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diff --git a/4426-h/4426-h.htm b/4426-h/4426-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a3bcfa7 --- /dev/null +++ b/4426-h/4426-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,22048 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Rhoda Fleming, Complete, by George Meredith + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +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 + +Release Date: October 13, 2006 [EBook #4426] +Last Updated: February 26, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHODA FLEMING, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + RHODA FLEMING, Complete + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By George Meredith + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you, sir,” she said, and her hands came in contact with his, + and were squeezed. + </p> + <p> + “How is my sister?” She had no longer any fear in asking. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in a queer, wheezy voice, like a cracked flute, combined with the + effect of an ill-resined fiddle-bow. + </p> + <p> + “You are in the garden of Queen Anne's Farm,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are my uncle, then?” said Rhoda. “Tell me how my sister is. Is she + well? Is she quite happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Dahly?” returned old Anthony, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; my sister!” Rhoda looked at him with distressful eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Is her health good?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; stomach's good, head's good, lungs, brain, what not, all good. She's + a bit giddy, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “In her head?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; and on her pins. Never you mind. You look a steady one, my dear. I + shall take to you, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “But my sister—” Rhoda was saying, when the farmer came out, and + sent a greeting from the threshold,— + </p> + <p> + “Brother Tony!” + </p> + <p> + “Here he is, brother William John.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, and so he is, at last.” The farmer walked up to him with his hand + out. + </p> + <p> + “And it ain't too late, I hope. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “It's never too late—to mend,” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Made acquaintance with Rhoda, I see,” said the farmer, as they turned to + go in. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “Home pork, brother Tony,” said the farmer, approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “And home-made bread, too, brother William John,” said Anthony, becoming + brisk. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and the beer, such as it is.” The farmer drank and sighed. + </p> + <p> + Anthony tried the beer, remarking, “That's good beer; it don't cost much.” + </p> + <p> + “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!'” + </p> + <p> + “Up there, you pay for rank poison,” said Anthony. “So, what do I do? I + drink water and thank 'em, that's wise.” + </p> + <p> + “Saves stomach and purse.” The farmer put a little stress on 'purse.' + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I calculate I save threepence a day in beer alone,” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “Three times seven's twenty-one, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fleming said this, and let out his elbow in a small perplexity, as + Anthony took him up: “And fifty-two times twenty-one?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's, that's—how much is that, Mas' Gammon?” the farmer + asked in a bellow. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah never thinks when I feeds—Ah was al'ays a bad hand at 'counts. + Gi'es it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you're like a horse that never was rode! Try again, old man,” said + the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “If I drags a cart,” Master Gammon replied, “that ain't no reason why I + should leap a gate.” + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “If I works fer ye, that ain't no reason why I should think fer ye,” which + caused him to be left in peace. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, Robert?” the farmer transferred the question; “Come! what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Robert begged a minute's delay, while Anthony watched him with hawk eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what it is—it's pounds,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you did!” said the farmer, winking slyly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “When you are ready to tell me all about my darlin', sir,” Mrs. Sumfit + suggested, coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + “After dinner, mother—after dinner,” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “And we're waitin', are we, till them dumplings is finished?” she + exclaimed, piteously, with a glance at Master Gammon's plate. + </p> + <p> + “After dinner we'll have a talk, mother.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sumfit, fretted as she was, was not impervious to the sound sense of + the remark, as well as to the compliment. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “When do you think you'll have done, Mas' Gammon?” + </p> + <p> + Thus pointedly addressed, Master Gammon laid down his knife and fork. He + half raised his ponderous, curtaining eyelids, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “When I feels my buttons, marm.” + </p> + <p> + After which he deliberately fell to work again. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sumfit dropped back in her chair as from a blow. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Does that young fellow attend to business?” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Old Anthony gave Rhoda a pat on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda could bear it no more. + </p> + <p> + “Now let me hear of my sister, uncle,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what,” Anthony responded, “she hasn't got such a pretty + sort of a sweet blackbirdy voice as you've got.” + </p> + <p> + The girl blushed scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she can mount them colours, too,” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that stuff wouldn't do for me in London, half-holiday or no + half-holiday,” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” the farmer asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's safest, brother Tony,” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + The farmer interrupted her irritably. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Forty-five and a half?” muttered Anthony, mystified. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind, you know, if you don't like to say, brother Tony.” The + farmer touched him up with his pipe-stem. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You've got it correct,” Anthony assented. + </p> + <p> + “How many thousand divide it by?” + </p> + <p> + “Divide what by, brother William John? I'm beat.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda coughed. + </p> + <p> + “And she wears lavender gloves like a lady,” Mrs. Sumfit was continuing. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda stamped on her foot. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Dody, you're careless,” the farmer spoke chidingly through Mrs. + Sumfit's lamentations. + </p> + <p> + “She stops uncle Anthony when he's just ready, father,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by, the women left the two men alone. + </p> + <p> + Anthony turned and struck the farmer's knee. + </p> + <p> + “You've got a jewel in that gal, brother William John.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! poor Susan! an upright woman before the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + “She was,” said the farmer, bowing his head. + </p> + <p> + “And a good wife,” Anthony interjected. + </p> + <p> + “None better—never a better; and I wish she was living to look after + her girls.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer's eye had lit up, but became overshadowed by the characteristic + reservation. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody'd ask you to do more than you could,” he remarked, rather coldly. + </p> + <p> + “It'll never be much,” sighed Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the world's nothing, if you come to look at it close,” the farmer + adopted a similar tone. + </p> + <p> + “What's money!” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + The farmer immediately resumed his this-worldliness: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What do you call having money?” observed the latter, clearly in the trap. + “Fifty thousand?” + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” went the farmer, as at a big draught of powerful stuff. + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fleming took this second gulp almost contemptuously, but still kindly. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Or you, brother Tony?” The farmer made a grasp at his will-o'-the-wisp. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Are you insured, brother Tony?” the question escaped him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Case of accident?” the farmer suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! nothing happens to me,” replied Anthony. + </p> + <p> + The farmer jumped on his legs, and yawned. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we take a turn in the garden, brother Tony?” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart, brother William John.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, father?” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia would be killed by our quiet life now,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “My own must do,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda coloured, and said, after a time, “It would please me if people + didn't speak about my looks.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You can trip 'em,” said Anthony, a remark that called forth general + laughter, and increased the impression that he was a man of resources. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She sneered in her soul, thinking “how little he knows of the constancy in + the nature of women!” adding, “when they form attachments.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert pronounced a conventional affirmative, when called on for it by a + look from Anthony. Whereupon Rhoda cried out,— + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia was right—she was right, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert laughed. “I give in at the first mile.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think much of women—is that it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to say I don't think of them at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think of one woman, now, Mr. Robert Armstrong?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd much rather think of two.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “It's safer.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, I don't exactly see that,” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “You set one to tear the other,” Robert explained. + </p> + <p> + “You're a Grand Turk Mogul in your reasonings of women, Mr. Robert + Armstrong. I hope as your morals are sound, sir?” + </p> + <p> + They were on the road to church, but Robert could not restrain a swinging + outburst. + </p> + <p> + He observed that he hoped likewise that his morals were sound. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Anthony, “do you see, sir, two wives—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You make sure of her, do you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No: I try my luck; that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose she won't have ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wait for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose she gets married to somebody else?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know, I shouldn't cast eye on a woman who was a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Old Anthony waited for Rhoda to jump over a stile, and said to her,— + </p> + <p> + “He laughs at the whole lot of ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” she asked, with betraying cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “This Mr. Robert Armstrong of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Of mine, uncle!” + </p> + <p> + “He don't seem to care a snap o' the finger for any of ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, none of us must care for him, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's the habit with the girls up here,” said Anthony; “that's what + fine bonnets mean.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “It was mother's Bible,” interposed Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “There's a poultry-yard close to us?” said Rhoda; feeling less at home + when she heard that there was not. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda knew that her sister was bending over her now, but she was almost + frigid, and could not move. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Go!” cried Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + The window was instantly shut. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Step as light as you can,” replied Edward, meeting him with the pretty + motion of the gloves. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Stick to your fists.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang it! I wish your fists wouldn't stick to me so.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk too much.” + </p> + <p> + “Gad, I don't get puffy half so soon as you.” + </p> + <p> + “I want country air.” + </p> + <p> + “You said you were going out, old Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “I changed my mind.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + He uttered this with a prophetic fierceness. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “The chops are coming,” said Edward, who had thrown on a boating-coat and + plunged into a book, and spoke echoing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She is starting for town,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” Algernon swung about to ask. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + The ingenuous face of the young gentleman crimsoned. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she was well,” he said. “Ha! I see there can be some attraction in + your dark women.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Edward launched forth an invective against fair women. + </p> + <p> + “What have they done to you-what have they done?” said Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you try on the gloves again?” was Edward's mild suggestion. + </p> + <p> + Algernon thanked him, and replied that he knew him. Edward hit hard when + he was empty. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Going out after breakfast, Ned?” said Algernon. “We'll walk to the city + together, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + Edward fixed one of his intent looks upon his cousin. “You're not going to + the city to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce, I'm not!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If I must listen, Ned, I'll listen in my shirt-sleeves, with all respect + to the lady.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Declined to fight the fellow?” interposed Algernon. “More shame to you!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I bet, I waltz, and I ride. So,” said Algernon, “I should lose + tremendously.” + </p> + <p> + “You will lose, mark my words.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the lecture of my year's senior concluded?” said Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I've done,” Edward answered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + A smile ran along Edward's lips. “I don't think you'd know it, if she + did.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Your tail, man?” Algernon roared in pretended amazement. + </p> + <p> + Edward eased him back to friendliness by laughing. “No; my hand.” + </p> + <p> + They shook hands. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Virtue! by heaven!” Edward cried; “I wish I were entitled to preach it to + any man on earth.” + </p> + <p> + His face flushed. “There, good-bye, old fellow,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Edward set his brain upon a book of law. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + These were the contents:— + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Believe me, + + “Your tender, loving, broken-hearted, + + “Dahlia.” + + There was a postscript:— + + “May I still go to lessons?” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you sworn an oath?” said Rhoda, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear love,” Dahlia replied; “he only mentioned what he desired.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda was ashamed of herself for thinking it strange, and she surrendered + her judgement to be stamped by the one who knew him well. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The letter ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “God bless my beloved at home! That is my chief prayer now. I shall think + of her when I am in the cathedrals. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my Father in heaven! bless them all! bless Rhoda! forgive me! + </p> + <p> + “I can hear the steam of the steamer at the pier. Here is Edward. He says + I may send his love to you. + </p> + <p> + “Address:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mrs. Edward Ayrton, + “Poste Restante, + “Lausanne, + “Switzerland. +</pre> + <p> + “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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dahlia.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And to you, little pigs; and to you, Mulberry; and you, Dapple; and you, + and you, and you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a mind to either one of my two girls?” he put the question + bluntly, finding himself alone with Robert. + </p> + <p> + Robert took a quick breath, and replied, “I have.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Robert turned a blade of wheat in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall leave her to tell that,” was his answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why, don't ye know which one you prefer to choose, man?” quoth Mr. + Fleming. + </p> + <p> + “I mayn't know whether she prefers to choose me,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + The farmer smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You never can exactly reckon about them; that's true.” + </p> + <p> + He was led to think: “Dahlia's the lass;” seeing that Robert had not had + many opportunities of speaking with her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” said Mrs. Sumfit, “how I tremble!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You have forgotten your dinner,” he said, with a queer sense of shame at + dragging in the mention of that meal. + </p> + <p> + “I have been too happy to eat,” Rhoda replied. + </p> + <p> + Robert glanced up the lane, but she gave no heed to this indication, and + asked: “Has uncle come?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you expect him?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he would come.” + </p> + <p> + “What has made you happy?” + </p> + <p> + “You will hear from uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go and hear what those—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You know it? You have her letter, father?” said Rhoda, gaily, beneath the + shadow of his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “And a Queen of the Egyptians is what you might have been,” said Anthony, + with a speculating eye upon Rhoda's dark bright face. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda put out her hand to him, but kept her gaze on her father. + </p> + <p> + William Fleeting relaxed the knot of his brows and lifted the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Listen all! This is from a daughter to her father.” + </p> + <p> + And he read, oddly accentuating the first syllables of the sentences:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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.” + </pre> + <p> + “Dahlia Blank!” said the farmer, turning his look from face to face. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia was in great haste, father,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ay, you!—you're the one, I know,” returned the farmer. “It's + sister and sister, with you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you suspect no harm of your sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, how can I imagine any kind of harm?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, Mr. Fleming, I feel for you as much as a man can,” he said, + uneasily, swaying half round as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “She says she is married. We're bound to accept what she says.” + </p> + <p> + That was his answer. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She turned a face of ashes upon Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Come away, father. She is our own. She is my sister. A doubt of her is an + insult to us.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't trust myself to doubt anybody,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “You don't cast us off, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a labourer on the farm,” said Robert, and walked away. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I wish he'd set his heart on a safer young woman.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda's shudder of revulsion was visible as she put her mouth up to kiss + her father's cheek. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How difficult it is to be gouty and good!” murmured Mrs. Lovell to the + person next her. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the squire, singling out his enemy, “you're going to that + fellow, I suppose, as usual—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Not 'as usual,'” replied Mrs. Lovell, sweetly; “I wish it were!” + </p> + <p> + “Wish it were, do you?—you find him so entertaining? Has he got to + talking of the fashions?” + </p> + <p> + “He talks properly; I don't ask for more.” Mrs. Lovell assumed an air of + meekness under persecution. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were Low Church.” + </p> + <p> + “Lowly of the Church, I trust you thought,” she corrected him. “But, for + that matter, any discourse, plainly delivered, will suit me.” + </p> + <p> + “His elocution's perfect,” said the squire; “that is, before dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only to do with him before dinner, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've ordered a carriage out for you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very honourable and kind.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be kinder if I contrived to keep you away from the fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Since you are setting an example,” rejoined the exquisite widow, “I have + nothing more to say.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He snapped round for a victim, trying his wife first. Then his eyes rested + upon Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here we are; which of us will you take?” he asked Mrs. Lovell in + blank irony. + </p> + <p> + “I have engaged my cavalier, who is waiting, and will be as devout as + possible.” Mrs. Lovell gave Algernon a smile. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You must think whether you have compensation,” said the lady, and he + received it in a cousinly squeeze of his hand. + </p> + <p> + He was about to raise the lank white hand to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Algernon begged her not to call them 'loves.' She nodded and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Bank,” said Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “Really! at the Bank! So your time there is not absolutely wasted. What + brought her to London, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Mrs. Lovell musically drew him on. “Was she dark, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she's fair. At least, she is in her portrait.” + </p> + <p> + “Brown hair; hazel eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh! You guess, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess nothing, though it seems profitable. That Yankee betting man + 'guesses,' and what heaps of money he makes by it!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “On Templemore?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he so sure to be against you, if he does appear?” said Mrs. Lovell. + </p> + <p> + “Certain!” ejaculated Algernon, in honest indignation. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There's one chance I shouldn't like to miss,” said the youth. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be one very long,” growled he. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Her name is—?” + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't call them my chambers,” Algernon protested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Ned's in some scrape, I think,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” the lady asked, languidly. + </p> + <p> + “Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Married! But how can that be when we none of us have heard a word of it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell gazed at Algernon for one long meditative moment. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are only a boy in their hands, my cousin Algy!” said Mrs. Lovell. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That he may have been imprudent—” Mrs. Lovell thus blushingly + hinted at the lesser sin of his deceiving and ruining the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it needn't be true,” said Algernon; and with meaning, “Who's to blame + if it is?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell again reddened. She touched Algernon's fingers. + </p> + <p> + “His friends mustn't forsake him, in any case.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! you are the right sort of woman,” cried Algernon. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell grasped it, and thrust it out of sight. + </p> + <p> + She spoke as they approached the church-door: “Mention nothing of this to + a soul, or you forfeit my friendship for ever.” + </p> + <p> + When they alighted, she was smiling in her old affable manner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Her Christian name was still her only signature. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At the stile leading into that lane where Robert had previously seen her, + she was stopped by him. + </p> + <p> + “No farther,” was all that he said, and he was one who could have + interdicted men from advancing. + </p> + <p> + “Why may I not go by you?” said Rhoda, with a woman's affected humbleness. + </p> + <p> + Robert joined his hands. “You go no farther, Miss Rhoda, unless you take + me with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not do that, Mr. Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you had better return home.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me know what reasons you have for behaving in this manner to + me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll let you know by-and-by,” said Robert. “At present, You'll let the + stronger of the two have his way.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Is there no freedom for a woman at all in this world?” Rhoda framed the + bitter question. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You stick to a leather purse, brother William John?” he inquired, with an + artistic sentiment for things in keeping. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said the farmer, feeling seriously at the button over it. + </p> + <p> + “All right; I shan't ask ye to show it in the street,” Anthony rejoined, + and smote Rhoda's hand as it hung. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see your old uncle—are ye?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda replied quietly that she was, but had come with the principal object + of seeing her sister. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I rather astonished you, brother William John,” he said, when they were + in the street. + </p> + <p> + The farmer admitted that he was stronger than he looked. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “I keep my eyes open; Number 15 is the corner house, the bow-window, to a + certainty.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The maid smiled as one who had fairly accomplished the recital of her + lesson. Rhoda was stunned. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mrs. Ayrton at home?—Not at home?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No: don't ye hear?” quoth the farmer, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “She had my letter—do you know?” Rhoda appealed to the maid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Miss. A letter from the country.” + </p> + <p> + “This morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss; this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “And she has gone out? What time did she go out? When will she be in?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “At twelve o'clock to-morrow?” Rhoda faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Would you, if you please, call again at twelve o'clock to-morrow, and + punctually she would be here,” said the maid. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father, why do we want to ride?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I tell ye!” said the farmer, chafing against his coat-collar. + </p> + <p> + “It is an expense, when we can walk, father.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and wiped his forehead. Slightly vexed at the small amount of + discoverable astonishment on the farmer's face, he continued,— + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fleming said, “Ah, yes, surely.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The farmer, half frightened by Anthony's dolorous shake of his head, + exclaimed: “What's the matter, man?” + </p> + <p> + “How proud I should be if only you was in a way to bank at Boyne's!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” went the farmer in his turn, and he plunged his chin deep in his + neckerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps some of your family will, some day, brother William John.” + </p> + <p> + “Happen, some of my family do, brother Anthony!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + There were some final affectionate words, but no further explanations. + </p> + <p> + The wrinkles again settled on the farmer's mild, uncomplaining forehead. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda said: “Let us wait, father.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + So, the darkness closed her about; the sickly gas-lamps of the street + showing her as a shrouded body. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Dead silence and stillness hung over the dinner-service, when the outer + door below was opened, and a light foot sprang up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + There entered a young gentleman in evening dress, with a loose black + wrapper drooping from his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + He looked on the table, and then glancing at the sofa, said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there she is!” and went to the window and whistled. + </p> + <p> + After a minute of great patience, he turned his face back to the room + again, and commenced tapping his foot on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + She did not move. + </p> + <p> + “I am here to very little purpose, then,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + A guttering fall of her bosom was perceptible. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-bye,” he said, finally. The door closed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia!” + </p> + <p> + She heard her name pronounced, and more entreatingly, and closer to her. + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia, my poor girl!” Her hand was pressed. It gave her no shudders. + </p> + <p> + “I am dead,” she mentally repeated, for the touch did not run up to her + heart and stir it. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + He gently put his hand to her chin, and then drew away the handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia moaned at the exposure of her tear-stained face, she turned it + languidly to the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill, my dear?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Men are so considerately practical! He begged urgently to be allowed to + send for a doctor. + </p> + <p> + But women, when they choose to be unhappy, will not accept of practical + consolations! She moaned a refusal to see the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Then what can I do for her? he naturally thought, and he naturally uttered + it. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Has my darling seen her sister?” he asked softly. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia answered, “No,” in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + Both looked away. + </p> + <p> + “She won't leave town without seeing you?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope—I don't know. She—she has called at our last lodgings + twice.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I think so.” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia kept her head down, replying; and his observation of her wavered + uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Why not write to her, then?” + </p> + <p> + “She will bring father.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You can't see your father?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But, do. It's best.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Not—” she hesitated, and clasped her hands in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No more.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Why was my poor darling so upset, when I came in?” said he. + </p> + <p> + There was a difficulty in her speaking. He waited with much patient + twiddling of bread crumbs; and at last she said: + </p> + <p> + “My sister called twice at my—our old lodgings. The second time, she + burst into tears. The girl told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “But women cry so often, and for almost anything, Dahlia.” + </p> + <p> + “Rhoda cries with her hands closed hard, and her eyelids too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that maybe her way.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The sympathetic tears rolled down Dahlia's cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “So, you quite refuse to see your father?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + At the touch of scorn in his voice, she exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come and try one of the theatres for an hour?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + 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). + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + But metaphorical language, though nothing other will convey the extremity + of his misery, or the form of his thoughts, must be put aside. + </p> + <p> + “Egad, and every friend I have is out of town!” he exclaimed, quite + willing to think it part of the plot. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You're precious fond of plays,” sneered the junior. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't you knock by me again, that's all,” cried the choleric youth. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think I'm likely to stop in your company, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Whose expense have you been drinking at?” + </p> + <p> + “My country's, young fellow; and mind you don't soon feed at the table. + Let me go.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony laughed, and rolled somewhat as he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “What! and come through that crush, sir?” Anthony negatived the question + decisively with a reference to his general knowingness. + </p> + <p> + Algernon pressed him; saying at last, “Well, have you got one?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a bad habit, sir,” was Anthony's comment. “You don't care much for + your purse.” + </p> + <p> + “Much for my purse, be hanged!” interjected Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “You'd have felt it, or you'd have heard it, if there 'd been any weight + in it,” Anthony remarked. + </p> + <p> + “How can you hear paper?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Hark! Is it an echo from a spirit in the frigid air? + </p> + <p> + The song trembled with a silver ring to the remotest corners of the house. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the breathless hush of the audience was flurried by hearing + “Dahlia” called from the pit. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Algernon's wrath at the sight of this offender was stimulated by the cold + bath; but Edward cut him short. + </p> + <p> + “Go in there;” he pointed to a box-door. “A lady has fainted. Hold her up + till I come.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” whispered Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “If she doesn't, pretty soon, we shall have the pit in upon us,” said + Algernon. “Is she that girl's sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask damned questions.” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia opened her eyes, staring placidly. + </p> + <p> + “Now you can stand up, my dear. Dahlia! all's well. Try,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + She sighed, murmuring, “What is the time?” and again, “What noise is it?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia, in God's name give me your help!” Edward called in her ear. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Run for a cab,” said Edward; and Algernon went ahead. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The farmer then lifted his head. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, if you've done, you'll oblige me by going to bed,” he said. “We + want the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “A-bed?” cried Mrs. Sumfit, with instantly ruffled lap. + </p> + <p> + “Upstairs, mother; when you've done—not before.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Her hope was reduced to the prolonging of the service of tea, with Master + Gammon's kind assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Four, marm,” said her inveterate antagonist, as he finished that amount, + and consequently put the spoon in his cup. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sumfit rolled in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “O Lord, Mas' Gammon! Five, I say; and never a cup less so long as here + you've been.” + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Four's my number, marm,” Master Gammon reiterated resolutely. He sat like + a rock. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That's eatin', marm;” Master Gammon condescended to explain the nature of + his habits. “I'm reg'lar in my drinkin'.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “By-and-by, mother,” interposed the farmer; “tomorrow.” He spoke gently, + but frowned. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She saw the farmer move his foot impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Then, if nobody drinks this remaining cup, I will,” she pursued. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + This violent end to her petition was wrought by the farmer grasping her + arm to bring her to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't ye be angry,” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + She softened instantly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “There's power in that girl,” said the farmer, standing by the shut door. + </p> + <p> + Robert thought so, too. It affected his imagination, and his heart began + to beat sickeningly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she promised to speak—what has happened, whatever that may + be,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Not she; not she. She respects my wishes.” + </p> + <p> + Robert did not ask what had happened. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fleming bowed his head as to the very weapon of chastisement. + </p> + <p> + “Daughters!” He bent lower. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The farmer went on,— + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The farmer lifted his head for the first time, and stared vacantly at + Robert. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Having raised his eyes, his unwonted power of speech abandoned him, and he + concluded, wavering in look and in tone,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He gave them no other sign, but walked in his oppressed way quietly to the + inner door, and forth, leaving the rest to them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe what father says of my sister?” + </p> + <p> + “That she—?” Robert swallowed the words. “No!” and he made a thunder + with his fist. + </p> + <p> + “No!” She drank up the word. “You do not? No! You know that Dahlia is + innocent?” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda pressed her hands convulsively, moaning, “Oh!” down a short deep + breath. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Her keen instinct served her so far. + </p> + <p> + His was alive when she refused to tell him what had taken place during + their visit to London. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “I'm not likely to marry a man who supposes he has anything to pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose it,” cried Robert. + </p> + <p> + “You heard what father said.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard what he said, but I don't think the same. What has Dahlia to do + with you?” + </p> + <p> + He was proceeding to rectify this unlucky sentence. All her covert + hostility burst out on it. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + A spasm of anguish checked the girl. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I'm to take a husband to remind me of what he said.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the sudden roll of his tongue, that she was lost in the + astounding lead he had taken, and stared. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Robert drew up with a very hard smile. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Dismayed, as if caught in a trap, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “You know I've no love for you at all.” + </p> + <p> + “None—no doubt,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Drop the Mister,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” he said, taking it with a show of heartiness: “that's a + beginning, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + She took a candle and started for the door. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! you can look fearful as a doe. Out! make haste!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Rhoda gasped, “you are. You are only a brute.” + </p> + <p> + “A brute's a lucky dog, then, for I've got you!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you touch me?” + </p> + <p> + “You're in my power.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a miserable thing, Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you struggle, my girl? I shall kiss you in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “You're never my friend again.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a gentleman, I suppose!” + </p> + <p> + “Never! after this.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't done. And first you're like a white rose, and next you're like a + red. Will you submit?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! shame!” Rhoda uttered. + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm not a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + His arm relaxed in the clutch of her figure. + </p> + <p> + She got herself free, and said: “We saw Mr. Blancove at the theatre with + Dahlia.” + </p> + <p> + It was her way of meeting his accusation that she had cherished an + ambitious feminine dream. + </p> + <p> + He, to hide a confusion that had come upon him, was righting the fallen + candle. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have learned to trust me without insulting me, Robert,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you fancy I'd take such a world of trouble for a kiss of your lips, + sweet as they are?” + </p> + <p> + His blusterous beginning ended in a speculating glance at her mouth. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Has it anything to do with pen and paper, Fleming? In that case you'd + better be in my study,” said the squire. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that it have. I don't know that it have.” The farmer sought + Robert's face. + </p> + <p> + “Best where there's no chance of interruption,” Robert counselled, and + lifted his hat to the squire. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow's a day too late,” said the farmer, gravely. Whereto replying, + “Oh! well, come along in, then,” the squire led the way. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He wheezed and lowered himself into his arm-chair; but the farmer and + Robert remained standing, and the farmer spoke:— + </p> + <p> + “My words are going to be few, squire. I've got a fact to bring to your + knowledge, and a question to ask.” + </p> + <p> + Surprise, exaggerated on his face by a pain he had anticipated, made the + squire glare hideously. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A father ain't responsible for the sins of his children,” said the + farmer. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “What's that to you, squire?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't do so, Mr. Blancove. I'm seeking for my daughter, and I see her + in company with your son.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The farmer looked helplessly at Robert. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer bowed his head with that bitter humbleness which characterized + his reception of the dealings of Providence toward him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The squire hastily seized a scrap of paper on the table and wrote on it. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well now, my good Fleming, I hope you think I'm properly punished for + that fact.” The squire stood up with horrid contortions. + </p> + <p> + Robert stepped in advance of the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Hulloa,” the squire exclaimed, in a perturbation. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We're putting on a screw, sir,” said Robert, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Not a penny will you get by it.” + </p> + <p> + Robert flushed with heat of blood. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “About my son?” cried the squire. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, good-day,” the squire resumed more cheerfully. “I'll go down to + Fairly, and you can't ask more than that.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't ha' known ye,” the farmer repeated frequently; “I shouldn't + ha' known ye, Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mas' Gammon's a rare old man,” said the farmer, emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “So I say. Else, how would you see so many farms flourishing!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Robert: you hit th' old man hard; you should learn to forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you forgive my girl Rhoda for putting of you off?” + </p> + <p> + Robert screwed in his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I do,” he said. “Only it makes me feel thirsty, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer remembered this when they had entered the farm. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I?” said Rhoda, and she stood awaiting his bidding. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + With that he announced his approaching departure. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That will suit her,” was Edward's remark. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want to get anything common,” said Algernon, making the gem play + before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty stone,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Very pretty indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Harlequin pattern.” + </p> + <p> + “To be presented to Columbine!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a splendid opal,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “She likes opals,” said Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “She'll take your meaning at once,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “How? I'll be hanged if I know what my meaning is, Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know the signification of your gift?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you'll be Oriental when you present it.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce I shall!” + </p> + <p> + “It means, 'You're the prettiest widow in the world.'” + </p> + <p> + “So she is. I'll be right there, old boy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Gad, if it means all that, it'll be rather creditable to me,” said + Algernon. “Do opals mean widows?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think she would,” observed Edward, emphatically; “I don't think + she would.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Edward asked how much the opal had cost. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing,” said Algernon; “that is, I never pay for jewellery.” + </p> + <p> + Edward was curious to know how he managed to obtain it. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “In gout and bad temper?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The jewellers, then, have established an institution to correct one of + the errors of Providence.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget the incumbrances on one side,” said Edward, his face + darkening. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal too like,” Edward muttered. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ass!” muttered Edward, seeing by the light of his perception, that he was + too thoroughly forgiven. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + On the third morning of their stay at Fairly, Algernon came into Edward's + room with a letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Edward glanced at the superscription of the letter. “Not posted,” he + remarked. + </p> + <p> + “No; delivered by some confounded bailiff, who's been hounding me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bailiffs don't generally deal in warnings.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you read it!” Algernon shouted. + </p> + <p> + The letter ran thus:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Algernon followed his cousin's eye down to the last letter in the page. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of it?” he asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But, suppose this fellow comes across me?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he insists on knowing me?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but hang it! if he catches hold of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Shake him off.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he won't let go?” + </p> + <p> + “Cut him with your horsewhip.” + </p> + <p> + “You think it's about a debt, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Intimidation, evidently.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Edward smiled with a peculiar friendliness, and Algernon went off, very + well contented with his cousin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For this prodigious curse, England had to thank young Robert, the erratic + son of Jonathan. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, sir,” Robert sang out from the exterior. + </p> + <p> + “Stay there, then,” was his welcome. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I can't see how you are, sir, from this distance,” said Robert, boldly + assuming his privilege to enter. + </p> + <p> + “Are you drunk?” Jonathan asked, as Robert marched up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me an answer first. Are you drunk?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Jonathan Eccles kept both hands firmly in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Are you drunk?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + Robert controlled himself to answer, “I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, just tell me when you were drunk last.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a pleasant fatherly greeting!” Robert interjected. + </p> + <p> + “You get no good by fighting shy of a simple question, Mr. Bob,” said + Jonathan. + </p> + <p> + Robert cried querulously, “I don't want to fight shy of a simple + question.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then; when were you drunk last? answer me that.” + </p> + <p> + “Last night.” + </p> + <p> + Jonathan drew his hand from his pocket to thump his leg. + </p> + <p> + “I'd have sworn it!” + </p> + <p> + All Robert's assurance had vanished in a minute, and he stood like a + convicted culprit before his father. + </p> + <p> + “You know, sir, I don't tell lies. I was drunk last night. I couldn't help + it.” + </p> + <p> + “No more could the little boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I was drunk last night. Say, I'm a beast.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't!” exclaimed Jonathan, making his voice sound as a defence to + this vile charge against the brutish character. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get the liquor?” inquired Jonathan. + </p> + <p> + “I drank at 'The Pilot.'” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Eight and twenty hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight and twenty hours. When are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I want lodging for a night.” + </p> + <p> + “What else?” + </p> + <p> + “The loan of a horse that'll take a fence.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “And twenty pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I've spent it.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a Deserter?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Go in—go in,” said his father in some concern, though wrath was + predominant. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And I won't give you one,” Jonathan appended; and they stood facing one + another in silence. + </p> + <p> + A squeaky voice was heard from the other side of the garden hedge of + clipped yew. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” he remarked, “here's a rumpus. Here's a bobbery up at Fairly. Oh! + Bob Eccles! Bob Eccles! At it again!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil have you got in you now?” Jonathan cried out to him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sedgett was seized by his complaint and demanded commiseration, but, + recovering, he chuckled again. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here I am, Mr. Sedgett,” said Robert, “and talking to my father.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Pounds o' tallow candles don't amount to much,” quoth Robert. + </p> + <p> + “That's awful bad brandy at 'The Pilot,'” said Mr. Sedgett, venomously. + </p> + <p> + “Were you drunk when you committed this assault?” Jonathan asked his son. + </p> + <p> + “I drank afterwards,” Robert replied. + </p> + <p> + “'Pilot' brandy's poor consolation,” remarked Mr. Sedgett. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You kicked up a shindy in the hunting-field—what about? Who mounted + ye?” + </p> + <p> + Robert remarked that he had been on foot. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Jonathan gave up the puzzle. He laid out his fore finger decisively,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is, sir,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “So it be, neighbour,” said Mr. Sedgett. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Robert took his arm, and holding the scraggy wretch forward, + commanded him to out with what he knew. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Out with it!” cried Robert. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The postman won't do his business quicker than Sedgett 'll tap this tale + upon every door in the parish,” said Jonathan. + </p> + <p> + “I can only say I'm sorry, for your sake;” Robert was expressing his + contrition, when his father caught him up,— + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “If knuckles could do it, I should have brained him, sir,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “You struck him, and you got the best of it?” + </p> + <p> + “He got the worst of it any way, and will again.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There, go in and look at yourself in the glass,” said Jonathan. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand first,”—Robert put his own out humbly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry you've taken so to swearing of late, sir,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Two flints strike fire, my lad. When you keep distant, I'm quiet enough + in my talk to satisfy your aunt Anne.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, sir; I want to make use of you, so I'll go in.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert had never been a favourite with his aunt Anne, who was Jonathan's + housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + “No, poor old soul! and may God bless her in heaven!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “For leaving you what you turned into a thundering lot of liquor to + consume—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The fever in Robert blazed out under a pressure of extinguishing tears. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “He likes his cold bath beforehand,” said Robert, presenting his cheek to + the fleshless, semi-transparent woman. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Then, see to getting some breakfast for him,” said Jonathan. “You're not + anyway bound to kiss a drunken—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke lightly, but dejection was in his attitude. When his aunt Anne + had left the room, he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “By jingo! women make you feel it, by some way that they have. She's a + religious creature. She smells the devil in me.” + </p> + <p> + “More like, the brandy,” his father responded. + </p> + <p> + “Well! I'm on the road, I'm on the road!” Robert fetched a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't make the road,” said his father. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down and sent his hair distraught with an effort at smoothing it. + </p> + <p> + “Women brought the devil into the world first. It's women who raise the + devil in us, and why they—” + </p> + <p> + He thumped the table just as his aunt Anne was preparing to spread the + cloth. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Never, never till now have you abused me, Jonathan,” she whimpered, + severely. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert looked up. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't go, Jonathan?” begged the trembling spinster. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + An hour later, Robert was mounted and riding to the meet of hounds. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + In her despair she encouraged Sedgett to visit her bar and parlour, and he + became everywhere a most important man. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say, Mr. Sedgett, they won't swear?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Sedgett, the next time you drink my brandy and find the + consequences bad, you let me hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what'll you do, Missis, may be?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “As to consequences, Missis, it's for your sake I'm looking at them,” + Sedgett said, when he had recovered from the blow. + </p> + <p> + “You say that to the Excise, Mr. Sedgett; it, belike, 'll make 'em sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Brandy's your weak point, it appears, Missis.” + </p> + <p> + “A little in you would stiffen your back, Mr. Sedgett.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Bob Eccles didn't want no stiffening when he come down first,” + Sedgett interjected. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you done, Mr. Sedgett?” said the widow, blandly. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't angry, Missis?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit, Mr. Sedgett; and if I knock you over with the flat o' my hand, + don't you think so.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen all,” said Stephen, with dapper modesty; and acted as if no + excitement were current, and he had nothing to tell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Steeve?” said one, to encourage him. + </p> + <p> + “How about Bob, to-day?” said another. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + It ended in his saying, “About Bob Eccles? There, that's summed up pretty + quick—he's mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad!” shouted Warbeach. + </p> + <p> + “That's a lie,” said Mrs. Boulby, from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did ye kill, Steeve?” asked a dispirited voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The beggar seems to have put ye out rether—eh, Steeve?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Come; how do you make out he's mad?” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Butcher Billing spoke; but with none of the irony of confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Stephen merely clapped both elbows against his sides. + </p> + <p> + Several pairs of eyes were studying him. He glanced over them in turn, and + commenced leisurely the puff contemplative. + </p> + <p> + “Don't happen to have a grudge of e'er a kind against old Bob, Steeve?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boulby herself brought his glass to Stephen, and, retreating, left + the parlour-door open. + </p> + <p> + “What causes you for to think him mad, Steeve?” + </p> + <p> + A second “Oh!” as from the heights dominating argument, sounded from + Stephen's throat, half like a grunt. This time he condescended to add,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what does that prove?” said jolly Butcher Billing. + </p> + <p> + Mr. William Moody, boatbuilder, a liver-complexioned citizen, undertook to + reply. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear! hear!” cried several. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay! we know all about that,” said Stephen, taking succour from the + eyes surrounding him. + </p> + <p> + “And so, may be, do we,” said Wainsby. + </p> + <p> + “Fox-hunting 'll go on when your great-grandfather's your youngest son, + farmer; or t' other way.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it'll be a stuffed fox your chil'ern 'll hunt, Mr. Steeve; more + straw in 'em than bow'ls.” + </p> + <p> + “If the country,” Stephen thumped the table, “were what you'd make of it, + hang me if my name 'd long be Englishman!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear, hear, Steeve!” was shouted in support of the Conservative principle + enunciated by him. + </p> + <p> + “What I say is, flesh and blood afore foxes!” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + “And ladies,” sneered the farmer. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Stephen resumed his pipe amid a din of disappointment that made the walls + ring and the glasses leap. + </p> + <p> + “A little more sugar, Stephen?” said Mrs. Boulby, moving in lightly from + the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye, mum; you're the best hostess that ever breathed.” + </p> + <p> + “So she be; but how about Bob?” cried her guests—some asking whether + he carried a pistol or flourished a stick. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Algernon's,” Stephen was corrected. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Edward's, I tell ye—the cousin. And right across the face. My + Lord! it made my blood tingle.” + </p> + <p> + A sound like the swish of a whip expressed the sentiments of that + assemblage at the Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “Bob swallowed it?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Happen she was at the bottom of it,” the farmer returned Stephen's nod + grumpily. + </p> + <p> + “How did it end, Stephen, my lad?” said Butcher Billing, indicating a + “never mind him.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You've seen a yacht upon the sea, + She dances and she dances, O! + As fair is my wild maid to me... +</pre> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “'Pends upon the tide, Missis, don't it?” one remarked with a grin broad + enough to make the slyness written on it easy reading. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! first a flow and then a ebb,” said another. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “It's many a keg I plant i' the mud, + Coastguardsman, come! and I'll have your blood!” + </pre> + <p> + 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,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “In spite of all you Gov'ment pack, + I'll land my kegs of the good Cognyac”— +</pre> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Right so, Will Moody!” returned the jolly butcher: “which means—not + wrong this time!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, Missus?” the jolly butcher appealed to her, and pointed at Moody's + complexion for proof. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I hope you're satisfied, Mr. Billing,” she said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “So many young Captains have walked o'er my pate, + It's no wonder you see me quite bald, sir,” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You're a bag of blue devils, oh dear! oh dear!” + </pre> + <p> + sang Dick to the tune of “The Campbells are coming.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'It's no wonder to hear how you squall'd, sir?' +</pre> + <p> + “You did!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Butcher Billing, “there's mischief in a state of + fermentation. Did ever anybody see Nic and the devil together?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” she answered, divided in her guess at its being Harry or + Robert. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm quite sensible,” he kept repeating, lest she should relapse into + screams. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good old mother,” he said boyishly, to reassure her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and you'll behave to me like a son,” she coaxed him. + </p> + <p> + They talked as by slow degrees the stairs were ascended. + </p> + <p> + “A crack o' the head, mother—a crack o' the head,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Was it the horse, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “A crack o' the head, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “What have they done to my boy Robert?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who've done it, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “They've done it, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “They did it, because—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear; the reason for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, mother, they had a turn that way.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she whispered, “I'm going to get a little brandy.” + </p> + <p> + She hastened away upon this mission. + </p> + <p> + He was in the same posture when she returned with bottle and glass. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dearest boy, for my sake—only for my sake. Will you? Yes, + you will, my Robert!” + </p> + <p> + “No brandy, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Only one small thimbleful?” + </p> + <p> + “No more brandy for me!” + </p> + <p> + “See, dear, how seriously you take it, and all because you want the + comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “No brandy,” was all he could say. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She tried him faintly with arguments in its favour; but his resolution was + manifested by a deaf ear. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Halloa! mother,” said Robert, opening his eyes to the sad candlelight + surrounding them. + </p> + <p> + “My darling boy! whom I do love so; and not to be able to help you! What + shall I do—what shall I do!” + </p> + <p> + With a start, he cried, “Where's the horse!” + </p> + <p> + “The horse?” + </p> + <p> + “The old dad 'll be asking for the horse to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, punch my ribs.” + </p> + <p> + He stretched himself flat for the operation, and shut his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Hard, mother!—and quick!—I can't hold out long.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Robert,” moaned the petrified woman “strike you?” + </p> + <p> + “Straight in the ribs. Shut your fist and do it—quick.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear!—my boy!—I haven't the heart to do it!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Robert's chest dropped in; but tightening his muscles again, he + said, “now do it—do it!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Harder, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “There!—goodness forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “Hard as you can—all's right.” + </p> + <p> + “There!—and there!—oh!—mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “Press in at my stomach.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I do hope, if it's anybody, it's that ther' Moody,” said the maid. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty sort of a Christian you think yourself, I dare say,” Mrs. Boulby + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Christian or not, one can't help longin' for a choice, mum. We ain't all + hands and knees.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother was given to faints,” Susan protested on behalf of her possible + weakness. + </p> + <p> + “You may peep.” Thus Mrs. Boulby tossed a sop to her frail woman's nature. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + His levity seemed ghastly; and his refusal upon any persuasion to see a + doctor quite heathenish, and a sign of one foredoomed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That looks as if he meant to live,” Susan remarked. + </p> + <p> + “He!” cried the widow, “it's Robert Eccles. He'd stand on his last inch.” + </p> + <p> + “Would he, now!” ejaculated Susan, marvelling at him, with no question as + to what footing that might be. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't that bring him to this so often, Mum?” Susan ruefully inquired, + joining teapot and kettle. + </p> + <p> + “I do believe he's protected,” said the widow. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If you please, Mr. Eccles,” she replied, “Robert's sending of me was to + know if the horse was unhurt and safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't his legs carry him yet, Missis?” + </p> + <p> + “His legs have been graciously spared, Mr. Eccles; it's his head.” + </p> + <p> + “That's where the liquor flies, I'm told.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Mr. Eccles, believe me when I declare he hasn't touched a drop of + anything but tea in my house this past night.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer continued his labour. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “And that's not astonishing, Missis.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Eccles; and a man who's brave besides being good soon learns + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well spoken, Missis.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Robert to hear he's denied his father's house?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you keep within the line of your duty, sir,” the widow summed his + speech. + </p> + <p> + “So I hope to,” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “There's comfort in that,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “As much as there's needed,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The widow curtseyed again. “It's not to trouble you, sir, I called. Robert—thanks + be to Above!—is not hurt serious, though severe.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's he hurt?” the farmer asked rather hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “In the head, it is.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you come for?” + </p> + <p> + “First, his best hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul!” exclaimed the farmer. “Well, if that 'll mend his head + it's at his service, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning to you, Mrs. Boulby. You're a respectable woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to be soaped,” she murmured to herself in a heat. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She found Robert with his arm doubled over a basin, and Susan sponging + cold water on it. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She brought him the looking-glass, and Susan being dismissed, he examined + his features. + </p> + <p> + “Dear!” said the widow, sitting down on the bed; “it ain't much for me to + guess you've got an appointment.” + </p> + <p> + “At twelve o'clock, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “With her?” she uttered softly. + </p> + <p> + “It's with a lady, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, mother, I go by my feelings, and there's no need to think at all, or + God knows what I should think.” + </p> + <p> + The widow shook her head. “Nothing 'll stop you, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing inside of me will, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Selling eggs, mother. Why shouldn't he? We mustn't complain of his + getting an honest livelihood.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh, mother, I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + “She won't have you, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “We shall see to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boulby murmured, “Ah! are you still going to be at war with those + gentlemen, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “They say you are mad. You see, I trust myself to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could thank you for your kindness, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a fall last night, madam.” + </p> + <p> + The lady patted her horse's neck. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't time to inquire about it. You understand that I cannot give you + more than a minute.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at her watch. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes your behaviour to him worse!” + </p> + <p> + Robert looked up into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are a lady. You won't be shocked at what I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I have got your help by it, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “Gallantly spoken.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled with a simple grace. The next moment she consulted her watch. + </p> + <p> + “Time has gone faster than I anticipated. I must leave you. Let this be + our stipulation:” + </p> + <p> + She lowered her voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, madam, with all my soul!” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “That's sufficient. I ask no more. Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “You are dismounted to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I have only one horse,” Robert simply replied. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll come to the old Pilot now, mother,” said Robert, pressing her hand. + </p> + <p> + “That's right; and ain't angry with me for following of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Follow your own game, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope the lady won,” said Robert, scarce hearing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tush, mother,” said Robert impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert asked which way they had gone. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I surrender my sword,” he said gallantly. + </p> + <p> + Another declared that ladies would now act in lieu of causing an appeal to + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Similia similibus, &c.,” said Edward. “They can, apparently, cure + what they originate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the poor sex!” Mrs. Lovell sighed. “When we bring the millennium to + you, I believe you will still have a word against Eve.” + </p> + <p> + The whole parade back to the stables was marked by pretty speeches. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take a challenge?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a lawyer, Mr. Mars.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't take a challenge for a friend, when he's insulted?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Una and the Lion! Mrs. Valentine and Orson! Did you bet with the + rest?” his cousin asked. + </p> + <p> + “I lost my tenner; but what's that!” + </p> + <p> + “There will be an additional five to hand over to the man Sedgett. What's + that!” + </p> + <p> + “No, hang it!” Algernon shouted. + </p> + <p> + “You've paid your ten for the shadow cheerfully. Pay your five for the + substance.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that Sedgett—” Algernon stared. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't he tell you he had you in his power?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't remember that he did.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “How much do you require at present?” said Edward, provoking his appetite + for a loan. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “But I was so tremendously badgered, Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “You had a sort of gratification in letting the squire crow over his + brother. And he did crow for a time.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you know what a man my father is. He hasn't the squire's + philosophy in those affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “'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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Ned, I merely said to my governor—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon took a chair. Edward was fathoms deep in his book. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not have backed me?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The compliment was, to incite you to a superhuman effort.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not pay the compliment?” + </p> + <p> + “I never pay compliments to transparent merit; I do not hold candles to + lamps.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “And as gentle means are so admirable, it would be as well to stop + incision and imbruing between those two boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Which?” she asked innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Suckling and Algy.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? They are such boys.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he shook his head; “if it's not too late.” + </p> + <p> + “It never is too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not, when the embodiment of gentle means is so determined.” + </p> + <p> + “Come; I believe they are in the billiard room now, and you shall see,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You don't bear malice?” said Algernon, revived. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + With which, she and Edward left them. + </p> + <p> + “Algy was a little crestfallen, and no wonder,” she said. “He is soon set + up again. They will be good friends now.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it odd, that they should be ready to risk their lives for trifles?” + </p> + <p> + Thus Edward tempted her to discuss the subject which he had in his mind. + </p> + <p> + She felt intuitively the trap in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” she replied; “it must be because they know their lives are not + precious.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You go to your Adeline, I presume,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that reminds me. I have never thanked you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It was her character, of course, that struck you as being so eminently + suited to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said Edward, meaningly, “the colonel had better taste.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I begin to fancy I must try those latitudes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you are my relative.” + </p> + <p> + He scarcely knew that he had uttered “Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is by repute unlucky; so you never can have done so. + </p> + <p> + “Exquisite!” exclaimed the veteran in smiles, “if what you deign to imply + were only true!” + </p> + <p> + They entered the drawing-room among the ladies. + </p> + <p> + Edward whispered in Mrs. Lovell's ear, “He is in need of the voyage.” + </p> + <p> + “He is very near it,” she answered in the same key, and swam into general + conversation. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Edward now found himself able to conduct a correspondence. He despatched + the following:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I have yet to learn that I am engaged to her,” he said. Mrs. Lovell gave + him a fixed look,— + </p> + <p> + “She has a half-brother.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped away in a fury. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Her admiration of his (Edward's) wit, therefore, only strengthened the + idea she entertained of his deficiency in that other companion manly + virtue. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The woman seeking for an anomaly wants a master.” + </p> + <p> + With this pompous aphorism, he finished his reading of the fair Enigma. + </p> + <p> + Words big in the mouth serve their turn when there is no way of satisfying + the intelligence. + </p> + <p> + To be her master, however, one must not begin by writhing as her slave. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “France,” Edward called her, in one of their colloquies. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have I not been married?” she said. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “Where are the brains I boast of?” he groaned, in the midst of these + sensational extravagances. + </p> + <p> + The lull of action was soon to be disturbed. A letter was brought to him. + </p> + <p> + He opened it and read— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “See what a mess you drag a man into,” he said. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “'Midnight assassin,'” he repeated; “by Jove! how beastly that sounds. + It's a lie that you attacked him in the dark, Ned—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not attack him at all,” said Edward. “He behaved like a ruffian to + you, and deserved shooting like a mad dog.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He replied to Algernon,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Edward, mildly. “In some cases their wits are keen enough. One + doesn't like to drag her into such a business.” + </p> + <p> + “Hm,” went Algernon. “I don't think she's so innocent of it as you fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “She's very clever,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “She's awfully clever!” cried Algernon. He paused to give room for more + praises of her, and then pursued: + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It's your affair, more than mine,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you tell him?” Percy asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Percy waited for some seconds. He comprehended perfectly this state of + wilfulness in an uneducated sensitive man. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It's t' other way. There's no trifling in her case. She's frank. She + fires at you point blank.” + </p> + <p> + “You never mentioned her in your letters to me, Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I had a suspicion from the first I was going to be a fool about the + girl.” + </p> + <p> + Percy struck his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't do quite right.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + Robert silenced him with this question, for there was a woman in Percy's + antecedent history. + </p> + <p> + The subject being dismissed, they talked more freely. Robert related the + tale of Dahlia, and of his doings at Fairly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If, at the same time, there's no brandy in you,” said Percy, “which would + stop your seeing clear or going straight.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Major Waring had set a deliberately calculating eye on him. + </p> + <p> + “I want to hear more,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You think I have no claim to challenge a man in his position?” + </p> + <p> + “Answer me first, Robert. You think this Mr. Blancove helped, or + instigated this man Sedgett in his attack upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't a doubt that he did.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not plain evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “It's good circumstantial evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I would,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Then you accept his code of morals.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel that he's the guilty man,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “You feel called upon to punish him.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much,” said Major Waring. + </p> + <p> + “Was dressed in—?” + </p> + <p> + “Black, with a crimson ribbon round the collar.” + </p> + <p> + Robert waved the image from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what a miserable mad dog I am to gabble on in this way.—Come + in! come in, mother.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boulby entered, with soft footsteps, bearing a letter. + </p> + <p> + “From the Park,” she said, and commenced chiding Robert gently, to + establish her right to do it with solemnity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There must be talking when friends meet, ma'am,” said Major Waring. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” returned the widow, “if it wouldn't be all on one side.” + </p> + <p> + “I've done now, mother,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boulby retired, and Robert opened the letter. + </p> + <p> + It ran thus:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Major Waning read the lines with a critical attention. + </p> + <p> + “It seems fair and open,” was his remark. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” Robert struck his breast, “here's what answers him. What shall I + do? Shall I tell him to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Write to say that your friend will meet him at a stated place.” + </p> + <p> + Robert saw his prey escaping. “I'm not to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The decent is the right way in such cases. You must leave it to me. + This will be the proper method between gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “It appears to my idea,” said Robert, “that gentlemen are always, somehow, + stopped from taking the straight-ahead measure.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “He will lie to you smoothly.” + </p> + <p> + “Smoothly or not, if I discover that he has spoken falsely, he is + answerable to me.” + </p> + <p> + “To me, Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this lady?” Major Waring asked, with lifted eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Lovell.” + </p> + <p> + At the name, Major Waring sat stricken. + </p> + <p> + “Lovell!” he repeated, under his breath. “Lovell! Was she ever in India?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she a widow?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; that I've heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Describe her.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A peacemaker!” Percy interjected. “She rides well?” + </p> + <p> + “Best horsewoman I ever saw in my life,” was Robert's ready answer. + </p> + <p> + Major Waring brushed at his forehead, as in impatience of thought. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You may have heard incorrectly.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got the words burning inside me,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Major Waring, as they left the farm, “your aunt is of the + godly who have no forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Robert laughed at her, and called her Hebrew woman—eye-for-eye and + tooth-for-tooth woman. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow? To-morrow's Sunday,” he observed. “We will go to church + to-morrow.” His eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'm hardly in the mood,” Robert protested. “I haven't had the habit + latterly.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep up the habit,” said Percy. “It's a good thing for men like you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No; you'll do penance,” said Major Waring. + </p> + <p> + “Are you meaning it?” + </p> + <p> + “The penance will be ten times greater on my part, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + Robert fancied him to be referring to some idea of mocking the + interposition of religion. + </p> + <p> + “Then we'll go to Upton Church,” he said. “I don't mind it at Upton.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + This terminated the colloquy upon that topic. Robert looked forward to a + penitential Sabbath-day. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The question, “Are you ashamed of yourself, then?” sang in his ears as a + retort ready made. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Their impression when they left him was that he was growing proud. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Major Waring remarked, “You are late.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I kept you waiting?” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Not long. They are reading the lessons.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it full inside?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it is.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes; I have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “That is Mrs. Lovell—did you see her just now?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” said Major Waring. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid she has fainted.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How lovely she is!” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think her handsome?” said Major Waring. + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand such a creature dying.” Robert stepped over an open + grave. + </p> + <p> + The expression of Percy's eyes was bitter. + </p> + <p> + “I should imagine she thinks it just as impossible.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all?” cried Robert. + </p> + <p> + “That is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then where am I a bit farther than when I began?” + </p> + <p> + “You are only at the head of another road, and a better one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why do I ever give up trusting to my right hand—” Robert + muttered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How on earth was this brought about?” Robert now questioned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Percy, “you're younger than I am, and may think the future + belongs to you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “With this money,” said the demon, “you might speculate, and in two days + make ten times the amount.” + </p> + <p> + To which Anthony answered: “My character's worth fifty times the amount.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + London was his home, and clothed him about warmly and honourably, and so + he said to the demon in their next colloquy. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Hands off, minx!” he cried. “You shall be given in charge. Where's a + policeman?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You precious swindler in petticoats!” Anthony fumed. + </p> + <p> + But he had a queer recollection of her face, and when she repeated + piteously: “Uncle!” he peered at her features, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “No!” in wonderment, several times. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle,” said Dahlia; “will you, please, let me speak to you somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't we standing together?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! pray, out of the crowd!” + </p> + <p> + “Come home with me, if my lodgings ain't too poor for you,” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, I can't. I have been unwell. I cannot walk far. Will you take me + to some quiet place?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you treat me to a cab?” Anthony sneered vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “I have left off riding, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Hulloa!” Anthony sang out. “Cash is down in the mouth at home, is + it? Tell me that, now?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind taking my arm?” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” Dahlia replied, breathless. + </p> + <p> + “You have been ill?” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You've written to the farm? O' course you have!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! uncle, wait,” moaned Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + “But, ha' you been sick, and not written home?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait; please, wait,” she entreated him. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle, no!” Dahlia cried, and then drawing in her breath, added: “not + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Into this shop he led her, and they took possession of a compartment, and + ordered tea and muffins. + </p> + <p> + The shop was empty. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia's face showed the bright anguish of unshed tears. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + A keenness shot from Anthony's eyes. “Then, where's your husband?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + She made a sad attempt at smiling. “He is abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “How about his relations? Ain't there one among 'em to write for you when + you're ill?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you tell me where your husband banks,” returned Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I cannot say.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She stared as in terror of a pit-fall. “Paper,” she said at a venture. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, name your Bank.” + </p> + <p> + There was no cunning in her eye as she answered: “I don't know any bank, + except the Bank of England.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “He is...he is no profession.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, what is he? Is he a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she breathed plaintively. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband's a gentleman. Eh?—and lost his money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he lose it?” + </p> + <p> + The poor victim of this pertinacious interrogatory now beat about within + herself for succour. “I must not say,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia's guile was not ready. “He didn't mind,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't mind, didn't he? He don't mind your cutting of your hair so?—didn't + mind that?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “No.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony was down upon her like a hawk. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he's abroad!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I mean, he did not see me.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The line of her long underlie drawn sharp to check her tears, stopped her + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “All very well about Rhoda,” said Anthony. “She's everything to me, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Every—everybody loves her!” Dahlia took him up. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Neighbours gossip a good deal. O' course you know that.” + </p> + <p> + “I never listen to them,” said Dahlia, who now felt bare at any instant + for the stab she saw coming. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia swallowed in her throat, as in perfect quietude of spirit, and + pretended to see no meaning for herself in Anthony's words. + </p> + <p> + But she said, inadvertently, “Dear father!” and it gave Anthony his + opening. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Dahlia recoiled and abandoned all defence in a moan: “I can't—I + can't!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony thumped with his foot conclusively. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia smiled in a consummate simulation of scorn. + </p> + <p> + “And your father thinks that's true.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled with an equal simulation of saddest pity. + </p> + <p> + “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...'” + </p> + <p> + Anthony smacked his hand tight on his open mouth. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Rhoda don't think it,” Anthony assured her. + </p> + <p> + “No?” and Dahlia's bosom exulted up to higher pain. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “My Rhoda! my sister!” Dahlia gasped, and the tears came pouring down her + face. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + She bowed her head. + </p> + <p> + “Poor?” + </p> + <p> + “He is very poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he, or ain't he, a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia seemed torn by a new anguish. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia signified vehemently, “No.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia's voice issued, from a terrible inward conflict, like a voice of + the tombs. “No,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then, will you show him to me? Let me have a look at him.” + </p> + <p> + Pushed from misery to misery, she struggled within herself again, and + again in the same hollow manner said, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You will?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Seein's believin'. If you'll show him to me, or me to him...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don't talk of it.” Dahlia struck her fingers in a tight lock. + </p> + <p> + “I only want to set eye on him, my gal. Whereabouts does he live?” + </p> + <p> + “Down—down a great—very great way in the West.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony stared. + </p> + <p> + She replied to the look: “In the West of London—a long way down.” + </p> + <p> + “That's where he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought—hum!” went the old man suspiciously. “When am I to see + him? Some day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I say, Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “Next Sunday?”—Dahlia gave a muffled cry. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not next Sunday—the Sunday after,” Dahlia pleaded. “He is not here + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” Anthony asked. + </p> + <p> + “He's in the country.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony pounced on her, as he had done previously. + </p> + <p> + “You said to me he was abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “In the country—abroad. Not—not in the great cities. I could + not make known your wishes to him.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the foundation, if one of them's sound? Why, in the City. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Anthony laughed, but did not reveal what had struck him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, I've seen Robert, too. He called on me at the Bank. Asked + after you. + </p> + <p> + “'Seen her?' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' I says. + </p> + <p> + “'Ever see Mr. Edward Blancove here?' he says. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “'Come,” says I, 'let's keep our detectives to catch thieves, and not go + distracting of 'em about a parcel o' women.' + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia spoke huskily. “He saw me. He had seen me at home. It was an + accident.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + The old man murmured: “Ay, ay;” and thought it natural that she should + shun an allusion to the circumstance. + </p> + <p> + They crossed one of the bridges, and Dahlia stopped and said: “Kiss me, + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't ashamed,” said Anthony. + </p> + <p> + This being over, she insisted on his not accompanying her farther. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'll write home to th' old farmer—a penny,” said Anthony, showing + that he had considered the outlay and was prepared for it. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony turned a rough shoulder on her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I pray every night,” Dahlia answered. + </p> + <p> + Her look of meek despair was hauntingly sad with Anthony on his way home. + </p> + <p> + He tracked her sorrowfulness to the want of money; and another of his + terrific vague struggles with the money-demon set in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Alcibiades is not the best of models,” murmured Sir William. “He doesn't + mention Miss Gosling.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, yes. I have a French acrostic on her name.” + </p> + <p> + “An acrostic!” + </p> + <p> + A more contemptible form of mental exercise was not to be found, according + to Sir William's judgement. + </p> + <p> + “An acrostic!” he made it guttural. “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell laughed pleadingly for Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + The lady bowed to a passing cavalier; a smarting blush dyed her face. + </p> + <p> + “He bets, does he!” said Sir William. “A young man, whose income, at the + extreme limit, is two hundred pounds a year.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “In his case, such conduct puts him on the high road to rascality,” said + Sir William severely. “He is doing no good.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the squire is answerable for such conduct, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” she confessed. “It's a failing of mine to like favourites. I'm + sorry for Algy.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he's awfully hit.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “He took it so awfully cool.” + </p> + <p> + “That may mean the reverse.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The lady trifled with her bridle-rein. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, you have done me the honour.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to know why it is your pleasure to avoid me, Major Waring?” + </p> + <p> + “In this place?” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever we may chance to meet.” + </p> + <p> + “I must protest.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not. The thing is evident.” + </p> + <p> + They rode together silently. + </p> + <p> + Her face was toward the sunset. The light smote her yellow hair, and + struck out her grave and offended look, as in a picture. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke, gazing frontward all the while. The pace she maintained in no + degree impeded the concentrated passion of her utterance. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If I defend myself?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is supposed to account for my behaviour?” + </p> + <p> + She turned her face to him. “Oh, Major blaring! say nothing unworthy of + yourself. That would be a new pain to me.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed. In spite of a prepossessing anger, some little softness crept + through his heart. + </p> + <p> + “You may conceive that I have dropped my pride,” she said. “That is the + case, or my pride is of a better sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I fully hope and trust,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in this manner, I can attest.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I speak at all, when I was hurt?” She betrayed that he had planted a + fresh sting. + </p> + <p> + “If my recollection serves me,” said he, “your self-command was + remarkable.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell slackened her pace. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Tears were in her voice, though not in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He spoke earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Madam?” + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what an undying day, Percy!” + </p> + <p> + And then she was speechless. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where is it, Algy?” a friend of his and Suckling's asked, with a languid + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Where's what?” + </p> + <p> + “Your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “My honour? Do you doubt my honour?” Algernon stared defiantly at the + inoffensive little fellow. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the slightest. Very sorry to, seeing that I have you down in my + book.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon muttered a queer reply in a good-tempered tone, and escaped him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + His opera-glass had been scouring the house for a sight of Mrs. Lovell, + and at last she appeared in Lord Elling's box. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mrs. Lovell!” Algernon burst out, and the corners of his mouth + played nervously. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The door may be opened at any minute,” she warned him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Think so, if it consoles you,” said Mrs. Lovell, “don't mention your + thoughts, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He conducts himself with decency, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he's won!” + </p> + <p> + “Imitate him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell scanned the stalls. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor creature,” murmured Algernon; and added “Everybody wants money.” + </p> + <p> + “She decides wisely; for it is the best she can do. She deserves pity, for + she has been basely used.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Ned didn't mean,” Algernon began pleading on his cousin's + behalf, when Mrs. Lovell's scornful eye checked the feeble attempt. + </p> + <p> + “I am a woman, and, in certain cases, I side with my sex.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't it for you?” + </p> + <p> + “That he betrayed her? If that were so, I should be sitting in ashes.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon's look plainly declared that he thought her a mystery. + </p> + <p> + The simplicity of his bewilderment made her smile. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon signified positively that he would not, and doggedly refused to + explain why. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will call on you,” said Mrs. Lovell. + </p> + <p> + He was going to say something angrily, when Mrs. Lovell checked him: + “Hush! she is singing.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? Wait till the day's ended before you curse your luck.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The beautiful concision of style in this document gave Algernon a feeling + of profound deference toward the law and its officers. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's the way to Write!” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It begins with a neat display of consideration for the person addressed, + common to letters that are dictated by overpowering egoism:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Algernon was by no means gifted to perceive whether this was the case with + his cousin in Paris. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Certain boys advised him to whip it away as hard as he could, and he would + come in the winner. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I grub, sir?” the cabman asked through the little door above, + to get some knowledge of the quality of his fare. + </p> + <p> + “Eat your 'grub' on the course,” said Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “Ne'er a hamper to take up nowheres, is there, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like the sight of one?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it ain't what I object to.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go fast, my man, and you will soon see plenty.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the deuce! Drive on,” Algernon sang out. “Red, yellow, and green.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Algernon crossed his arms, with the frown of one looking all inward. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Gone lame,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there you are:—scurry away and fetch my purse out of the bottom + of the cab. I've dropped it.” + </p> + <p> + On this errand, the confiding cabman retired. Holding to a gentleman's + purse is even securer than holding to a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + While Algernon was working his forefinger in his waistcoat-pocket + reflectively, a man at his elbow said, with a show of familiar deference,— + </p> + <p> + “If it's any convenience to you, sir,” and showed the rim of a gold piece + 'twixt finger and thumb. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Little John startled the field by coming in first at a canter. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What's doing, I wonder?” he thought aloud. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon was meditating, apparently on a remote subject. He nodded + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Call at my chambers to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Another sovereign was transferred to him: but Sedgett would not be shaken + off. + </p> + <p> + “I just wanted t' have a bit of a talk with you,” he spoke low. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it! I haven't eaten all day,” snapped the irritable young gentleman, + fearful now of being seen in the rascal's company. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Algernon signified to Sedgett that the agreement was fixed and irrevocable + on his part. + </p> + <p> + Sedgett gulped some ale. + </p> + <p> + “Hands on it,” he said, and laid his huge hand open across the table. + </p> + <p> + This was too much. + </p> + <p> + “My word must satisfy you,” said Algernon, rising. + </p> + <p> + “So it shall. So it do,” returned Sedgett, rising with him. “Will you give + it in writing?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't.” + </p> + <p> + “That's blunt. Will you come and have a look at a sparring-match in yond' + brown booth, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going back to London.” + </p> + <p> + “London and the theayter that's the fun, now, ain't it!” Sedgett laughed. + </p> + <p> + Algernon discerned his cabman and the conveyance ready, and beckoned him. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Jump in,” he said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The intolerable talk of the ruffian prompted Algernon to cry out, for + relief,— + </p> + <p> + “A scoundrel like you must be past any good to be got from reading his + Bible.” + </p> + <p> + Sedgett turned his dull brown eyes on him, the thick and hateful flush of + evil blood informing them with detestable malignity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He doubled his arm, the knuckles of the fist toward Algernon's face. + </p> + <p> + “Down with it, you dog!” cried Algernon, crushing his hat as he started + up. + </p> + <p> + “It'll come on your nose, if I downs with it, my lord,” said Sedgett. + “You've what they Londoners calls 'bonneted yourself.'” + </p> + <p> + He pulled Algernon by the coat-tail into his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” Algernon shouted to the cabman. + </p> + <p> + “Drive ahead!” roared Sedgett. + </p> + <p> + This signal of a dissension was heard along the main street of Epsom, and + re-awakened the flagging hilarity of the road. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The combatants jumped into the road. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There's sunset on their faces,” said the cabman. “Would you try a + by-lane, gentlemen?” + </p> + <p> + But now the donkey's man had inspected the figures of the antagonistic + couple. + </p> + <p> + “Taint fair play,” he said to Sedgett. “You leave that gentleman alone, + you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The man with the pipe came up. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The separation had to be accomplished by violence, for Algernon's blood + was up. + </p> + <p> + A crowd was not long in collecting, which caused a stoppage of vehicles of + every description. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The pair of original disputants (for there were many by this time) turned + their heads simultaneously toward the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his little donkey's nose affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + But his little donkey's quality was famous in the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, then,” he said; “and show what you can do, without emilation, + Master Tom.” + </p> + <p> + Away the little donkey trotted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He resolved to do it when the opportunity should come. Meantime, what on + earth brought them together? + </p> + <p> + “How white the hedges are!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There's a good deal of dust,” Major Waring replied. + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't aware that cabs came to the races.” + </p> + <p> + “They do, you see.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “That squabble in the road?” said Percy. “We shall see two or three more + before we reach home.” + </p> + <p> + “No. What's the meaning of a gentleman consorting with a blackguard?” + Robert persisted. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert spoke low. + </p> + <p> + “Has it anything to do with the poor girl, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I declined to think till we were home again. Confound it, man, + have you no idea of a holiday?” + </p> + <p> + Robert puffed his tobacco-smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Let's talk of Mrs. Lovell,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “That's not a holiday for me,” Percy murmured but Robert's mind was too + preoccupied to observe the tone, and he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Is she to be trusted to keep her word faithfully this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Percy, “we haven't betted to-day. I'll bet you she will, if + you like. Will you bet against it?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't. I can't nibble at anything. Betting's like drinking.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can take a glass of wine. This sort of bet is much the same. + However, don't; for you would lose.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Robert's imagination rushed back to the downs. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “It's signed 'Margaret Lovell.' This time she calls me 'Dear Sir.'” + </p> + <p> + “She could hardly do less,” Percy remarked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You acknowledge the policy of mild measures,” said Major Waring. + </p> + <p> + “She's the dearest lady in the world,” Robert repeated. He checked his + enthusiasm. “Lord in heaven! what an evening I shall have.” + </p> + <p> + The thought of his approaching interview with Dahlia kept him dumb. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + A man said, “Then I have your answer?” + </p> + <p> + A woman said, “Yes; yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not trust to my pledged honour?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me; not that. I will not live in disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “When I promise, on my soul, that the moment I am free I will set you + right before the world?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! pardon me.” + </p> + <p> + “You will?” + </p> + <p> + “No; no! I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + This was Dahlia's voice. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He knew this to be one of the temptations of young women in London. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The creature's soul had put no gloss upon her sin. She had sinned, and her + suffering was manifest. + </p> + <p> + She had chosen to stand up and take the scourge of God; after which the + stones cast by men are not painful. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia!—my dear sister, I wish I could say; but the luck's against + me,” Robert began. + </p> + <p> + She sat, with her fingers locked together in her lap, gazing forward on + the floor, her head a little sideways bent. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” he went on—“I haven't heard, but I believe Rhoda is + well.” + </p> + <p> + “She and father are well, I know,” said Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + Robert started: “Are you in communication with them?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “At the end of some days I shall see them.” + </p> + <p> + “And then perhaps you'll plead my cause, and make me thankful to you for + life, Dahlia?” + </p> + <p> + “Rhoda does not love you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed her hands in her lap, trembling. “If you will, please, not + speak of it, Mr. Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “Say only you do mean it, Dahlia. You mean to let them see you?” + </p> + <p> + She shivered out a “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You love him?” he asked, in some wonderment. + </p> + <p> + She gave no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you care for him?” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “When does it take place, Dahlia?” + </p> + <p> + Her long underlip, white almost as the row of teeth it revealed, hung + loose. + </p> + <p> + “When?” he asked, leaning forward to hear, and the word was “Saturday,” + uttered with a feeble harshness, not like the gentle voice of Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + “This coming Saturday?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Saturday week?” + </p> + <p> + She fell into a visible trembling. + </p> + <p> + “You named the day?” + </p> + <p> + He pushed for an indication of cheerful consent to the act she was about + to commit, or of reluctance. + </p> + <p> + Possibly she saw this, for now she answered, “I did.” The sound was deep + in her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Saturday week,” said Robert. “I feel to the man as a brother, already. Do + you live—you'll live in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “Abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia smiled kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Rhoda will love you. She is firm when she loves.” + </p> + <p> + “When she loves. Where's the consolation to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think she loves me as much—as much” + </p> + <p> + “As much as ever? She loves her sister with all her heart—all, for I + haven't a bit of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is because,” said Dahlia slowly, “it is because she thinks I am—” + </p> + <p> + Here the poor creature's bosom heaved piteously. + </p> + <p> + “What has she said of me? I wish her to have blamed me—it is less + pain.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert looked the interrogation he did not utter. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Soon. I pray that it may be soon.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia stopped her breathing. + </p> + <p> + “Will you see Rhoda?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go to her to-morrow, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “If I might see her, just as I am leaving England! not before.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not generous,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it?” she asked like a child. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She covered her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I said in all my letters that my husband was a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + 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!—” + </p> + <p> + She pressed her hands tight into the hollow of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert sat with his fist at his temples, in a frowning meditation. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + To this question, put with hesitation by Robert, Dahlia made answer, “I + respect him.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Whereat Dahlia quietly blinked her eyes. + </p> + <p> + When he stood up, she rose likewise. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to take a kiss to Rhoda?” he said, and seeing her answer, bent his + forehead, to which she put her lips. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + He pressed her hand, and went to the door. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing I can do for you, Dahlia?” + </p> + <p> + “Not anything.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But in the depths of his heart there was disquiet. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + And still he continued saying, “It's the best she can do: it's best for + all. She can do nothing better.” + </p> + <p> + He said it, unaware that he said it in self-defence. + </p> + <p> + The pale nun-like ghostly face hung before him, stronger in outline the + farther time widened between him and that suffering flesh. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Anthony, “I've seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't,” said Algernon, “upon my honour.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + A flood of evening gold lay over the Western park. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Who are you? Oh!” said Algernon, half mad with rage. “Excuse me;” and + he walked faster. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Call at my chambers,” he said sternly. + </p> + <p> + “You're never at home, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Call to-morrow morning, at ten.” + </p> + <p> + “And see a great big black door, and kick at it till my toe comes through + my boot. Thank ye.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, I won't have you annoying me in public; once for all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that?” Algernon asked. + </p> + <p> + “The son of a high dignitary,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “You cut him.” + </p> + <p> + “I can do the thing, you see, when it's a public duty.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Mighty jolly, ain't it, sir?” said Sedgett, at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + Algernon faced about, and swore an oath from his boots upward; so vehement + was his disgust, and all-pervading his amazement. + </p> + <p> + “I'll wallop you at that game,” said Sedgett. + </p> + <p> + “You infernal scoundrel!” + </p> + <p> + “If you begin swearing,” Sedgett warned him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you, sir. I don't want to go to ne'er a cock-fight, nor betting + hole.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't have a penny from me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon's loathing of the coarseness and profanity of villany increased + almost to the depth of a sentiment as he listened to Sedgett. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You durst n't.” Sedgett eyed him warily. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If you're up to calling names, I've got one or two for you,” Sedgett + growled. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + A beggar woman stretched out her hand—he dropped a shilling in it. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + But Algernon bore vividly in mind that he did not approve of that Sherry. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “There are not many of that sort in the kingdom,” he said to the + pawnbroker, who was loftily fondling the unlucky opal. + </p> + <p> + “Well—h'm; perhaps there's not;” the pawnbroker was ready to admit + it, now that the arrangement had been settled. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't be able to let you keep it long.” + </p> + <p> + “As quick back as you like, sir.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'll marry her,” he said; and hesitated. “Yes, I'll marry her.” But it + must be done immediately. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who's the woman, I wonder!” Algernon thought, and forgot her. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Algernon Blancove?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Algernon prolonged an affirmative, to diminish the confidence it + might inspire, if possible. + </p> + <p> + “May I speak with you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Algernon told him to follow in. The man was tall and large-featured, with + an immense blank expression of face. + </p> + <p> + “I've come from Mr. Samuels, sir,” he said, deferentially. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Samuels was Algernon's chief jeweller. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; I remember it, perfectly,” said Algernon; cool, but not of the + collected colour. + </p> + <p> + “The cost of it was fifty-five pounds, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it? Well, I've forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “We find that it has been pawned for five-and-twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “A little less than half,” said Algernon. “Pawnbrokers are simply cheats.” + </p> + <p> + “They mayn't be worse than others,” the man observed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask you, did you pawn it, sir? I'm obliged to ask the question.” + </p> + <p> + “I?—I really don't—I don't choose to answer impudent + questions. What do you mean by coming here?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he did?” + </p> + <p> + “He would be a witness.” + </p> + <p> + “Against me? I've dealt with Samuels for three-four years.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better not,” rejoined Algernon. + </p> + <p> + He broke an unpleasant silence by asking, “What further?” + </p> + <p> + “My master has sent you his bill.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon glanced at the prodigious figures. + </p> + <p> + “Five hun—!” he gasped, recoiling; and added, “Well, I can't pay it + on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, you're liable to proceedings you'd better avoid, sir, + for the sake of your relations.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “For what amount, sir?” said the man, briskly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He cast a fluttering fifty and a fluttering five on the table, and pushed + paper to the man for a receipt. + </p> + <p> + The man reflected, and refused to take them. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” shouted Algernon; “you'd have to get a warrant.” + </p> + <p> + “It's out, sir.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, it's no use doing things by halves. When a tradesman says he + must have his money, he takes his precautions.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in Mr. Samuels' shop?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a detective?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been in the service, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + With this, he drew forth his purse and displayed the notable Five hundred. + </p> + <p> + His glow of victory was short. The impassive man likewise had something to + exhibit. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon mechanically crumpled up his note. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The man indulged in a slight demonstration of dissent. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, that won't do.” + </p> + <p> + “Half the bill,” roared Algernon; “half the bill, I wouldn't mind paying.” + </p> + <p> + “About two-thirds, sir, is what Mr. Samuels asked for, and he'll stop, and + go on as before.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what gentlemen in Mr. Samuels' position have to run risk of, sir,” + said the man. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He examined the bill and receipt in the man's hand with great apparent + scrupulousness; not, in reality, seeing a clear syllable. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “How,” he asked, chokingly, “did Mr. Samuels know I could—I had + money?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who'd have thought it?” cried a voice on the landing of the stairs, as he + went forth. + </p> + <p> + It was Sedgett. + </p> + <p> + Algernon had one inclination to strangle, and another to mollify the + wretch. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, I've been lurking heer for your return from your larks. Never + guessed you was in.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use,” Algernon began. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + So Algernon was thinking; and without a light, save the gas lamp in the + square, moreover. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You will meet Mrs. Lovell, and a Major Waring, a friend of hers, who knew + her and her husband in India,” said the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce I shall,” said the squire, and accepted maliciously. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You'll never do anything with him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I shall,” Sir William admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I tell you so?” + </p> + <p> + “You did. But, the point is, what will you do with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Send him to Jericho to ride wild jackasses. That's all he's fit for.” + </p> + <p> + The superior complacency of Sir William's smile caught the squire's + attention. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to do with Ned?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” was the answer, “to have him married before the year is out.” + </p> + <p> + “To the widow?” + </p> + <p> + “The widow?” Sir William raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Lovell, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “What gives you that idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ned has made her an offer. Don't you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you're quite under a delusion, in both respects,” observed Sir + William. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think that?” + </p> + <p> + “I have Edward's word.” + </p> + <p> + “He lies as naturally as an infant sucks.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me; this is my son you are speaking of.” + </p> + <p> + “And this is your Port I'm drinking; so I'll say no more.” + </p> + <p> + The squire emptied his glass, and Sir William thrummed on the table. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Fleming?” Sir William thundered out. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word of it,” said Sir William blandly. + </p> + <p> + The squire seized the decanter and drank in a fury. + </p> + <p> + “I had it from Algy.” + </p> + <p> + “That would all the less induce me to believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Sir William; “No, I would not. Nor do I now. At least,” he + struck out his right hand deprecatingly, “I listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me what he was doing when he went to Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “He went partly at my suggestion.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Sir William, in the pride of superior intellect, had heard as good as + nothing of the charge against his son. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say that he is.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a good thing for her to get married.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be glad.” + </p> + <p> + “A good thing for her, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “A good thing for him, let us hope.” + </p> + <p> + “If he can pay her debts.” + </p> + <p> + Sir William was silent, and sipped his wine. + </p> + <p> + “And if he can keep a tight hand on the reins. That's wanted,” said the + squire. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I know you to be the soul of truth, Percy,” she was saying. + </p> + <p> + “The question is not that; but whether you can bear the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I not? Who would live without it?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I have warned you that you are partly the subject of the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you forget that I am a woman, and want it all the more impatiently?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is his second letter to you,” Mrs. Lovell murmured. “I see; it is a + reply to yours.” + </p> + <p> + She read a few lines, and glanced up, blushing. “Am I not made to bear + more than I deserve?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can do such mischief, without meaning any, to a man who is in love + with another woman—,” said Percy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It betrays something more,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell cast down her eyes and read, without further comment. + </p> + <p> + These were the contents:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Mrs. Lovell, at this point, raised her eyes abruptly from the letter and + returned it. + </p> + <p> + “You discuss me very freely with your friend,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Percy drooped to her. “I warned you when you wished to read it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, you see, you have bewildered him. It was scarcely wise to write + other than plain facts. Men of that class.” She stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Of that class?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “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?”. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary; you command my esteem,” said Percy. + </p> + <p> + “But you think me a puppet?” + </p> + <p> + “Fond of them, perhaps?” his tone of voice queried in a manner that made + her smile. + </p> + <p> + “I hate them,” she said, and her face expressed it. + </p> + <p> + “But you make them.” + </p> + <p> + “How? You torment me.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I explain the magic? Are you not making one of me now, where I + stand?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sit.” + </p> + <p> + “Or kneel?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Percy! do nothing ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I owe you an explanation,” he said. “Margaret, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “You can think of me as a friend, Percy?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She had reached her hand to him, but withdrew it quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Not your hand, Margaret? But, you must give it to some one. You will be + ruined, if you do not.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with full eyes. “You know it then?” she said slowly; but + the gaze diminished as he went on. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you talk to me so, if you thought otherwise?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think I would,” said Percy. “A little depends upon the person. Are you + pledged at all to Mr. Edward Blancove?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose me one to pledge myself?” + </p> + <p> + “He is doing a base thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Percy, let an assurance of my knowledge of that be my answer.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not love the man?” + </p> + <p> + “Despise him, say!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he aware of it?” + </p> + <p> + “If clear writing can make him.” + </p> + <p> + “You have told him as much?” + </p> + <p> + “To his apprehension, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Further, Margaret, I must speak:—did he act with your concurrence, + or knowledge of it at all, in acting as he has done?” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! Percy, you question me like a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “It is what I mean to be, if I may.” + </p> + <p> + The frame of the fair lady quivered as from a blow, and then her eyes rose + tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you knew me. This is not possible.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not be mine? Why is it not possible?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I could say, because I respect you too much.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you find you have not the courage?” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + This sudden sluicing of cold water on his heat of passion petrified him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Then he paused, and the silence was like a growing chasm between them. + </p> + <p> + She broke it by saying, “Have you any expectations?” + </p> + <p> + This was crueller still, though no longer astonishing. He complained in + his heart merely that her voice had become so unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + With emotionless precision, he replied, “At my mother's death—” + </p> + <p> + She interposed a soft exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Veritable tears were in her eyes. Was she affecting to weep + sympathetically in view of these remote contingencies? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, you had a right to know,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “It was disgraceful—horrible; but it was necessary for me to know.” + </p> + <p> + “And now that you do know?” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I know, I have only to say—be as merciful in your idea of + me as you can.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Charade?” said he; and the contempt of the utterance brought her head + close under his. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest friend, you have not to learn how to punish me.” + </p> + <p> + The little reproach, added to the wound to his pride, required a healing + medicament; she put her lips to his fingers. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The horse 'll bring himself home quite as well and as fast as Gammon + will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?”—the farmer pointed at a projection under Rhoda's + shawl. + </p> + <p> + “It is a present, father, for my sister,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” the farmer questioned again. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + She took the box from under Rhoda's shawl, and rattled it with a down turn + and an up turn. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “We'll go without the old man.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Robert said out, unawares, “He mustn't be let to part with h'old pennies.” + </p> + <p> + “No;” the farmer took him up; “nor I won't let him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mas' Gammon, what ha' ye got there?” the farmer sung out. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Without replying, he said to Mrs. Sumfit,— + </p> + <p> + “I'd gummed it.” + </p> + <p> + The side of the box showed that it had been made adhesive, for the sake of + security, to another substance. + </p> + <p> + “That's what's caused ye to be so long, Mas' Gammon?” + </p> + <p> + The veteran of the fields responded with a grin, designed to show a lively + cunning. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + A horseman rode by, whom Rhoda recognized, and she blushed and had a + boding shiver. Robert marked him, and the blush as well. + </p> + <p> + It was Algernon, upon a livery-stable hack. His countenance expressed a + mighty disappointment. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If you goes in a cart, wi' company o' four, you expects to be jolted,” + said Master Gammon. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to like it,” Robert observed to the latter. + </p> + <p> + “It don't disturb my in'ards,” quoth the serenest of mankind. + </p> + <p> + “Gammon,” the farmer addressed him from the front seat, without turning + his head: “you'll take and look about for a new place.” + </p> + <p> + Master Gammon digested the recommendation in silence. On its being + repeated, with, “D' ye hear?” he replied that he heard well enough. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, look about ye sharp, or maybe, you'll be out in the cold,” + said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Na,” returned Master Gammon, “ah never frets till I'm pinched.” + </p> + <p> + “I've given ye notice,” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “No, you ha'n't,” said Master Gammon. + </p> + <p> + “I give ye notice now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “How d' ye mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Cause I don't take ne'er a notice.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll be kicked out, old man.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda laid her fingers in the veteran's palm. + </p> + <p> + “You're a long-lived family, aren't you, Master Gammon?” said Robert, + eyeing Rhoda's action enviously. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It's the heart kills,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “It's damned misfortune,” murmured the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “It is the wickedness in the world,” thought Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “It's a poor stomach, I reckon,” Master Gammon ruminated. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “These,” thought Algernon, “are beastly democrats.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, sir,” said the man; “it's a lady wants it done;” and he did + it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Stop It,” were the sole words of the communication brief, and if one + preferred to think so, enigmatic. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Algernon nodded. Sedgett's talk always produced discomfort in his + ingenuous bosom. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, what politics are you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Not till the deed's done,” said Algernon, very reasonably. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” Algernon said of his meaning. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Algernon told Sedgett to wait while he dressed in evening uniform, and + gave him a cigar to smoke. + </p> + <p> + He wrote:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope he will, sir. His father will not have deserved it so well as + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Edward shook his limbs, rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, sir; I have entertained that notion myself,” he said; and his + breast narrowed and his features grew sharp. + </p> + <p> + “And, if I may suggest such matters to you, I would advise you to see very + little company for some years to come.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “You need not stop short,” said his father, with a sardonic look for the + concluding lines. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Extremely forensic,” said Sir William, not displeased by the promise of + the periods. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Which, I must protest, I certainly do not,” interposed Sir William. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “As little boys requiring much medicine have anticipated you by noting in + this world,” observed Sir William. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you for the illustration.” Edward bowed, but he smarted. “A man + so situated lives with the ghost of his conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He resumed: “All figures of speech must be inadequate—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, pardon me,” said Sir William, pertinaciously; “the figure I alluded + to was not inadequate. A soap-bubble is not inadequate.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said Edward, not conceiving any new development in + these. + </p> + <p> + “You have an esteem for Mrs. Lovell, have you not?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will order Holmes to send some down to him when he has done a week's + real duty at the Bank.” + </p> + <p> + “Sooner or later, then. Good morning, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning.” Sir William shook his son's hand. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Why is there no place for the unhappy, who do not wish to live, and + cannot die?” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia said, as she swept her brows, “I am still subject to nervous + attacks.” + </p> + <p> + “They will soon leave you,” said Rhoda, nursing her hand. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia contracted her lips. “Is father very unforgiving to women?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor father!” Rhoda interjected for answer, and Dahlia's frame was taken + with a convulsion. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “At Robert's lodgings. We all go there.” + </p> + <p> + “We all go?—he goes?” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband will lead you there.” + </p> + <p> + “My heaven! my heaven! I wish you had known what this is, a little—just + a little.” + </p> + <p> + “I do know that it is a good and precious thing to do right,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “If you had only had an affection, dear! Oh I how ungrateful I am to you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only, darling, that I seem unkind to you,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “You think I must do this? Must? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Rhoda pressed her fingers. “Why, when you were ill, did you not + write to me, that I might have come to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I was ashamed,” said Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not be ashamed any more, my sister.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Father has no home now,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Come and lie down with me for a few hours, my darling,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He is there.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do?” she said supplicatingly, as Rhoda led her to her + bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “Rest here. Be perfectly quiet. Trust everything to me. I am your sister.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “My sister, Dahlia Fleming, lives there,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then, you are Rhoda?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Rhoda.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine—I fear it will not give you pleasure to hear it—is + Edward Blancove. I returned late last night from abroad.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and he said, “I hope your sister is well.” + </p> + <p> + “She is quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven for that! I heard of some illness.” + </p> + <p> + “She has quite recovered.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wrote,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You know me, do you not?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see Dahlia.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not later; not at all,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all? Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda controlled the surging of her blood for a vehement reply; saying + simply, “You will not see her.” + </p> + <p> + “My child, I must.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a child, and I say what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “She has not changed? Rhoda—for we used to talk of you so often! You + will think better of me, by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not.” + </p> + <p> + “You are particularly positive.” + </p> + <p> + Remarks touching herself Rhoda passed by. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “She knows that you are here; she has seen you.” + </p> + <p> + “Has seen me?” Edward drew in his breath sharply. “Well? and she sends you + out to me?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda did not answer. She was strongly tempted to belie Dahlia's frame of + mind. + </p> + <p> + “She does send you to speak to me,” Edward insisted. + </p> + <p> + “She knows that I have come.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will not take one message in?” + </p> + <p> + “I will take no message from you.” + </p> + <p> + “You hate me, do you not?” + </p> + <p> + Again she controlled the violent shock of her heart to give him hard + speech. He went on:— + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda threw a masculine meaning into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do not come before him, I advise you.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + This, her execrated word, coming from his mouth, vanquished her + self-possession. + </p> + <p> + “Are you cold?” he said, seeing the ripple of a trembling run over her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Rhoda, she loves me.” + </p> + <p> + “If she does, let her pray to God on her knees.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I would cut my tongue out, if it did you a service,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “Citoyenne Corday,” thought Edward, and observed: “Then I will dispense + with your assistance.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Edward settled the disposition of his coat-collar, as a formula wherewith + to regain composure of mind, and passed along beside Robert, Rhoda + following. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” said Robert sternly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You're in some conspiracy to do her mischief, all of you,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean Dahlia Fleming,” said Robert, “it'd be a base creature that + would think of doing harm to her now.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He has fooled you,” she murmured, inaudibly, before he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “There!” Rhoda exclaimed, with a lightning face. “You don't see what he + is, after that? Oh!—” She paused, revolted. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How could you bear to read the letters?” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Could any human being read them and not break his heart for her?” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “How could you bear to read them and leave her to perish!” + </p> + <p> + His voice deepened to an impressive hollow: “I read them for the first + time yesterday morning, in France, and I am here!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “She did not die,” said Rhoda. It confounded his menaces. + </p> + <p> + “This time she might,” he could not refrain from murmuring. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Rhoda drew off from him. + </p> + <p> + “But I say,” cried he, “that I will see her.” + </p> + <p> + “We say, that she shall do what is for her good.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a project? Let me hear it. You are mad, if you have.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is her choice?” + </p> + <p> + “She has chosen for herself to marry a good and worthy man.” + </p> + <p> + Edward called out, “Have you seen him—the man?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda, thinking he wished to have the certainty of the stated fact + established, replied, “I have.” + </p> + <p> + “A good and worthy man,” muttered Edward. “Illness, weakness, misery, have + bewildered her senses. She thinks him a good and worthy man?” + </p> + <p> + “I think him so.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have seen him?” + </p> + <p> + “I have.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you,” said Rhoda; “his name is Mr. Sedgett.” + </p> + <p> + “Mister—!” Edward gave one hollow stave of laughter. “And you have + seen him, and think him—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Deeply!” Edward echoed. He was prompted to betray and confess himself: + courage failed. + </p> + <p> + They looked around simultaneously on hearing an advancing footstep. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Ejaculating “Great heaven!” Edward strode some steps away, and returned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to her,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “Do not.” + </p> + <p> + “There's an end of talking. I trust no one will come in my path. Where am + I?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “She was taken away, sir, ten minutes gone, by a gentleman,” the servant + tied to assure him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That bed has not been slept in,” said the lawyer, pointing his finger to + it. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?—” Edward's articulation choked. + </p> + <p> + “Where they're gone to, sir? That I do not know. Of course she will come + back.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where that man lives?” + </p> + <p> + Algernon had a prompting to respond, “Now, really! what man?” But passion + stops the breath of fools. He answered, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you the thousand in your pocket?” + </p> + <p> + Algernon nodded with a sickly grin. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! two thousand! It's an expensive thing not to know your own + mind,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I must say Mr. Latters,” Algernon commenced. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How are you?” Algernon nodded to Lord Suckling, who replied, “Very well, + I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand?” he queried of Lord Suckling. + </p> + <p> + “Divided by two,” replied the young nobleman, and the Blucher of + bank-notes was proffered to him. He smiled queerly, hesitating to take it. + </p> + <p> + “I was looking for you at all the Clubs last night,” said Algernon. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Father comes at twelve?” Rhoda said. + </p> + <p> + Robert replied: “He does.” + </p> + <p> + After which a silence too irritating for masculine nerves filled the room. + </p> + <p> + “You will find, I hope, everything here that you may want,” said Robert. + “My landlady will attend to the bell. She is very civil.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; we shall not want anything,” said Rhoda. “There is my sister's + Bible at her lodgings.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “How do I know what I shall or can do?” said Robert, mournfully: and they + parted. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'm rather slow,” said Robert, comparing time with his own watch. “I + make it four minutes past the hour.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at fourteen,” said Edward. “I fancy I must be fast.” + </p> + <p> + “About ten minutes past, is the time, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “So much as that!” + </p> + <p> + “It may be a minute or so less.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like,” said Edward, “to ascertain positively.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; I will go and look at that.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You can't place any reliance on watches,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “None, I believe,” Robert remarked. + </p> + <p> + “If you could see the sun every day in this climate!” Edward looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the sun's the best timepiece, when visible,” Robert acquiesced. + “Backwoodsmen in America don't need watches.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless it is to astonish the Indians with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes!” hummed Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve—fifteen—it must be a quarter past. Or, a three + quarters to the next hour, as the Germans say.” + </p> + <p> + “Odd!” Robert ejaculated. “Foreigners have the queerest ways in the world. + They mean no harm, but they make you laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “They think the same of us, and perhaps do the laughing more loudly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! let them,” said Robert, not without contemptuous indignation, though + his mind was far from the talk. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Edward nodded, as if briefly assenting, while his features sharpened. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It was her sister's wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she no will of her own?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little, I'm afraid, just now, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A remarkable sister! Are they of Puritan origin?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I am aware of.” + </p> + <p> + “And this father?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Before it's too late,” Edward muttered hurriedly—“you know him—his + name is Sedgett.” + </p> + <p> + Robert hung swaying over him with a big voiceless chest. + </p> + <p> + “That Sedgett?” he breathed huskily, and his look was hard to meet. + </p> + <p> + Edward frowned, unable to raise his head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “She is coming, father; Robert is bringing her up,” Rhoda said. + </p> + <p> + “Let her come,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Robert's hold was tight under Dahlia's arm as they passed the doorway, and + then the farmer stood. Robert closed the door. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “Is she an honest woman?” + </p> + <p> + “She is,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + The farmer was looking on Robert. + </p> + <p> + Robert said it likewise in a murmur, but with steadfast look. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert placed her against her father's bosom. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The old man released her, and Rhoda undid her hands from him, and led the + pale Sacrifice to another room. + </p> + <p> + “Where's...?” Mr. Fleming asked. + </p> + <p> + Robert understood him. + </p> + <p> + “Her husband will not come.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not being deceived, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; upon my soul!” + </p> + <p> + “I've got that here,” the farmer struck his ribs. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda came back. “Sister is tired,” she said. “Dahlia is going down home + with you, for...I hope, for a long stay.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bring Rhoda down on Monday evening,” Robert said to the farmer. “You + may trust me, Mr. Fleming.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and try and help to make the farm look up again, if Gammon'll do the + ordering about.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, he's above most men in that,” Robert agreed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer replied, as from a far thought, “There's money in my pocket to + take down two.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda had slipped away from them again. + </p> + <p> + The farmer stooped to Robert's ear. “Had a bit of a disagreement with her + husband, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Robert cleared his throat. “Ay, that's it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Serious, at all?” + </p> + <p> + “One can't tell, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “And not her fault—not my girl's fault, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I can swear to that.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fleming mentioned the gossips down at Wrexby,” said Robert: “are they + very bad down there?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you forgive them?” + </p> + <p> + “I do: they cannot hurt us now.” + </p> + <p> + Robert was but striving to master some comprehension of her character. + </p> + <p> + “What are we to resolve, Rhoda?” + </p> + <p> + “I must get the money promised to this man.” + </p> + <p> + “When he has flung off his wife at the church door?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “You should not have told him so, Rhoda.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, and I will not let my word be broken.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me if I ask you where you will get the money? It's a large sum.” + </p> + <p> + “I will get it,” Rhoda said firmly. + </p> + <p> + “By the sale of the farm?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to hurt father.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if we give him the money.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda spoke of “the money” as if she had taken heated metal into her + mouth. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that I'm a drunkard?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall have money.” Rhoda said no more. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy,” said Robert, “we might open these.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be a little help,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And sweetest love to her ever dear.” + </pre> + <p> + Altogether the sum amounted to nine pounds, three shillings, and a + farthing. + </p> + <p> + “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,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Complemens.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda was in tears. + </p> + <p> + “Be kind to him, please, when you see him,” she whispered. The smaller + gift had touched her heart more tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You promised this money to him,” he said, half thinking it incredible. + </p> + <p> + “On Monday,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “You must get a promise from him in return.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not when he has flung her off, Robert?” Rhoda cried piteously. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The Park was vastly pleasant to the old man. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Anthony, don't you know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? I do; to be sure I do,” he answered, peering dimly upon Rhoda: “I'm + always meeting one of you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony muttered, “I'm out for a holiday.” + </p> + <p> + “This”—Rhoda pointed to a house—“is where I am lodging.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Anthony; “and how's your family?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda perceived that he was rather distraught. After great persuasion, she + got him to go upstairs with her. + </p> + <p> + “Only for two seconds,” he stipulated. “I can't sit.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have a cup of tea with me, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't think I'm equal to tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Not with Rhoda?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm only stopping for a day or two in London, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me ring for candles, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I'm going.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda deliberated, and then said: “Uncle, I think you have always loved + me.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him a merit that he should have loved her. He caught at the + idea. + </p> + <p> + “So I have, Rhoda, my dear; I have. I do.” + </p> + <p> + “You do love me, dear uncle!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, uncle; are you not very rich?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't; not 'very'; not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not tell untruths, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't,” said Anthony; only, too doggedly to instil conviction. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Anthony shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I can. No, if I can't. And 'can't' it is. So, it's 'No.'” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda's bosom sank, but only as a wave in the sea-like energy of her + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, you must.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Anthony denied that he crossed his arms closely. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let it be a curse to you,” she said. And her voice was hoarse with + agitation. + </p> + <p> + “What?” Anthony asked. “What's a curse?” + </p> + <p> + “That.” + </p> + <p> + Did she know? Had she guessed? Her finger was laid in a line at the bags. + Had she smelt the gold? + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It's not mine!” Anthony cried, in desperation. + </p> + <p> + “Whose money is it?” said Rhoda, and caught up her hands as from fire. + </p> + <p> + “My Lord!” Anthony moaned, “if you don't speak like a Court o' Justice. + Hear yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Is the money yours, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “It—is,” and “isn't” hung in the balance. + </p> + <p> + “It is not?” Rhoda dressed the question for him in the terror of + contemptuous horror. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “And you say you are not rich, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + A charming congratulatory smile was addressed to him, and a shake of the + head of tender reproach irresistible to his vanity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, you will decide to help me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + She said it with a staggering assurance of manner. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” cried Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you carry so much money about with you in bags, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “Hear it, my dear.” He simulated miser's joy. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + This transition from a state of intensest rapture to the depths of pain + alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; it's nothing.” Anthony anticipated her inquiries. “They bags is + so heavy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you carry them about?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it's heart disease,” said Anthony, and grinned, for he knew the + soundness of his health. + </p> + <p> + “You are very pale, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? you don't say that?” + </p> + <p> + “You are awfully white, dear uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “They must undo any harm they may have done. Sinners are not to repent + only in words, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been feeling lately,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda expected a miser's confession. + </p> + <p> + “I've been feeling, the last two or three days,” he resumed. + </p> + <p> + “What, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He perceived the effect produced on her, and cried; “Aha! and I've been + carrying two of 'em—two!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda panted in her excitement. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + She handed him the money-bags. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She sat dismayed in the centre of a heap of gold. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI + </h2> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “The last o' they mel'ns rotted yest'day afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + “Did they?” said Robert. “You'll have to get fresh seed, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Master Gammon merely showed his spirit to be negative. + </p> + <p> + “You've been playing the fool with the sheep,” Robert accused him. + </p> + <p> + It hit the old man in a very tender part. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If the sheep thrive,” she ventured to remark, so that the comforting old + themes might be kept up. + </p> + <p> + “That's the particular 'if!'” said Robert, signifying something that had + to be leaped over. + </p> + <p> + Master Gammon performed the feat with agility. + </p> + <p> + “Sheep never was heartier,” he pronounced emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “Lots of applications for melon-seed, Gammon?” + </p> + <p> + To this the veteran's tardy answer was: “More fools 'n one about, I + reckon”; and Robert allowed him the victory implied by silence. + </p> + <p> + “And there's no news in Wrexby? none at all?” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Squire Blancove, he's dead.” + </p> + <p> + The name caused Rhoda to shudder. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + They found the farmer sitting alone, shading his forehead. Rhoda kissed + his cheeks and whispered for tidings of Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + “Go up to her,” the farmer said. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “No, dearest; he will not trouble you. Have no fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you full of deceit?” said Dahlia, stamping her foot. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, my sister.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Swear upon that?” + </p> + <p> + “What am I to swear to, dearest?” + </p> + <p> + “Swear that he is not in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda now thought her mad. + </p> + <p> + She looked once at the rigid figure of her transformed sister, and sitting + down, covered her eyes and wept. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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,— + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry. I see my misery when you cry.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the night Dahlia said: “I found a letter from Edward when + I came here.” + </p> + <p> + “Written—Oh, base man that he is!” Rhoda could not control the + impulse to cry it out. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda looked up at the pale penetrating eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda trembled, and raising her eyelids, answered, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw him in the street that morning?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia smiled a glittering tenderness too evidently deceitful in part, but + quite subduing. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no!” Rhoda cried. + </p> + <p> + “If that man comes—” + </p> + <p> + “He will not come!” + </p> + <p> + “He cast me off at the church door, and said he had been cheated. Money! + Oh, Edward!” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia drooped her head. + </p> + <p> + “He will keep away. You are safe,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “Because, if no help comes, I am lost—I am lost for ever!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that old man!” Dahlia sighed. + </p> + <p> + “He is our father.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda begged earnestly for permission to stay with her, but Dahlia said: + “My nights are fevers. I can't have arms about me.” + </p> + <p> + They shook hands when they separated, not kissing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “It happens to women, too, does it not, mother?” said Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It's over very soon, mother,” said Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my goodness, one'd say she'd gone through it herself,” ejaculated + Mrs. Sumfit, terrified. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia sent her eyes at Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia soothed her, and sent her off. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda said, as acquiescingly as she could, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “Then let me talk of him!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sumfit appealed in despair to Master Gammon, with entreaties, and a + ready dumpling. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey! does Gammon jib?” said the farmer, with the ghost of old laughter + twinkling in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Come! brother Tony?” the farmer tried to rally him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It's late,” she said, rising. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The remark engendered a notion in the farmer's head, that Anthony promised + to be particularly prayerless. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Will you eat, man?—will you smoke a pipe?—won't you talk a + word?—will you go to bed?” + </p> + <p> + These several questions, coming between pauses, elicited nothing from the + staring oldman. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a matter wrong at the Bank?” the farmer called out, and Anthony + jumped in a heap. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” persisted the farmer. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda interposed: “Uncle is tired; he is unwell. Tomorrow he will talk to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda stood over her uncle to conceal him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Upstairs with me, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda had succeeded in getting him on his feet. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda hurried Anthony out. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Save,” the farmer continued, “save and store, only don't put your heart + in the box.” + </p> + <p> + “It's true, William;” Mrs. Sumfit acted clerk to the sermon. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia took her softly by the neck, and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “Is it love for the old woman?” Mrs. Sumfit murmured fondly; and Dahlia + kissed her again. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII + </h2> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down, feeling that a warmth had gone, and that she was very bare. + </p> + <p> + “Must I consent, then?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Were you going out, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + “I usually make the rounds of the house, to be sure all's safe.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I must decide to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “They say, the pillow's the best counsellor.” + </p> + <p> + A reply that presumed she would sleep appeared to her as bitterly + unfriendly. + </p> + <p> + “Did father wish it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by what he spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “You suppose he does wish it?” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the father who wouldn't? Of course, he wishes it. He's kind + enough, but you may be certain he wishes it.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! poor soul!” added Robert. + </p> + <p> + “My darling must be brave: she must have great courage. Dahlia cannot be a + coward. I begin to see.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda threw up her face, and sat awhile as one who was reading old matters + by a fresh light. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + An ironic devil prompted Robert to say, “You can't let harm come to your + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + The thing implied was the farthest in his idea of any woman's possible + duty. + </p> + <p> + “Are you of that opinion?” Rhoda questioned with her eyes, but uttered + nothing. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You are no longer your own mistress,” he said, meaning exactly the + reverse. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I am not fit to be my own mistress,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then, the sooner you decide the better,” observed Robert, and the room + became hot and narrow to him. + </p> + <p> + “Very little time is given me,” she murmured. The sound was like a + whimper; exasperating to one who had witnessed her remorseless energy. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you won't find the hardship so great,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyelids lowered softly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Robert,” Rhoda lifted her hands, and, startled by the impulse, + dropped them, saying: “What forgiveness? Was I ever angry with you?” + </p> + <p> + A look of tenderness accompanied the words, and grew into a dusky crimson + rose under his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “When you went into the wood, I saw you going: I knew it was for some good + object,” he said, and flushed equally. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” said she. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + She answered: “That's what I don't understand.” (Your saying it, O my + friend!) + </p> + <p> + “You will soon take to your new duties.” (You have small objection to them + even now.) + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or my life won't be worth much.” (Know, that you are driving me to + it.) + </p> + <p> + “And I wish you happiness, Rhoda.” (You are madly imperilling the prospect + thereof.) + </p> + <p> + To each of them the second meaning stood shadowy behind the utterances. + And further,— + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Robert.” (I shall have to thank you for the issue.) + </p> + <p> + “Now it's time to part.” (Do you not see that there's a danger for me in + remaining?) + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” (Behold, I am submissive.) + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Rhoda.” (You were the first to give the signal of parting.) + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” (I am simply submissive.) + </p> + <p> + “Why not my name? Are you hurt with me?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda choked. The indirectness of speech had been a shelter to her, + permitting her to hint at more than she dared clothe in words. + </p> + <p> + Again the delicious dusky rose glowed beneath his eyes. + </p> + <p> + But he had put his hand out to her, and she had not taken it. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done to offend you? I really don't know, Rhoda.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” The flower had closed. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And I never am,” said Rhoda, vexed at him and at herself. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What evil there is, you're going to mend, Rhoda.” + </p> + <p> + “I sell myself, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly so bad as that. The money will come from you instead of from your + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + Her eyes met Robert's, and he said startlingly: “Just like a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” but she had caught the significance, and blushed with spite. + </p> + <p> + “He was the first to praise you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are brutal to me, Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “My name at last! You accused me of that sort of thing before, in this + room.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda stood up. “I will wish you good night.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you take my hand.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm bound,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Once!” Robert drew her nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go.” + </p> + <p> + “Once!” he reiterated. “Rhoda, as I've never kissed you—once!” + </p> + <p> + “No: don't anger me.” + </p> + <p> + “No one has ever kissed you?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, I—” His force was compelling the straightened figure. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go, Robert.” + </p> + <p> + She was released. The cause for it was the opening of the door. Anthony + stood there. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest uncle!” Rhoda went to him. + </p> + <p> + Anthony nodded, pointing to the door leading out of the house. + </p> + <p> + “I just want to go off—go off. Never you mind me. I'm only going + off.” + </p> + <p> + “You must go to your bed, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him, uncle. You have seen him. It's over,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + Anthony whispered: “I don't want t' see th' old farmer.” + </p> + <p> + “But, you have seen him, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to avoid smiling: his imitation of the farmer's country + style was exact. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do everything for you,” said Rhoda, crying wretchedly. + </p> + <p> + “Because, the young squire says,” Anthony made his voice mysterious. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The letter from Major Waring said:— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay!—ay!” Robert gave tongue in the clear morning air, scenting + excitement and eager for it as a hound. + </p> + <p> + More was written, which he read subsequently + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Jumping over a bank, Robert came upon Anthony, who was unsteadily gazing + at a donkey that cropped the grass by a gate. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are,” said Robert, and took his arm. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You want spirit: you want life,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Drink, I tell you. You've robbed me, and you shall drink!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't, I haven't,” Anthony whined. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony wept into his glass. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It's you!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'll keep your hands off; before you make sure, another time.” + </p> + <p> + Robert said: “I really beg your pardon. Step aside with me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I have your word of honour,” said Rhoda; muttering, “Oh! devil come to + wrong us!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No one has been down into your part of the country,” said Robert, with + perfect mildness. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “What have you there?” + </p> + <p> + “You are my enemy, dear, in some things,” Dahlia replied, a muscular + shiver passing over her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, don't speak so; don't let us talk,” said Dahlia. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda gave a loving answer, and again Dahlia shrank from the miserable + comfort of words. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Master Gammon met them in the garden. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV + </h2> + <p> + Rhoda spoke to her father from the doorway, with her hand upon the lock of + the door. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer nodded with an air of deprecating satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + When he had heard and comprehended all, he said, “Send the girl down to + me.” + </p> + <p> + But Rhoda pleaded, “She is too worn, she is tottering. She cannot endure a + word on this; not even of kindness and help.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “The base wretch!” cried Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + This was how William Fleming received the confession of his daughter's + unhappy plight. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She went upstairs to Dahlia, simply stating that their father was aware of + all the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia looked at her, but dared ask nothing. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + There was in truth a letter for her below, and it was in her father's hand + and open. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It's for my sister,” Rhoda murmured, in anger, but more in fear. + </p> + <p> + She was sternly bidden to read, and she read,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dahlia,—There is mercy for us. You are not lost to me. + + “Edward.” + </pre> + <p> + After this, was appended in a feminine hand:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Rhoda lifted up her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The farmer seized the letter, and laid his finger on the first signature. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the christian name of my girl's seducer?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The man Sedgett was between them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI + </h2> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically Rhoda took the key. + </p> + <p> + “And leave our door open,” he added. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He is in the house,” Dahlia said; and asked, “Was there no letter—no + letter; none, this morning?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda clasped her in her arms, seeking to check the convulsions of her + trembling. + </p> + <p> + “No letter! no letter! none? not any? Oh! no letter for me!” + </p> + <p> + The strange varying tones of musical interjection and interrogation were + pitiful to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Did you look for a letter?” said Rhoda, despising herself for so + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “He is in the house! Where is my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “What was it you hoped? what was it you expected, darling?” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But there was no letter for me this morning, Rhoda. I can't hope. I am + lost. He is in the house!” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest, there was a letter,” said Rhoda, doubting that she did well in + revealing it. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia put out her hands dumb for the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Father opened it, and read it, and keeps it,” said Rhoda, clinging tight + to the stricken form. + </p> + <p> + “Then, he is against me? Oh, my letter!” Dahlia wrung her hands. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The third time he uttered a threat that sprang an answer from her bosom in + shrieks. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda went out on the landing and said softly, “Come up to her, father.” + </p> + <p> + After a little hesitation, he ascended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Come!” William Fleming grew impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Let her have her letter, father,” said Rhoda. “You have no right to + withhold it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Dahlia, with her ears stretching for all that might be uttered, heard + this. Passing round the door, she fronted her father. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She smote her bosom, stumbling backward upon Rhoda's arm. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He might as well have spoken to a corpse. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Then, how could you have married him?” + </p> + <p> + They heard the farmer's roar of this unanswerable thing, aloft. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—how! how!” cried Rhoda below, utterly forgetting the part she + had played in the marriage. + </p> + <p> + “It's too late to hate a man when you've married him, my girl.” + </p> + <p> + Sedgett went out to the foot of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + She let her father hear: “Father, you know that you are killing your + child.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear ye, my lass,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “She will die, father.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear ye, I hear ye.” + </p> + <p> + “She will die, father.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” Rhoda cried, looking at her open hands, as if she marvelled to + see them helpless. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir,” replied Robert, “and I say too, shall, when I'm stiff as + log-wood.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Robert, Robert!” Rhoda cried in great joy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you step 'twixt me and my own?” said Mr. Fleming. + </p> + <p> + “I won't let you nod at downright murder—that's all,” said Robert. + “She—Dahlia, take the hand of that creature!” + </p> + <p> + “Why did she marry me?” thundered Sedgett. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She's his wife, man.” + </p> + <p> + “May be,” Robert assented. + </p> + <p> + “You, Robert Eccles!” said Sedgett hoarsely; “I've come for my wife—do + you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + He let fall a great breath of weariness. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The man's in your house, Mr. Fleming,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And he's my guest, and my daughter's husband, remember that,” said the + farmer. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do no less,” said the farmer. He went into the passage shouting for + Mrs. Sumfit to bring down the box. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Quick, and down with the box, then, mother,” he rejoined. + </p> + <p> + The box was dragged out, and Dahlia's door was shut, that she might have + her last minutes alone. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “He will not forsake you,” Rhoda said. + </p> + <p> + Dahlia nodded, with shut eyes, and Rhoda went forth. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He was obeyed. Robert looked at Rhoda, but had no reply for her gaze of + despair. + </p> + <p> + The farmer threw the door wide open. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert burst into a glorious laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Why, mother! Mrs. Boulby! haven't you got a word for me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At the same time a sound of wheels was heard. + </p> + <p> + Robert rushed back into the great parlour-kitchen, and finding it empty, + stamped with vexation. His prey had escaped. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The farmer suggested that he might be waiting to say his word presently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He righted my daughter when there was shame on her,” the farmer replied. + </p> + <p> + That was the idea printed simply on his understanding. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then Robert spoke to the farmer. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia down here!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + But there came no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Edward is here. Come, come and see him.” + </p> + <p> + Still not one faint reply. + </p> + <p> + “Dahlia! Dahlia!” + </p> + <p> + The call of Dahlia's name seemed to travel endlessly on. Rhoda knelt, and + putting her mouth to the door, said,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The silence grew heavier; and now a doubt came shrieking through her soul. + </p> + <p> + “Father!” rang her outcry. + </p> + <p> + The father came; and then the lover came, and neither to father nor to + lover was there any word from Dahlia's voice. + </p> + <p> + She was found by the side of the bed, inanimate, and pale as a sister of + death. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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,— + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You'll never live so long as that old man,” the farmer said to Robert. + </p> + <p> + “No; but when he goes, all of him's gone,” Robert answered. + </p> + <p> + “But Gammon's got the wisdom to keep himself safe, Robert; there's no one + to blame for his wrinkles.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Let that be how 't will,” returned the farmer; “I've had days o' mortal + envy of that old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's whether you prefer being the fiddle or the fiddle-case,” quoth + Robert. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Lovell's delicacy was still manifest: Edward came alone, and he + and Dahlia were left apart. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They do not make you unhappy to see them, Dahlia?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to see them till I am gone.” + </p> + <p> + Edward pressed her fingers. He thought that warmer hopes would soon flow + into her. + </p> + <p> + “The neighbours are kind?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very kind. They, inquire after me daily.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The clergyman sits with me every day, and knows my heart,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “The clergyman is a comfort to women,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Edward begged that he might come to her often, and she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Come.” + </p> + <p> + He misinterpreted the readiness of the invitation. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you?” said Percy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, perfectly; but always in a roundabout way. Why do you ask me in this + instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you could stop this silly business in a day.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You're an enchantress,” exclaimed Percy. + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” said she, and drifted into seriousness. “Before you praise me you + must know more. Percy, that duel in India—” + </p> + <p> + He put out his hand to her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Percy's face lighted up in horrified amazement as Margaret Lovell + unfastened the brooch at her neck and took out the dull-red handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He could barely articulate “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible,” Percy cried, “that you carried the play out so far as to + promise him to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “Your forehead is thunder, Percy. I know that look.” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, I think I could bear to see our army suffer another defeat + rather than you should be contemptible.” + </p> + <p> + “Your chastisement is not given in half measures, Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak on,” said he; “there is more to come. You are engaged to marry + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I engaged that I would take the name of Blancove.” + </p> + <p> + “If he would cease to persecute Rhoda Fleming!” + </p> + <p> + “The stipulation was exactly in those words.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to carry it out?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sincere? I do, Percy! + </p> + <p> + “You mean to marry Algernon Blancove?” + </p> + <p> + “I should be contemptible indeed if I did, Percy! + </p> + <p> + “You do not?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Percy struck his brows. “Can you mean that Edward Blancove is the man?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Waring fixed her eyes. “There is a man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “It is somebody, then, whose banker's account is, I hope, satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + There were joy-bells for Robert and Rhoda, but none for Dahlia and Edward. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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 +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +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-h.htm or 4426-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/2/4426/ + +Produced by 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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