instrument for +those who could play on it, and therein lay her mighty fascination. +Robert's blunt advice that he should seize the chance, take her and +make her his own, was powerful with him. He checked the particular +appropriating action suggested by Robert. + +"I owe you an explanation," he said. "Margaret, my friend." + +"You can think of me as a friend, Percy?" + +"If I can call you my friend, what would I not call you besides? I did +you a great and shameful wrong when you were younger. Hush! you did +not deserve that. Judge of yourself as you will; but I know now what my +feelings were then. The sublime executioner was no more than a spiteful +man. You give me your pardon, do you not? Your hand?" + +She had reached her hand to him, but withdrew it quickly. + +"Not your hand, Margaret? But, you must give it to some one. You will be +ruined, if you do not." + +She looked at him with full eyes. "You know it then?" she said slowly; +but the gaze diminished as he went on. + +"I know, by what I know of you, that you of all women should owe a +direct allegiance. Come; I will assume privileges. Are you free?" + +"Would you talk to me so, if you thought otherwise?" she asked. + +"I think I would," said Percy. "A little depends upon the person. Are +you pledged at all to Mr. Edward Blancove?" + +"Do you suppose me one to pledge myself?" + +"He is doing a base thing." + +"Then, Percy, let an assurance of my knowledge of that be my answer." + +"You do not love the man?" + +"Despise him, say!" + +"Is he aware of it?" + +"If clear writing can make him." + +"You have told him as much?" + +"To his apprehension, certainly." + +"Further, Margaret, I must speak:--did he act with your concurrence, or +knowledge of it at all, in acting as he has done?" + +"Heavens! Percy, you question me like a husband." + +"It is what I mean to be, if I may." + +The frame of the fair lady quivered as from a blow, and then her eyes +rose tenderly. + +"I thought you knew me. This is not possible." + +"You will not be mine? Why is it not possible?" + +"I think I could say, because I respect you too much." + +"Because you find you have not the courage?" + +"For what?" + +"To confess that you were under bad influence, and were not the Margaret +I can make of you. Put that aside. If you remain as you are, think of +the snares. If you marry one you despise, look at the pit. Yes; you will +be mine! Half my love of my country and my profession is love of you. +Margaret is fire in my blood. I used to pray for opportunities, that +Margaret might hear of me. I knew that gallant actions touched her; I +would have fallen gladly; I was sure her heart would leap when she heard +of me. Let it beat against mine. Speak!" + +"I will," said Mrs. Lovell, and she suppressed the throbs of her bosom. +Her voice was harsh and her face bloodless. "How much money have you, +Percy?" + +This sudden sluicing of cold water on his heat of passion petrified him. + +"Money," he said, with a strange frigid scrutiny of her features. As in +the flash of a mirror, he beheld her bony, worn, sordid, unacceptable. +But he was fain to admit it to be an eminently proper demand for +enlightenment. + +He said deliberately, "I possess an income of five hundred a year, +extraneous, and in addition to my pay as major in Her Majesty's +service." + +Then he paused, and the silence was like a growing chasm between them. + +She broke it by saying, "Have you any expectations?" + +This was crueller still, though no longer astonishing. He complained in +his heart merely that her voice had become so unpleasant. + +With emotionless precision, he replied, "At my mother's death--" + +She interposed a soft exclamation. + +"At my mother's death there will come to me by reversion, five or six +thousand pounds. When my father dies, he may possibly bequeath his +property to me. On that I cannot count." + +Veritable tears were in her eyes. Was she affecting to weep +sympathetically in view of these remote contingencies? + +"You will not pretend that you know me now, Percy," she said, trying to +smile; and she had recovered the natural feminine key of her voice. +"I am mercenary, you see; not a mercenary friend. So, keep me as a +friend--say you will be my friend." + +"Nay, you had a right to know," he protested. + +"It was disgraceful--horrible; but it was necessary for me to know." + +"And now that you do know?" + +"Now that I know, I have only to say--be as merciful in your idea of me +as you can." + +She dropped her hand in his, and it was with a thrill of dismay that he +felt the rush of passion reanimating his frozen veins. + +"Be mercenary, but be mine! I will give you something better to live +for than this absurd life of fashion. You reckon on what our expenditure +will be by that standard. It's comparative poverty; but--but you can +have some luxuries. You can have a carriage, a horse to ride. Active +service may come: I may rise. Give yourself to me, and you must love me, +and regret nothing." + +"Nothing! I should regret nothing. I don't want carriages, or horses, or +luxuries. I could live with you on a subaltern's pay. I can't marry you, +Percy, and for the very reason which would make me wish to marry you." + +"Charade?" said he; and the contempt of the utterance brought her head +close under his. + +"Dearest friend, you have not to learn how to punish me." + +The little reproach, added to the wound to his pride, required a healing +medicament; she put her lips to his fingers. + +Assuredly the comedy would not have ended there, but it was stopped +by an intrusion of the squire, followed by Sir William, who, while +the squire--full of wine and vindictive humours--went on humming, "Ah! +h'm--m--m! Soh!" said in the doorway to some one behind him: "And if +you have lost your key, and Algernon is away, of what use is it to drive +down to the Temple for a bed? I make it an especial request that you +sleep here tonight. I wish it. I have to speak with you." + +Mrs. Lovell was informed that the baronet had been addressing his +son, who was fresh from Paris, and not, in his own modest opinion, +presentable before a lady. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +Once more Farmer Fleming and Rhoda prepared for their melancholy journey +up to London. A light cart was at the gateway, near which Robert stood +with the farmer, who, in his stiff brown overcoat, that reached to his +ankles, and broad country-hat, kept his posture of dumb expectation +like a stalled ox, and nodded to Robert's remarks on the care which the +garden had been receiving latterly, the many roses clean in bud, and the +trim blue and white and red garden beds. Every word was a blow to him; +but he took it, as well as Rhoda's apparent dilatoriness, among the +things to be submitted to by a man cut away by the roots from the home +of his labour and old associations. Above his bowed head there was a +board proclaiming that Queen Anne's Farm, and all belonging thereunto, +was for sale. His prospect in the vague wilderness of the future, was +to seek for acceptance as a common labourer on some kind gentleman's +property. The phrase "kind gentleman" was adopted by his deliberate +irony of the fate which cast him out. Robert was stamping fretfully for +Rhoda to come. At times, Mrs. Sumfit showed her head from the window of +her bed-room, crying, "D'rectly!" and disappearing. + +The still aspect of the house on the shining May afternoon was otherwise +undisturbed. Besides Rhoda, Master Gammon was being waited for; on whom +would devolve the driving of the cart back from the station. Robert +heaped his vexed exclamations upon this old man. The farmer restrained +his voice in Master Gammon's defence, thinking of the comparison he +could make between him and Robert: for Master Gammon had never run +away from the farm and kept absent, leaving it to take care of itself. +Gammon, slow as he might be, was faithful, and it was not he who had +made it necessary for the farm to be sold. Gammon was obstinate, but it +was not he who, after taking a lead, and making the farm dependent on +his lead, had absconded with the brains and energy of the establishment. +Such reflections passed through the farmer's mind. + +Rhoda and Mrs. Sumfit came together down the trim pathway; and Robert +now had a clear charge against Master Gammon. He recommended an +immediate departure. + +"The horse 'll bring himself home quite as well and as fast as Gammon +will," he said. + +"But for the shakin' and the joltin', which tells o' sovereigns and +silver," Mrs. Sumfit was observing to Rhoda, "you might carry the +box--and who would have guessed how stout it was, and me to hit it with +a poker and not break it, I couldn't, nor get a single one through the +slit;--the sight I was, with a poker in my hand! I do declare I felt +azactly like a housebreaker;--and no soul to notice what you carries. +Where you hear the gold, my dear, go so"--Mrs. Sumfit performed a +methodical "Ahem!" and noised the sole of her shoe on the gravel "so, +and folks 'll think it's a mistake they made." + +"What's that?"--the farmer pointed at a projection under Rhoda's shawl. + +"It is a present, father, for my sister," said Rhoda. + +"What is it?" the farmer questioned again. + +Mrs. Sumfit fawned before him penitently--"Ah! William, she's poor, +and she do want a little to spend, or she will be so nipped and like a +frost-bitten body, she will. And, perhaps, dear, haven't money in her +sight for next day's dinner, which is--oh, such a panic for a young +wife! for it ain't her hunger, dear William--her husband, she thinks of. +And her cookery at a stand-still! Thinks she, 'he will charge it on the +kitchen;' so unreasonable's men. Yes," she added, in answer to the rigid +dejection of his look, "I said true to you. I know I said, 'Not a penny +can I get, William,' when you asked me for loans; and how could I get +it? I can't get it now. See here, dear!" + +She took the box from under Rhoda's shawl, and rattled it with a down +turn and an up turn. + +"You didn't ask me, dear William, whether I had a money-box. I'd ha' +told you so at once, had ye but asked me. And had you said, 'Gi' me your +money-box,' it was yours, only for your asking. You do see, you can't +get any of it out. So, when you asked for money I was right to say, I'd +got none." + +The farmer bore with her dreary rattling of the box in demonstration of +its retentive capacities. The mere force of the show stopped him from +retorting; but when, to excuse Master Gammon for his tardiness, she +related that he also had a money-box, and was in search of it, the +farmer threw up his head with the vigour of a young man, and thundered +for Master Gammon, by name, vehemently wrathful at the combined +hypocrisy of the pair. He called twice, and his face was purple and red +as he turned toward the cart, saying,-- + +"We'll go without the old man." + +Mrs. Sumfit then intertwisted her fingers, and related how that she and +Master Gammon had one day, six years distant, talked on a lonely evening +over the mischances which befel poor people when they grew infirm, or +met with accident, and what "useless clays" they were; and yet they had +their feelings. It was a long and confidential talk on a summer evening; +and, at the end of it, Master Gammon walked into Wrexby, and paid +a visit to Mr. Hammond, the carpenter, who produced two strong +saving-boxes excellently manufactured by his own hand, without a lid to +them, or lock and key: so that there would be no getting at the contents +until the boxes were full, or a pressing occasion counselled the +destruction of the boxes. A constant subject of jest between Mrs. Sumfit +and Master Gammon was, as to which first of them would be overpowered +by curiosity to know the amount of their respective savings; and their +confessions of mutual weakness and futile endeavours to extract one +piece of gold from the hoard. + +"And now, think it or not," said Mrs. Sumfit, "I got that power over +him, from doctorin' him, and cookin' for him, I persuaded him to help my +poor Dahly in my blessed's need. I'd like him to do it by halves, but he +can't." + +Master Gammon appeared round a corner of the house, his box, draped by +his handkerchief, under his arm. The farmer and Robert knew, when he was +in sight, that gestures and shouts expressing extremities of the need +for haste, would fail to accelerate his steps, so they allowed him to +come on at his own equal pace, steady as Time, with the peculiar lopping +bend of knees which jerked the moveless trunk regularly upward, and +the ancient round eyes fixed contemplatively forward. There was an +affectingness in this view of the mechanical old man bearing his poor +hoard to bestow it. + +Robert said out, unawares, "He mustn't be let to part with h'old +pennies." + +"No;" the farmer took him up; "nor I won't let him." + +"Yes, father!" Rhoda intercepted his address to Master Gammon. "Yes, +father!" she hardened her accent. "It is for my sister. He does a good +thing. Let him do it." + +"Mas' Gammon, what ha' ye got there?" the farmer sung out. + +But Master Gammon knew that he was about his own business. He was a +difficult old man when he served the farmer; he was quite unmanageable +in his private affairs. + +Without replying, he said to Mrs. Sumfit,-- + +"I'd gummed it." + +The side of the box showed that it had been made adhesive, for the sake +of security, to another substance. + +"That's what's caused ye to be so long, Mas' Gammon?" + +The veteran of the fields responded with a grin, designed to show a +lively cunning. + +"Deary me, Mas' Gammon, I'd give a fortnight's work to know how much +you'm saved, now, I would. And, there! Your comfort's in your heart. And +it shall be paid to you. I do pray heaven in mercy to forgive me," she +whimpered, "if ever knowin'ly I hasted you at a meal, or did deceive you +when you looked for the pickings of fresh-killed pig. But if you only +knew how--to cookit spoils the temper of a woman! I'd a aunt was cook +in a gentleman's fam'ly, and daily he dirtied his thirteen plates--never +more nor never less; and one day--was ever a woman punished so! her best +black silk dress she greased from the top to the bottom, and he sent +down nine clean plates, and no word vouchsafed of explanation. For +gentlefolks, they won't teach themselves how it do hang together with +cooks in a kitchen--" + +"Jump up, Mas' Gammon," cried the farmer, wrathful at having been +deceived by two members of his household, who had sworn to him, both, +that they had no money, and had disregarded his necessity. Such being +human nature! + +Mrs. Sumfit confided the termination of her story to Rhoda; or suggested +rather, at what distant point it might end; and then, giving Master +Gammon's box to her custody, with directions for Dahlia to take the +boxes to a carpenter's shop--not attempting the power of pokers upon +them--and count and make a mental note of the amount of the rival +hoards, she sent Dahlia all her messages of smirking reproof, and +delighted love, and hoped that they would soon meet and know happiness. + +Rhoda, as usual, had no emotion to spare. She took possession of the +second box, and thus laden, suffered Robert to lift her into the cart. +They drove across the green, past the mill and its flashing waters, and +into the road, where the waving of Mrs. Sumfit's desolate handkerchief +was latest seen. + +A horseman rode by, whom Rhoda recognized, and she blushed and had a +boding shiver. Robert marked him, and the blush as well. + +It was Algernon, upon a livery-stable hack. His countenance expressed a +mighty disappointment. + +The farmer saw no one. The ingratitude and treachery of Robert, and of +Mrs. Sumfit and Master Gammon, kept him brooding in sombre disgust of +life. He remarked that the cart jolted a good deal. + +"If you goes in a cart, wi' company o' four, you expects to be jolted," +said Master Gammon. + +"You seem to like it," Robert observed to the latter. + +"It don't disturb my in'ards," quoth the serenest of mankind. + +"Gammon," the farmer addressed him from the front seat, without turning +his head: "you'll take and look about for a new place." + +Master Gammon digested the recommendation in silence. On its being +repeated, with, "D' ye hear?" he replied that he heard well enough. + +"Well, then, look about ye sharp, or maybe, you'll be out in the cold," +said the farmer. + +"Na," returned Master Gammon, "ah never frets till I'm pinched." + +"I've given ye notice," said the farmer. + +"No, you ha'n't," said Master Gammon. + +"I give ye notice now." + +"No, you don't." + +"How d' ye mean?" + +"Cause I don't take ne'er a notice." + +"Then you'll be kicked out, old man." + +"Hey! there y' have me," said Master Gammon. "I growed at the farm, and +you don't go and tell ne'er a tree t' walk." + +Rhoda laid her fingers in the veteran's palm. + +"You're a long-lived family, aren't you, Master Gammon?" said Robert, +eyeing Rhoda's action enviously. + +Master Gammon bade him go to a certain churchyard in Sussex, and +inspect a particular tombstone, upon which the ages of his ancestry were +written. They were more like the ages of oaks than of men. + +"It's the heart kills," said Robert. + +"It's damned misfortune," murmured the farmer. + +"It is the wickedness in the world," thought Rhoda. + +"It's a poor stomach, I reckon," Master Gammon ruminated. + +They took leave of him at the station, from which eminence it was a +notable thing to see him in the road beneath, making preparations for +his return, like a conqueror of the hours. Others might run, and stew, +if they liked: Master Gammon had chosen his pace, and was not of a mind +to change it for anybody or anything. It was his boast that he had never +ridden by railway: "nor ever means to, if I can help it," he would say. +He was very much in harmony with universal nature, if to be that is the +secret of human life. + +Meantime, Algernon retraced his way to the station in profound chagrin: +arriving there just as the train was visible. He caught sight of the +cart with Master Gammon in it, and asked him whether all his people were +going up to London; but the reply was evidently a mile distant, and had +not started; so putting a sovereign in Master Gammon's hand, together +with the reins of his horse, Algernon bade the old man conduct the +animal to the White Bear Inn, and thus violently pushing him off the +tramways of his intelligence, left him stranded. + +He had taken a first-class return-ticket, of course, being a gentleman. +In the desperate hope that he might jump into a carriage with Rhoda, he +entered one of the second-class compartments; a fact not only foreign to +his tastes and his habits, but somewhat disgraceful, as he thought. His +trust was, that the ignoble of this earth alone had beheld him: at +any rate, his ticket was first class, as the guard would instantly and +respectfully perceive, and if he had the discomforts, he had also some +of the consolations of virtue. + +Once on his way, the hard seat and the contemptible society surrounding +him, assured his reflective spirit that he loved: otherwise, was it in +reason that he should endure these hardships? "I really love the girl," +he said, fidgeting for cushions. + +He was hot, and wanted the window up, to which his fellow-travellers +assented. Then, the atmosphere becoming loaded with offence to his +morbid sense of smell, he wanted the windows down; and again they +assented. "By Jove! I must love the girl," ejaculated Algernon inwardly, +as cramp, cold, and afflicted nostrils combined to astonish his +physical sensations. Nor was it displeasing to him to evince that he was +unaccustomed to bare boards. + +"We're a rich country," said a man to his neighbour; "but, if you +don't pay for it, you must take your luck, and they'll make you as +uncomfortable as they can." + +"Ay," said the other. "I've travelled on the Continent. The second-class +carriages there are fit for anybody to travel in. This is what comes of +the worship of money--the individual is not respected. Pounds alone!" + +"These," thought Algernon, "are beastly democrats." + +Their remarks had been sympathetic with his manifestations, which had +probably suggested them. He glowered out of the window in an exceedingly +foreign manner. A plainly dressed woman requested that the window should +be closed. One of the men immediately proceeded to close it. Algernon +stopped him. + +"Pardon me, sir," said the man; "it's a lady wants it done;" and he did +it. + +A lady! Algernon determined that these were the sort of people he should +hate for life. "Go among them and then see what they are," he addressed +an imaginary assembly of anti-democrats, as from a senatorial chair set +in the after days. Cramp, cold, ill-ordered smells, and eternal hatred +of his fellow-passengers, convinced him, in their aggregation, that he +surmounted not a little for love of Rhoda. + +The train arrived in London at dusk. Algernon saw Rhoda step from a +carriage near the engine, assisted by Robert; and old Anthony was on the +platform to welcome her; and Anthony seized her bag, and the troop +of passengers moved away. It may be supposed that Algernon had angry +sensations at sight of Robert; and to a certain extent this was the +case; but he was a mercurial youth, and one who had satisfactorily +proved superior strength enjoyed a portion of his respect. Besides, if +Robert perchance should be courting Rhoda, he and Robert would enter +into another field of controversy; and Robert might be taught a lesson. + +He followed the party on foot until they reached Anthony's +dwelling-place, noted the house, and sped to the Temple. There, he found +a telegraphic message from Edward, that had been awaiting him since the +morning. + +"Stop It," were the sole words of the communication brief, and if one +preferred to think so, enigmatic. + +"What on earth does he mean?" cried Algernon, and affected again +and again to see what Edward meant, without success. "Stop it?--stop +what?--Stop the train? Stop my watch? Stop the universe? Oh! this is +rank humbug." He flung the paper down, and fell to counting the money in +his possession. The more it dwindled, the more imperative it became that +he should depart from his country. + +Behind the figures, he calculated that, in all probability, Rhoda would +visit her sister this night. "I can't stop that," he said: and hearing +a clock strike, "nor that" a knock sounded on the door; "nor that." The +reflection inspired him with fatalistic views. + +Sedgett appeared, and was welcome. Algernon had to check the impulse of +his hand to stretch out to the fellow, so welcome was he: Sedgett stated +that everything stood ready for the morrow. He had accomplished all that +had to be done. + +"And it's more than many'd reckon," he said, and rubbed his hands, and +laughed. "I was aboard ship in Liverpool this morning, that I was. +That ere young woman's woke up from her dream", (he lengthened the word +inexpressibly) "by this time, that she is. I had to pay for my passage, +though;" at which recollection he swore. "That's money gone. Never mind: +there's worse gone with it. Ain't it nasty--don't you think, sir--to get +tired of a young woman you've been keepin' company with, and have to be +her companion, whether you will, or whether you won't? She's sick enough +now. We travelled all night. I got her on board; got her to go to her +bed; and, says I, I'll arrange about the luggage. I packs myself down +into a boat, and saw the ship steam away a good'n. Hanged if I didn't +catch myself singin'. And haven't touched a drop o' drink, nor will, +till tomorrow's over. Don't you think 'Daehli's' a very pretty name, +sir? I run back to her as hard as rail 'd carry me. She's had a letter +from her sister, recommending o' her to marry me: 'a noble man,' she +calls me--ha, ha! that's good. 'And what do you think, my dear?' says I; +and, bother me, if I can screw either a compliment or a kiss out of her. +She's got fine lady airs of her own. But I'm fond of her, that I am. +Well, sir, at the church door, after the ceremony, you settle our +business, honour bright--that's it, en't it?" + +Algernon nodded. Sedgett's talk always produced discomfort in his +ingenuous bosom. + +"By the way, what politics are you?" he asked. + +Sedgett replied, staring, that he was a Tory, and Algernon nodded again, +but with brows perturbed at the thought of this ruffian being of the +same political persuasion as himself. + +"Eh?" cried Sedgett; "I don't want any of your hustings pledges, +though. You'll be at the door tomorrow, or I'll have a row--mind that. A +bargain's a bargain. I like the young woman, but I must have the money. +Why not hand it over now?" + +"Not till the deed's done," said Algernon, very reasonably. + +Sedgett studied his features, and as a result remarked: "You put me up +to this: I'll do it, and trust you so far, but if I'm played on, I +throw the young woman over and expose you out and out. But you mean +honourable?" + +"I do," Algernon said of his meaning. + +Another knock sounded on the door. It proved to be a footman in Sir +William's livery, bearing a letter from Edward; an amplification of the +telegram: + + "Dear Algy, Stop it. I'm back, and have to see + my father. I may be down about two, or three, or four, + in the morning. No key; so, keep in. I want to see + you. My whole life is changed. I must see her. Did + you get my telegram? Answer, by messenger; I shall + come to you the moment my father has finished his + lecture. + "Yours, + "E.B." + +Algernon told Sedgett to wait while he dressed in evening uniform, and +gave him a cigar to smoke. + +He wrote:-- + + "Dear Ned, Stop what? Of course, I suppose there's only one thing, + and how can I stop it? What for? You ridiculous old boy! What a + changeable old fellow you are!--Off, to see what I can do. After + eleven o'clock to-morrow, you'll feel comfortable.--If the Governor + is sweet, speak a word for the Old Brown; and bring two dozen in a + cab, if you can. There's no encouragement to keep at home in this + place. Put that to him. I, in your place, could do it. Tell him + it's a matter of markets. If I get better wine at hotels, I go to + hotels, and I spend twice--ten times the money. And say, we intend + to make the laundress cook our dinners in chambers, as a rule. Old + B. an inducement. + + "Yours aff. + "A.B." + +This epistle he dispatched by the footman, and groaned to think that +if, perchance, the Old Brown Sherry should come, he would, in all +probability, barely drink more than half-a-dozen bottles of that prime +vintage. He and Sedgett, soon after, were driving down to Dahlia's poor +lodgings in the West. On the way, an idea struck him: + +Would not Sedgett be a noisier claimant for the thousand than Edward? +If he obeyed Edward's direction and stopped the marriage, he could hand +back a goodly number of hundreds, and leave it to be supposed that he +had advanced the remainder to Sedgett. How to do it? Sedgett happened to +say: "If you won't hand the money now, I must have it when I've married +her. Swear you'll be in the vestry when we're signing. I know all about +marriages. You swear, or I tell you, if I find I'm cheated, I will throw +the young woman over slap." + +Algernon nodded: "I shall be there," he said, and thought that he +certainly would not. The thought cleared an oppression in his head, +though it obscured the pretty prospect of a colonial but and horse, with +Rhoda cooking for him, far from cares. He did his best to resolve that +he would stop the business, if he could. But, if it is permitted to the +fool to create entanglements and set calamity in motion, to arrest its +course is the last thing the Gods allow of his doing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +In the shadowy library light, when there was dawn out of doors, Edward +sat with his father, and both were silent, for Edward had opened his +heart, and his father had breathed some of the dry stock of wisdom on +it. Many times Edward rose to go; and Sir William signalled with his +finger that he should stay: an impassive motion, not succeeded by +speech. And, in truth, the baronet was revolving such a problem as a +long career of profitable banking refreshed by classical exercitations +does not help us to solve. There sat the son of his trust and his pride, +whose sound and equal temperament, whose precocious worldly wit, whose +precise and broad intelligence, had been the visionary comfort of his +paternal days to come; and his son had told him, reiterating it in +language special and exact as that of a Chancery barrister unfolding +his case to the presiding judge, that he had deceived and wronged +an under-bred girl of the humbler classes; and that, after a term of +absence from her, he had discovered her to be a part of his existence, +and designed "You would marry her?" Sir William asked, though less +forcibly than if he could have put on a moral amazement. + +"That is my intention, sir, with your permission," Edward replied +firmly, and his father understood that he had never known this young +man, and dealt virtually with a stranger in his son--as shrewd a blow as +the vanity which is in paternal nature may have to endure. + +He could not fashion the words, "Cerritus fuit," though he thought +the thing in both tenses: Edward's wits had always been too clearly in +order: and of what avail was it to repeat great and honoured prudential +maxims to a hard-headed fellow, whose choice was to steer upon the +rocks? He did remark, in an undertone,-- + +"The 'misce stultitiam' seems to be a piece of advice you have adopted +too literally. I quote what you have observed of some one else." + +"It is possible, sir," said Edward. "I was not particularly sparing when +I sat in the high seat. 'Non eadem est aetas, non mens.' I now think +differently." + +"I must take your present conduct as the fruit of your premature +sagacity, I suppose. By the same rule, your cousin Algernon may prove to +be some comfort to his father, in the end." + +"Let us hope he will, sir. His father will not have deserved it so well +as mine." + +"The time is morning," said Sir William, looking at his watch, and +bestowing, in the bitterness of his reflections, a hue of triumph on the +sleep of his brother upstairs. "You are your own master, Edward. I will +detain you no more." + +Edward shook his limbs, rejoicing. + +"You prepare for a life of hard work," Sir William resumed, not without +some instigation to sternness from this display of alacrity. "I counsel +you to try the Colonial Bar." + +Edward read in the first sentence, that his income would be restricted; +and in the second, that his father's social sphere was no longer to be +his. + +"Exactly, sir; I have entertained that notion myself," he said; and his +breast narrowed and his features grew sharp. + +"And, if I may suggest such matters to you, I would advise you to see +very little company for some years to come." + +"There, sir, you only anticipate my previously formed resolution. With +a knavery on my conscience, and a giddy-pated girl on my hands, and +the doors of the London world open to me, I should scarcely have been +capable of serious work. The precious metal, which is Knowledge, sir, +is only to be obtained by mining for it; and that excellent occupation +necessarily sends a man out of sight for a number of years. In the +meantime, 'mea virtute me involvo.'" + +"You need not stop short," said his father, with a sardonic look for the +concluding lines. + +"The continuation is becoming in the mouth of a hero; but humbler +persons must content themselves not to boast the patent fact, I think." +Edward warmed as he spoke. "I am ready to bear it. I dislike poverty; +but, as I say, I am ready to bear it. Come, sir; you did me the honour +once to let me talk to you as a friend, with the limits which I have +never consciously overstepped; let me explain myself plainly and +simply." + +Sir William signified, "Pray speak," from the arms of his chair! and +Edward, standing, went on: "After all, a woman's devotion is worth +having, when one is not asked for the small change every ten minutes. I +am aware of the philosophic truth, that we get nothing in life for which +we don't pay. The point is, to appreciate what we desire; and so we +reach a level that makes the payment less--" He laughed. Sir William +could hardly keep back the lines of an ironical smile from his lips. + +"This," pursued the orator, "is not the language for the Colonial Bar. +I wish to show you that I shall understand the character of my vocation +there. No, sir; my deeper wish is that you may accept my view of the +sole course left to a man whose sense of honour is of accord with +the inclination of his heart, and not in hostility to his clearer +judgement." + +"Extremely forensic," said Sir William, not displeased by the promise of +the periods. + +"Well, sir, I need not remark to you that rhetoric, though it should +fail to convey, does not extinguish, or imply the absence of emotion in +the speaker; but rather that his imagination is excited by his theme, +and that he addresses more presences than such as are visible. It is, +like the Roman mask, fashioned for large assemblages." + +"By a parity of reasoning, then,"--Sir William was seduced into +colloquy,--"an eternal broad grin is not, in the instance of a dualogue, +good comedy." + +"It may hide profound grief." Edward made his eyes flash. "I find I can +laugh; it would be difficult for me to smile. Sir, I pray that you will +listen to me seriously, though my language is not of a kind to make you +think me absolutely earnest in what I say, unless you know me." + +"Which, I must protest, I certainly do not," interposed Sir William. + +"I will do my best to instruct you, sir. Until recently, I have not +known myself. I met this girl. She trusted herself to me. You are aware +that I know a little of men and of women; and when I tell you that I +respect her now even more than I did at first--much more--so thoroughly, +that I would now put my honour in her hands, by the counsel of my +experience, as she, prompted by her instinct and her faith in me, +confided hers to mine,--perhaps, even if you persist in accusing me +of rashness, you will allow that she must be in the possession of +singularly feminine and estimable qualities. I deceived her. My object +in doing so was to spare you. Those consequences followed which can +hardly fail to ensue, when, of two living together, the woman is at a +disadvantage, and eats her heart without complaining. I could have borne +a shrewish tongue better, possibly because I could have answered it +better. It is worse to see a pale sad face with a smile of unalterable +tenderness. The very sweetness becomes repugnant." + +"As little boys requiring much medicine have anticipated you by noting +in this world," observed Sir William. + +"I thank you for the illustration." Edward bowed, but he smarted. "A man +so situated lives with the ghost of his conscience." + +"A doubtful figure of speech," Sir William broke in. "I think you should +establish the personality before you attempt to give a feature to the +essence. But, continue." + +Edward saw that by forfeiting simplicity, in order to catch his father's +peculiar cast of mind, he had left him cold and in doubt as to the +existence of the powerful impulse by which he was animated. It is a +prime error in the orator not to seize the emotions and subdue the +humanity of his hearers first. Edward perceived his mistake. He had, +however, done well in making a show of the unabated vigour of his wits. +Contempt did not dwell in the baronet's tone. On the contrary, they +talked and fenced, and tripped one another as of old; and, considering +the breach he had been compelled to explode between his father and +himself, Edward understood that this was a real gain. + +He resumed: "All figures of speech must be inadequate--" + +"Ah, pardon me," said Sir William, pertinaciously; "the figure I alluded +to was not inadequate. A soap-bubble is not inadequate." + +"Plainly, sir, in God's name, hear me out," cried Edward. "She--what +shall I call her? my mistress, my sweetheart, if you like--let the name +be anything 'wife' it should have been, and shall be--I left her, and +have left her and have not looked on her for many months. I thought I +was tired of her--I was under odd influences--witchcraft, it seems. I +could believe in witchcraft now. Brutal selfishness is the phrase for my +conduct. I have found out my villany. I have not done a day's sensible +work, or had a single clear thought, since I parted from her. She has +had brain-fever. She has been in the hospital. She is now prostrate with +misery. While she suffered, I--I can't look back on myself. If I had to +plead before you for more than manly consideration, I could touch you. I +am my own master, and am ready to subsist by my own efforts; there is no +necessity for me to do more than say I abide by the choice I make, and +my own actions. In deciding to marry her, I do a good thing--I do a just +thing. I will prove to you that I have done a wise thing. + +"Let me call to your recollection what you did me the honour to remark +of my letters from Italy. Those were written with her by my side. Every +other woman vexed me. This one alone gives me peace, and nerve to work. +If I did not desire to work, should I venture to run the chances of +an offence to you? Your girls of society are tasteless to me. And they +don't makes wives to working barristers. No, nor to working Members. + +"They are very ornamental and excellent, and, as I think you would +call them, accomplished. All England would leap to arms to defend their +incontestible superiority to their mothers and their duties. I have not +the wish to stand opposed to my countrymen on any question, although +I go to other shores, and may be called upon to make capital out of +opposition. They are admirable young persons, no doubt. I do not offer +you a drab for your daughter-in-law, sir. If I rise, she will be equal +to my station. She has the manners of a lady; a lady, I say; not of the +modern young lady; with whom, I am happy to think, she does not come +into competition. She has not been sedulously trained to pull her way, +when she is to go into harness with a yokefellow. + +"But I am laying myself open to the charge of feeling my position weak, +seeing that I abuse the contrary one. Think what you will of me, sir, +you will know that I have obeyed my best instinct and my soundest +judgement in this matter; I need not be taught, that if it is my destiny +to leave England I lose the association with him who must ever be my +dearest friend. And few young men can say as much of one standing in the +relation of father." + +With this, Edward finished; not entirely to his satisfaction; for he had +spoken with too distinct a sincerity to please his own critical taste, +which had been educated to delight in acute antithesis and culminating +sentences--the grand Biscayan billows of rhetorical utterance, in +comparison wherewith his talk was like the little chopping waves of a +wind-blown lake. But he had, as he could see, produced an impression. +His father stood up. + +"We shall be always friends; I hope," Sir William said. "As regards a +provision for you, suitable to your estate, that will be arranged. You +must have what comforts you have been taught to look to. At the same +time, I claim a personal freedom for my own actions." + +"Certainly, sir," said Edward, not conceiving any new development in +these. + +"You have an esteem for Mrs. Lovell, have you not?" + +Edward flushed. "I should have a very perfect esteem for her, if--" he +laughed slightly--"you will think I want everybody to be married and in +the traces now; she will never be manageable till she is married." + +"I am also of that opinion," said Sir William. "I will detain you no +longer. It is a quarter to five in the morning. You will sleep here, of +course." + +"No, I must go to the Temple. By the way, Algy prefers a petition for +Sherry. He is beginning to discern good wine from bad, which may be a +hopeful augury." + +"I will order Holmes to send some down to him when he has done a week's +real duty at the Bank." + +"Sooner or later, then. Good morning, sir." + +"Good morning." Sir William shook his son's hand. + +A minute after, Edward had quitted the house. "That's over!" he said, +sniffing the morning air gratefully, and eyeing certain tinted wisps of +cloud that were in a line of the fresh blue sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +A shy and humble entreaty had been sent by Dahlia through Robert to +Rhoda, saying that she wished not to be seen until the ceremony was at +an end; but Rhoda had become mentally stern toward her sister, and as +much to uphold her in the cleansing step she was about to take, as in +the desire to have the dear lost head upon her bosom, she disregarded +Dahlia's foolish prayer, and found it was well that she had done so; +for, to her great amazement, Dahlia, worn, shorn, sickened, and reduced +to be a mark for the scorn of the cowardice which is in the world, +through the selfishness of a lying man, loved the man still, and +wavered, or rather shrank with a pitiful fleshly terror from the noble +husband who would wipe the spot of shame from her forehead. + +When, after their long separation, the sisters met, Dahlia was mistress +of herself, and pronounced Rhoda's name softly, as she moved up to kiss +her. Rhoda could not speak. Oppressed by the strangeness of the white +face which had passed through fire, she gave a mute kiss and a single +groan, while Dahlia gently caressed her on the shoulder. The frail touch +of her hand was harder to bear than the dreary vision had been, and +seemed not so real as many a dream of it. Rhoda sat by her, overcome by +the awfulness of an actual sorrow, never imagined closely, though she +had conjured up vague pictures of Dahlia's face. She had imagined agony, +tears, despair, but not the spectral change, the burnt-out look. It +was a face like a crystal lamp in which the flame has died. The ghastly +little skull-cap showed forth its wanness rigidly. Rhoda wondered to +hear her talk simply of home and the old life. At each question, the +then and the now struck her spirit with a lightning flash of opposing +scenes. But the talk deepened. Dahlia's martyrdom was near, and their +tongues were hurried into plain converse of the hour, and then Dahlia +faltered and huddled herself up like a creature swept by the torrent; +Rhoda learnt that, instead of hate or loathing of the devilish man who +had deceived her, love survived. Upon Dahlia's lips it was compassion +and forgiveness; but Rhoda, in her contempt for the word, called it +love. Dahlia submitted gladly to the torture of interrogation; "Do you, +can you care for him still?" and sighed in shame and fear of her sister, +not daring to say she thought her harsh, not daring to plead for escape, +as she had done with Robert. + +"Why is there no place for the unhappy, who do not wish to live, and +cannot die?" she moaned. + +And Rhoda cruelly fixed her to the marriage, making it seem irrevocable, +and barring all the faint lights to the free outer world, by praise of +her--passionate praise of her--when she confessed, that half inanimate +after her recovery from the fever, and in the hope that she might +thereby show herself to her father, she had consented to devote her life +to the only creature who was then near her to be kind to her. Rhoda +made her relate how this man had seen her first, and how, by untiring +diligence, he had followed her up and found her. "He--he must love you," +said Rhoda; and in proportion as she grew more conscious of her sister's +weakness, and with every access of tenderness toward her, she felt that +Dahlia must be thought for very much as if she were a child. + +Dahlia tried to float out some fretting words for mercy, on one or other +of her heavy breathings; but her brain was under lead. She had a thirst +for Rhoda's praise in her desolation; it was sweet, though the price of +it was her doing an abhorred thing. Abhorred? She did not realize the +consequences of the act, or strength would have come to her to wrestle +with the coil: a stir of her blood would have endued her with womanly +counsel and womanly frenzy; nor could Rhoda have opposed any real +vehemence of distaste to the union on Dahlia's part. But Dahlia's blood +was frozen, her brain was under lead. She clung to the poor delight +in her sister's praise, and shuddered and thirsted. She caught at the +minutes, and saw them slip from her. All the health of her thoughts +went to establish a sort of blind belief that God; having punished +her enough, would not permit a second great misery to befall her. She +expected a sudden intervention, even though at the altar. She argued to +herself that misery, which follows sin, cannot surely afflict us further +when we are penitent, and seek to do right: her thought being, that +perchance if she refrained from striving against the current, and if +she suffered her body to be borne along, God would be the more merciful. +With the small cunning of an enfeebled spirit, she put on a mute +submissiveness, and deceived herself by it sufficiently to let the +minutes pass with a lessened horror and alarm. + +This was in the first quarter of the night. The dawn was wearing near. +Sedgett had been seen by Rhoda; a quiet interview; a few words on either +side, attention paid to them by neither. But the girl doated on his +ugliness; she took it for plain proof of his worthiness; proof too that +her sister must needs have seen the latter very distinctly, or else she +could not have submitted. + +Dahlia looked at the window-blinds and at the candlelight. The little +which had been spoken between her and her sister in such a chasm of +time, gave a terrible swiftness to the hours. Half shrieking, she +dropped her head in Rhoda's lap. Rhoda, thinking that with this +demonstration she renounced the project finally, prepared to say what +she had to say, and to yield. But, as was natural after a paroxysm of +weakness, Dahlia's frenzy left no courage behind it. + +Dahlia said, as she swept her brows, "I am still subject to nervous +attacks." + +"They will soon leave you," said Rhoda, nursing her hand. + +Dahlia contracted her lips. "Is father very unforgiving to women?" + +"Poor father!" Rhoda interjected for answer, and Dahlia's frame was +taken with a convulsion. + +"Where shall I see him to-morrow?" she asked; and, glancing from the +beamless candle to the window-blinds "Oh! it's day. Why didn't I sleep! +It's day! where am I to see him?" + +"At Robert's lodgings. We all go there." + +"We all go?--he goes?" + +"Your husband will lead you there." + +"My heaven! my heaven! I wish you had known what this is, a little--just +a little." + +"I do know that it is a good and precious thing to do right," said +Rhoda. + +"If you had only had an affection, dear! Oh I how ungrateful I am to +you." + +"It is only, darling, that I seem unkind to you," said Rhoda. + +"You think I must do this? Must? Why?" + +"Why?" Rhoda pressed her fingers. "Why, when you were ill, did you not +write to me, that I might have come to you?" + +"I was ashamed," said Dahlia. + +"You shall not be ashamed any more, my sister." + +Dahlia seized the window-blind with her trembling finger-tips, and +looked out on the day. As if it had smitten her eyeballs, she covered +her face, giving dry sobs. + +"Oh! I wish--I wish you had known what this is. Must I do it? His face! +Dear, I am very sorry to distress you. Must I do it? The doctor says I +am so strong that nothing will break in me, and that I must live, if I +am not killed. But, if I might only be a servant in father's house--I +would give all my love to a little bed of flowers." + +"Father has no home now," said Rhoda. + +"I know--I know. I am ready. I will submit, and then father will not be +ashamed to remain at the Farm. I am ready. Dear, I am ready. Rhoda, I +am ready. It is not much." She blew the candle out. "See. No one will do +that for me. We are not to live for ourselves. I have done wrong, and I +am going to be humble; yes, I am. I never was when I was happy, and that +proves I had no right to be happy. All I ask is for another night +with you. Why did we not lie down together and sleep? We can't sleep +now--it's day." + +"Come and lie down with me for a few hours, my darling," said Rhoda. + +While she was speaking, Dahlia drew the window-blind aside, to look out +once more upon the vacant, inexplicable daylight, and looked, and then +her head bent like the first thrust forward of a hawk's sighting quarry; +she spun round, her raised arms making a cramped, clapping motion. + +"He is there." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +At once Rhoda perceived that it was time for her to act. The name of +him who stood in the street below was written on her sister's face. She +started to her side, got possession of her hands, murmuring,-- + +"Come with me. You are to come with me. Don't speak. I know. I will go +down. Yes; you are to obey, and do what I tell you." + +Dahlia's mouth opened, but like a child when it is warned not to cry, +she uttered a faint inward wailing, lost her ideas, and was passive in a +shuddering fit. + +"What am I to do?" she said supplicatingly, as Rhoda led her to her +bedroom. + +"Rest here. Be perfectly quiet. Trust everything to me. I am your +sister." + +Leaving her under the spell of coldly-spoken words, Rhoda locked the +door on her. She was herself in great agitation, but nerved by deeper +anger there was no faltering in her movements. She went to the glass a +minute, as she tied her bonnet-strings under her chin, and pinned her +shawl. A night's vigil had not chased the bloom from her cheek, or the +swimming lustre from her dark eyes. Content that her aspect should +be seemly, she ran down the stairs, unfastened the bolts, and without +hesitation closed the door behind her. At the same instant, a gentleman +crossed the road. He asked whether Mrs. Ayrton lived in that house? +Rhoda's vision danced across his features, but she knew him unerringly +to be the cruel enemy. + +"My sister, Dahlia Fleming, lives there," she said. + +"Then, you are Rhoda?" + +"My name is Rhoda." + +"Mine--I fear it will not give you pleasure to hear it--is Edward +Blancove. I returned late last night from abroad." + +She walked to a distance, out of hearing and out of sight of the house, +and he silently followed. The streets were empty, save for the solitary +footing of an early workman going to his labour. + +She stopped, and he said, "I hope your sister is well." + +"She is quite well." + +"Thank heaven for that! I heard of some illness." + +"She has quite recovered." + +"Did she--tell me the truth--did she get a letter that I sent two days +ago, to her? It was addressed to 'Miss Fleming, Wrexby, Kent, England.' +Did it reach her?" + +"I have not seen it." + +"I wrote," said Edward. + +His scrutiny of her features was not reassuring to him. But he had a +side-thought, prompted by admiration of her perfect build of figure, her +succinct expression of countenance, and her equable manner of speech: to +the effect, that the true English yeomanry can breed consummate women. +Perhaps--who knows? even resolute human nature is the stronger for an +added knot--it approved the resolution he had formed, or stamped with a +justification the series of wild impulses, the remorse, and the returned +tenderness and manliness which had brought him to that spot. + +"You know me, do you not?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered shortly. + +"I wish to see Dahlia." + +"You cannot." + +"Not immediately, of course. But when she has risen later in the +morning. If she has received my letter, she will, she must see me." + +"No, not later; not at all," said Rhoda. + +"Not at all? Why not?" + +Rhoda controlled the surging of her blood for a vehement reply; saying +simply, "You will not see her." + +"My child, I must." + +"I am not a child, and I say what I mean." + +"But why am I not to see her? Do you pretend that it is her wish not to +see me? You can't. I know her perfectly. She is gentleness itself." + +"Yes; you know that," said Rhoda, with a level flash of her eyes, and +confronting him in a way so rarely distinguishing girls of her class, +that he began to wonder and to ache with an apprehension. + +"She has not changed? Rhoda--for we used to talk of you so often! You +will think better of me, by-and-by. + +"Naturally enough, you detest me at present. I have been a brute. +I can't explain it, and I don't excuse myself. I state the fact to +you--her sister. My desire is to make up for the past. Will you take a +message to her from me?" + +"I will not." + +"You are particularly positive." + +Remarks touching herself Rhoda passed by. + +"Why are you so decided?" he said more urgently. "I know I have deeply +offended and hurt you. I wish, and intend to repair the wrong to the +utmost of my power. Surely it's mere silly vindictiveness on your part +to seek to thwart me. Go to her; say I am here. At all events, let it be +her choice not to see me, if I am to be rejected at the door. She can't +have had my letter. Will you do that much?" + +"She knows that you are here; she has seen you." + +"Has seen me?" Edward drew in his breath sharply. "Well? and she sends +you out to me?" + +Rhoda did not answer. She was strongly tempted to belie Dahlia's frame +of mind. + +"She does send you to speak to me," Edward insisted. + +"She knows that I have come." + +"And you will not take one message in?" + +"I will take no message from you." + +"You hate me, do you not?" + +Again she controlled the violent shock of her heart to give him hard +speech. He went on:-- + +"Whether you hate me or not is beside the matter. It lies between Dahlia +and me. I will see her. When I determine, I allow of no obstacles, +not even of wrong-headed girls. First, let me ask, is your father in +London?" + +Rhoda threw a masculine meaning into her eyes. + +"Do not come before him, I advise you." + +"If," said Edward, with almost womanly softness, "you could know what +I have passed through in the last eight-and-forty hours, you would +understand that I am equal to any meeting; though, to speak truth, I +would rather not see him until I have done what I mean to do. Will you +be persuaded? Do you suppose that I have ceased to love your sister?" + +This, her execrated word, coming from his mouth, vanquished her +self-possession. + +"Are you cold?" he said, seeing the ripple of a trembling run over her. + +"I am not cold. I cannot remain here." Rhoda tightened her intertwisting +fingers across under her bosom. "Don't try to kill my sister outright. +She's the ghost of what she was. Be so good as to go. She will soon be +out of your reach. You will have to kill me first, if you get near her. +Never! you never shall. You have lied to her--brought disgrace on her +poor head. We poor people read our Bibles, and find nothing that excuses +you. You are not punished, because there is no young man in our family. +Go." + +Edward gazed at her for some time. "Well, I've deserved worse," he said, +not sorry, now that he saw an opponent in her, that she should waste her +concentrated antagonism in this fashion, and rejoiced by the testimony +it gave him that he was certainly not too late. + +"You know, Rhoda, she loves me." + +"If she does, let her pray to God on her knees." + +"My good creature, be reasonable. Why am I here? To harm her? You take +me for a kind of monster. You look at me very much, let me say, like +a bristling cat. Here are the streets getting full of people, and you +ought not to be seen. Go to Dahlia. Tell her I am here. Tell her I am +come to claim her for good, and that her troubles are over. This is a +moment to use your reason. Will you do what I ask?" + +"I would cut my tongue out, if it did you a service," said Rhoda. + +"Citoyenne Corday," thought Edward, and observed: "Then I will dispense +with your assistance." + +He moved in the direction of the house. Rhoda swiftly outstripped him. +They reached the gates together. She threw herself in the gateway. He +attempted to parley, but she was dumb to it. + +"I allow nothing to stand between her and me," he said, and seized her +arm. She glanced hurriedly to right and left. At that moment Robert +appeared round a corner of the street. He made his voice heard, and, +coming up at double quick, caught Edward Blancove by the collar, +swinging him off. Rhoda, with a sign, tempered him to muteness, and the +three eyed one another. + +"It's you," said Robert, and, understanding immediately the tactics +desired by Rhoda, requested Edward to move a step or two away in his +company. + +Edward settled the disposition of his coat-collar, as a formula +wherewith to regain composure of mind, and passed along beside Robert, +Rhoda following. + +"What does this mean?" said Robert sternly. + +Edward's darker nature struggled for ascendancy within him. It was +this man's violence at Fairly which had sickened him, and irritated him +against Dahlia, and instigated him, as he remembered well, more than +Mrs. Lovell's witcheries, to the abhorrent scheme to be quit of her, and +rid of all botheration, at any cost. + +"You're in some conspiracy to do her mischief, all of you," he cried. + +"If you mean Dahlia Fleming," said Robert, "it'd be a base creature that +would think of doing harm to her now." + +He had a man's perception that Edward would hardly have been found in +Dahlia's neighbourhood with evil intentions at this moment, though it +was a thing impossible to guess. Generous himself, he leaned to the more +generous view. + +"I think your name is Eccles," said Edward. "Mr. Eccles, my position +here is a very sad one. But first, let me acknowledge that I have +done you personally a wrong. I am ready to bear the burden of your +reproaches, or what you will. All that I beg is, that you will do me the +favour to grant me five minutes in private. It is imperative." + +Rhoda burst in--"No, Robert!" But Robert said, "It is a reasonable +request;" and, in spite of her angry eyes, he waved her back, and walked +apart with Edward. + +She stood watching them, striving to divine their speech by their +gestures, and letting her savage mood interpret the possible utterances. +It went ill with Robert in her heart that he did not suddenly grapple +and trample the man, and so break away from him. She was outraged to see +Robert's listening posture. "Lies! lies!" she said to herself, "and +he doesn't know them to be lies." The window-blinds in Dahlia's +sitting-room continued undisturbed; but she feared the agency of the +servant of the house in helping to release her sister. Time was flowing +to dangerous strands. At last Robert turned back singly. Rhoda fortified +her soul to resist. + +"He has fooled you," she murmured, inaudibly, before he spoke. + +"Perhaps, Rhoda, we ought not to stand in his way. He wishes to do +what a man can do in his case. So he tells me, and I'm bound not to +disbelieve him. He says he repents--says the word; and gentlemen seem to +mean it when they use it. I respect the word, and them when they're up +to that word. He wrote to her that he could not marry her, and it did +the mischief, and may well be repented of; but he wishes to be forgiven +and make amends--well, such as he can. He's been abroad, and only +received Dahlia's letters within the last two or three days. He seems to +love her, and to be heartily wretched. Just hear me out; you'll decide; +but pray, pray don't be rash. He wishes to marry her; says he has spoken +to his father this very night; came straight over from France, after he +had read her letters. He says--and it seems fair--he only asks to see +Dahlia for two minutes. If she bids him go, he goes. He's not a friend +of mine, as I could prove to you; but I do think he ought to see her. He +says he looks on her as his wife; always meant her to be his wife, but +things were against him when he wrote that letter. Well, he says so; and +it's true that gentlemen are situated--they can't always, or think they +can't, behave quite like honest men. They've got a hundred things to +consider for our one. That's my experience, and I know something of the +best among 'em. The question is about this poor young fellow who's to +marry her to-day. Mr. Blancove talks of giving him a handsome sum--a +thousand pounds--and making him comfortable--" + +"There!" Rhoda exclaimed, with a lightning face. "You don't see what he +is, after that? Oh!--" She paused, revolted. + +"Will you let me run off to the young man, wherever he's to be found, +and put the case to him--that is, from Dahlia? And you know she doesn't +like the marriage overmuch, Rhoda. Perhaps he may think differently when +he comes to hear of things. As to Mr. Blancove, men change and change +when they're young. I mean, gentlemen. We must learn to forgive. Either +he's as clever as the devil, or he's a man in earnest, and deserves +pity. If you'd heard him!" + +"My poor sister!" sighed Rhoda. The mentioning of money to be paid +had sickened and weakened her, as with the very physical taste of +degradation. + +Hearing the sigh, Robert thought she had become subdued. Then Rhoda +said: "We are bound to this young man who loves my sister--bound to him +in honour: and Dahlia must esteem him, to have consented. As for the +other..." She waved the thought of his claim on her sister aside with a +quick shake of her head. "I rely on you to do this:--I will speak to Mr. +Blancove myself. He shall not see her there." She indicated the house. +"Go to my sister; and lose no time in taking her to your lodgings. +Father will not arrive till twelve. Wait and comfort her till I come, +and answer no questions. Robert," she gave him her hand gently, and, +looking sweetly, "if you will do this!" + +"If I will!" cried Robert, transported by the hopeful tenderness. The +servant girl of the house had just opened the front door, intent on +scrubbing, and he passed in. Rhoda walked on to Edward. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +A profound belief in the efficacy of his eloquence, when he chose +to expend it, was one of the principal supports of Edward's sense of +mastery; a secret sense belonging to certain men in every station +of life, and which is the staff of many an otherwise impressible and +fluctuating intellect. With this gift, if he trifled, or slid downward +in any direction, he could right himself easily, as he satisfactorily +conceived. It is a gift that may now and then be the ruin of promising +youths, though as a rule they find it helpful enough. Edward had exerted +it upon his father, and upon Robert. Seeing Rhoda's approach, he thought +of it as a victorious swordsman thinks of his weapon, and aimed his +observation over her possible weak and strong points, studying +her curiously even when she was close up to him. With Robert, the +representative of force, to aid her, she could no longer be regarded +in the light of a despicable hindrance to his wishes. Though inclined +strongly to detest, he respected her. She had decision, and a worthy +bearing, and a marvellously blooming aspect, and a brain that worked +withal. When she spoke, desiring him to walk on by her side, he was +pleased by her voice, and recognition of the laws of propriety, and +thought it a thousand pities that she likewise should not become the +wife of a gentleman. By degrees, after tentative beginnings, he put his +spell upon her ears, for she was attentive, and walked with a demure +forward look upon the pavement; in reality taking small note of what +things he said, until he quoted, as against himself, sentences from +Dahlia's letters; and then she fixed her eyes on him, astonished that he +should thus heap condemnation on his own head. They were most pathetic +scraps quoted by him, showing the wrestle of love with a petrifying +conviction of its hopelessness, and with the stealing on of a malady of +the blood. They gave such a picture of Dahlia's reverent love for this +man, her long torture, her chastity of soul and simple innocence, and +her gathering delirium of anguish, as Rhoda had never taken at all +distinctly to her mind. She tried to look out on him from a mist of +tears. + +"How could you bear to read the letters?" she sobbed. + +"Could any human being read them and not break his heart for her?" said +he. + +"How could you bear to read them and leave her to perish!" + +His voice deepened to an impressive hollow: "I read them for the first +time yesterday morning, in France, and I am here!" + +It was undeniably, in its effect on Rhoda, a fine piece of pleading +artifice. It partially excused or accounted for his behaviour, while +it filled her with emotions which she felt to be his likewise, and +therefore she could not remain as an unsympathetic stranger by his side. + +With this, he flung all artifice away. He told her the whole story, +saving the one black episode of it--the one incomprehensible act of +a desperate baseness that, blindly to get free, he had deliberately +permitted, blinked at, and had so been guilty of. He made a mental pause +as he was speaking, to consider in amazement how and by what agency +he had been reduced to shame his manhood, and he left it a marvel. +Otherwise, he in no degree exonerated himself. He dwelt sharply on his +vice of ambition, and scorned it as a misleading light. "Yet I have +done little since I have been without her!" And then, with a persuasive +sincerity, he assured her that he could neither study nor live apart +from Dahlia. "She is the dearest soul to me on earth; she is the purest +woman. I have lived with her, I have lived apart from her, and I cannot +live without her. I love her with a husband's love. Now, do you suppose +I will consent to be separated from her? I know that while her heart +beats, it's mine. Try to keep her from me--you kill her." + +"She did not die," said Rhoda. It confounded his menaces. + +"This time she might," he could not refrain from murmuring. + +"Ah!" Rhoda drew off from him. + +"But I say," cried he, "that I will see her." + +"We say, that she shall do what is for her good." + +"You have a project? Let me hear it. You are mad, if you have." + +"It is not our doing, Mr. Blancove. It was--it was by her own choice. +She will not always be ashamed to look her father in the face. She dare +not see him before she is made worthy to see him. I believe her to have +been directed right." + +"And what is her choice?" + +"She has chosen for herself to marry a good and worthy man." + +Edward called out, "Have you seen him--the man?" + +Rhoda, thinking he wished to have the certainty of the stated fact +established, replied, "I have." + +"A good and worthy man," muttered Edward. "Illness, weakness, misery, +have bewildered her senses. She thinks him a good and worthy man?" + +"I think him so." + +"And you have seen him?" + +"I have." + +"Why, what monstrous delusion is this? It can't be! My good creature, +you're oddly deceived, I imagine. What is the man's name? I can +understand that she has lost her will and distinct sight; but you are +clear-sighted, and can estimate. What is the man's name?" + +"I can tell you," said Rhoda; "his name is Mr. Sedgett." + +"Mister--!" Edward gave one hollow stave of laughter. "And you have seen +him, and think him--" + +"I know he is not a gentleman," said Rhoda. "He has been deeply good to +my sister, and I thank him, and do respect him." + +"Deeply!" Edward echoed. He was prompted to betray and confess himself: +courage failed. + +They looked around simultaneously on hearing an advancing footstep. + +The very man appeared--in holiday attire, flushed, smiling, and with a +nosegay of roses in his hand. He studied the art of pleasing women. His +eye struck on Edward, and his smile vanished. Rhoda gave him no word of +recognition. As he passed on, he was led to speculate from his having +seen Mr. Edward instead of Mr. Algernon, and from the look of the +former, that changes were in the air, possibly chicanery, and the +proclaiming of himself as neatly diddled by the pair whom, with another, +he heartily hoped to dupe. + +After he had gone by, Edward and Rhoda changed looks. Both knew the +destination of that lovely nosegay. The common knowledge almost kindled +an illuminating spark in her brain; but she was left in the dark, and +thought him strangely divining, or only strange. For him, a horror +cramped his limbs. He felt that he had raised a devil in that abominable +smirking ruffian. It may not, perhaps, be said that he had distinctly +known Sedgett to be the man. He had certainly suspected the possibility +of his being the man. It is out of the power of most wilful and selfish +natures to imagine, so as to see accurately, the deeds they prompt +or permit to be done. They do not comprehend them until these black +realities stand up before their eyes. + +Ejaculating "Great heaven!" Edward strode some steps away, and returned. + +"It's folly, Rhoda!--the uttermost madness ever conceived! I do not +believe--I know that Dahlia would never consent--first, to marry any man +but myself; secondly, to marry a man who is not a perfect gentleman. Her +delicacy distinguishes her among women." + +"Mr. Blancove, my sister is nearly dead, only that she is so strong. +The disgrace has overwhelmed her, it has. When she is married, she will +thank and honour him, and see nothing but his love and kindness. I will +leave you now." + +"I am going to her," said Edward. + +"Do not." + +"There's an end of talking. I trust no one will come in my path. Where +am I?" + +He looked up at the name of the street, and shot away from her. Rhoda +departed in another direction, firm, since she had seen Sedgett pass, +that his nobleness should not meet with an ill reward. She endowed +him with fair moral qualities, which she contrasted against Edward +Blancove's evil ones; and it was with a democratic fervour of contempt +that she dismissed the superior outward attractions of the gentleman. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +This neighbourhood was unknown to Edward, and, after plunging about in +one direction and another, he found that he had missed his way. Down +innumerable dusky streets of dwarfed houses, showing soiled silent +window-blinds, he hurried and chafed; at one moment in sharp joy that +he had got a resolution, and the next dismayed by the singular petty +impediments which were tripping him. "My dearest!" his heart cried to +Dahlia, "did I wrong you so? I will make all well. It was the work of a +fiend." Now he turned to right, now to left, and the minutes flew. They +flew; and in the gathering heat of his brain he magnified things until +the sacrifice of herself Dahlia was preparing for smote his imagination +as with a blaze of the upper light, and stood sublime before him in the +grandeur of old tragedy. "She has blinded her eyes, stifled her senses, +eaten her heart. Oh! my beloved! my wife! my poor girl! and all to be +free from shame in her father's sight!" Who could have believed that a +girl of Dahlia's class would at once have felt the shame so keenly, and +risen to such pure heights of heroism? The sacrifice flouted conception; +it mocked the steady morning. He refused to believe in it, but the short +throbs of his blood were wiser. + +A whistling urchin became his guide. The little lad was carelessly +giving note to a popular opera tune, with happy disregard of concord. +It chanced that the tune was one which had taken Dahlia's ear, and, +remembering it and her pretty humming of it in the old days, Edward's +wrestling unbelief with the fatality of the hour sank, so entirely was +he under the sovereignty of his sensations. He gave the boy a big fee, +desiring superstitiously to feel that one human creature could bless the +hour. The house was in view. He knocked, and there came a strange murmur +of some denial. "She is here," he said, menacingly. + +"She was taken away, sir, ten minutes gone, by a gentleman," the servant +tied to assure him. + +The landlady of the house, coming up the kitchen stairs, confirmed the +statement. In pity for his torpid incredulity she begged him to examine +her house from top to bottom, and herself conducted him to Dahlia's +room. + +"That bed has not been slept in," said the lawyer, pointing his finger +to it. + +"No, sir; poor thing! she didn't sleep last night. She's been wearying +for weeks; and last night her sister came, and they hadn't met for very +long. Two whole candles they burnt out, or near upon it." + +"Where?--" Edward's articulation choked. + +"Where they're gone to, sir? That I do not know. Of course she will come +back." + +The landlady begged him to wait; but to sit and see the minutes--the +black emissaries of perdition--fly upon their business, was torture as +big as to endure the tearing off of his flesh till the skeleton stood +out. Up to this point he had blamed himself; now he accused the just +heavens. Yea! is not a sinner their lawful quarry? and do they not slip +the hounds with savage glee, and hunt him down from wrong to evil, from +evil to infamy, from infamy to death, from death to woe everlasting? +And is this their righteousness?--He caught at the rusty garden rails to +steady his feet. + +Algernon was employed in the comfortable degustation of his breakfast, +meditating whether he should transfer a further slice of ham or of +Yorkshire pie to his plate, or else have done with feeding and light a +cigar, when Edward appeared before him. + +"Do you know where that man lives?" + +Algernon had a prompting to respond, "Now, really! what man?" But +passion stops the breath of fools. He answered, "Yes." + +"Have you the thousand in your pocket?" + +Algernon nodded with a sickly grin. + +"Jump up! Go to him. Give it up to him! Say, that if he leaves London on +the instant, and lets you see him off--say, it shall be doubled. Stay, +I'll write the promise, and put my signature. Tell him he shall, on my +word of honour, have another--another thousand pounds--as soon as I can +possibly obtain it, if he holds his tongue, and goes with you; and +see that he goes. Don't talk to me on any other subject, or lose one +minute." + +Algernon got his limbs slackly together, trying to think of the +particular pocket in which he had left his cigar-case. Edward wrote a +line on a slip of note-paper, and signed his name beneath. With this and +an unsatisfied longing for tobacco Algernon departed, agreeing to meet +his cousin in the street where Dahlia dwelt. + +"By Jove! two thousand! It's an expensive thing not to know your own +mind," he thought. + +"How am I to get out of this scrape? That girl Rhoda doesn't care a +button for me. No colonies for me. I should feel like a convict if I +went alone. What on earth am I to do?" + +It seemed preposterous to him that he should take a cab, when he had not +settled upon a scheme. The sight of a tobacconist's shop charmed one of +his more immediate difficulties to sleep. He was soon enabled to puff +consoling smoke. + +"Ned's mad," he pursued his soliloquy. "He's a weather-cock. Do I ever +act as he does? And I'm the dog that gets the bad name. The idea of +giving this fellow two thousand--two thousand pounds! Why, he might live +like a gentleman." + +And that when your friend proves himself to be distraught, the proper +friendly thing to do is to think for him, became eminently clear in +Algernon's mind. + +"Of course, it's Ned's money. I'd give it if I had it, but I haven't; +and the fellow won't take a farthing less; I know him. However, it's my +duty to try." + +He summoned a vehicle. It was a boast of his proud youth that never in +his life had he ridden in a close cab. Flinging his shoulders back, +he surveyed the world on foot. "Odd faces one sees," he meditated. "I +suppose they've got feelings, like the rest; but a fellow can't help +asking--what's the use of them? If I inherit all right, as I ought +to--why shouldn't I?--I'll squat down at old Wrexby, garden and farm, +and drink my Port. I hate London. The squire's not so far wrong, I +fancy." + +It struck him that his chance of inheriting was not so very obscure, +after all. Why had he ever considered it obscure? It was decidedly next +to certain, he being an only son. And the squire's health was bad! + +While speculating in this wise he saw advancing, arm-in-arm, Lord +Suckling and Harry Latters. They looked at him, and evidently spoke +together, but gave neither nod, nor smile, nor a word, in answer to his +flying wave of the hand. Furious, and aghast at this signal of exclusion +from the world, just at the moment when he was returning to it almost +cheerfully in spirit, he stopped the cab, jumped out, and ran after the +pair. + +"I suppose I must say Mr. Latters," Algernon commenced. + +Harry deliberated a quiet second or two. "Well, according to our laws of +primogeniture, I don't come first, and therefore miss a better title," +he said. + +"How are you?" Algernon nodded to Lord Suckling, who replied, "Very +well, I thank you." + +Their legs were swinging forward concordantly. Algernon plucked out his +purse. "I have to beg you to excuse me," he said, hurriedly; "my +cousin Ned's in a mess, and I've been helping him as well as I +can--bothered--not an hour my own. Fifty, I think?" That amount he +tendered to Harry Latters, who took it most coolly. + +"A thousand?" he queried of Lord Suckling. + +"Divided by two," replied the young nobleman, and the Blucher of +bank-notes was proffered to him. He smiled queerly, hesitating to take +it. + +"I was looking for you at all the Clubs last night," said Algernon. + +Lord Suckling and Latters had been at theirs, playing whist till past +midnight; yet is money, even when paid over in this egregious public +manner by a nervous hand, such testimony to the sincerity of a man, that +they shouted a simultaneous invitation for him to breakfast with them, +in an hour, at the Club, or dine with them there that evening. Algernon +affected the nod of haste and acquiescence, and ran, lest they should +hear him groan. He told the cabman to drive Northward, instead of to +the South-west. The question of the thousand pounds had been decided +for him--"by fate," he chose to affirm. The consideration that one is +pursued by fate, will not fail to impart a sense of dignity even to the +meanest. "After all, if I stop in England," said he, "I can't afford to +lose my position in society; anything's better than that an unmitigated +low scoundrel like Sedgett should bag the game." Besides, is it not +somewhat sceptical to suppose that when Fate decides, she has not +weighed the scales, and decided for the best? Meantime, the whole energy +of his intellect was set reflecting on the sort of lie which Edward +would, by nature and the occasion, be disposed to swallow. He quitted +the cab, and walked in the Park, and au diable to him there! the fool +has done his work. + +It was now half-past ten. Robert, with a most heavy heart, had +accomplished Rhoda's commands upon him. He had taken Dahlia to his +lodgings, whither, when free from Edward, Rhoda proceeded in a mood +of extreme sternness. She neither thanked Robert, nor smiled upon her +sister. Dahlia sent one quivering look up at her, and cowered lower in +her chair near the window. + +"Father comes at twelve?" Rhoda said. + +Robert replied: "He does." + +After which a silence too irritating for masculine nerves filled the +room. + +"You will find, I hope, everything here that you may want," said Robert. +"My landlady will attend to the bell. She is very civil." + +"Thank you; we shall not want anything," said Rhoda. "There is my +sister's Bible at her lodgings." + +Robert gladly offered to fetch it, and left them with a sense of relief +that was almost joy. He waited a minute in the doorway, to hear whether +Dahlia addressed him. He waited on the threshold of the house, that he +might be sure Dahlia did not call for his assistance. Her cry of appeal +would have fortified him to stand against Rhoda; but no cry was heard. +He kept expecting it, pausing for it, hoping it would come to solve his +intense perplexity. The prolonged stillness terrified him; for, away +from the sisters, he had power to read the anguish of Dahlia's heart, +her frozen incapacity, and the great and remorseless mastery which lay +in Rhoda's inexorable will. + +A few doors down the street he met Major blaring, on his way to him. +"Here's five minutes' work going to be done, which we may all of us +regret till the day of our deaths," Robert said, and related what had +passed during the morning hours. + +Percy approved Rhoda, saying, "She must rescue her sister at all +hazards. The case is too serious for her to listen to feelings, and +regrets, and objections. The world against one poor woman is unfair +odds, Robert. I come to tell you I leave England in a day or two. Will +you join me?" + +"How do I know what I shall or can do?" said Robert, mournfully: and +they parted. + +Rhoda's unflickering determination to carry out, and to an end, +this tragic struggle of duty against inclination; on her own sole +responsibility forcing it on; acting like a Fate, in contempt of mere +emotions,--seemed barely real to his mind: each moment that he conceived +it vividly, he became more certain that she must break down. Was it in +her power to drag Dahlia to the steps of the altar? And would not her +heart melt when at last Dahlia did get her voice? "This marriage can +never take place!" he said, and was convinced of its being impossible. +He forgot that while he was wasting energy at Fairly, Rhoda had sat +hiving bitter strength in the loneliness of the Farm; with one vile +epithet clapping on her ears, and nothing but unavailing wounded love +for her absent unhappy sister to make music of her pulses. + +He found his way to Dahlia's room; he put her Bible under his arm, +and looked about him sadly. Time stood at a few minutes past eleven. +Flinging himself into a chair, he thought of waiting in that place; but +a crowd of undefinable sensations immediately beset him. Seeing Edward +Blancove in the street below, he threw up the window compassionately, +and Edward, casting a glance to right and left, crossed the road. Robert +went down to him. + +"I am waiting for my cousin." Edward had his watch in his hand. "I think +I am fast. Can you tell me the time exactly?" + +"Why, I'm rather slow," said Robert, comparing time with his own watch. +"I make it four minutes past the hour." + +"I am at fourteen," said Edward. "I fancy I must be fast." + +"About ten minutes past, is the time, I think." + +"So much as that!" + +"It may be a minute or so less." + +"I should like," said Edward, "to ascertain positively." + +"There's a clock down in the kitchen here, I suppose," said Robert. +"Safer, there's a clock at the church, just in sight from here." + +"Thank you; I will go and look at that." + +Robert bethought himself suddenly that Edward had better not. "I can +tell you the time to a second," he said. "It's now twelve minutes past +eleven." + +Edward held his watch balancing. "Twelve," he repeated; and, behind this +mask of common-place dialogue, they watched one another--warily, and +still with pity, on Robert's side. + +"You can't place any reliance on watches," said Edward. + +"None, I believe," Robert remarked. + +"If you could see the sun every day in this climate!" Edward looked up. + +"Ah, the sun's the best timepiece, when visible," Robert acquiesced. +"Backwoodsmen in America don't need watches." + +"Unless it is to astonish the Indians with them." + +"Ah! yes!" hummed Robert. + +"Twelve--fifteen--it must be a quarter past. Or, a three quarters to the +next hour, as the Germans say." + +"Odd!" Robert ejaculated. "Foreigners have the queerest ways in the +world. They mean no harm, but they make you laugh." + +"They think the same of us, and perhaps do the laughing more loudly." + +"Ah! let them," said Robert, not without contemptuous indignation, +though his mind was far from the talk. + +The sweat was on Edward's forehead. "In a few minutes it will be +half-past--half-past eleven! I expect a friend; that makes me impatient. +Mr. Eccles"--Edward showed his singular, smallish, hard-cut and flashing +features, clear as if he had blown off a mist--"you are too much of a +man to bear malice. Where is Dahlia? Tell me at once. Some one seems to +be cruelly driving her. Has she lost her senses? She has:--or else she +is coerced in an inexplicable and shameful manner." + +"Mr. Blancove," said Robert, "I bear you not a bit of malice--couldn't +if I would. I'm not sure I could have said guilty to the same sort of +things, in order to tell an enemy of mine I was sorry for what I had +done, and I respect you for your courage. Dahlia was taken from here by +me." + +Edward nodded, as if briefly assenting, while his features sharpened. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"It was her sister's wish." + +"Has she no will of her own?" + +"Very little, I'm afraid, just now, sir." + +"A remarkable sister! Are they of Puritan origin?" + +"Not that I am aware of." + +"And this father?" + +"Mr. Blancove, he is one of those sort--he can't lift up his head if he +so much as suspects a reproach to his children." + +Edward brooded. "I desire--as I told you, as I told her sister, as I +told my father last night--I desire to make her my wife. What can I do +more? Are they mad with some absurd country pride? Half-past eleven!--it +will be murder if they force her to it! Where is she? To such a man as +that! Poor soul! I can hardly fear it, for I can't imagine it. Here--the +time is going. You know the man yourself." + +"I know the man?" said Robert. "I've never set eyes on him--I've never +set eyes on him, and never liked to ask much about him. I had a sort +of feeling. Her sister says he is a good, and kind, honourable young +fellow, and he must be." + +"Before it's too late," Edward muttered hurriedly--"you know him--his +name is Sedgett." + +Robert hung swaying over him with a big voiceless chest. + +"That Sedgett?" he breathed huskily, and his look was hard to meet. + +Edward frowned, unable to raise his head. + +"Lord in heaven! some one has something to answer for!" cried Robert. +"Come on; come to the church. That foul dog?--Or you, stay where you +are. I'll go. He to be Dahlia's husband! They've seen him, and can't +see what he is!--cunning with women as that? How did they meet? Do you +know?--can't you guess?" + +He flung a lightning at Edward and ran off. Bursting into the aisle, he +saw the minister closing the Book at the altar, and three persons moving +toward the vestry, of whom the last, and the one he discerned, was +Rhoda. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +Late into the afternoon, Farmer Fleming was occupying a chair in +Robert's lodgings, where he had sat since the hour of twelve, without a +movement of his limbs or of his mind, and alone. He showed no sign that +he expected the approach of any one. As mute and unremonstrant as a +fallen tree, nearly as insensible, his eyes half closed, and his hands +lying open, the great figure of the old man kept this attitude as +of stiff decay through long sunny hours, and the noise of the London +suburb. Although the wedding people were strangely late, it was +unnoticed by him. When the door opened and Rhoda stepped into the room, +he was unaware that he had been waiting, and only knew that the hours +had somehow accumulated to a heavy burden upon him. + +"She is coming, father; Robert is bringing her up," Rhoda said. + +"Let her come," he answered. + +Robert's hold was tight under Dahlia's arm as they passed the doorway, +and then the farmer stood. Robert closed the door. + +For some few painful moments the farmer could not speak, and his hand +was raised rejectingly. The return of human animation to his heart made +him look more sternly than he felt; but he had to rid himself of one +terrible question before he satisfied his gradual desire to take his +daughter to his breast. It came at last like a short roll of drums, the +words were heard,-- + +"Is she an honest woman?" + +"She is," said Rhoda. + +The farmer was looking on Robert. + +Robert said it likewise in a murmur, but with steadfast look. + +Bending his eyes now upon Dahlia, a mist of affection grew in them. He +threw up his head, and with a choking, infantine cry, uttered, "Come." + +Robert placed her against her father's bosom. + +He moved to the window beside Rhoda, and whispered, and she answered, +and they knew not what they said. The joint moans of father and +daughter--the unutterable communion of such a meeting--filled their +ears. Grief held aloof as much as joy. Neither joy nor grief were in +those two hearts of parent and child; but the senseless contentment of +hard, of infinite hard human craving. + +The old man released her, and Rhoda undid her hands from him, and led +the pale Sacrifice to another room. + +"Where's...?" Mr. Fleming asked. + +Robert understood him. + +"Her husband will not come." + +It was interpreted by the farmer as her husband's pride. Or, may be, the +man who was her husband now had righted her at last, and then flung her +off in spite for what he had been made to do. + +"I'm not being deceived, Robert?" + +"No, sir; upon my soul!" + +"I've got that here," the farmer struck his ribs. + +Rhoda came back. "Sister is tired," she said. "Dahlia is going down home +with you, for...I hope, for a long stay." + +"All the better, while home we've got. We mayn't lose time, my girl. +Gammon's on 's way to the station now. He'll wait. He'll wait till +midnight. You may always reckon on a slow man like Gammon for waitin'. +Robert comes too?" + +"Father, we have business to do. Robert gives me his rooms here for a +little time; his landlady is a kind woman, and will take care of me. You +will trust me to Robert." + +"I'll bring Rhoda down on Monday evening," Robert said to the farmer. +"You may trust me, Mr. Fleming." + +"That I know. That I'm sure of. That's a certainty," said the farmer. +"I'd do it for good, if for good was in the girl's heart, Robert. There +seems," he hesitated; "eh, Robert, there seems a something upon us all. +There's a something to be done, is there? But if I've got my flesh and +blood, and none can spit on her, why should I be asking 'whats' and +'whys'? I bow my head; and God forgive me, if ever I complained. And you +will bring Rhoda to us on Monday?" + +"Yes; and try and help to make the farm look up again, if Gammon'll do +the ordering about." + +"Poor old Mas' Gammon! He's a rare old man. Is he changed by adversity, +Robert? Though he's awful secret, that old man! Do you consider a bit +Gammon's faithfulness, Robert!" + +"Ay, he's above most men in that," Robert agreed. + +"On with Dahlia's bonnet--sharp!" the farmer gave command. He felt, now +that he was growing accustomed to the common observation of things, +that the faces and voices around him were different from such as the +day brings in its usual course. "We're all as slow as Mas' Gammon, I +reckon." + +"Father," said Rhoda, "she is weak. She has been very unwell. Do not +trouble her with any questions. Do not let any questions be asked of her +at hone. Any talking fatigues; it may be dangerous to her." + +The farmer stared. "Ay, and about her hair....I'm beginning to remember. +She wears a cap, and her hair's cut off like an oakum-picker's. That's +more gossip for neighbours!" + +"Mad people! will they listen to truth?" Rhoda flamed out in her dark +fashion. "We speak truth, nothing but truth. She has had a brain fever. +That makes her very weak, and every one must be silent at home. Father, +stop the sale of the farm, for Robert will work it into order. He has +promised to be our friend, and Dahlia will get her health there, and be +near mother's grave." + +The farmer replied, as from a far thought, "There's money in my pocket +to take down two." + +He continued: "But there's not money there to feed our family a week on; +I leave it to the Lord. I sow; I dig, and I sow, and when bread fails +to us the land must go; and let it go, and no crying about it. I'm +astonishing easy at heart, though if I must sell, and do sell, I shan't +help thinking of my father, and his father, and the father before +him--mayhap, and in most likelihood, artfuller men 'n me--for what they +was born to they made to flourish. They'll cry in their graves. A man's +heart sticks to land, Robert; that you'll find, some day. I thought I +cared none but about land till that poor, weak, white thing put her arms +on my neck." + +Rhoda had slipped away from them again. + +The farmer stooped to Robert's ear. "Had a bit of a disagreement with +her husband, is it?" + +Robert cleared his throat. "Ay, that's it," he said. + +"Serious, at all?" + +"One can't tell, you know." + +"And not her fault--not my girl's fault, Robert?" + +"No; I can swear to that." + +"She's come to the right home, then. She'll be near her mother and me. +Let her pray at night, and she'll know she's always near her blessed +mother. Perhaps the women 'll want to take refreshment, if we may so far +make free with your hospitality; but it must be quick, Robert--or will +they? They can't eat, and I can't eat." + +Soon afterward Mr. Fleming took his daughter Dahlia from the house and +out of London. The deeply-afflicted creature was, as the doctors had +said of her, too strong for the ordinary modes of killing. She could +walk and still support herself, though the ordeal she had gone through +this day was such as few women could have traversed. The terror to +follow the deed she had done was yet unseen by her; and for the hour she +tasted, if not peace, the pause to suffering which is given by an act +accomplished. + +Robert and Rhoda sat in different rooms till it was dusk. When she +appeared before him in the half light, the ravage of a past storm was +visible on her face. She sat down to make tea, and talked with singular +self command. + +"Mr. Fleming mentioned the gossips down at Wrexby," said Robert: "are +they very bad down there?" + +"Not worse than in other villages," said Rhoda. "They have not been +unkind. They have spoken about us, but not unkindly--I mean, not +spitefully." + +"And you forgive them?" + +"I do: they cannot hurt us now." + +Robert was but striving to master some comprehension of her character. + +"What are we to resolve, Rhoda?" + +"I must get the money promised to this man." + +"When he has flung off his wife at the church door?" + +"He married my sister for the money. He said it. Oh! he said it. He +shall not say that we have deceived him. I told him he should have it. +He married her for money!" + +"You should not have told him so, Rhoda." + +"I did, and I will not let my word be broken." + +"Pardon me if I ask you where you will get the money? It's a large sum." + +"I will get it," Rhoda said firmly. + +"By the sale of the farm?" + +"No, not to hurt father." + +"But this man's a scoundrel. I know him. I've known him for years. My +fear is that he will be coming to claim his wife. How was it I never +insisted on seeing the man before--! I did think of asking, but +fancied--a lot of things; that you didn't wish it and he was shy. Ah, +Lord! what miseries happen from our not looking straight at facts! We +can't deny she's his wife now." + +"Not if we give him the money." + +Rhoda spoke of "the money" as if she had taken heated metal into her +mouth. + +"All the more likely," said Robert. "Let him rest. Had you your eyes on +him when he saw me in the vestry? For years that man has considered me +his deadly enemy, because I punished him once. What a scene! I'd have +given a limb, I'd have given my life, to have saved you from that scene, +Rhoda." + +She replied: "If my sister could have been spared! I ought to know +what wickedness there is in the world. It's ignorance that leads to the +unhappiness of girls." + +"Do you know that I'm a drunkard?" + +"No." + +"He called me something like it; and he said something like the truth. +There's the sting. Set me adrift, and I drink hard. He spoke a fact, and +I couldn't answer him." + +"Yes, it's the truth that gives such pain," said Rhoda, shivering. "How +can girls know what men are? I could not guess that you had any fault. +This man was so respectful; he sat modestly in the room when I saw him +last night--last night, was it? I thought, 'he has been brought up +with sisters and a mother.' And he has been kind to my dear--and all we +thought love for her, was--shameful! shameful!" + +She pressed her eyelids, continuing: "He shall have the money--he shall +have it. We will not be in debt to such a man. He has saved my sister +from one as bad--who offered it to be rid of her. Oh, men!--you heard +that?--and now pretends to love her. I think I dream. How could she ever +have looked happily on that hateful face?" + +"He would be thought handsome," said Robert, marvelling how it was that +Rhoda could have looked on Sedgett for an instant without reading his +villanous nature. "I don't wish you to regret anything you have done +or you may do, Rhoda. But this is what made me cry out when I looked on +that man, and knew it was he who had come to be Dahlia's husband. He'll +be torture to her. The man's temper, his habits--but you may well say +you are ignorant of us men. Keep so. What I do with all my soul entreat +of you is--to get a hiding-place for your sister. Never let him take her +off. There's such a thing as hell upon earth. If she goes away with him +she'll know it. His black temper won't last. He will come for her, and +claim her." + +"He shall have money." Rhoda said no more. + +On a side-table in the room stood a remarkable pile, under cover of a +shawl. Robert lifted the shawl, and beheld the wooden boxes, one upon +the other, containing Master Gammon's and Mrs. Sumfit's rival savings, +which they had presented to Dahlia, in the belief that her husband was +under a cloud of monetary misfortune that had kept her proud heart from +her old friends. The farmer had brought the boxes and left them there, +forgetting them. + +"I fancy," said Robert, "we might open these." + +"It may be a little help," said Rhoda. + +"A very little," Robert thought; but, to relieve the oppression of +the subject they had been discussing, he forthwith set about procuring +tools, with which he split first the box which proved to be Mrs. +Sumfit's, for it contained, amid six gold sovereigns and much silver +and pence, a slip of paper, whereon was inscribed, in a handwriting +identified by Rhoda as peculiar to the loving woman,-- + + "And sweetest love to her ever dear." + +Altogether the sum amounted to nine pounds, three shillings, and a +farthing. + +"Now for Master Gammon--he's heavy," said Robert; and he made the +savings of that unpretentious veteran bare. Master Gammon had likewise +written his word. It was discovered on the blank space of a bit of +newspaper, and looked much as if a fat lobworm had plunged himself into +a bowl of ink, and in his literary delirium had twisted uneasily to the +verge of the paper. With difficulty they deciphered,-- + + "Complemens." + +Robert sang, "Bravo, Gammon!" and counted the hoard. All was in +copper coinage, Lycurgan and severe, and reached the sum of one pound, +seventeen shillings. There were a number of farthings of Queen Anne's +reign, and Robert supposed them to be of value. "So that, as yet, we +can't say who's the winner," he observed. + +Rhoda was in tears. + +"Be kind to him, please, when you see him," she whispered. The smaller +gift had touched her heart more tenderly. + +"Kind to the old man!" Robert laughed gently, and tied the two hoards in +separate papers, which he stowed into one box, and fixed under string. +"This amount, put all in one, doesn't go far, Rhoda." + +"No," said she: "I hope we may not need it." She broke out: "Dear, good, +humble friends! The poor are God's own people. Christ has said so. +This is good, this is blessed money!" Rhoda's cheeks flushed to their +orange-rounded swarthy red, and her dark eyes had the fervour of an +exalted earnestness. "They are my friends for ever. They save me from +impiety. They help me, as if God had answered my prayer. Poor pennies! +and the old man not knowing where his days may end! He gives all--he +must have true faith in Providence. May it come back to him multiplied a +thousand fold! While I have strength to work, the bread I earn shall be +shared with him. Old man, old man, I love you--how I love you! You +drag me out of deep ditches. Oh, good and dear old man, if God takes +me first, may I have some power to intercede for you, if you have ever +sinned! Everybody in the world is not wicked. There are some who go the +ways directed by the Bible. I owe you more than I can ever pay." + +She sobbed, but told Robert it was not for sorrow. He, longing to catch +her in his arms, and punctilious not to overstep the duties of his post +of guardian, could merely sit by listening, and reflecting on her as a +strange Biblical girl, with Hebrew hardness of resolution, and Hebrew +exaltation of soul; beautiful, too, as the dark women of the East. He +admitted to himself that he never could have taken it on his conscience +to subdue a human creature's struggling will, as Rhoda had not hesitated +to do with Dahlia, and to command her actions, and accept all imminent +responsibilities; not quailing with any outcry, or abandonment of +strength, when the shock of that revelation in the vestry came violently +on her. Rhoda, seeing there that it was a brute, and not a man, into +whose hand she had perilously forced her sister's, stood steadying +her nerves to act promptly with advantage; less like a woman, Robert +thought, than a creature born for battle. And she appeared to be still +undaunted, full of her scheme, and could cry without fear of floods. +Something of the chivalrous restraint he put upon the motions of his +heart, sprang from the shadowy awe which overhung that impressible +organ. This feeling likewise led him to place a blind reliance on her +sagacity and sense of what was just, and what should be performed. + +"You promised this money to him," he said, half thinking it incredible. + +"On Monday," said Rhoda. + +"You must get a promise from him in return." + +She answered: "Why? when he could break it the instant he cared to, and +a promise would tempt him to it. He does not love her." + +"No; he does not love her," said Robert, meditating whether he could +possibly convey an idea of the character of men to her innocent mind. + +"He flung her off. Thank heaven for it! I should have been punished too +much--too much. He has saved her from the perils of temptation. He shall +be paid for it. To see her taken away by such a man! Ah!" She shuddered +as at sight of a hideous pit. + +But Robert said: "I know him, Rhoda. That was his temper. It'll last +just four-and-twenty hours, and then we shall need all our strength and +cunning. My dear, it would be the death of Dahlia. You've seen the man +as he is. Take it for a warning. She belongs to him. That's the law, +human and divine." + +"Not when he has flung her off, Robert?" Rhoda cried piteously. + +"Let us take advantage of that. He did fling her off, spat at us all, +and showed the blackest hellish plot I ever in my life heard of. He's +not the worst sinner, scoundrel as he is. Poor girl! poor soul! a hard +lot for women in this world! Rhoda, I suppose I may breakfast with you +in the morning? I hear Major Waring's knock below. I want a man to talk +to." + +"Do come, Robert," Rhoda said, and gave him her hand. He strove to +comprehend why it was that her hand was merely a hand, and no more to +him just then; squeezed the cold fingers, and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +So long as we do not know that we are performing any remarkable feat, +we may walk upon the narrowest of planks between precipices with perfect +security; but when we suffer our minds to eye the chasm underneath, we +begin to be in danger, and we are in very great fear of losing our equal +balance the moment we admit the insidious reflection that other men, +placed as we are, would probably topple headlong over. Anthony Hackbut, +of Boyne's Bank, had been giving himself up latterly to this fatal +comparison. The hour when gold was entrusted to his charge found him +feverish and irritable. He asked himself whether he was a mere machine +to transfer money from spot to spot, and he spurned at the pittance +bestowed upon honesty in this life. Where could Boyne's Bank discover +again such an honest man as he? And because he was honest he was poor! +The consideration that we alone are capable of doing the unparalleled +thing may sometimes inspire us with fortitude; but this will depend +largely upon the antecedent moral trials of a man. It is a temptation +when we look on what we accomplish at all in that light. The temptation +being inbred, is commonly a proof of internal corruption. "If I take a +step, suppose now, to the right, or to the left," Anthony had got +into the habit of saying, while he made his course, and after he had +deposited his charge he would wipe his moist forehead, in a state of +wretched exultation over his renowned trustworthiness. + +He had done the thing for years. And what did the people in the streets +know about him? Formerly, he had used to regard the people in the +streets, and their opinions, with a voluptuous contempt; but he was no +longer wrapped in sweet calculations of his savings, and his chances, +and his connection with a mighty Bank. The virtue had gone out of him. +Yet he had not the slightest appetite for other men's money; no hunger, +nor any definite notion of enjoyment to be derived from money not +his own. Imagination misled the old man. There have been spotless +reputations gained in the service of virtue before now; and chaste and +beautiful persons have walked the narrow plank, envied and admired; and +they have ultimately tottered and all but fallen; or they have quite +fallen, from no worse an incitement than curiosity. Cold curiosity, +as the directors of our human constitution tell us, is, in the colder +condition of our blood, a betraying vice, leading to sin at a period +when the fruits of sin afford the smallest satisfaction. It is, in fact, +our last probation, and one of our latest delusions. If that is passed +successfully, we may really be pronounced as of some worth. Anthony +wished to give a light indulgence to his curiosity; say, by running away +and over London Bridge on one side, and back on the other, hugging the +money. For two weeks, he thought of this absurd performance as a comical +and agreeable diversion. How would he feel when going in the direction +of the Surrey hills? And how, when returning, and when there was a +prospect of the Bank, where the money was to be paid in, being shut? +Supposing that he was a minute behind his time, would the Bank-doors +remain open, in expectation of him? And if the money was not paid in, +what would be thought? What would be thought at Boyne's, if, the next +day, he was late in making his appearance? + +"Holloa! Hackbut, how's this?"--"I'm a bit late, sir, morning."--"Late! +you were late yesterday evening, weren't you?"--"Why, sir, the way the +clerks at that Bank of Mortimer and Pennycuick's rush away from business +and close the doors after 'em, as if their day began at four p.m., and +business was botheration: it's a disgrace to the City o' London. And I +beg pardon for being late, but never sleeping a wink all night for fear +about this money, I am late this morning, I humbly confess. When I got +to the Bank, the doors were shut. Our clock's correct; that I know. +My belief, sir, is, the clerks at Mortimer and Pennycuick's put on the +time."--"Oh! we must have this inquired into." + +Anthony dramatized the farcical scene which he imagined between himself +and Mr. Sequin, the head clerk at Boyne's, with immense relish; and +terminated it by establishing his reputation for honesty higher than +ever at the Bank, after which violent exercise of his fancy, the old +man sank into a dulness during several days. The farmer slept at his +lodgings for one night, and talked of money, and of selling his farm; +and half hinted that it would be a brotherly proceeding on Anthony's +part to buy it, and hold it, so as to keep it in the family. The +farmer's deep belief in the existence of his hoards always did Anthony +peculiar mischief. Anthony grew conscious of a giddiness, and all the +next day he was scarcely fit for his work. But the day following that he +was calm and attentive. Two bags of gold were placed in his hands, and +he walked with caution down the steps of the Bank, turned the corner, +and went straight on to the West, never once hesitating, or casting a +thought behind upon Mortimer and Pennycuick's. He had not, in truth, one +that was loose to be cast. All his thoughts were boiling in his head, +obfuscating him with a prodigious steam, through which he beheld the +city surging, and the streets curving like lines in water, and the +people mixing and passing into and out of one another in an astonishing +manner--no face distinguishable; the whole thick multitude appearing to +be stirred like glue in a gallipot. The only distinct thought which he +had sprang from a fear that the dishonest ruffians would try to steal +his gold, and he hugged it, and groaned to see that villany was abroad. +Marvellous, too, that the clocks on the churches, all the way along +the Westward thoroughfare, stuck at the hour when Banks are closed +to business! It was some time, or a pretence at some time, before the +minute-hands surmounted that difficulty. Having done so, they rushed +ahead to the ensuing hour with the mad precipitation of pantomimic +machinery. The sight of them presently standing on the hour, like a +sentinel presenting arms, was startling--laughable. Anthony could not +have flipped with his fingers fifty times in the interval; he was sure +of it, "or not much more," he said. So the City was shut to him behind +iron bars. + +Up in the West there is not so much to be dreaded from the rapacity of +men. You do not hear of such alarming burglaries there every day; every +hand is not at another's throat there, or in another's pocket; at least, +not until after nightfall; and when the dark should come on, Anthony +had determined to make for his own quarter with all speed. Darkness is +horrible in foreign places, but foreign places are not so accusing to +you by daylight. + +The Park was vastly pleasant to the old man. + +"Ah!" he sniffed, "country air," and betook himself to a seat. +"Extraordinary," he thought, "what little people they look on their +horses and in their carriages! That's the aristocracy, is it!" The +aristocracy appeared oddly diminutive to him. He sneered at the +aristocracy, but, beholding a policeman, became stolid of aspect. The +policeman was a connecting link with his City life, the true lord of +his fearful soul. Though the moneybags were under his arm, beneath his +buttoned coat, it required a deep pause before he understood what he had +done; and then the Park began to dance and curve like the streets, and +there was a singular curtseying between the heavens and the earth. +He had to hold his money-bags tight, to keep them from plunging into +monstrous gulfs. "I don't remember that I've taken a drink of any sort," +he said, "since I and the old farmer took our turn down in the Docks. +How's this?" He seemed to rock. He was near upon indulging in a fit of +terror; but the impolicy of it withheld him from any demonstration, save +an involuntary spasmodic ague. When this had passed, his eyesight and +sensations grew clearer, and he sat in a mental doze, looking at things +with quiet animal observation. His recollection of the state, after a +lapse of minutes, was pleasurable. The necessity for motion, however, +set him on his feet, and off he went, still Westward, out of the Park, +and into streets. He trotted at a good pace. Suddenly came a call of his +name in his ear, and he threw up one arm in self-defence. + +"Uncle Anthony, don't you know me?" + +"Eh? I do; to be sure I do," he answered, peering dimly upon Rhoda: "I'm +always meeting one of you." + +"I've been down in the City, trying to find you all day, uncle. I meet +you--I might have missed! It is direction from heaven, for I prayed." + +Anthony muttered, "I'm out for a holiday." + +"This"--Rhoda pointed to a house--"is where I am lodging." + +"Oh!" said Anthony; "and how's your family?" + +Rhoda perceived that he was rather distraught. After great persuasion, +she got him to go upstairs with her. + +"Only for two seconds," he stipulated. "I can't sit." + +"You will have a cup of tea with me, uncle?" + +"No; I don't think I'm equal to tea." + +"Not with Rhoda?" + +"It's a name in Scripture," said Anthony, and he drew nearer to her. +"You're comfortable and dark here, my dear. How did you come here? +What's happened? You won't surprise me." + +"I'm only stopping for a day or two in London, uncle." + +"Ah! a wicked place; that it is. No wickeder than other places, I'll be +bound. Well; I must be trotting. I can't sit, I tell you. You're as dark +here as a gaol." + +"Let me ring for candles, uncle." + +"No; I'm going." + +She tried to touch him, to draw him to a chair. The agile old man +bounded away from her, and she had to pacify him submissively before he +would consent to be seated. The tea-service was brought, and Rhoda made +tea, and filled a cup for him. Anthony began to enjoy the repose of +the room. But it made the money-bags' alien to him, and serpents in his +bosom. Fretting--on his chair, he cried: "Well! well! what's to talk +about? We can't drink tea and not talk!" + +Rhoda deliberated, and then said: "Uncle, I think you have always loved +me." + +It seemed to him a merit that he should have loved her. He caught at the +idea. + +"So I have, Rhoda, my dear; I have. I do." + +"You do love me, dear uncle!" + +"Now I come to think of it, Rhoda--my Dody, I don't think ever I've +loved anybody else. Never loved e'er a young woman in my life. As a +young man." + +"Tell me, uncle; are you not very rich?" + +"No, I ain't; not 'very'; not at all." + +"You must not tell untruths, uncle." + +"I don't," said Anthony; only, too doggedly to instil conviction. + +"I have always felt, uncle, that you love money too much. What is the +value of money, except to give comfort, and help you to be a blessing to +others in their trouble? Does not God lend it you for that purpose? It +is most true! And if you make a store of it, it will only be unhappiness +to yourself. Uncle, you love me. I am in great trouble for money." + +Anthony made a long arm over the projection of his coat, and clasped it +securely; sullenly refusing to answer. "Dear uncle; hear me out. I come +to you, because I know you are rich. I was on my way to your lodgings +when we met; we were thrown together. You have more money than you know +what to do with. I am a beggar to you for money. I have never asked +before; I never shall ask again. Now I pray for your help. My life, and +the life dearer to me than any other, depend on you. Will you help me, +Uncle Anthony? Yes!" + +"No!" Anthony shouted. + +"Yes! yes!" + +"Yes, if I can. No, if I can't. And 'can't' it is. So, it's 'No.'" + +Rhoda's bosom sank, but only as a wave in the sea-like energy of her +spirit. + +"Uncle, you must." + +Anthony was restrained from jumping up and running away forthwith by the +peace which was in the room, and the dread of being solitary after he +had tasted of companionship. + +"You have money, uncle. You are rich. You must help me. Don't you +ever think what it is to be an old man, and no one to love you and be +grateful to you? Why do you cross your arms so close?" + +Anthony denied that he crossed his arms closely. + +Rhoda pointed to his arms in evidence; and he snarled out: "There, now; +'cause I'm supposed to have saved a trifle, I ain't to sit as I like. +It's downright too bad! It's shocking!" + +But, seeing that he did not uncross his arms, and remained bunched up +defiantly, Rhoda silently observed him. She felt that money was in the +room. + +"Don't let it be a curse to you," she said. And her voice was hoarse +with agitation. + +"What?" Anthony asked. "What's a curse?" + +"That." + +Did she know? Had she guessed? Her finger was laid in a line at the +bags. Had she smelt the gold? + +"It will be a curse to you, uncle. Death is coming. What's money then? +Uncle, uncross your arms. You are afraid; you dare not. You carry it +about; you have no confidence anywhere. It eats your heart. Look at +me. I have nothing to conceal. Can you imitate me, and throw your hands +out--so? Why, uncle, will you let me be ashamed of you? You have the +money there. + +"You cannot deny it. Me crying to you for help! What have we talked +together?--that we would sit in a country house, and I was to look to +the flower-beds, and always have dishes of green peas for you-plenty, in +June; and you were to let the village boys know what a tongue you have, +if they made a clatter of their sticks along the garden-rails; and you +were to drink your tea, looking on a green and the sunset. Uncle! Poor +old, good old soul! You mean kindly. You must be kind. A day will make +it too late. You have the money there. You get older and older every +minute with trying to refuse me. You know that I can make you happy. +I have the power, and I have the will. Help me, I say, in my great +trouble. That money is a burden. You are forced to carry it about, for +fear. You look guilty as you go running in the streets, because you fear +everybody. Do good with it. Let it be money with a blessing on it! It +will save us from horrid misery! from death! from torture and death! +Think, uncle! look, uncle! You with the money--me wanting it. I pray to +heaven, and I meet you, and you have it. Will you say that you refuse +to give it, when I see--when I show you, you are led to meet me and help +me? Open;--put down that arm." + +Against this storm of mingled supplication and shadowy menace, Anthony +held out with all outward firmness until, when bidding him to put down +his arm, she touched the arm commandingly, and it fell paralyzed. + +Rhoda's eyes were not beautiful as they fixed on the object of her +quest. In this they were of the character of her mission. She was +dealing with an evil thing, and had chosen to act according to her +light, and by the counsel of her combative and forceful temper. At each +step new difficulties had to be encountered by fresh contrivances; and +money now--money alone had become the specific for present use. There +was a limitation of her spiritual vision to aught save to money; and the +money being bared to her eyes, a frightful gleam of eagerness shot from +them. Her hands met Anthony's in a common grasp of the money-bags. + +"It's not mine!" Anthony cried, in desperation. + +"Whose money is it?" said Rhoda, and caught up her hands as from fire. + +"My Lord!" Anthony moaned, "if you don't speak like a Court o' Justice. +Hear yourself!" + +"Is the money yours, uncle?" + +"It--is," and "isn't" hung in the balance. + +"It is not?" Rhoda dressed the question for him in the terror of +contemptuous horror. + +"It is. I--of course it is; how could it help being mine? My money? Yes. +What sort o' thing's that to ask--whether what I've got's mine or yours, +or somebody else's? Ha!" + +"And you say you are not rich, uncle?" + +A charming congratulatory smile was addressed to him, and a shake of the +head of tender reproach irresistible to his vanity. + +"Rich! with a lot o' calls on me; everybody wantin' to borrow--I'm rich! +And now you coming to me! You women can't bring a guess to bear upon the +right nature o' money." + +"Uncle, you will decide to help me, I know." + +She said it with a staggering assurance of manner. + +"How do you know?" cried Anthony. + +"Why do you carry so much money about with you in bags, uncle?" + +"Hear it, my dear." He simulated miser's joy. + +"Ain't that music? Talk of operas! Hear that; don't it talk? don't it +chink? don't it sing?" He groaned "Oh, Lord!" and fell back. + +This transition from a state of intensest rapture to the depths of pain +alarmed her. + +"Nothing; it's nothing." Anthony anticipated her inquiries. "They bags +is so heavy." + +"Then why do you carry them about?" + +"Perhaps it's heart disease," said Anthony, and grinned, for he knew the +soundness of his health. + +"You are very pale, uncle." + +"Eh? you don't say that?" + +"You are awfully white, dear uncle." + +"I'll look in the glass," said Anthony. "No, I won't." He sank back in +his chair. "Rhoda, we're all sinners, ain't we? All--every man and woman +of us, and baby, too. That's a comfort; yes, it is a comfort. It's a +tremendous comfort--shuts mouths. I know what you're going to say--some +bigger sinners than others. If they're sorry for it, though, what then? +They can repent, can't they?" + +"They must undo any harm they may have done. Sinners are not to repent +only in words, uncle." + +"I've been feeling lately," he murmured. + +Rhoda expected a miser's confession. + +"I've been feeling, the last two or three days," he resumed. + +"What, uncle?" + +"Sort of taste of a tremendous nice lemon in my mouth, my dear, and +liked it, till all of a sudden I swallowed it whole--such a gulp! I felt +it just now. I'm all right." + +"No, uncle," said Rhoda: "you are not all right: this money makes you +miserable. It does; I can see that it does. Now, put those bags in my +hands. For a minute, try; it will do you good. Attend to me; it will. +Or, let me have them. They are poison to you. You don't want them." + +"I don't," cried Anthony. "Upon my soul, I don't. I don't want 'em. I'd +give--it is true, my dear, I don't want 'em. They're poison." + +"They're poison to you," said Rhoda; "they're health, they're life +to me. I said, 'My uncle Anthony will help me. He is not--I know his +heart--he is not a miser.' Are you a miser, uncle?" + +Her hand was on one of his bags. It was strenuously withheld: but while +she continued speaking, reiterating the word "miser," the hold relaxed. +She caught the heavy bag away, startled by its weight. + +He perceived the effect produced on her, and cried; "Aha! and I've been +carrying two of 'em--two!" + +Rhoda panted in her excitement. + +"Now, give it up," said he. She returned it. He got it against his +breast joylessly, and then bade her to try the weight of the two. She +did try them, and Anthony doated on the wonder of her face. + +"Uncle, see what riches do! You fear everybody--you think there is no +secure place--you have more? Do you carry about all your money?" + +"No," he chuckled at her astonishment. "I've...Yes. I've got more of my +own." Her widened eyes intoxicated him. "More. I've saved. I've put by. +Say, I'm an old sinner. What'd th' old farmer say now? Do you love your +uncle Tony? 'Old Ant,' they call me down at--" "The Bank," he was on +the point of uttering; but the vision of the Bank lay terrific in +his recollection, and, summoned at last, would not be wiped away. The +unbearable picture swam blinking through accumulating clouds; remote and +minute as the chief scene of our infancy, but commanding him with the +present touch of a mighty arm thrown out. "I'm honest," he cried. "I +always have been honest. I'm known to be honest. I want no man's money. +I've got money of my own. I hate sin. I hate sinners. I'm an honest man. +Ask them, down at--Rhoda, my dear! I say, don't you hear me? Rhoda, you +think I've a turn for misering. It's a beastly mistake: poor savings, +and such a trouble to keep honest when you're poor; and I've done it +for years, spite o' temptation 't 'd send lots o' men to the hulks. Safe +into my hand, safe out o' my hands! Slip once, and there ain't mercy in +men. And you say, 'I had a whirl of my head, and went round, and didn't +know where I was for a minute, and forgot the place I'd to go to, and +come away to think in a quiet part.'..." He stopped abruptly in his +ravings. "You give me the money, Rhoda!" + +She handed him the money-bags. + +He seized them, and dashed them to the ground with the force of madness. +Kneeling, he drew out his penknife, and slit the sides of the bags, and +held them aloft, and let the gold pour out in torrents, insufferable to +the sight; and uttering laughter that clamoured fierily in her ears +for long minutes afterwards, the old man brandished the empty bags, and +sprang out of the room. + +She sat dismayed in the centre of a heap of gold. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +On the Monday evening, Master Gammon was at the station with the cart. +Robert and Rhoda were a train later, but the old man seemed to be +unaware of any delay, and mildly staring, received their apologies, and +nodded. They asked him more than once whether all was well at the Farm; +to which he replied that all was quite well, and that he was never +otherwise. About half-an-hour after, on the road, a gradual dumb chuckle +overcame his lower features. He flicked the horse dubitatively, and +turned his head, first to Robert, next to Rhoda; and then he chuckled +aloud: + +"The last o' they mel'ns rotted yest'day afternoon!" + +"Did they?" said Robert. "You'll have to get fresh seed, that's all." + +Master Gammon merely showed his spirit to be negative. + +"You've been playing the fool with the sheep," Robert accused him. + +It hit the old man in a very tender part. + +"I play the fool wi' ne'er a sheep alive, Mr. Robert. Animals likes +their 'customed food, and don't like no other. I never changes my +food, nor'd e'er a sheep, nor'd a cow, nor'd a bullock, if animals was +masters. I'd as lief give a sheep beer, as offer him, free-handed--of my +own will, that's to say--a mel'n. They rots." + +Robert smiled, though he was angry. The delicious unvexed country-talk +soothed Rhoda, and she looked fondly on the old man, believing that he +could not talk on in his sedate way, if all were not well at home. + +The hills of the beacon-ridge beyond her home, and the line of stunted +firs, which she had named "the old bent beggarmen," were visible in the +twilight. Her eyes flew thoughtfully far over them, with the feeling +that they had long known what would come to her and to those dear to +her, and the intense hope that they knew no more, inasmuch as they +bounded her sight. + +"If the sheep thrive," she ventured to remark, so that the comforting +old themes might be kept up. + +"That's the particular 'if!'" said Robert, signifying something that had +to be leaped over. + +Master Gammon performed the feat with agility. + +"Sheep never was heartier," he pronounced emphatically. + +"Lots of applications for melon-seed, Gammon?" + +To this the veteran's tardy answer was: "More fools 'n one about, I +reckon"; and Robert allowed him the victory implied by silence. + +"And there's no news in Wrexby? none at all?" said Rhoda. + +A direct question inevitably plunged Master Gammon so deep amid +the soundings of his reflectiveness, that it was the surest way +of precluding a response from him; but on this occasion his honest +deliberation bore fruit. + +"Squire Blancove, he's dead." + +The name caused Rhoda to shudder. + +"Found dead in 's bed, Sat'day morning," Master Gammon added, and, +warmed upon the subject, went on: "He's that stiff, folks say, that +stiff he is, he'll have to get into a rounded coffin: he's just like +half a hoop. He was all of a heap, like. Had a fight with 's bolster, +and got th' wust of it. But, be 't the seizure, or be 't gout in 's +belly, he's gone clean dead. And he wunt buy th' Farm, nether. Shutters +is all shut up at the Hall. He'll go burying about Wednesday. Men that +drinks don't keep." + +Rhoda struck at her brain to think in what way this death could work and +show like a punishment of the heavens upon that one wrong-doer; but it +was not manifest as a flame of wrath, and she laid herself open to the +peace of the fields and the hedgeways stepping by. The farm-house came +in sight, and friendly old Adam and Eve turning from the moon. She heard +the sound of water. Every sign of peace was around the farm. The cows +had been milked long since; the geese were quiet. There was nothing but +the white board above the garden-gate to speak of the history lying in +her heart. + +They found the farmer sitting alone, shading his forehead. Rhoda kissed +his cheeks and whispered for tidings of Dahlia. + +"Go up to her," the farmer said. + +Rhoda grew very chill. She went upstairs with apprehensive feet, and +recognizing Mrs. Sumfit outside the door of Dahlia's room, embraced her, +and heard her say that Dahlia had turned the key, and had been crying +from mornings to nights. "It can't last," Mrs. Sumfit sobbed: "lonesome +hysterics, they's death to come. She's falling into the trance. I'll go, +for the sight o' me shocks her." + +Rhoda knocked, waited patiently till her persistent repetition of her +name gained her admission. She beheld her sister indeed, but not the +broken Dahlia from whom she had parted. Dahlia was hard to her caress, +and crying, "Has he come?" stood at bay, white-eyed, and looking like a +thing strung with wires. + +"No, dearest; he will not trouble you. Have no fear." + +"Are you full of deceit?" said Dahlia, stamping her foot. + +"I hope not, my sister." + +Dahlia let fall a long quivering breath. She went to her bed, upon which +her mother's Bible was lying, and taking it in her two hands, held it +under Rhoda's lips. + +"Swear upon that?" + +"What am I to swear to, dearest?" + +"Swear that he is not in the house." + +"He is not, my own sister; believe me. It is no deceit. He is not. +He will not trouble you. See; I kiss the Book, and swear to you, +my beloved! I speak truth. Come to me, dear." Rhoda put her arms up +entreatingly, but Dahlia stepped back. + +"You are not deceitful? You are not cold? You are not inhuman? Inhuman! +You are not? You are not? Oh, my God! Look at her!" + +The toneless voice was as bitter for Rhoda to hear as the accusations. +She replied, with a poor smile: "I am only not deceitful. Come, and see. +You will not be disturbed." + +"What am I tied to?" Dahlia struggled feebly as against a weight of +chains. "Oh! what am I tied to? It's on me, tight like teeth. I can't +escape. I can't breathe for it. I was like a stone when he asked +me--marry him!--loved me! Some one preached--my duty! I am lost, I am +lost! Why? you girl!--why?--What did you do? Why did you take my hand +when I was asleep and hurry me so fast? What have I done to you? Why did +you push me along?--I couldn't see where. I heard the Church babble. For +you--inhuman! inhuman! What have I done to you? What have you to do with +punishing sin? It's not sin. Let me be sinful, then. I am. I am sinful. +Hear me. I love him; I love my lover, and," she screamed out, "he loves +me!" + +Rhoda now thought her mad. + +She looked once at the rigid figure of her transformed sister, and +sitting down, covered her eyes and wept. + +To Dahlia, the tears were at first an acrid joy; but being weak, she +fell to the bed, and leaned against it, forgetting her frenzy for a +time. + +"You deceived me," she murmured; and again, "You deceived me." Rhoda did +not answer. In trying to understand why her sister should imagine it, +she began to know that she had in truth deceived Dahlia. The temptation +to drive a frail human creature to do the thing which was right, had +led her to speak falsely for a good purpose. Was it not righteously +executed? Away from the tragic figure in the room, she might have +thought so, but the horror in the eyes and voice of this awakened +Sacrifice, struck away the support of theoretic justification. Great +pity for the poor enmeshed life, helpless there, and in a woman's worst +peril,--looking either to madness, or to death, for an escape--drowned +her reason in a heavy cloud of tears. Long on toward the stroke of the +hour, Dahlia heard her weep, and she murmured on, "You deceived me;" +but it was no more to reproach; rather, it was an exculpation of her +reproaches. "You did deceive me, Rhoda." Rhoda half lifted her head; the +slight tone of a change to tenderness swelled the gulfs of pity, and +she wept aloud. Dahlia untwisted her feet, and staggered up to her, fell +upon her shoulder, and called her, "My love!--good sister!" For a +great mute space they clung together. Their lips met and they kissed +convulsively. But when Dahlia had close view of Rhoda's face, she drew +back, saying in an under-breath,-- + +"Don't cry. I see my misery when you cry." + +Rhoda promised that she would check her tears, and they sat quietly, +side by side, hand in hand. Mrs. Sumfit, outside, had to be dismissed +twice with her fresh brews of supplicating tea and toast, and the cakes +which, when eaten warm with good country butter and a sprinkle of salt, +reanimate (as she did her utmost to assure the sisters through the +closed door) humanity's distressed spirit. At times their hands +interchanged a fervent pressure, their eyes were drawn to an equal gaze. + +In the middle of the night Dahlia said: "I found a letter from Edward +when I came here." + +"Written--Oh, base man that he is!" Rhoda could not control the impulse +to cry it out. + +"Written before," said Dahlia, divining her at once. "I read it; did not +cry. I have no tears. Will you see it? It is very short-enough; it +said enough, and written before--" She crumpled her fingers in Rhoda's; +Rhoda, to please her, saying "Yes," she went to the pillow of the bed, +and drew the letter from underneath. + +"I know every word," she said; "I should die if I repeated it. 'My wife +before heaven,' it begins. So, I was his wife. I must have broken his +heart--broken my husband's." Dahlia cast a fearful eye about her; her +eyelids fluttered as from a savage sudden blow. Hardening her mouth to +utter defiant spite: "My lover's," she cried. "He is. If he loves me and +I love him, he is my lover, my lover, my lover! Nothing shall stop +me from saying it--lover! and there is none to claim me but he. Oh, +loathsome! What a serpent it is I've got round me! And you tell me God +put it. Do you? Answer that; for I want to know, and I don't know where +I am. I am lost! I am lost! I want to get to my lover. Tell me, Rhoda, +you would curse me if I did. And listen to me. Let him open his arms to +me, I go; I follow him as far as my feet will bear me. I would go if it +lightened from heaven. If I saw up there the warning, 'You shall not!' I +would go. But, look on me!" she smote contempt upon her bosom. "He would +not call to such a thing as me. Me, now? My skin is like a toad's to +him. I've become like something in the dust. I could hiss like adders. +I am quite impenitent. I pray by my bedside, my head on my Bible, but I +only say, 'Yes, yes; that's done; that's deserved, if there's no mercy.' +Oh, if there is no mercy, that's deserved! I say so now. But this is +what I say, Rhoda (I see nothing but blackness when I pray), and I say, +'Permit no worse!' I say, 'Permit no worse, or take the consequences.' +He calls me his wife. I am his wife. And if--" Dahlia fell to speechless +panting; her mouth was open; she made motion with her hands; horror, as +of a blasphemy struggling to her lips, kept her dumb, but the prompting +passion was indomitable.... "Read it," said her struggling voice; and +Rhoda bent over the letter, reading and losing thought of each sentence +as it passed. To Dahlia, the vital words were visible like evanescent +blue gravelights. She saw them rolling through her sister's mind; and +just upon the conclusion, she gave out, as in a chaunt: "And I who have +sinned against my innocent darling, will ask her to pray with me +that our future may be one, so that may make good to her what she has +suffered, and to the God whom we worship, the offence I have committed." + +Rhoda looked up at the pale penetrating eyes. + +"Read. Have you read to the last?" said Dahlia. "Speak it. Let me hear +you. He writes it.... Yes? you will not? 'Husband,' he says," and then +she took up the sentences of the letter backwards to the beginning, +pausing upon each one with a short moan, and smiting her bosom. "I found +it here, Rhoda. I found his letter here when I came.. I came a dead +thing, and it made me spring up alive. Oh, what bliss to be dead! I've +felt nothing...nothing, for months." She flung herself on the bed, +thrusting her handkerchief to her mouth to deaden the outcry. "I'm +punished. I'm punished, because I did not trust to my darling. No, not +for one year! Is it that since we parted? I am an impatient creature, +and he does not reproach me. I tormented my own, my love, my dear, and +he thought I--I was tired of our life together. No; he does not accuse +me," Dahlia replied to her sister's unspoken feeling, with the shrewd +divination which is passion's breathing space. "He accuses himself. He +says it--utters it--speaks it 'I sold my beloved.' There is no guile in +him. Oh, be just to us, Rhoda! Dearest," she came to Rhoda's side, "you +did deceive me, did you not? You are a deceiver, my love?" + +Rhoda trembled, and raising her eyelids, answered, "Yes." + +"You saw him in the street that morning?" + +Dahlia smiled a glittering tenderness too evidently deceitful in part, +but quite subduing. + +"You saw him, my Rhoda, and he said he was true to me, and sorrowful; +and you told him, dear one, that I had no heart for him, and wished to +go to hell--did you not, good Rhoda? Forgive me; I mean 'good;' my true, +good Rhoda. Yes, you hate sin; it is dreadful; but you should never +speak falsely to sinners, for that does not teach them to repent. Mind +you never lie again. Look at me. I am chained, and I have no repentance +in me. See me. I am nearer it...the other--sin, I mean. If that man +comes...will he?" + +"No--no!" Rhoda cried. + +"If that man comes--" + +"He will not come!" + +"He cast me off at the church door, and said he had been cheated. Money! +Oh, Edward!" + +Dahlia drooped her head. + +"He will keep away. You are safe," said Rhoda. + +"Because, if no help comes, I am lost--I am lost for ever!" + +"But help will come. I mean peace will come. We will read; we will work +in the garden. You have lifted poor father up, my dear." + +"Ah! that old man!" Dahlia sighed. + +"He is our father." + +"Yes, poor old man!" and Dahlia whispered: "I have no pity for him. If I +am dragged away, I'm afraid I shall curse him. He seems a stony old +man. I don't understand fathers. He would make me go away. He talks the +Scriptures when he is excited. I'm afraid he would shut my Bible for me. +Those old men know nothing of the hearts of women. Now, darling, go to +your room." + +Rhoda begged earnestly for permission to stay with her, but Dahlia said: +"My nights are fevers. I can't have arms about me." + +They shook hands when they separated, not kissing. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +Three days passed quietly at the Farm, and each morning Dahlia came down +to breakfast, and sat with the family at their meals; pale, with the +mournful rim about her eyelids, but a patient figure. No questions were +asked. The house was guarded from visitors, and on the surface the home +was peaceful. On the Wednesday Squire Blancove was buried, when Master +Gammon, who seldom claimed a holiday or specified an enjoyment of which +he would desire to partake, asked leave to be spared for a couple of +hours, that he might attend the ceremonious interment of one to whom a +sort of vagrant human sentiment of clanship had made him look up, as to +the chief gentleman of the district, and therefore one having claims on +his respect. A burial had great interest for the old man. + +"I'll be home for dinner; it'll gi'e me an appetite," Master Gammon +said solemnly, and he marched away in his serious Sunday hat and careful +coat, blither than usual. + +After his departure, Mrs. Sumfit sat and discoursed on deaths and +burials, the certain end of all: at least, she corrected herself, the +deaths were. The burials were not so certain. Consequently, we might +take the burials, as they were a favour, to be a blessing, except in +the event of persons being buried alive. She tried to make her hearers +understand that the idea of this calamity had always seemed intolerable +to her, and told of numerous cases which, the coffin having been opened, +showed by the convulsed aspect of the corpse, or by spots of blood upon +the shroud, that the poor creature had wakened up forlorn, "and not a +kick allowed to him, my dears." + +"It happens to women, too, does it not, mother?" said Dahlia. + +"They're most subject to trances, my sweet. From always imitatin' they +imitates their deaths at last; and, oh!" Mrs. Sumfit was taken with +nervous chokings of alarm at the thought. "Alone--all dark! and hard +wood upon your chest, your elbows, your nose, your toes, and you under +heaps o' gravel! Not a breath for you, though you snap and catch for +one--worse than a fish on land." + +"It's over very soon, mother," said Dahlia. + +"The coldness of you young women! Yes; but it's the time--you feeling, +trying for air; it's the horrid 'Oh, dear me!' You set your mind on it!" + +"I do," said Dahlia. "You see coffin-nails instead of stars. You'd give +the world to turn upon one side. You can't think. You can only hate +those who put you there. You see them taking tea, saying prayers, +sleeping in bed, putting on bonnets, walking to church, kneading dough, +eating--all at once, like the firing of a gun. They're in one world; +you're in another." + +"Why, my goodness, one'd say she'd gone through it herself," ejaculated +Mrs. Sumfit, terrified. + +Dahlia sent her eyes at Rhoda. + +"I must go and see that poor man covered." Mrs. Sumfit succumbed to a +fit of resolution much under the pretence that it had long been forming. + +"Well, and mother," said Dahlia, checking her, "promise me. Put a +feather on my mouth; put a glass to my face, before you let them carry +me out. Will you? Rhoda promises. I have asked her." + +"Oh! the ideas of this girl!" Mrs. Sumfit burst out. "And looking so, as +she says it. My love, you didn't mean to die?" + +Dahlia soothed her, and sent her off. + +"I am buried alive!" she said. "I feel it all--the stifling! the +hopeless cramp! Let us go and garden. Rhoda, have you got laudanum in +the house?" + +Rhoda shook her head, too sick at heart to speak. They went into the +garden, which was Dahlia's healthfullest place. It seemed to her that +her dead mother talked to her there. That was not a figure of speech, +when she said she felt buried alive. She was in the state of sensational +delusion. There were times when she watched her own power of motion +curiously: curiously stretched out her hands, and touched things, and +moved them. The sight was convincing, but the shudder came again. In +a frame less robust the brain would have given way. It was the very +soundness of the brain which, when her blood was a simple tide of life +in her veins, and no vital force, had condemned her to see the wisdom +and the righteousness of the act of sacrifice committed by her, and had +urged her even up to the altar. Then the sudden throwing off of the mask +by that man to whom she had bound herself, and the reading of Edward's +letter of penitence and love, thwarted reason, but without blinding or +unsettling it. Passion grew dominant; yet against such deadly matters +on all sides had passion to strive, that, under a darkened sky, visibly +chained, bound down, and hopeless, she felt between-whiles veritably +that she was a living body buried. Her senses had become semi-lunatic. + +She talked reasonably; and Rhoda, hearing her question and answer at +meal-times like a sane woman, was in doubt whether her sister wilfully +simulated a partial insanity when they were alone together. Now, in the +garden, Dahlia said: "All those flowers, my dear, have roots in mother +and me. She can't feel them, for her soul's in heaven. But mine is down +there. The pain is the trying to get your soul loose. It's the edge of a +knife that won't cut through. Do you know that?" + +Rhoda said, as acquiescingly as she could, "Yes." + +"Do you?" Dahlia whispered. "It's what they call the 'agony.' Only, to +go through it in the dark, when you are all alone! boarded round! you +will never know that. And there's an angel brings me one of mother's +roses, and I smell it. I see fields of snow; and it's warm there, and +no labour for breath. I see great beds of flowers; I pass them like a +breeze. I'm shot, and knock on the ground, and they bury me for dead +again. Indeed, dearest, it's true." + +She meant, true as regarded her sensations. Rhoda could barely give +a smile for response; and Dahlia's intelligence being supernaturally +active, she read her sister's doubt, and cried out,-- + +"Then let me talk of him!" + +It was the fiery sequence to her foregone speech, signifying that if her +passion had liberty to express itself, she could clear understandings. +But even a moment's free wing to passion renewed the blinding terror +within her. Rhoda steadied her along the walks, praying for the time to +come when her friends, the rector and his wife, might help in the task +of comforting this poor sister. Detestation of the idea of love made her +sympathy almost deficient, and when there was no active work to do in +aid, she was nearly valueless, knowing that she also stood guilty of a +wrong. + +The day was very soft and still. The flowers gave light for light. They +heard through the noise of the mill-water the funeral bell sound. +It sank in Rhoda like the preaching of an end that was promise of a +beginning, and girdled a distancing land of trouble. The breeze that +blew seemed mercy. To live here in forgetfulness with Dahlia was the +limit of her desires. Perhaps, if Robert worked among them, she would +gratefully give him her hand. That is, if he said not a word of love. + +Master Gammon and Mrs. Sumfit were punctual in their return near the +dinnerhour; and the business of releasing the dumplings and potatoes, +and spreading out the cold meat and lettuces, restrained for some period +the narrative of proceedings at the funeral. Chief among the incidents +was, that Mrs. Sumfit had really seen, and only wanted, by corroboration +of Master Gammon, to be sure she had positively seen, Anthony Hackbut +on the skirts of the funeral procession. Master Gammon, however, was no +supporter of conjecture. What he had thought he had thought; but that +was neither here nor there. He would swear to nothing that he had not +touched;--eyes deceived;--he was never a guesser. He left Mrs. Sumfit +to pledge herself in perturbation of spirit to an oath that her eyes had +seen Anthony Hackbut; and more, which was, that after the close of the +funeral service, the young squire had caught sight of Anthony crouching +in a corner of the churchyard, and had sent a man to him, and they had +disappeared together. Mrs. Sumfit was heartily laughed at and rallied +both by Robert and the farmer. "Tony at a funeral! and train expenses!" +the farmer interjected. "D'ye think, mother, Tony'd come to Wrexby +churchyard 'fore he come Queen Anne's Farm? And where's he now, mayhap?" + +Mrs. Sumfit appealed in despair to Master Gammon, with entreaties, and a +ready dumpling. + +"There, Mas' Gammon; and why you sh'd play at 'do believe' and at 'don't +believe,' after that awesome scene, the solem'est of life's, when you +did declare to me, sayin', it was a stride for boots out o' London this +morning. Your words, Mas' Gammon! and 'boots'-=it's true, if by that +alone! For, 'boots,' I says to myself--he thinks by 'boots,' there being +a cord'er in his family on the mother's side; which you yourself told +to me, as you did, Mas' Gammon, and now holds back, you did, like a bad +horse." + +"Hey! does Gammon jib?" said the farmer, with the ghost of old laughter +twinkling in his eyes. + +"He told me this tale," Mrs. Sumfit continued, daring her irresponsive +enemy to contradict her, with a threatening gaze. "He told me this tale, +he did; and my belief's, his game 's, he gets me into a corner--there to +be laughed at! Mas' Gammon, if you're not a sly old man, you said, you +did, he was drownded; your mother's brother's wife's brother; and he had +a brother, and what he was to you--that brother--" Mrs. Sumfit smote her +hands--"Oh, my goodness, my poor head! but you shan't slip away, Mas' +Gammon; no, try you ever so much. Drownded he was, and eight days in the +sea, which you told me over a warm mug of ale by the fire years back. +And I do believe them dumplings makes ye obstinate; for worse you get, +and that fond of 'em, I sh'll soon not have enough in our biggest pot. +Yes, you said he was eight days in the sea, and as for face, you said, +poor thing! he was like a rag of towel dipped in starch, was your own +words, and all his likeness wiped out; and Joe, the other brother, a +cord'er--bootmaker, you call 'em--looked down him, as he was stretched +out on the shore of the sea, all along, and didn't know him till he come +to the boots, and he says, 'It's Abner;' for there was his boots to know +him by. Now, will you deny, Mas' Gammon, you said, Mr. Hackbut's boots, +and a long stride it was for 'em from London? And I won't be laughed at +through arts of any sly old man!" + +The circumstantial charge made no impression on Master Gammon, who was +heard to mumble, as from the inmost recesses of tight-packed dumpling; +but he left the vindication of his case to the farmer's laughter. The +mention of her uncle had started a growing agitation in Rhoda, to whom +the indication of his eccentric behaviour was a stronger confirmation of +his visit to the neighbourhood. And wherefore had he journeyed down? Had +he come to haunt her on account of the money he had poured into her lap? +Rhoda knew in a moment that she was near a great trial of her strength +and truth. She had more than once, I cannot tell you how distantly, +conceived that the money had been money upon which the mildest word +for "stolen" should be put to express the feeling she had got about +it, after she had parted with the bulk of it to the man Sedgett. Not +"stolen," not "appropriated," but money that had perhaps been entrusted, +and of which Anthony had forgotten the rightful ownership. This idea +of hers had burned with no intolerable fire; but, under a weight of all +discountenancing appearances, feeble though it was, it had distressed +her. The dealing with money, and the necessity for it, had given Rhoda a +better comprehension of its nature and value. She had taught herself to +think that her suspicion sprang from her uncle's wild demeanour, and the +scene of the gold pieces scattered on the floor, as if a heart had burst +at her feet. + +No sooner did she hear that Anthony had been, by supposition, seen, than +the little light of secret dread flamed a panic through her veins. She +left the table before Master Gammon had finished, and went out of the +house to look about for her uncle. He was nowhere in the fields, nor in +the graveyard. She walked over the neighbourhood desolately, until her +quickened apprehension was extinguished, and she returned home relieved, +thinking it folly to have imagined her uncle was other than a man of +hoarded wealth, and that he was here. But, in the interval, she had +experienced emotions which warned her of a struggle to come. Who would +be friendly to her, and an arm of might? The thought of the storm she +had sown upon all sides made her tremble foolishly. When she placed her +hand in Robert's, she gave his fingers a confiding pressure, and all but +dropped her head upon his bosom, so sick she was with weakness. It would +have been a deceit toward him, and that restrained her; perhaps, yet +more, she was restrained by the gloomy prospect of having to reply to +any words of love, without an idea of what to say, and with a loathing +of caresses. She saw herself condemned to stand alone, and at a season +when she was not strengthened by pure self-support. + +Rhoda had not surrendered the stern belief that she had done well by +forcing Dahlia's hand to the marriage, though it had resulted evilly. In +reflecting on it, she had still a feeling of the harsh joy peculiar to +those who have exercised command with a conscious righteousness upon +wilful, sinful, and erring spirits, and have thwarted the wrongdoer. +She could only admit that there was sadness in the issue; hitherto, +at least, nothing worse than sad disappointment. The man who was her +sister's husband could no longer complain that he had been the victim +of an imposition. She had bought his promise that he would leave the +country, and she had rescued the honour of the family by paying him. At +what cost? She asked herself that now, and then her self-support became +uneven. Could her uncle have parted with the great sum--have shed it +upon her, merely beneficently, and because he loved her? Was it possible +that he had the habit of carrying his own riches through the streets of +London? She had to silence all questions imperiously, recalling exactly +her ideas of him, and the value of money in the moment when money was an +object of hunger--when she had seized it like a wolf, and its value was +quite unknown, unguessed at. + +Rhoda threw up her window before she slept, that she might breathe the +cool night air; and, as she leaned out, she heard steps moving away, and +knew them to be Robert's, in whom that pressure of her hand had cruelly +resuscitated his longing for her. She drew back, wondering at the +idleness of men--slaves while they want a woman's love, savages when +they have won it. She tried to pity him, but she had not an emotion to +spare, save perhaps one of dull exultation, that she, alone of women, +was free from that wretched mess called love; and upon it she slept. + +It was between the breakfast and dinner hours, at the farm, next day, +when the young squire, accompanied by Anthony Hackbut, met farmer +Fleming in the lane bordering one of the outermost fields of wheat. +Anthony gave little more than a blunt nod to his relative, and slouched +on, leaving the farmer in amazement, while the young squire stopped him +to speak with him. Anthony made his way on to the house. Shortly after, +he was seen passing through the gates of the garden, accompanied by +Rhoda. At the dinner-hour, Robert was taken aside by the farmer. +Neither Rhoda nor Anthony presented themselves. They did not appear till +nightfall. When Anthony came into the room, he took no greetings and +gave none. He sat down on the first chair by the door, shaking his +head, with vacant eyes. Rhoda took off her bonnet, and sat as strangely +silent. In vain Mrs. Sumfit asked her; "Shall it be tea, dear, and a +little cold meat?" The two dumb figures were separately interrogated, +but they had no answer. + +"Come! brother Tony?" the farmer tried to rally him. + +Dahlia was knitting some article of feminine gear. Robert stood by the +musk-pots at the window, looking at Rhoda fixedly. Of this gaze she +became conscious, and glanced from him to the clock. + +"It's late," she said, rising. + +"But you're empty, my dear. And to think o' going to bed without a +dinner, or your tea, and no supper! You'll never say prayers, if you +do," said Mrs. Sumfit. + +The remark engendered a notion in the farmer's head, that Anthony +promised to be particularly prayerless. + +"You've been and spent a night at the young squire's, I hear, brother +Tony. All right and well. No complaints on my part, I do assure ye. If +you're mixed up with that family, I won't bring it in you're anyways +mixed up with this family; not so as to clash, do you see. Only, man, +now you are here, a word'd be civil, if you don't want a doctor." + +"I was right," murmured Mrs. Sumfit. "At the funeral, he was; and Lord +be thanked! I thought my eyes was failin'. Mas' Gammon, you'd ha' lost +no character by sidin' wi' me." + +"Here's Dahlia, too," said the farmer. "Brother Tony, don't you see her? +She's beginning to be recognizable, if her hair'd grow a bit faster. +She's...well, there she is." + +A quavering, tiny voice, that came from Anthony, said: "How d' ye +do--how d' ye do;" sounding like the first effort of a fife. But Anthony +did not cast eye on Dahlia. + +"Will you eat, man?--will you smoke a pipe?--won't you talk a +word?--will you go to bed?" + +These several questions, coming between pauses, elicited nothing from +the staring oldman. + +"Is there a matter wrong at the Bank?" the farmer called out, and +Anthony jumped in a heap. + +"Eh?" persisted the farmer. + +Rhoda interposed: "Uncle is tired; he is unwell. Tomorrow he will talk +to you." + +"No, but is there anything wrong up there, though?" the farmer asked +with eager curiosity, and a fresh smile at the thought that those +Banks and city folk were mortal, and could upset, notwithstanding their +crashing wheels. "Brother Tony, you speak out; has anybody been and +broke? Never mind a blow, so long, o' course, as they haven't swallowed +your money. How is it? Why, I never saw such a sight as you. You come +down from London; you play hide and seek about your relation's house; +and here, when you do condescend to step in--eh? how is it? You ain't, I +hope, ruined, Tony, are ye?" + +Rhoda stood over her uncle to conceal him. + +"He shall not speak till he has had some rest. And yes, mother, he shall +have some warm tea upstairs in bed. Boil some water. Now, uncle, come +with me." + +"Anybody broke?" Anthony rolled the words over, as Rhoda raised his arm. +"I'm asked such a lot, my dear, I ain't equal to it. You said here 'd +be a quiet place. I don't know about money. Try my pockets. Yes, mum, if +you was forty policemen, I'm empty; you'd find it. And no objection to +nod to prayers; but never was taught one of my own. Where am I going, my +dear?" + +"Upstairs with me, uncle." + +Rhoda had succeeded in getting him on his feet. + +The farmer tapped at his forehead, as a signification to the others +that Anthony had gone wrong in the head, which reminded him that he had +prophesied as much. He stiffened out his legs, and gave a manful spring, +crying, "Hulloa, brother Tony! why, man, eh? Look here. What, goin' +to bed? What, you, Tony? I say--I say--dear me!" And during these +exclamations intricate visions of tripping by means of gold wires danced +before him. + +Rhoda hurried Anthony out. + +After the door had shut, the farmer said: "That comes of it; sooner or +later, there it is! You give your heart to money--you insure in a ship, +and as much as say, here's a ship, and, blow and lighten, I defy you. +Whereas we day-by-day people, if it do blow and if it do lighten, and +the waves are avilanches, we've nothing to lose. Poor old Tony--a smash, +to a certainty. There's been a smash, and he's gone under the harrow. +Any o' you here might ha' heard me say, things can't last for ever. +Ha'n't you, now?" + +The persons present meekly acquiesced in his prophetic spirit to this +extent. Mrs. Sumfit dolorously said, "Often, William dear," and accepted +the incontestable truth in deep humiliation of mind. + +"Save," the farmer continued, "save and store, only don't put your heart +in the box." + +"It's true, William;" Mrs. Sumfit acted clerk to the sermon. + +Dahlia took her softly by the neck, and kissed her. + +"Is it love for the old woman?" Mrs. Sumfit murmured fondly; and Dahlia +kissed her again. + +The farmer had by this time rounded to the thought of how he personally +might be affected by Anthony's ill-luck, supposing; perchance, that +Anthony was suffering from something more than a sentimental attachment +to the Bank of his predilection: and such a reflection instantly +diverted his tendency to moralize. + +"We shall hear to-morrow," he observed in conclusion; which, as it +caused a desire for the morrow to spring within his bosom, sent his eyes +at Master Gammon, who was half an hour behind his time for bed, and had +dropped asleep in his chair. This unusual display of public somnolence +on Master Gammon's part, together with the veteran's reputation +for slowness, made the farmer fret at him as being in some way an +obstruction to the lively progress of the hours. + +"Hoy, Gammon!" he sang out, awakeningly to ordinary ears; but Master +Gammon was not one who took the ordinary plunge into the gulf of sleep, +and it was required to shake him and to bellow at him--to administer at +once earthquake and thunder--before his lizard eyelids would lift over +the great, old-world eyes; upon which, like a clayey monster refusing to +be informed with heavenly fire, he rolled to the right of his chair and +to the left, and pitched forward, and insisted upon being inanimate. +Brought at last to a condition of stale consciousness, he looked at +his master long, and uttered surprisingly "Farmer, there's queer things +going on in this house," and then relapsed to a combat with Mrs. Sumfit, +regarding the candle; she saying that it was not to be entrusted to him, +and he sullenly contending that it was. + +"Here, we'll all go to bed," said the farmer. "What with one person +queer, and another person queer, I shall be in for a headache, if I take +to thinking. Gammon's a man sees in 's sleep what he misses awake. Did +you ever know," he addressed anybody, "such a thing as Tony Hackbut +coming into a relation's house, and sitting there, and not a word for +any of us? It's, I call it, dumbfoundering. And that's me: why didn't I +go up and shake his hand, you ask. Well, why not? If he don't know he's +welcome, without ceremony, he's no good. Why, I've got matters t' occupy +my mind, too, haven't I? Every man has, and some more'n others, let +alone crosses. There's something wrong with my brother-in-law, Tony, +that's settled. Odd that we country people, who bide, and take the +Lord's gifts--" The farmer did not follow out this reflection, but +raising his arms, shepherd-wise, he puffed as if blowing the two women +before him to their beds, and then gave a shy look at Robert, and nodded +good-night to him. Robert nodded in reply. He knew the cause of the +farmer's uncommon blitheness. Algernon Blancove, the young squire, had +proposed for Rhoda's hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +Anthony had robbed the Bank. The young squire was aware of the fact, +and had offered to interpose for him, and to make good the money to the +Bank, upon one condition. So much, Rhoda had gathered from her uncle's +babbling interjections throughout the day. The farmer knew only of the +young squire's proposal, which had been made direct to him; and he had +left it to Robert to state the case to Rhoda, and plead for himself. She +believed fully, when she came downstairs into the room where Robert was +awaiting her, that she had but to speak and a mine would be sprung; and +shrinking from it, hoping for it, she entered, and tried to fasten her +eyes upon Robert distinctly, telling him the tale. Robert listened with +a calculating seriousness of manner that quieted her physical dread +of his passion. She finished; and he said "It will, perhaps, save your +uncle: I'm sure it will please your father." + +She sat down, feeling that a warmth had gone, and that she was very +bare. + +"Must I consent, then?" + +"If you can, I suppose." + +Both being spirits formed for action, a perplexity found them weak as +babes. He, moreover, was stung to see her debating at all upon such a +question; and he was in despair before complicated events which gave +nothing for his hands and heart to do. Stiff endurance seemed to him to +be his lesson; and he made a show of having learnt it. + +"Were you going out, Robert?" + +"I usually make the rounds of the house, to be sure all's safe." + +His walking about the garden at night was not, then, for the purpose of +looking at her window. Rhoda coloured in all her dark crimson with shame +for thinking that it had been so. + +"I must decide to-morrow morning." + +"They say, the pillow's the best counsellor." + +A reply that presumed she would sleep appeared to her as bitterly +unfriendly. + +"Did father wish it?" + +"Not by what he spoke." + +"You suppose he does wish it?" + +"Where's the father who wouldn't? Of course, he wishes it. He's kind +enough, but you may be certain he wishes it." + +"Oh! Dahlia, Dahlia!" Rhoda moaned, under a rush of new sensations, +unfilial, akin to those which her sister had distressed her by speaking +shamelessly out. + +"Ah! poor soul!" added Robert. + +"My darling must be brave: she must have great courage. Dahlia cannot be +a coward. I begin to see." + +Rhoda threw up her face, and sat awhile as one who was reading old +matters by a fresh light. + +"I can't think," she said, with a start. "Have I been dreadfully cruel? +Was I unsisterly? I have such a horror of some things--disgrace. And men +are so hard on women; and father--I felt for him. And I hated that base +man. It's his cousin and his name! I could almost fancy this trial is +brought round to me for punishment." + +An ironic devil prompted Robert to say, "You can't let harm come to your +uncle." + +The thing implied was the farthest in his idea of any woman's possible +duty. + +"Are you of that opinion?" Rhoda questioned with her eyes, but uttered +nothing. + +Now, he had spoken almost in the ironical tone. She should have noted +that. And how could a true-hearted girl suppose him capable of giving +such counsel to her whom he loved? It smote him with horror and anger; +but he was much too manly to betray these actual sentiments, and +continued to dissemble. You see, he had not forgiven her for her +indifference to him. + +"You are no longer your own mistress," he said, meaning exactly the +reverse. + +This--that she was bound in generosity to sacrifice herself--was what +Rhoda feared. There was no forceful passion in her bosom to burst +through the crowd of weak reasonings and vanities, to bid her be a +woman, not a puppet; and the passion in him, for which she craved, that +she might be taken up by it and whirled into forgetfulness, with a seal +of betrothal upon her lips, was absent so that she thought herself +loved no more by Robert. She was weary of thinking and acting on her +own responsibility, and would gladly have abandoned her will; yet her +judgement, if she was still to exercise it, told her that the step she +was bidden to take was one, the direct consequence and the fruit of her +other resolute steps. Pride whispered, "You could compel your sister +to do that which she abhorred;" and Pity pleaded for her poor old +uncle Anthony. She looked back in imagination at that scene with him +in London, amazed at her frenzy of power, and again, from that +contemplation, amazed at her present nervelessness. + +"I am not fit to be my own mistress," she said. + +"Then, the sooner you decide the better," observed Robert, and the room +became hot and narrow to him. + +"Very little time is given me," she murmured. The sound was like a +whimper; exasperating to one who had witnessed her remorseless energy. + +"I dare say you won't find the hardship so great," said he. + +"Because," she looked up quickly, "I went out one day to meet him? Do +you mean that, Robert? I went to hear news of my sister. I had received +no letters from her. And he wrote to say that he could tell me about +her. My uncle took me once to the Bank. I saw him there first. He spoke +of Wrexby, and of my sister. It is pleasant to inexperienced girls to +hear themselves praised. Since the day when you told me to turn back I +have always respected you." + +Her eyelids lowered softly. + +Could she have humbled herself more? But she had, at the same time, +touched his old wound: and his rival then was the wooer now, rich, and a +gentleman. And this room, Robert thought as he looked about it, was the +room in which she had refused him, when he first asked her to be his. + +"I think," he said, "I've never begged your pardon for the last occasion +of our being alone here together. I've had my arm round you. Don't be +frightened. That's my marriage, and there was my wife. And there's an +end of my likings and my misconduct. Forgive me for calling it to mind." + +"No, no, Robert," Rhoda lifted her hands, and, startled by the impulse, +dropped them, saying: "What forgiveness? Was I ever angry with you?" + +A look of tenderness accompanied the words, and grew into a dusky +crimson rose under his eyes. + +"When you went into the wood, I saw you going: I knew it was for some +good object," he said, and flushed equally. + +But, by the recurrence to that scene, he had checked her sensitive +developing emotion. She hung a moment in languor, and that oriental +warmth of colour ebbed away from her cheeks. + +"You are very kind," said she. + +Then he perceived in dimmest fashion that possibly a chance had come +to ripeness, withered, and fallen, within the late scoffing seconds +of time. Enraged at his blindness, and careful, lest he had wrongly +guessed, not to expose his regret (the man was a lover), he remarked, +both truthfully and hypocritically: "I've always thought you were born +to be a lady." (You had that ambition, young madam.) + +She answered: "That's what I don't understand." (Your saying it, O my +friend!) + +"You will soon take to your new duties." (You have small objection to +them even now.) + +"Yes, or my life won't be worth much." (Know, that you are driving me to +it.) + +"And I wish you happiness, Rhoda." (You are madly imperilling the +prospect thereof.) + +To each of them the second meaning stood shadowy behind the utterances. +And further,-- + +"Thank you, Robert." (I shall have to thank you for the issue.) + +"Now it's time to part." (Do you not see that there's a danger for me in +remaining?) + +"Good night." (Behold, I am submissive.) + +"Good night, Rhoda." (You were the first to give the signal of parting.) + +"Good night." (I am simply submissive.) + +"Why not my name? Are you hurt with me?" + +Rhoda choked. The indirectness of speech had been a shelter to her, +permitting her to hint at more than she dared clothe in words. + +Again the delicious dusky rose glowed beneath his eyes. + +But he had put his hand out to her, and she had not taken it. + +"What have I done to offend you? I really don't know, Rhoda." + +"Nothing." The flower had closed. + +He determined to believe that she was gladdened at heart by the prospect +of a fine marriage, and now began to discourse of Anthony's delinquency, +saying,-- + +"It was not money taken for money's sake: any one can see that. It was +half clear to me, when you told me about it, that the money was not his +to give, but I've got the habit of trusting you to be always correct." + +"And I never am," said Rhoda, vexed at him and at herself. + +"Women can't judge so well about money matters. Has your uncle no +account of his own at the Bank? He was thought to be a bit of a miser." + +"What he is, or what he was, I can't guess. He has not been near the +Bank since that day; nor to his home. He has wandered down on his way +here, sleeping in cottages. His heart seems broken. I have still a great +deal of the money. I kept it, thinking it might be a protection for +Dahlia. Oh! my thoughts and what I have done! Of course, I imagined him +to be rich. A thousand pounds seemed a great deal to me, and very little +for one who was rich. If I had reflected at all, I must have seen that +Uncle Anthony would never have carried so much through the streets. +I was like a fiend for money. I must have been acting wrongly. Such a +craving as that is a sign of evil." + +"What evil there is, you're going to mend, Rhoda." + +"I sell myself, then." + +"Hardly so bad as that. The money will come from you instead of from +your uncle." + +Rhoda bent forward in her chair, with her elbows on her knees, like a +man brooding. Perhaps, it was right that the money should come from her. +And how could she have hoped to get the money by any other means? Here +at least was a positive escape from perplexity. It came at the right +moment; was it a help divine? What cowardice had been prompting her to +evade it? After all, could it be a dreadful step that she was required +to take? + +Her eyes met Robert's, and he said startlingly: "Just like a woman!" + +"Why?" but she had caught the significance, and blushed with spite. + +"He was the first to praise you." + +"You are brutal to me, Robert." + +"My name at last! You accused me of that sort of thing before, in this +room." + +Rhoda stood up. "I will wish you good night." + +"And now you take my hand." + +"Good night," they uttered simultaneously; but Robert did not give up +the hand he had got in his own. His eyes grew sharp, and he squeezed the +fingers. + +"I'm bound," she cried. + +"Once!" Robert drew her nearer to him. + +"Let me go." + +"Once!" he reiterated. "Rhoda, as I've never kissed you--once!" + +"No: don't anger me." + +"No one has ever kissed you?" + +"Never." + +"Then, I--" His force was compelling the straightened figure. + +Had he said, "Be mine!" she might have softened to his embrace; but +there was no fire of divining love in her bosom to perceive her lover's +meaning. She read all his words as a placard on a board, and revolted +from the outrage of submitting her lips to one who was not to be her +husband. His jealousy demanded that gratification foremost. The "Be +mine!" was ready enough to follow. + +"Let me go, Robert." + +She was released. The cause for it was the opening of the door. Anthony +stood there. + +A more astounding resemblance to the phantasm of a dream was never +presented. He was clad in a manner to show forth the condition of his +wits, in partial night and day attire: one of the farmer's nightcaps +was on his head, surmounted by his hat. A confused recollection of the +necessity for trousers, had made him draw on those garments sufficiently +to permit of the movement of his short legs, at which point their +subserviency to the uses ended. Wrinkled with incongruous clothing from +head to foot, and dazed by the light, he peered on them, like a mouse +magnified and petrified. + +"Dearest uncle!" Rhoda went to him. + +Anthony nodded, pointing to the door leading out of the house. + +"I just want to go off--go off. Never you mind me. I'm only going off." + +"You must go to your bed, uncle." + +"Oh, Lord! no. I'm going off, my dear. I've had sleep enough for forty. +I--" he turned his mouth to Rhoda's ear, "I don't want t' see th' old +farmer." And, as if he had given a conclusive reason for his departure, +he bored towards the door, repeating it, and bawling additionally, "in +the morning." + +"You have seen him, uncle. You have seen him. It's over," said Rhoda. + +Anthony whispered: "I don't want t' see th' old farmer." + +"But, you have seen him, uncle." + +"In the morning, my dear. Not in the morning. He'll be looking and +asking, 'Where away, brother Tony?' 'Where's your banker's book, brother +Tony?' 'How's money-market, brother Tony?' I can't see th' old farmer." + +It was impossible to avoid smiling: his imitation of the farmer's +country style was exact. + +She took his hands, and used every persuasion she could think of to +induce him to return to his bed; nor was he insensible to argument, or +superior to explanation. + +"Th' old farmer thinks I've got millions, my dear. You can't satisfy +him. He... I don't want t' see him in the morning. He thinks I've got +millions. His mouth'll go down. I don't want... You don't want him to +look... And I can't count now; I can't count a bit. And every post I see +'s a policeman. I ain't hiding. Let 'em take the old man. And he was a +faithful servant, till one day he got up on a regular whirly-go-round, +and ever since...such a little boy! I'm frightened o' you, Rhoda." + +"I will do everything for you," said Rhoda, crying wretchedly. + +"Because, the young squire says," Anthony made his voice mysterious. + +"Yes, yes," Rhoda stopped him; "and I consent:" she gave a hurried +half-glance behind her. "Come, uncle. Oh! pity! don't let me think your +reason's gone. I can get you the money, but if you go foolish, I cannot +help you." + +Her energy had returned to her with the sense of sacrifice. Anthony +eyed her tears. "We've sat on a bank and cried together, haven't we?" +he said. "And counted ants, we have. Shall we sit in the sun together +to-morrow? Say, we shall. Shall we? A good long day in the sun and +nobody looking at me 's my pleasure." + +Rhoda gave him the assurance, and he turned and went upstairs with her, +docile at the prospect of hours to be passed in the sunlight. + +Yet, when morning came, he had disappeared. Robert also was absent from +the breakfast-table. The farmer made no remarks, save that he reckoned +Master Gammon was right--in allusion to the veteran's somnolent +observation overnight; and strange things were acted before his eyes. + +There came by the morning delivery of letters one addressed to "Miss +Fleming." He beheld his daughters rise, put their hands out, and claim +it, in a breath; and they gazed upon one another like the two women +demanding the babe from the justice of the Wise King. The letter was +placed in Rhoda's hand; Dahlia laid hers on it. Their mouths were shut; +any one not looking at them would have been unaware that a supreme +conflict was going on in the room. It was a strenuous wrestle of their +eyeballs, like the "give way" of athletes pausing. But the delirious +beat down the constitutional strength. A hard bright smile ridged the +hollow of Dahlia's cheeks. Rhoda's dark eyes shut; she let go her hold, +and Dahlia thrust the letter in against her bosom, snatched it out +again, and dipped her face to roses in a jug, and kissing Mrs. Sumfit, +ran from the room for a single minute; after which she came back smiling +with gravely joyful eyes and showing a sedate readiness to eat and +conclude the morning meal. + +What did this mean? The farmer could have made allowance for Rhoda's +behaving so, seeing that she notoriously possessed intellect; and he had +the habit of charging all freaks and vagaries of manner upon intellect. + +But Dahlia was a soft creature, without this apology for extravagance, +and what right had she to letters addressed to "Miss Fleming?" The +farmer prepared to ask a question, and was further instigated to it +by seeing Mrs. Sumfit's eyes roll sympathetic under a burden of +overpowering curiosity and bewilderment. On the point of speaking, he +remembered that he had pledged his word to ask no questions; he feared +to--that was the secret; he had put his trust in Rhoda's assurance, and +shrank from a spoken suspicion. So, checking himself, he broke out upon +Mrs. Sumfit: "Now, then, mother!" which caused her to fluster guiltily, +she having likewise given her oath to be totally unquestioning, even +as was Master Gammon, whom she watched with a deep envy. Mrs. Sumfit +excused the anxious expression of her face by saying that she was +thinking of her dairy, whither, followed by the veteran, she retired. + +Rhoda stood eyeing Dahlia, nerved to battle against the contents of +that letter, though in the first conflict she had been beaten. "Oh, this +curse of love!" she thought in her heart; and as Dahlia left the room, +flushed, stupefied, and conscienceless, Rhoda the more readily told +her father the determination which was the result of her interview with +Robert. + +No sooner had she done so, than a strange fluttering desire to look on +Robert awoke within her bosom. She left the house, believing that she +went abroad to seek her uncle, and walked up a small grass-knoll, a +little beyond the farm-yard, from which she could see green corn-tracts +and the pastures by the river, the river flowing oily under summer +light, and the slow-footed cows, with their heads bent to the herbage; +far-away sheep, and white hawthorn bushes, and deep hedge-ways bursting +out of the trimness of the earlier season; and a nightingale sang among +the hazels near by. + +This scene of unthrobbing peacefulness was beheld by Rhoda with her +first conscious delight in it. She gazed round on the farm, under a +quick new impulse of affection for her old home. And whose hand was +it that could alone sustain the working of the farm, and had done so, +without reward? Her eyes travelled up to Wrexby Hall, perfectly barren +of any feeling that she was to enter the place, aware only that it was +full of pain for her. She accused herself, but could not accept the +charge of her having ever hoped for transforming events that should +twist and throw the dear old farm-life long back into the fields of +memory. Nor could she understand the reason of her continued coolness +to Robert. Enough of accurate reflection was given her to perceive that +discontent with her station was the original cause of her discontent +now. What she had sown she was reaping:--and wretchedly colourless are +these harvests of our dream! The sun has not shone on them. They may +have a tragic blood-hue, as with Dahlia's; but they will never have +any warm, and fresh, and nourishing sweetness--the juice which is in a +single blade of grass. + +A longing came upon Rhoda to go and handle butter. She wished to smell +it as Mrs. Sumfit drubbed and patted and flattened and rounded it in the +dairy; and she ran down the slope, meeting her father at the gate. He +was dressed in his brushed suit, going she knew whither, and when he +asked if she had seen her uncle, she gave for answer a plain negative, +and longed more keenly to be at work with her hands, and to smell the +homely creamy air under the dairy-shed. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +She watched her father as he went across the field and into the lane. +Her breathing was suppressed till he appeared in view at different +points, more and more distant, and then she sighed heavily, stopped her +breathing, and hoped her unshaped hope again. The last time he was in +sight, she found herself calling to him with a voice like that of a +burdened sleeper: her thought being, "How can you act so cruelly to +Robert!" He passed up Wrexby Heath, and over the black burnt patch where +the fire had caught the furzes on a dry Maynight, and sank on the side +of the Hall. + +When we have looked upon a picture of still green life with a troubled +soul, and the blow falls on us, we accuse Nature of our own treachery +to her. Rhoda hurried from the dairy-door to shut herself up in her room +and darken the light surrounding her. She had turned the lock, and +was about systematically to pull down the blind, when the marvel of +beholding Dahlia stepping out of the garden made her for a moment less +the creature of her sickened senses. Dahlia was dressed for a walk, and +she went very fast. The same paralysis of motion afflicted Rhoda as +when she was gazing after her father; but her hand stretched out +instinctively for her bonnet when Dahlia had crossed the green and the +mill-bridge, and was no more visible. Rhoda drew her bonnet on, and +caught her black silk mantle in her hand, and without strength to throw +it across her shoulders, dropped before her bed, and uttered a strange +prayer. "Let her die rather than go back to disgrace, my God! my God!" + +She tried to rise, and failed in the effort, and superstitiously renewed +her prayer. "Send death to her rather!"--and Rhoda's vision under +her shut eyes conjured up clouds and lightnings, and spheres in +conflagration. + +There is nothing so indicative of fevered or of bad blood as the +tendency to counsel the Almighty how he shall deal with his creatures. +The strain of a long uncertainty, and the late feverish weeks had +distempered the fine blood of the girl, and her acts and words were +becoming remoter exponents of her character. + +She bent her head in a blind doze that gave her strength to rise. As +swiftly as she could she went in the track of her sister. + +That morning, Robert had likewise received a letter. It was from Major +Waring, and contained a bank-note, and a summons to London, as also +an enclosure from Mrs. Boulby of Warbeach; the nature of which was +an advertisement cut out of the county paper, notifying to one Robert +Eccles that his aunt Anne had died, and that there was a legacy for him, +to be paid over upon application. Robert crossed the fields, laughing +madly at the ironical fate which favoured him a little and a little, and +never enough, save just to keep him swimming. + +The letter from Major Waring said:-- + +"I must see you immediately. Be quick and come. I begin to be of your +opinion--there are some things which we must take into our own hands and +deal summarily with." + +"Ay!--ay!" Robert gave tongue in the clear morning air, scenting +excitement and eager for it as a hound. + +More was written, which he read subsequently + + "I wrong," Percy's letter continued, "the best of women. She was + driven to my door. There is, it seems, some hope that Dahlia will + find herself free. At any rate, keep guard over her, and don't + leave her. Mrs. Lovell has herself been moving to make discoveries + down at Warbeach. Mr. Blancove has nearly quitted this sphere. She + nursed him--I was jealous!--the word's out. Truth, courage, and + suffering touch Margaret's heart. + + "Yours, + + "Percy." + +Jumping over a bank, Robert came upon Anthony, who was unsteadily gazing +at a donkey that cropped the grass by a gate. + +"Here you are," said Robert, and took his arm. + +Anthony struggled, though he knew the grasp was friendly; but he was +led along: nor did Robert stop until they reached Greatham, five miles +beyond Wrexby, where he entered the principal inn and called for wine. + +"You want spirit: you want life," said Robert. + +Anthony knew that he wanted no wine, whatever his needs might be. Yet +the tender ecstacy of being paid for was irresistible, and he drank, +saying, "Just one glass, then." + +Robert pledged him. They were in a private room, of which, having +ordered up three bottles of sherry, Robert locked the door. The devil +was in him. He compelled Anthony to drink an equal portion with himself, +alternately frightening and cajoling the old man. + +"Drink, I tell you. You've robbed me, and you shall drink!" + +"I haven't, I haven't," Anthony whined. + +"Drink, and be silent. You've robbed me, and you shall drink! and by +heaven! if you resist, I'll hand you over to bluer imps than you've ever +dreamed of, old gentleman! You've robbed me, Mr. Hackbut. Drink! I tell +you." + +Anthony wept into his glass. + +"That's a trick I could never do," said Robert, eyeing the drip of the +trembling old tear pitilessly. "Your health, Mr. Hackbut. You've robbed +me of my sweetheart. Never mind. Life's but the pop of a gun. Some of us +flash in the pan, and they're the only ones that do no mischief. You're +not one of them, sir; so you must drink, and let me see you cheerful." + +By degrees, the wine stirred Anthony's blood, and he chirped feebly, as +one who half remembered that he ought to be miserable. Robert listened +to his maundering account of his adventure with the Bank money, sternly +replenishing his glass. His attention was taken by the sight of Dahlia +stepping forth from a chemist's shop in the street nearly opposite +to the inn. "This is my medicine," said Robert; "and yours too," he +addressed Anthony. + +The sun had passed its meridian when they went into the streets again. +Robert's head was high as a cock's, and Anthony leaned on his arm; +performing short half-circles headlong to the front, until the mighty +arm checked and uplifted him. They were soon in the fields leading to +Wrexby. Robert saw two female figures far ahead. A man was hastening +to join them. The women started and turned suddenly: one threw up her +hands, and darkened her face. It was in the pathway of a broad meadow, +deep with grass, wherein the red sorrel topped the yellow buttercup, +like rust upon the season's gold. Robert hastened on. He scarce at the +moment knew the man whose shoulder he seized, but he had recognised +Dahlia and Rhoda, and he found himself face to face with Sedgett. + +"It's you!" + +"Perhaps you'll keep your hands off; before you make sure, another +time." + +Robert said: "I really beg your pardon. Step aside with me." + +"Not while I've a ha'p'orth o' brains in my noddle," replied Sedgett, +drawling an imitation of his enemy's courteous tone. "I've come for my +wife. I'm just down by train, and a bit out of my way, I reckon. +I'm come, and I'm in a hurry. She shall get home, and have on her +things--boxes packed, and we go." + +Robert waved Dahlia and Rhoda to speed homeward. Anthony had fallen +against the roots of a banking elm, and surveyed the scene with +philosophic abstractedness. Rhoda moved, taking Dahlia's hand. + +"Stop," cried Sedgett. "Do you people here think me a fool? Eccles, you +know me better 'n that. That young woman's my wife. I've come for her, I +tell ye." + +"You've no claim on her," Rhoda burst forth weakly, and quivered, and +turned her eyes supplicatingly on Robert. Dahlia was a statue of icy +fright. + +"You've thrown her off, man, and sold what rights you had," said Robert, +spying for the point of his person where he might grasp the wretch and +keep him off. + +"That don't hold in law," Sedgett nodded. "A man may get in a passion, +when he finds he's been cheated, mayn't he?" + +"I have your word of honour," said Rhoda; muttering, "Oh! devil come to +wrong us!" + +"Then, you shouldn't ha' run ferreting down in my part o' the country. +You, or Eccles--I don't care who 'tis--you've been at my servants to get +at my secrets. Some of you have. You've declared war. You've been trying +to undermine me. That's a breach, I call it. Anyhow, I've come for my +wife. I'll have her." + +"None of us, none of us; no one has been to your house," said Rhoda, +vehemently. "You live in Hampshire, sir, I think; I don't know any more. +I don't know where. I have not asked my sister. Oh! spare us, and go." + +"No one has been down into your part of the country," said Robert, with +perfect mildness. + +To which Sedgett answered bluffly, "There ye lie, Bob Eccles;" and he +was immediately felled by a tremendous blow. Robert strode over him, +and taking Dahlia by the elbow, walked three paces on, as to set her in +motion. "Off!" he cried to Rhoda, whose eyelids cowered under the blaze +of his face. + +It was best that her sister should be away, and she turned and walked +swiftly, hurrying Dahlia, and touching her. "Oh! don't touch my arm," +Dahlia said, quailing in the fall of her breath. They footed together, +speechless; taking the woman's quickest gliding step. At the last stile +of the fields, Rhoda saw that they were not followed. She stopped, +panting: her heart and eyes were so full of that flaming creature who +was her lover. Dahlia took from her bosom the letter she had won in the +morning, and held it open in both hands to read it. The pause was short. +Dahlia struck the letter into her bosom again, and her starved features +had some of the bloom of life. She kept her right hand in her pocket, +and Rhoda presently asked,-- + +"What have you there?" + +"You are my enemy, dear, in some things," Dahlia replied, a muscular +shiver passing over her. + +"I think," said Rhoda, "I could get a little money to send you away. +Will you go? I am full of grief for what I have done. God forgive me." + +"Pray, don't speak so; don't let us talk," said Dahlia. + +Scorched as she felt both in soul and body, a touch or a word was a +wound to her. Yet she was the first to resume: "I think I shall be +saved. I can't quite feel I am lost. I have not been so wicked as that." + +Rhoda gave a loving answer, and again Dahlia shrank from the miserable +comfort of words. + +As they came upon the green fronting the iron gateway, Rhoda perceived +that the board proclaiming the sale of Queen Anne's Farm had been +removed, and now she understood her father's readiness to go up to +Wrexby Hall. "He would sell me to save the farm." She reproached herself +for the thought, but she could not be just; she had the image of her +father plodding relentlessly over the burnt heath to the Hall, as +conceived by her agonized sensations in the morning, too vividly to be +just, though still she knew that her own indecision was to blame. + +Master Gammon met them in the garden. + +Pointing aloft, over the gateway, "That's down," he remarked, and +the three green front teeth of his quiet grin were stamped on the +impressionable vision of the girls in such a way that they looked at one +another with a bare bitter smile. Once it would have been mirth. + +"Tell father," Dahlia said, when they were at the back doorway, and her +eyes sparkled piteously, and she bit on her underlip. Rhoda tried to +detain her; but Dahlia repeated, "Tell father," and in strength and in +will had become more than a match for her sister. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +Rhoda spoke to her father from the doorway, with her hand upon the lock +of the door. + +At first he paid little attention to her, and, when he did so, began +by saying that he hoped she knew that she was bound to have the young +squire, and did not intend to be prankish and wilful; because the young +squire was eager to settle affairs, that he might be settled himself. +"I don't deny it's honour to us, and it's a comfort," said the farmer. +"This is the first morning I've thought easily in my chair for years. +I'm sorry about Robert, who's a twice unlucky 'un; but you aimed at +something higher, I suppose." + +Rhoda was prompted to say a word in self-defence, but refrained, and +again she told Dahlia's story, wondering that her father showed no +excitement of any kind. On the contrary, there was the dimple of one of +his voiceless chuckles moving about the hollow of one cheek, indicating +some slow contemplative action that was not unpleasant within. He said: +"Ah! well, it's very sad;--that is, if 'tis so," and no more, for a +time. + +She discovered that he was referring to her uncle Anthony, concerning +whose fortunate position in the world, he was beginning to entertain +some doubts. "Or else," said the farmer, with a tap on his forehead, +"he's going here. It 'd be odd after all, if commercially, as he 'd call +it, his despised brother-in-law--and I say it in all kindness--should +turn out worth, not exactly millions, but worth a trifle." + +The farmer nodded with an air of deprecating satisfaction. + +Rhoda did not gain his ear until, as by an instinct, she perceived what +interest the story of her uncle and the money-bags would have for him. +She related it, and he was roused. Then, for the third time, she told +him of Dahlia. + +Rhoda saw her father's chest grow large, while his eyes quickened with +light. He looked on her with quite a strange face. Wrath, and a +revived apprehension, and a fixed will were expressed in it, and as he +catechized her for each particular of the truth which had been concealed +from him, she felt a respectfulness that was new in her personal +sensations toward her father, but it was at the expense of her love. + +When he had heard and comprehended all, he said, "Send the girl down to +me." + +But Rhoda pleaded, "She is too worn, she is tottering. She cannot endure +a word on this; not even of kindness and help." + +"Then, you," said the farmer, "you tell her she's got a duty's her first +duty now. Obedience to her husband! Do you hear? Then, let her hear it. +Obedience to her husband! And welcome's the man when he calls on me. +He's welcome. My doors are open to him. I thank him. I honour him. I +bless his name. It's to him I owe--You go up to her and say, her father +owes it to the young man who's married her that he can lift up his head. +Go aloft. Ay! for years I've been suspecting something of this. I tell +ye, girl, I don't understand about church doors and castin' of her +off--he's come for her, hasn't he? Then, he shall have her. I tell ye, +I don't understand about money: he's married her. Well, then, she's his +wife; and how can he bargain not to see her?" + +"The base wretch!" cried Rhoda. + +"Hasn't he married her?" the farmer retorted. "Hasn't he given the poor +creature a name? I'm not for abusing her, but him I do thank, and I say, +when he calls, here's my hand for him. Here, it's out and waiting for +him." + +"Father, if you let me see it--" Rhoda checked the intemperate outburst. +"Father, this is a bad--a bad man. He is a very wicked man. We were all +deceived by him. Robert knows him. He has known him for years, and knows +that he is very wicked. This man married our Dahlia to get--" Rhoda +gasped, and could not speak it. "He flung her off with horrible words at +the church door. After this, how can he claim her? I paid him all he had +to expect with uncle's money, for his promise by his sacred oath never, +never to disturb or come near my sister. After that he can't, can't +claim her. If he does--" + +"He's her husband," interrupted the farmer; "when he comes here, he's +welcome. I say he's welcome. My hand's out to him:--If it's alone +that he's saved the name of Fleming from disgrace! I thank him, and my +daughter belongs to him. Where is he now? You talk of a scuffle with +Robert. I do hope Robert will not forget his proper behaviour. Go you up +to your sister, and say from me--All's forgotten and forgiven; say, It's +all underfoot; but she must learn to be a good girl from this day. And, +if she's at the gate to welcome her husband, so much the better 'll her +father be pleased;--say that. I want to see the man. It'll gratify me +to feel her husband's flesh and blood. His being out of sight so long's +been a sore at my heart; and when I see him I'll welcome him, and so +must all in my house." + +This was how William Fleming received the confession of his daughter's +unhappy plight. + +Rhoda might have pleaded Dahlia's case better, but that she was too +shocked and outraged by the selfishness she saw in her father, and the +partial desire to scourge which she was too intuitively keen at +the moment not to perceive in the paternal forgiveness, and in the +stipulation of the forgiveness. + +She went upstairs to Dahlia, simply stating that their father was aware +of all the circumstances. + +Dahlia looked at her, but dared ask nothing. + +So the day passed. Neither Robert nor Anthony appeared. The night came: +all doors were locked. The sisters that night slept together, feeling +the very pulses of the hours; yet neither of them absolutely hopelessly, +although in a great anguish. + +Rhoda was dressed by daylight. The old familiar country about the house +lay still as if it knew no expectation. She observed Master Gammon +tramping forth afield, and presently heard her father's voice below. All +the machinery of the daily life got into motion; but it was evident that +Robert and Anthony continued to be absent. A thought struck her that +Robert had killed the man. It came with a flash of joy that was speedily +terror, and she fell to praying vehemently and vaguely. Dahlia lay +exhausted on the bed, but nigh the hour when letters were delivered, she +sat up, saying, "There is one for me; get it." + +There was in truth a letter for her below, and it was in her father's +hand and open. + +"Come out," said the farmer, as Rhoda entered to him. When they were in +the garden, he commanded her to read and tell him the meaning of it. The +letter was addressed to Dahlia Fleming. + +"It's for my sister," Rhoda murmured, in anger, but more in fear. + +She was sternly bidden to read, and she read,-- + + Dahlia,--There is mercy for us. You are not lost to me. + + "Edward." + +After this, was appended in a feminine hand:-- + + "There is really hope. A few hours will tell us. But keep firm. + If he comes near you, keep from him. You are not his. Run, hide, + go anywhere, if you have reason to think he is near. I dare not + write what it is we expect. Yesterday I told you to hope; to-day I + can say, believe that you will be saved. You are not lost. + Everything depends on your firmness. + + "Margaret L." + +Rhoda lifted up her eyes. + +The farmer seized the letter, and laid his finger on the first +signature. + +"Is that the christian name of my girl's seducer?" + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned and went into the +breakfast-table, when he ordered a tray with breakfast for Dahlia to +betaken up to her bed-room; and that done, he himself turned the key +of the door, and secured her. Mute woe was on Mrs. Sumfit's face at +all these strange doings, but none heeded her, and she smothered her +lamentations. The farmer spoke nothing either of Robert or of Anthony. +He sat in his chair till the dinner hour, without book or pipe, without +occupation for eyes or hands; silent, but acute in his hearing. + +The afternoon brought relief to Rhoda's apprehensions. A messenger ran +up to the farm bearing a pencilled note to her from Robert, which said +that he, in company with her uncle, was holding Sedgett at a distance +by force of arm, and that there was no fear. Rhoda kissed the words, +hurrying away to the fields for a few minutes to thank and bless and +dream of him who had said that there was no fear. She knew that Dahlia +was unconscious of her imprisonment, and had less compunction in +counting the minutes of her absence. The sun spread in yellow and fell +in red before she thought of returning, so sweet it had become to her +to let her mind dwell with Robert; and she was half a stranger to the +mournfulness of the house when she set her steps homeward. But when she +lifted the latch of the gate, a sensation, prompted by some unwitting +self-accusal, struck her with alarm. She passed into the room, and +beheld her father, and Mrs. Sumfit, who was sitting rolling, with her +apron over her head. + +The man Sedgett was between them. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +No sooner had Rhoda appeared than her father held up the key of Dahlia's +bed-room, and said, "Unlock your sister, and fetch her down to her +husband." + +Mechanically Rhoda took the key. + +"And leave our door open," he added. + +She went up to Dahlia, sick with a sudden fright lest evil had come to +Robert, seeing that his enemy was here; but that was swept from her by +Dahlia's aspect. + +"He is in the house," Dahlia said; and asked, "Was there no letter--no +letter; none, this morning?" + +Rhoda clasped her in her arms, seeking to check the convulsions of her +trembling. + +"No letter! no letter! none? not any? Oh! no letter for me!" + +The strange varying tones of musical interjection and interrogation were +pitiful to hear. + +"Did you look for a letter?" said Rhoda, despising herself for so +speaking. + +"He is in the house! Where is my letter?" + +"What was it you hoped? what was it you expected, darling?" + +Dahlia moaned: "I don't know. I'm blind. I was told to hope. Yesterday I +had my letter, and it told me to hope. He is in the house!" + +"Oh, my dear, my love!" cried Rhoda; "come down a minute. See him. It is +father's wish. Come only for a minute. Come, to gain time, if there is +hope." + +"But there was no letter for me this morning, Rhoda. I can't hope. I am +lost. He is in the house!" + +"Dearest, there was a letter," said Rhoda, doubting that she did well in +revealing it. + +Dahlia put out her hands dumb for the letter. + +"Father opened it, and read it, and keeps it," said Rhoda, clinging +tight to the stricken form. + +"Then, he is against me? Oh, my letter!" Dahlia wrung her hands. + +While they were speaking, their father's voice was heard below calling +for Dahlia to descend. He came thrice to the foot of the stairs, and +shouted for her. + +The third time he uttered a threat that sprang an answer from her bosom +in shrieks. + +Rhoda went out on the landing and said softly, "Come up to her, father." + +After a little hesitation, he ascended the stairs. + +"Why, girl, I only ask you to come down and see your husband," he +remarked with an attempt at kindliness of tone. "What's the harm, then? +Come and see him; that's all; come and see him." + +Dahlia was shrinking out of her father's sight as he stood in the +doorway. "Say," she communicated to Rhoda, "say, I want my letter." + +"Come!" William Fleming grew impatient. + +"Let her have her letter, father," said Rhoda. "You have no right to +withhold it." + +"That letter, my girl" (he touched Rhoda's shoulder as to satisfy +her that he was not angry), "that letter's where it ought to be. +I've puzzled out the meaning of it. That letter's in her husband's +possession." + +Dahlia, with her ears stretching for all that might be uttered, heard +this. Passing round the door, she fronted her father. + +"My letter gone to him!" she cried. "Shameful old man! Can you look on +me? Father, could you give it? I'm a dead woman." + +She smote her bosom, stumbling backward upon Rhoda's arm. + +"You have been a wicked girl," the ordinarily unmoved old man retorted. +"Your husband has come for you, and you go with him. Know that, and let +me hear no threats. He's a modest-minded, quiet young man, and a farmer +like myself, and needn't be better than he is. Come you down to him at +once. I'll tell you: he comes to take you away, and his cart's at the +gate. To the gate you go with him. When next I see you--you visiting me +or I visiting you--I shall see a respected creature, and not what you +have been and want to be. You have racked the household with fear +and shame for years. Now come, and carry out what you've begun in the +contrary direction. You've got my word o' command, dead woman or live +woman. Rhoda, take one elbow of your sister. Your aunt's coming up to +pack her box. I say I'm determined, and no one stops me when I say that. +Come out, Dahlia, and let our parting be like between parent and child. +Here's the dark falling, and your husband's anxious to be away. He has +business, and 'll hardly get you to the station for the last train to +town. Hark at him below! He's naturally astonished, he is, and you're +trying his temper, as you'd try any man's. He wants to be off. Come, and +when next we meet I shall see you a happy wife." + +He might as well have spoken to a corpse. + +"Speak to her still, father," said Rhoda, as she drew a chair upon which +she leaned her sister's body, and ran down full of the power of hate and +loathing to confront Sedgett; but great as was that power within her, +it was overmatched by his brutal resolution to take his wife away. No +argument, no irony, no appeals, can long withstand the iteration of +a dogged phrase. "I've come for my wife," Sedgett said to all her +instances. His voice was waxing loud and insolent, and, as it sounded, +Mrs. Sumfit moaned and flapped her apron. + +"Then, how could you have married him?" + +They heard the farmer's roar of this unanswerable thing, aloft. + +"Yes--how! how!" cried Rhoda below, utterly forgetting the part she had +played in the marriage. + +"It's too late to hate a man when you've married him, my girl." + +Sedgett went out to the foot of the stairs. + +"Mr. Fleming--she's my wife. I'll teach her about hating and loving. +I'll behave well to her, I swear. I'm in the midst of enemies; but I say +I do love my wife, and I've come for her, and have her I will. Now, +in two minutes' time. Mr. Fleming, my cart's at the gate, and I've got +business, and she's my wife." + +The farmer called for Mrs. Sumfit to come up and pack Dahlia's box, and +the forlorn woman made her way to the bedroom. All the house was silent. +Rhoda closed her sight, and she thought: "Does God totally abandon us?" + +She let her father hear: "Father, you know that you are killing your +child." + +"I hear ye, my lass," said he. + +"She will die, father." + +"I hear ye, I hear ye." + +"She will die, father." + +He stamped furiously, exclaiming: "Who's got the law of her better and +above a husband? Hear reason, and come and help and fetch down your +sister. She goes!" + +"Father!" Rhoda cried, looking at her open hands, as if she marvelled to +see them helpless. + +There was for a time that silence which reigns in a sickchamber when +the man of medicine takes the patient's wrist. And in the silence came a +blessed sound--the lifting of a latch. Rhoda saw Robert's face. + +"So," said Robert, as she neared him, "you needn't tell me what's +happened. Here's the man, I see. He dodged me cleverly. The hound wants +practice; the fox is born with his cunning." + +Few words were required to make him understand the position of things in +the house. Rhoda spoke out all without hesitation in Sedgett's hearing. + +But the farmer respected Robert enough to come down to him and explain +his views of his duty and his daughter's duty. By the kitchen firelight +he and Robert and Sedgett read one another's countenances. + +"He has a proper claim to take his wife, Robert," said the farmer. "He's +righted her before the world, and I thank him; and if he asks for her of +me he must have her, and he shall." + +"All right, sir," replied Robert, "and I say too, shall, when I'm stiff +as log-wood." + +"Oh! Robert, Robert!" Rhoda cried in great joy. + +"Do you mean that you step 'twixt me and my own?" said Mr. Fleming. + +"I won't let you nod at downright murder--that's all," said Robert. +"She--Dahlia, take the hand of that creature!" + +"Why did she marry me?" thundered Sedgett. + +"There's one o' the wonders!" Robert rejoined. "Except that you're an +amazingly clever hypocrite with women; and she was just half dead and +had no will of her own; and some one set you to hunt her down. I tell +you, Mr. Fleming, you might as well send your daughter to the hangman as +put her in this fellow's hands." + +"She's his wife, man." + +"May be," Robert assented. + +"You, Robert Eccles!" said Sedgett hoarsely; "I've come for my wife--do +you hear?" + +"You have, I dare say," returned Robert. "You dodged me cleverly, that +you did. I'd like to know how it was done. I see you've got a cart +outside and a boy at the horse's head. The horse steps well, does he? +I'm about three hours behind him, I reckon:--not too late, though!" + +He let fall a great breath of weariness. + +Rhoda went to the cupboard and drew forth a rarely touched bottle of +spirits, with which she filled a small glass, and handing the glass to +him, said, "Drink." He smiled kindly and drank it off. + +"The man's in your house, Mr. Fleming," he said. + +"And he's my guest, and my daughter's husband, remember that," said the +farmer. + +"And mean to wait not half a minute longer till I've taken her off--mark +that," Sedgett struck in. "Now, Mr. Fleming, you see you keep good your +word to me." + +"I'll do no less," said the farmer. He went into the passage shouting +for Mrs. Sumfit to bring down the box. + +"She begs," Mrs. Sumfit answered to him--"She begs, William, on'y a +short five minutes to pray by herself, which you will grant unto her, +dear, you will. Lord! what's come upon us?" + +"Quick, and down with the box, then, mother," he rejoined. + +The box was dragged out, and Dahlia's door was shut, that she might have +her last minutes alone. + +Rhoda kissed her sister before leaving her alone: and so cold were +Dahlia's lips, so tight the clutch of her hands, that she said: +"Dearest, think of God:" and Dahlia replied: "I do." + +"He will not forsake you," Rhoda said. + +Dahlia nodded, with shut eyes, and Rhoda went forth. + +"And now, Robert, you and I'll see who's master on these premises," said +the farmer. "Hear, all! I'm bounders under a sacred obligation to the +husband of my child, and the Lord's wrath on him who interferes and +lifts his hand against me when I perform my sacred duty as a father. +Place there! I'm going to open the door. Rhoda, see to your sister's +bonnet and things. Robert, stand out of my way. There's no refreshment +of any sort you'll accept of before starting, Mr. Sedgett? None at all! +That's no fault of my hospitality. Stand out of my way, Robert." + +He was obeyed. Robert looked at Rhoda, but had no reply for her gaze of +despair. + +The farmer threw the door wide open. + +There were people in the garden--strangers. His name was inquired +for out of the dusk. Then whisperings were heard passing among the +ill-discerned forms, and the farmer went out to them. Robert listened +keenly, but the touch of Rhoda's hand upon his own distracted his +hearing. "Yet it must be!" he said. "Why does she come here?" + +Both he and Rhoda followed the farmer's steps, drawn forth by the +ever-credulous eagerness which arises from an interruption to excited +wretchedness. Near and nearer to the group, they heard a quaint old +woman exclaim: "Come here to you for a wife, when he has one of his own +at home; a poor thing he shipped off to America, thinking himself more +cunning than devils or angels: and she got put out at a port, owing to +stress of weather, to defeat the man's wickedness! Can't I prove it to +you, sir, he's a married man, which none of us in our village knew till +the poor tricked thing crawled back penniless to find him;--and there +she is now with such a story of his cunning to tell to anybody as will +listen; and why he kept it secret to get her pension paid him still on. +It's all such a tale for you to hear by-and-by." + +Robert burst into a glorious laugh. + +"Why, mother! Mrs. Boulby! haven't you got a word for me?" + +"My blessedest Robert!" the good woman cried, as she rushed up to kiss +him. "Though it wasn't to see you I came exactly." She whispered: "The +Major and the good gentleman--they're behind. I travelled down with +them. Dear,--you'd like to know:--Mrs. Lovell sent her little cunning +groom down to Warbeach just two weeks back to make inquiries about that +villain; and the groom left me her address, in case, my dear, when +the poor creature--his true wife--crawled home, and we knew of her at +Three-Tree Farm and knew her story. I wrote word at once, I did, to Mrs. +Lovell, and the sweet good lady sent down her groom to fetch me to +you to make things clear here. You shall understand them soon. It's +Providence at work. I do believe that now there's a chance o' punishing +the wicked ones." + +The figure of Rhoda with two lights in her hand was seen in the porch, +and by the shadowy rays she beheld old Anthony leaning against the +house, and Major Waring with a gentleman beside him close upon the gate. + +At the same time a sound of wheels was heard. + +Robert rushed back into the great parlour-kitchen, and finding it empty, +stamped with vexation. His prey had escaped. + +But there was no relapse to give spare thoughts to that pollution of the +house. It had passed. Major Waring was talking earnestly to Mr. Fleming, +who held his head low, stupefied, and aware only of the fact that it +was a gentleman imparting to him strange matters. By degrees all were +beneath the farmer's roof--all, save one, who stood with bowed head by +the threshold. + +There is a sort of hero, and a sort of villain, to this story: they are +but instruments. Hero and villain are combined in the person of Edward, +who was now here to abase himself before the old man and the family he +had injured, and to kneel penitently at the feet of the woman who had +just reason to spurn him. He had sold her as a slave is sold; he had +seen her plunged into the blackest pit; yet was she miraculously kept +pure for him, and if she could give him her pardon, might still be his. +The grief for which he could ask no compassion had at least purified him +to meet her embrace. The great agony he had passed through of late had +killed his meaner pride. He stood there ready to come forward and ask +forgiveness from unfriendly faces, and beg that he might be in Dahlia's +eyes once--that he might see her once. + +He had grown to love her with the fullest force of a selfish, though +not a common, nature. Or rather he had always loved her, and much of the +selfishness had fallen away from his love. It was not the highest form +of love, but the love was his highest development. He had heard that +Dahlia, lost to him, was free. Something like the mortal yearning to +look upon the dead risen to life, made it impossible for him to remain +absent and in doubt. He was ready to submit to every humiliation that he +might see the rescued features; he was willing to pay all his penalties. +Believing, too, that he was forgiven, he knew that Dahlia's heart would +throb for him to be near her, and he had come. + +The miraculous agencies which had brought him and Major Waring and Mrs. +Boulby to the farm, that exalted woman was relating to Mrs. Sumfit in +another part of the house. + +The farmer, and Percy, and Robert were in the family sitting-room, +when, after an interval, William Fleming said aloud, "Come in, sir," and +Edward stepped in among them. + +Rhoda was above, seeking admittance to her sisters door, and she heard +her father utter that welcome. It froze her limbs, for still she hated +the evil-doer. Her hatred of him was a passion. She crouched over the +stairs, listening to a low and long-toned voice monotonously telling +what seemed to be one sole thing over and over, without variation, in +the room where the men were. Words were indistinguishable. Thrice, after +calling to Dahlia and getting no response, she listened again, and awe +took her soul at last, for, abhorred as he was by her, his power was +felt: she comprehended something of that earnestness which made the +offender speak of his wrongful deeds, and his shame, and his remorse, +before his fellow-men, straight out and calmly, like one who has been +plunged up to the middle in the fires of the abyss, and is thereafter +insensible to meaner pains. The voice ended. She was then aware that +it had put a charm upon her ears. The other voices following it sounded +dull. + +"Has he--can he have confessed in words all his wicked baseness?" she +thought, and in her soul the magnitude of his crime threw a gleam of +splendour on his courage, even at the bare thought that he might have +done this. Feeling that Dahlia was saved, and thenceforth at liberty to +despise him and torture him, Rhoda the more readily acknowledged that it +might be a true love for her sister animating him. From the height of a +possible vengeance it was perceptible. + +She turned to her sister's door and knocked at it, calling to her, +"Safe, safe!" but there came no answer; and she was half glad, for she +had a fear that in the quick revulsion of her sister's feelings, mere +earthly love would act like heavenly charity, and Edward would find +himself forgiven only too instantly and heartily. + +In the small musk-scented guest's parlour, Mrs. Boulby was giving +Mrs. Sumfit and poor old sleepy Anthony the account of the miraculous +discovery of Sedgett's wickedness, which had vindicated all one hoped +for from Above; as also the narration of the stabbing of her boy, and +the heroism and great-heartedness of Robert. Rhoda listened to her for +a space, and went to her sister's door again; but when she stood outside +the kitchen she found all voices silent within. + +It was, in truth, not only very difficult for William Fleming to change +his view of the complexion of circumstances as rapidly as circumstances +themselves changed, but it was very bitter for him to look upon Edward, +and to see him in the place of Sedgett. + +He had been struck dumb by the sudden revolution of affairs in his +house; and he had been deferentially convinced by Major Waring's tone +that he ought rightly to give his hearing to an unknown young gentleman +against whom anger was due. He had listened to Edward without one +particle of comprehension, except of the fact that his behaviour was +extraordinary. He understood that every admission made by Edward with +such grave and strange directness, would justly have condemned him +to punishment which the culprit's odd, and upright, and even-toned +self-denunciation rendered it impossible to think of inflicting. He +knew likewise that a whole history was being narrated to him, and that, +although the other two listeners manifestly did not approve it, they +expected him to show some tolerance to the speaker. + +He said once, "Robert, do me the favour to look about outside for t' +other." Robert answered him, that the man was far away by this time. + +The farmer suggested that he might be waiting to say his word presently. + +"Don't you know you've been dealing with a villain, sir?" cried Robert. +"Throw ever so little light upon one of that breed, and they skulk in +a hurry. Mr. Fleming, for the sake of your honour, don't mention him +again. What you're asked to do now, is to bury the thoughts of him." + +"He righted my daughter when there was shame on her," the farmer +replied. + +That was the idea printed simply on his understanding. + +For Edward to hear it was worse than a scourging with rods. He bore it, +telling the last vitality of his pride to sleep, and comforting himself +with the drowsy sensuous expectation that he was soon to press the hand +of his lost one, his beloved, who was in the house, breathing the same +air with him; was perhaps in the room above, perhaps sitting impatiently +with clasped fingers, waiting for the signal to unlock them and fling +them open. He could imagine the damp touch of very expectant fingers; +the dying look of life-drinking eyes; and, oh! the helplessness of her +limbs as she sat buoying a heart drowned in bliss. + +It was unknown to him that the peril of her uttermost misery had been +so imminent, and the picture conjured of her in his mind was that of a +gentle but troubled face--a soul afflicted, yet hoping because it had +been told to hope, and half conscious that a rescue, almost divine in +its suddenness and unexpectedness, and its perfect clearing away of all +shadows, approached. + +Manifestly, by the pallid cast of his visage, he had tasted shrewd and +wasting grief of late. Robert's heart melted as he beheld the change in +Edward. + +"I believe, Mr. Blancove, I'm a little to blame," he said. "Perhaps when +I behaved so badly down at Fairly, you may have thought she sent me, and +it set your heart against her for a time. I can just understand how it +might." + +Edward thought for a moment, and conscientiously accepted the +suggestion; for, standing under that roof, with her whom he loved near +him, it was absolutely out of his power for him to comprehend that his +wish to break from Dahlia, and the measures he had taken or consented +to, had sprung from his own unassisted temporary baseness. + +Then Robert spoke to the farmer. + +Rhoda could hear Robert's words. Her fear was that Dahlia might hear +them too, his pleading for Edward was so hearty. "Yet why should I +always think differently from Robert?" she asked herself, and with that +excuse for changeing, partially thawed. + +She was very anxious for her father's reply; and it was late in coming. +She felt that he was unconvinced. But suddenly the door opened, and the +farmer called into the darkness,-- + +"Dahlia down here!" + +Previously emotionless, an emotion was started in Rhoda's bosom by the +command, and it was gladness. She ran up and knocked, and found herself +crying out: "He is here--Edward." + +But there came no answer. + +"Edward is here. Come, come and see him." + +Still not one faint reply. + +"Dahlia! Dahlia!" + +The call of Dahlia's name seemed to travel endlessly on. Rhoda knelt, +and putting her mouth to the door, said,-- + +"My darling, I know you will reply to me. I know you do not doubt me +now. Listen. You are to come down to happiness." + +The silence grew heavier; and now a doubt came shrieking through her +soul. + +"Father!" rang her outcry. + +The father came; and then the lover came, and neither to father nor to +lover was there any word from Dahlia's voice. + +She was found by the side of the bed, inanimate, and pale as a sister of +death. + +But you who may have cared for her through her many tribulations, have +no fear for this gentle heart. It was near the worst; yet not the worst. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +Up to the black gates, but not beyond them. The dawn following such a +night will seem more like a daughter of the night than promise of day. +It is day that follows, notwithstanding: The sad fair girl survived, +and her flickering life was the sole light of the household; at +times burying its members in dusk, to shine on them again more like a +prolonged farewell than a gladsome restoration. + +She was saved by what we call chance; for it had not been in her design +to save herself. The hand was firm to help her to the deadly draught. As +far as could be conjectured, she had drunk it between hurried readings +from her mother's Bible; the one true companion to which she had often +clung, always half-availingly. The Bible was found by her side, as if +it had fallen from the chair before which she knelt to read her last +quickening verses, and had fallen with her. One arm was about it; one +grasped the broken phial with its hideous label. + +It was uncomplainingly registered among the few facts very distinctly +legible in Master Gammon's memory, that for three entire weeks he had +no dumplings for dinner at the farm; and although, upon a computation, +articles of that description, amounting probably to sixty-three (if +there is any need for our being precise), were due to him, and would +necessarily be for evermore due to him, seeing that it is beyond all +human and even spiritual agency to make good unto man the dinner he has +lost, Master Gammon uttered no word to show that he was sensible of a +slight, which was the only indication given by him of his knowledge of a +calamity having changed the order of things at the farm. On the day when +dumplings reappeared, he remarked, with a glance at the ceiling: "Goin' +on better--eh, marm?" + +"Oh! Mas' Gammon," Mrs. Sumfit burst out; "if I was only certain you +said your prayers faithful every night!" The observation was apparently +taken by Master Gammon to express one of the mere emotions within her +bosom, for he did not reply to it. + +She watched him feeding in his steady way, with the patient bent back, +and slowly chopping old grey jaws, and struck by a pathos in the sight, +exclaimed,-- + +"We've all been searched so, Mas' Gammon! I feel I know everything +that's in me. I'd say, I couldn't ha' given you dumplin's and tears; but +think of our wickedness, when I confess to you I did feel spiteful at +you to think that you were wiltin' to eat the dumplin's while all of +us mourned and rocked as in a quake, expecting the worst to befall; and +that made me refuse them to you. It was cruel of me, and well may you +shake your head. If I was only sure you said your prayers!" + +The meaning in her aroused heart was, that if she could be sure Master +Gammon said his prayers, so as to be searched all through by them, +as she was herself, and to feel thereby, as she did, that he knew +everything that was within him, she would then, in admiration of his +profound equanimity, acknowledge him to be a superior Christian. + +Naturally enough, Master Gammon allowed the interjection to pass, +regarding it as simply a vagrant action of the engine of speech; while +Mrs. Sumfit, with an interjector's consciousness of prodigious things +implied which were not in any degree comprehended, left his presence +in kindness, and with a shade less of the sense that he was a superior +Christian. + +Nevertheless, the sight of Master Gammon was like a comforting medicine +to all who were in the house. He was Mrs. Sumfit's clock; he was balm +and blessedness in Rhoda's eyes; Anthony was jealous of him; the farmer +held to him as to a stake in the ground: even Robert, who rallied and +tormented, and was vexed by him, admitted that he stood some way between +an example and a warning, and was a study. The grand primaeval quality +of unchangeableness, as exhibited by this old man, affected them +singularly in their recovery from the storm and the wreck of the hours +gone by; so much so that they could not divest themselves of the idea +that it was a manifestation of power in Master Gammon to show forth +undisturbed while they were feeling their life shaken in them to +the depths. I have never had the opportunity of examining the +idol-worshipping mind of a savage; but it seems possible that the +immutability of aspect of his little wooden God may sometimes touch him +with a similar astounded awe;--even when, and indeed especially after, +he has thrashed it. Had the old man betrayed his mortality in a sign of +curiosity to know why the hubbub of trouble had arisen, and who was +to blame, and what was the story, the effect on them would have been +diminished. He really seemed granite among the turbulent waves. "Give me +Gammon's life!" was Farmer Fleming's prayerful interjection; seeing him +come and go, sit at his meals, and sleep and wake in season, all through +those tragic hours of suspense, without a question to anybody. Once +or twice, when his eye fell upon the doctor, Master Gammon appeared to +meditate. He observed that the doctor had never been called in to one +of his family, and it was evident that he did not understand the +complication of things which rendered the doctor's visit necessary. + +"You'll never live so long as that old man," the farmer said to Robert. + +"No; but when he goes, all of him's gone," Robert answered. + +"But Gammon's got the wisdom to keep himself safe, Robert; there's no +one to blame for his wrinkles." + +"Gammon's a sheepskin old Time writes his nothings on," said Robert. +"He's safe--safe enough. An old hulk doesn't very easily manage to +founder in the mud, and Gammon's been lying on the mud all his life." + +"Let that be how 't will," returned the farmer; "I've had days o' mortal +envy of that old man." + +"Well, it's whether you prefer being the fiddle or the fiddle-case," +quoth Robert. + +Of Anthony the farmer no longer had any envy. In him, though he was as +passive as Master Gammon, the farmer beheld merely a stupefied old +man, and not a steady machine. He knew that some queer misfortune had +befallen Anthony. + +"He'll find I'm brotherly," said Mr. Fleming; but Anthony had darkened +his golden horizon for him, and was no longer an attractive object to +his vision. + +Upon an Autumn afternoon; Dahlia, looking like a pale Spring flower, +came down among them. She told her sister that it was her wish to see +Edward. Rhoda had lost all power of will, even if she had desired to +keep them asunder. She mentioned Dahlia's wish to her father, who at +once went for his hat, and said: "Dress yourself neat, my lass." She +knew what was meant by that remark. Messages daily had been coming down +from the Hall, but the rule of a discerning lady was then established +there, and Rhoda had been spared a visit from either Edward or Algernon, +though she knew them to be at hand. During Dahlia's convalescence, the +farmer had not spoken to Rhoda of her engagement to the young squire. +The great misery intervening, seemed in her mind to have cancelled all +earthly engagements; and when he said that she must use care in her +attire he suddenly revived a dread within her bosom, as if he had +plucked her to the verge of a chasm. + +But Mrs. Lovell's delicacy was still manifest: Edward came alone, and he +and Dahlia were left apart. + +There was no need to ask for pardon from those gentle eyes. They joined +hands. She was wasted and very weak, but she did not tremble. Passion +was extinguished. He refrained from speaking of their union, feeling +sure that they were united. It required that he should see her to know +fully the sinner he had been. Wasted though she was, he was ready to +make her his own, if only for the sake of making amends to this dear +fair soul, whose picture of Saint was impressed on him, first as a +response to the world wondering at his sacrifice of himself, and next, +by degrees, as an absolute visible fleshly fact. She had come out of her +martyrdom stamped with the heavenly sign-mark. + +"Those are the old trees I used to speak of," she said, pointing to the +two pines in the miller's grounds. "They always look like Adam and Eve +turning away." + +"They do not make you unhappy to see them, Dahlia?" + +"I hope to see them till I am gone." + +Edward pressed her fingers. He thought that warmer hopes would soon flow +into her. + +"The neighbours are kind?" he asked. + +"Very kind. They, inquire after me daily." + +His cheeks reddened; he had spoken at random, and he wondered that +Dahlia should feel it pleasurable to be inquired after, she who was so +sensitive. + +"The clergyman sits with me every day, and knows my heart," she added. + +"The clergyman is a comfort to women," said Edward. + +Dahlia looked at him gently. The round of her thin eyelids dwelt on him. +She wished. She dared not speak her wish to one whose remembered mastery +in words forbade her poor speechlessness. But God would hear her prayers +for him. + +Edward begged that he might come to her often, and she said,-- + +"Come." + +He misinterpreted the readiness of the invitation. + +When he had left her, he reflected on the absence of all endearing +epithets in her speech, and missed them. Having himself suffered, he +required them. For what had she wrestled so sharply with death, if not +to fall upon his bosom and be his in a great outpouring of gladness? In +fact he craved the immediate reward for his public acknowledgement of +his misdeeds. He walked in this neighbourhood known by what he had done, +and his desire was to take his wife away, never more to be seen there. +Following so deep a darkness, he wanted at least a cheerful dawn: not +one of a penitential grey--not a hooded dawn, as if the paths of life +were to be under cloistral arches. And he wanted a rose of womanhood +in his hand like that he had parted with, and to recover which he had +endured every earthly mortification, even to absolute abasement. The +frail bent lily seemed a stranger to him. + +Can a man go farther than his nature? Never, when he takes passion on +board. By other means his nature may be enlarged and nerved, but passion +will find his weakness, and, while urging him on, will constantly betray +him at that point. Edward had three interviews with Dahlia; he wrote to +her as many times. There was but one answer for him; and when he ceased +to charge her with unforgivingness, he came to the strange conclusion +that beyond our calling of a woman a Saint for rhetorical purposes, and +esteeming her as one for pictorial, it is indeed possible, as he had +slightly discerned in this woman's presence, both to think her saintly +and to have the sentiments inspired by the overearthly in her person. +Her voice, her simple words of writing, her gentle resolve, all issuing +of a capacity to suffer evil, and pardon it, conveyed that character to +a mind not soft for receiving such impressions. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +Major Waring came to Wrexby Hall at the close of the October month. He +came to plead his own cause with Mrs. Lovell; but she stopped him by +telling him that his friend Robert was in some danger of losing his +love. + +"She is a woman, Percy; I anticipate your observation. But, more than +that, she believes she is obliged to give her hand to my cousin, the +squire. It's an intricate story relating to money. She does not care for +Algy a bit, which is not a matter that greatly influences him. He has +served her in some mysterious way; by relieving an old uncle of hers. +Algy has got him the office of village postman for this district, I +believe; if it's that; but I think it should be more, to justify her. At +all events, she seems to consider that her hand is pledged. You know the +kind of girl your friend fancies. Besides, her father insists she is to +marry 'the squire,' which is certainly the most natural thing of all. +So, don't you think, dear Percy, you had better take your friend on the +Continent for some weeks? I never, I confess, exactly understood the +intimacy existing between you, but it must be sincere." + +"Are you?" said Percy. + +"Yes, perfectly; but always in a roundabout way. Why do you ask me in +this instance?" + +"Because you could stop this silly business in a day." + +"I know I could." + +"Then, why do you not?" + +"Because of a wish to be sincere. Percy, I have been that throughout, +if you could read me. I tried to deliver my cousin Edward from what I +thought was a wretched entanglement. His selfish falseness offended me, +and I let him know that I despised him. When I found that he was a man +who had courage, and some heart, he gained my friendship once more, and +I served him as far as I could--happily, as it chanced. I tell you all +this, because I don't care to forfeit your esteem, and heaven knows, I +may want it in the days to come. I believe I am the best friend in the +world--and bad anything else. No one perfectly pleases me, not even +you: you are too studious of character, and, like myself, exacting of +perfection in one or two points. But now hear what I have done, and +approve it if you think fit. I have flirted--abominable word!--I am +compelled to use the language of the Misses--yes, I have flirted with my +cousin Algy. I do it too well, I know--by nature! and I hate it. He has +this morning sent a letter down to the farm saying, that, as he +believes he has failed in securing Rhoda's affections, he renounces all +pretensions, etc., subject to her wishes, etc. The courting, I imagine, +can scarcely have been pleasant to him. My delightful manner with him +during the last fortnight has been infinitely pleasanter. So, your +friend Robert may be made happy by-and-by; that is to say, if his Rhoda +is not too like her sex." + +"You're an enchantress," exclaimed Percy. + +"Stop," said she, and drifted into seriousness. "Before you praise me +you must know more. Percy, that duel in India--" + +He put out his hand to her. + +"Yes, I forgive," she resumed. "You were cruel then. Remember that, +and try to be just now. The poor boy would go to his doom. I could have +arrested it. I partly caused it. I thought the honour of the army at +stake. I was to blame on that day, and I am to blame again, but I feel +that I am almost excuseable, if you are not too harsh a judge. No, I am +not; I am execrable; but forgive me." + +Percy's face lighted up in horrified amazement as Margaret Lovell +unfastened the brooch at her neck and took out the dull-red +handkerchief. + +"It was the bond between us," she pursued, "that I was to return this +to you when I no longer remained my own mistress. Count me a miserably +heartless woman. I do my best. You brought this handkerchief to me +dipped in the blood of the poor boy who was slain. I have worn it. It +was a safeguard. Did you mean it to serve as such? Oh, Percy! I felt +continually that blood was on my bosom. I felt it fighting with me. It +has saved me from much. And now I return it to you." + +He could barely articulate "Why?" + +"Dear friend, by the reading of the bond you should know. I asked you +when I was leaving India, how long I was to keep it by me. You said, +'Till you marry.' Do not be vehement, Percy. This is a thing that could +not have been averted." + +"Is it possible," Percy cried, "that you carried the play out so far as +to promise him to marry him?" + +"Your forehead is thunder, Percy. I know that look." + +"Margaret, I think I could bear to see our army suffer another defeat +rather than you should be contemptible." + +"Your chastisement is not given in half measures, Percy." + +"Speak on," said he; "there is more to come. You are engaged to marry +him?" + +"I engaged that I would take the name of Blancove." + +"If he would cease to persecute Rhoda Fleming!" + +"The stipulation was exactly in those words." + +"You mean to carry it out?" + +"To be sincere? I do, Percy! + +"You mean to marry Algernon Blancove?" + +"I should be contemptible indeed if I did, Percy! + +"You do not?" + +"I do not." + +"And you are sincere? By all the powers of earth and heaven, there's no +madness like dealing with an animated enigma! What is it you do mean?" + +"As I said--to be sincere. But I was also bound to be of service to your +friend. It is easy to be sincere and passive." + +Percy struck his brows. "Can you mean that Edward Blancove is the man?" + +"Oh! no. Edward will never marry any one. I do him the justice to say +that his vice is not that of unfaithfulness. He had but one love, and +her heart is quite dead. There is no marriage for him--she refuses. You +may not understand the why of that, but women will. She would marry him +if she could bring herself to it;--the truth is, he killed her pride. +Her taste for life has gone. She is bent on her sister's marrying your +friend. She has no other thought of marriage, and never will have. I +know the state. It is not much unlike mine." + +Waring fixed her eyes. "There is a man?" + +"Yes," she answered bluntly. + +"It is somebody, then, whose banker's account is, I hope, satisfactory." + +"Yes, Percy;" she looked eagerly forward, as thanking him for releasing +her from a difficulty. "You still can use the whip, but I do not feel +the sting. I marry a banker's account. Do you bear in mind the day I +sent after you in the park? I had just heard that I was ruined. You know +my mania for betting. I heard it, and knew when I let my heart warm to +you that I could never marry you. That is one reason, perhaps, why I +have been an enigma. I am sincere in telling Algy I shall take the name +of Blancove. I marry the banker. Now take this old gift of yours." + +Percy grasped the handkerchief, and quitted her presence forthwith, +feeling that he had swallowed a dose of the sex to serve him for a +lifetime. Yet he lived to reflect on her having decided practically, +perhaps wisely for all parties. Her debts expunged, she became an old +gentleman's demure young wife, a sweet hostess, and, as ever, a true +friend: something of a miracle to one who had inclined to make a heroine +of her while imagining himself to accurately estimate her deficiencies. +Honourably by this marriage the lady paid for such wild oats as she had +sown in youth. + +There were joy-bells for Robert and Rhoda, but none for Dahlia and +Edward. + +Dahlia lived seven years her sister's housemate, nurse of the growing +swarm. She had gone through fire, as few women have done in like manner, +to leave their hearts among the ashes; but with that human heart she +left regrets behind her. The soul of this young creature filled its +place. It shone in her eyes and in her work, a lamp to her little +neighbourhood; and not less a lamp of cheerful beams for one day being +as another to her. In truth, she sat above the clouds. When she died she +relinquished nothing. Others knew the loss. Between her and Robert there +was deeper community on one subject than she let Rhoda share. Almost +her last words to him, spoken calmly, but with the quaver of breath +resembling sobs, were: "Help poor girls." + + + + + ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + + A fleet of South-westerly rainclouds had been met in mid-sky + All women are the same--Know one, know all + Ashamed of letting his ears be filled with secret talk + Borrower to be dancing on Fortune's tight-rope above the old abyss + But you must be beautiful to please some men + But the key to young men is the ambition, or, in the place of it..... + But great, powerful London--the new universe to her spirit + Can a man go farther than his nature? + Childish faith in the beneficence of the unseen Powers who feed us + Cold curiosity + Dahlia, the perplexity to her sister's heart, lay stretched.... + Dead Britons are all Britons, but live Britons are not quite brothers + Developing stiff, solid, unobtrusive men, and very personable women + Exceeding variety and quantity of things money can buy + Found by the side of the bed, inanimate, and pale as a sister of death + Full-o'-Beer's a hasty chap + Gravely reproaching the tobacconist for the growing costliness of cigars + He had no recollection of having ever dined without drinking wine + He tried to gather his ideas, but the effort was like that of a light dreamer + He lies as naturally as an infant sucks + He will be a part of every history (the fool) + I haven't got the pluck of a flea + I never pay compliments to transparent merit + I would cut my tongue out, if it did you a service + Inferences are like shadows on the wall + It was her prayer to heaven that she might save a doctor's bill + Land and beasts! They sound like blessed things + Love dies like natural decay + Marriage is an awful thing, where there's no love + Mrs. Fleming, of Queen Anne's Farm, was the wife of a yeoman + My first girl--she's brought disgrace on this house + My plain story is of two Kentish damsels + One learns to have compassion for fools, by studying them + Pleasant companion, who did not play the woman obtrusively among men + Principle of examining your hypothesis before you proceed to decide by it + Rhoda will love you. She is firm when she loves + Silence is commonly the slow poison used by those who mean to murder love + Sinners are not to repent only in words + So long as we do not know that we are performing any remarkable feat + Sort of religion with her to believe no wrong of you + The unhappy, who do not wish to live, and cannot die + The kindest of men can be cruel + The idea of love upon the lips of ordinary men, provoked Dahlia's irony + The backstairs of history (Memoirs) + The woman seeking for an anomaly wants a master + Then, if you will not tell me + There were joy-bells for Robert and Rhoda, but none for Dahlia + To be a really popular hero anywhere in Britain (must be a drinker) + To be her master, however, one must not begin by writhing as her slave + Wait till the day's ended before you curse your luck + William John Fleming was simply a poor farmer + With this money, said the demon, you might speculate + Work is medicine + You who may have cared for her through her many tribulations, have no fear + You choose to give yourself to an obscure dog + You're a rank, right-down widow, and no mistake + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Rhoda Fleming, Complete, by George Meredith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHODA FLEMING, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 4426.txt or 4426.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/2/4426/ + +Produced by Pat Castevans and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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