diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:48 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:48 -0700 |
| commit | 9030e7e3b8d89dd19456edd5adfc65ed6f153537 (patch) | |
| tree | 2114b6c4bb565f29b21b535bcf30eb3bb5a89fb1 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 13293-0.txt | 6232 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 13293-h/13293-h.htm | 5914 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13293-0.txt | 6609 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13293-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 127706 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13293-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 137089 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13293-h/13293-h.htm | 6374 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old/13293-8.txt | 6653 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old/13293-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 127843 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old/13293.txt | 6653 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old/13293.zip | bin | 0 -> 127783 bytes |
13 files changed, 38451 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13293-0.txt b/13293-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2fc3e36 --- /dev/null +++ b/13293-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6232 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13293 *** + +TALES + +OF THE FIVE TOWNS + +By + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + * * * * * + +First published January 1905 + + * * * * * + +TO + +MARCEL SCHWOB + +MY LITERARY GODFATHER IN FRANCE + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + THE DOG + A FEUD + PHANTOM + TIDDY-FOL-LOL + THE IDIOT + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + THE SISTERS QITA + NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + A LETTER HOME + + * * * * * + + + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + + * * * * * + + + + +HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + + +I + +It was an amiable but deceitful afternoon in the third week of December. +Snow fell heavily in the windows of confectioners' shops, and Father +Christmas smiled in Keats's Bazaar the fawning smile of a myth who knows +himself to be exploded; but beyond these and similar efforts to remedy +the forgetfulness of a careless climate, there was no sign anywhere in +the Five Towns, and especially in Bursley, of the immediate approach of +the season of peace, goodwill, and gluttony on earth. + +At the Tiger, next door to Keats's in the market-place, Mr. Josiah +Topham Curtenty had put down his glass (the port was kept specially for +him), and told his boon companion, Mr. Gordon, that he must be going. +These two men had one powerful sentiment in common: they loved the same +woman. Mr. Curtenty, aged twenty-six in heart, thirty-six in mind, and +forty-six in looks, was fifty-six only in years. He was a rich man; he +had made money as an earthenware manufacturer in the good old times +before Satan was ingenious enough to invent German competition, American +tariffs, and the price of coal; he was still making money with the aid +of his son Harry, who now managed the works, but he never admitted that +he was making it. No one has yet succeeded, and no one ever will +succeed, in catching an earthenware manufacturer in the act of making +money; he may confess with a sigh that he has performed the feat in the +past, he may give utterance to a vague, preposterous hope that he will +perform it again in the remote future, but as for surprising him in the +very act, you would as easily surprise a hen laying an egg. Nowadays Mr. +Curtenty, commercially secure, spent most of his energy in helping to +shape and control the high destinies of the town. He was Deputy-Mayor, +and Chairman of the General Purposes Committee of the Town Council; he +was also a Guardian of the Poor, a Justice of the Peace, President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons, a sidesman, an Oddfellow, and +several other things that meant dining, shrewdness, and good-nature. He +was a short, stiff, stout, red-faced man, jolly with the jollity that +springs from a kind heart, a humorous disposition, a perfect digestion, +and the respectful deference of one's bank-manager. Without being a +member of the Browning Society, he held firmly to the belief that all's +right with the world. + +Mr. Gordon, who has but a sorry part in the drama, was a younger, +quieter, less forceful person, rather shy; a municipal mediocrity, +perhaps a little inflated that day by reason of his having been elected +to the Chairmanship of the Gas and Lighting Committee. + +Both men had sat on their committees at the Town Hall across the way +that deceitful afternoon, and we see them now, after refreshment well +earned and consumed, about to separate and sink into private life. But +as they came out into the portico of the Tiger, the famous Calypso-like +barmaid of the Tiger a hovering enchantment in the background, it +occurred that a flock of geese were meditating, as geese will, in the +middle of the road. The gooseherd, a shabby middle-aged man, looked as +though he had recently lost the Battle of Marathon, and was asking +himself whether the path of his retreat might not lie through the +bar-parlour of the Tiger. + +'Business pretty good?' Mr. Curtenty inquired of him cheerfully. + +In the Five Towns business takes the place of weather as a topic of +salutation. + +'Business!' echoed the gooseherd. + +In that one unassisted noun, scorning the aid of verb, adjective, or +adverb, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound and subtle emphasis, +contrived to express the fact that he existed in a world of dead +illusions, that he had become a convert to Schopenhauer, and that Mr. +Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a final grievance to him. + +'There ain't no business!' he added. + +'Ah!' returned Mr. Curtenty, thoughtful: such an assertion of the entire +absence of business was a reflection upon the town. + +'Sithee!' said the gooseherd in ruthless accents, 'I druv these 'ere +geese into this 'ere town this morning.' (Here he exaggerated the +number of miles traversed.) 'Twelve geese and two gander--a Brent and a +Barnacle. And how many is there now? How many?' + +'Fourteen,' said Mr. Gordon, having counted; and Mr. Curtenty gazed at +him in reproach, for that he, a Town Councillor, had thus mathematically +demonstrated the commercial decadence of Bursley. + +'Market overstocked, eh?' Mr. Curtenty suggested, throwing a side-glance +at Callear the poulterer's close by, which was crammed with everything +that flew, swam, or waddled. + +'Call this a market?' said the gooseherd. 'I'st tak' my lot over to +Hanbridge, wheer there _is_ a bit doing, by all accounts.' + +Now, Mr. Curtenty had not the least intention of buying those geese, but +nothing could be better calculated to straighten the back of a Bursley +man than a reference to the mercantile activity of Hanbridge, that +Chicago of the Five Towns. + +'How much for the lot?' he inquired. + +In that moment he reflected upon his reputation; he knew that he was a +cure, a card, a character; he knew that everyone would think it just +like Jos Curtenty, the renowned Deputy-Mayor of Bursley, to stand on +the steps of the Tiger and pretend to chaffer with a gooseherd for a +flock of geese. His imagination caught the sound of an oft-repeated +inquiry, 'Did ye hear about old Jos's latest--trying to buy them there +geese?' and the appreciative laughter that would follow. + +The gooseherd faced him in silence. + +'Well,' said Mr. Curtenty again, his eyes twinkling, 'how much for the +lot?' + +The gooseherd gloomily and suspiciously named a sum. + +Mr. Curtenty named a sum startlingly less, ending in sixpence. + +'I'll tak' it,' said the gooseherd, in a tone that closed on the bargain +like a vice. + +The Deputy-Mayor perceived himself the owner of twelve geese and two +ganders--one Brent, one Barnacle. It was a shock, but he sustained it. +Involuntarily he looked at Mr. Gordon. + +'How are you going to get 'em home, Curtenty?' asked Gordon, with coarse +sarcasm; 'drive 'em?' + +Nettled, Mr. Curtenty retorted: + +'Now, then, Gas Gordon!' + +The barmaid laughed aloud at this sobriquet, which that same evening +was all over the town, and which has stuck ever since to the Chairman of +the Gas and Lighting Committee. Mr. Gordon wished, and has never ceased +to wish, either that he had been elected to some other committee, or +that his name had begun with some other letter. + +The gooseherd received the purchase-money like an affront, but when Mr. +Curtenty, full of private mirth, said, 'Chuck us your stick in,' he give +him the stick, and smiled under reservation. Jos Curtenty had no use for +the geese; he could conceive no purpose which they might be made to +serve, no smallest corner for them in his universe. Nevertheless, since +he had rashly stumbled into a ditch, he determined to emerge from it +grandly, impressively, magnificently. He instantaneously formed a plan +by which he would snatch victory out of defeat. He would take Gordon's +suggestion, and himself drive the geese up to his residence in Hillport, +that lofty and aristocratic suburb. It would be an immense, an +unparalleled farce; a wonder, a topic for years, the crown of his +reputation as a card. + +He announced his intention with that misleading sobriety and +ordinariness of tone which it has been the foible of many great +humorists to assume. Mr. Gordon lifted his head several times very +quickly, as if to say, 'What next?' and then actually departed, which +was a clear proof that the man had no imagination and no soul. + +The gooseherd winked. + +'You be rightly called "Curtenty," mester,' said he, and passed into the +Tiger. + +'That's the best joke I ever heard,' Jos said to himself 'I wonder +whether he saw it.' + +Then the procession of the geese and the Deputy-Mayor commenced. Now, it +is not to be assumed that Mr. Curtenty was necessarily bound to look +foolish in the driving of geese. He was no nincompoop. On the contrary, +he was one of those men who, bringing common-sense and presence of mind +to every action of their lives, do nothing badly, and always escape the +ridiculous. He marshalled his geese with notable gumption, adopted +towards them exactly the correct stress of persuasion, and presently he +smiled to see them preceding him in the direction of Hillport. He +looked neither to right nor left, but simply at his geese, and thus the +quidnuncs of the market-place and the supporters of shop-fronts were +unable to catch his eye. He tried to feel like a gooseherd; and such was +his histrionic quality, his instinct for the dramatic, he _was_ a +gooseherd, despite his blue Melton overcoat, his hard felt hat with the +flattened top, and that opulent-curving collar which was the secret +despair of the young dandies of Hillport. He had the most natural air in +the world. The geese were the victims of this imaginative effort of Mr. +Curtenty's. They took him seriously as a gooseherd. These fourteen +intelligences, each with an object in life, each bent on +self-aggrandisement and the satisfaction of desires, began to follow the +line of least resistance in regard to the superior intelligence unseen +but felt behind them, feigning, as geese will, that it suited them so to +submit, and that in reality they were still quite independent. But in +the peculiar eye of the Barnacle gander, who was leading, an observer +with sufficient fancy might have deciphered a mild revolt against this +triumph of the absurd, the accidental, and the futile; a passive yet +Promethean spiritual defiance of the supreme powers. + +Mr. Curtenty got his fourteen intelligences safely across the top of St. +Luke's Square, and gently urged them into the steep defile of Oldcastle +Street. By this time rumour had passed in front of him and run off down +side-streets like water let into an irrigation system. At every corner +was a knot of people, at most windows a face. And the Deputy-Mayor never +spoke nor smiled. The farce was enormous; the memory of it would survive +revolutions and religions. + +Halfway down Oldcastle Street the first disaster happened. Electric +tramways had not then knitted the Five Towns in a network of steel; but +the last word of civilization and refinement was about to be uttered, +and a gang of men were making patterns with wires on the skyscape of +Oldcastle Street. One of the wires, slipping from its temporary gripper, +swirled with an extraordinary sound into the roadway, and writhed there +in spirals. Several of Mr. Curtenty's geese were knocked down, and rose +obviously annoyed; but the Barnacle gander fell with a clinging circle +of wire round his muscular, glossy neck, and did not rise again. It was +a violent, mysterious, agonizing, and sudden death for him, and must +have confirmed his theories about the arbitrariness of things. The +thirteen passed pitilessly on. Mr. Curtenty freed the gander from the +coiling wire, and picked it up, but, finding it far too heavy to carry, +he handed it to a Corporation road-sweeper. + +'I'll send for it,' he said; 'wait here.' + +These were the only words uttered by him during a memorable journey. + +The second disaster was that the deceitful afternoon turned to +rain--cold, cruel rain, persistent rain, full of sinister significance. +Mr. Curtenty ruefully raised the velvet of his Melton. As he did so a +brougham rolled into Oldcastle Street, a little in front of him, from +the direction of St. Peter's Church, and vanished towards Hillport. He +knew the carriage; he had bought it and paid for it. Deep, far down, in +his mind stirred the thought: + +'I'm just the least bit glad she didn't see me.' + +He had the suspicion, which recurs even to optimists, that happiness is +after all a chimera. + +The third disaster was that the sun set and darkness descended. Mr. +Curtenty had, unfortunately, not reckoned with this diurnal phenomenon; +he had not thought upon the undesirability of being under compulsion to +drive geese by the sole illumination of gas-lamps lighted by Corporation +gas. + +After this disasters multiplied. Dark and the rain had transformed the +farce into something else. It was five-thirty when at last he reached +The Firs, and the garden of The Firs was filled with lamentable +complainings of a remnant of geese. His man Pond met him with a +stable-lantern. + +'Damp, sir,' said Pond. + +'Oh, nowt to speak of,' said Mr. Curtenty, and, taking off his hat, he +shot the fluid contents of the brim into Pond's face. It was his way of +dotting the 'i' of irony. 'Missis come in?' + +'Yes, sir; I have but just rubbed the horse down.' + +So far no reference to the surrounding geese, all forlorn in the heavy +winter rain. + +'I've gotten a two-three geese and one gander here for Christmas,' said +Mr. Curtenty after a pause. To inferiors he always used the dialect. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Turn 'em into th' orchard, as you call it.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'They aren't all here. Thou mun put th' horse in the trap and fetch the +rest thysen.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'One's dead. A roadman's takkin' care on it in Oldcastle Street. He'll +wait for thee. Give him sixpence.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another got into th' cut [canal].' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another strayed on the railway-line--happen it's run over by +this.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'And one's making the best of her way to Oldcastle. I couldna coax her +in here.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Collect 'em.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +Mr. Curtenty walked away towards the house. + +'Mester!' Pond called after him, flashing the lantern. + +'Well, lad?' + +'There's no gander i' this lot.' + +'Hast forgotten to count thysen?' Mr. Curtenty answered blithely from +the shelter of the side-door. + +But within himself he was a little crest-fallen to think that the +surviving gander should have escaped his vigilance, even in the +darkness. He had set out to drive the geese home, and he had driven them +home, most of them. He had kept his temper, his dignity, his +cheerfulness. He had got a bargain in geese. So much was indisputable +ground for satisfaction. And yet the feeling of an anticlimax would not +be dismissed. Upon the whole, his transit lacked glory. It had begun in +splendour, but it had ended in discomfort and almost ignominy. +Nevertheless, Mr. Curtenty's unconquerable soul asserted itself in a +quite genuine and tuneful whistle as he entered the house. + +The fate of the Brent gander was never ascertained. + + +II + +The dining-room of The Firs was a spacious and inviting refectory, which +owed nothing of its charm to William Morris, Regent Street, or the Arts +and Crafts Society. Its triple aim, was richness, solidity, and comfort, +but especially comfort; and this aim was achieved in new oak furniture +of immovable firmness, in a Turkey carpet which swallowed up the feet +like a feather bed, and in large oil-paintings, whose darkly-glinting +frames were a guarantee of their excellence. On a winter's night, as +now, the room was at its richest, solidest, most comfortable. The blue +plush curtains were drawn on their stout brass rods across door and +French window. Finest selected silkstone fizzed and flamed in a patent +grate which had the extraordinary gift of radiating heat into the +apartment instead of up the chimney. The shaded Welsbach lights of the +chandelier cast a dazzling luminance on the tea-table of snow and +silver, while leaving the pictures in a gloom so discreet that not +Ruskin himself could have decided whether these were by Whistler or +Peter Paul Rubens. On either side of the marble mantelpiece were two +easy-chairs of an immense, incredible capacity, chairs of crimson plush +for Titans, chairs softer than moss, more pliant than a loving heart, +more enveloping than a caress. In one of these chairs, that to the left +of the fireplace, Mr. Curtenty was accustomed to snore every Saturday +and Sunday afternoon, and almost every evening. The other was usually +empty, but to-night it was occupied by Mrs. Curtenty, the jewel of the +casket. In the presence of her husband she always used a small +rocking-chair of ebonized cane. + +To glance at this short, slight, yet plump little creature as she +reclined crosswise in the vast chair, leaving great spaces of the seat +unfilled, was to think rapturously to one's self: _This is a woman_. Her +fluffy head was such a dot against the back of the chair, the curve of +her chubby ringed hand above the head was so adorable, her black eyes +were so provocative, her slippered feet so wee--yes, and there was +something so mysteriously thrilling about the fall of her skirt that you +knew instantly her name was Clara, her temper both fiery and obstinate, +and her personality distracting. You knew that she was one of those +women of frail physique who can endure fatigues that would destroy a +camel; one of those dæmonic women capable of doing without sleep for ten +nights in order to nurse you; capable of dying and seeing you die +rather than give way about the tint of a necktie; capable of laughter +and tears simultaneously; capable of never being in the wrong except for +the idle whim of so being. She had a big mouth and very wide nostrils, +and her years were thirty-five. It was no matter; it would have been no +matter had she been a hundred and thirty-five. In short.... + +Clara Curtenty wore tight-fitting black silk, with a long gold chain +that descended from her neck nearly to her waist, and was looped up in +the middle to an old-fashioned gold brooch. She was in mourning for a +distant relative. Black pre-eminently suited her. Consequently her +distant relatives died at frequent intervals. + +The basalt clock on the mantelpiece trembled and burst into the song of +six. Clara Curtenty rose swiftly from the easy-chair, and took her seat +in front of the tea-tray. Almost at the same moment a neat +black-and-white parlourmaid brought in teapot, copper kettle, and a +silver-covered dish containing hot pikelets; then departed. Clara was +alone again; not the same Clara now, but a personage demure, prim, +precise, frightfully upright of back--a sort of impregnable +stronghold--without doubt a Deputy-Mayoress. + +At five past six Josiah Curtenty entered the room, radiant from a hot +bath, and happy in dry clothes--a fine, if mature, figure of a man. His +presence filled the whole room. + +'Well, my chuck!' he said, and kissed her on the cheek. + +She gazed at him with a look that might mean anything. Did she raise her +cheek to his greeting, or was it fancy that she had endured, rather than +accepted, his kiss? He was scarcely sure. And if she had endured instead +of accepting the kiss, was her mood to be attributed to his lateness for +tea, or to the fact that she was aware of the episode of the geese? He +could not divine. + +'Pikelets! Good!' he exclaimed, taking the cover off the dish. + +This strong, successful, and dominant man adored his wife, and went in +fear of her. She was his first love, but his second spouse. They had +been married ten years. In those ten years they had quarrelled only five +times, and she had changed the very colour of his life. Till his second +marriage he had boasted that he belonged to the people and retained the +habits of the people. Clara, though she also belonged to the people, +very soon altered all that. Clara had a passion for the genteel. Like +many warm-hearted, honest, clever, and otherwise sensible persons, Clara +was a snob, but a charming little snob. She ordered him to forget that +he belonged to the people. She refused to listen when he talked in the +dialect. She made him dress with opulence, and even with tidiness; she +made him buy a fashionable house and fill it with fine furniture; she +made him buy a brougham in which her gentility could pay calls and do +shopping (she shopped in Oldcastle, where a decrepit aristocracy of +tradesmen sneered at Hanbridge's lack of style); she had her 'day'; she +taught the servants to enter the reception-rooms without knocking; she +took tea in bed in the morning, and tea in the afternoon in the +drawing-room. She would have instituted dinner at seven, but she was a +wise woman, and realized that too much tyranny often means revolution +and the crumbling of-thrones; therefore the ancient plebeian custom of +high tea at six was allowed to persist and continue. + +She it was who had compelled Josiah (or bewitched, beguiled, coaxed and +wheedled him), after a public refusal, to accept the unusual post of +Deputy-Mayor. In two years' time he might count on being Mayor. Why, +then, should Clara have been so anxious for this secondary dignity? +Because, in that year of royal festival, Bursley, in common with many +other boroughs, had had a fancy to choose a Mayor out of the House of +Lords. The Earl of Chell, a magnate of the county, had consented to wear +the mayoral chain and dispense the mayoral hospitalities on condition +that he was provided with a deputy for daily use. + +It was the idea of herself being deputy to the lovely, meddlesome, and +arrogant Countess of Chell that had appealed to Clara. + +The deputy of a Countess at length spoke. + +'Will Harry be late at the works again to-night?' she asked in her +colder, small-talk manner, which committed her to nothing, as Josiah +well knew. + +Her way of saying that word 'Harry' was inimitably significant. She gave +it an air. She liked Harry, and she liked Harry's name, because it had a +Kensingtonian sound. Harry, so accomplished in business, was also a +dandy, and he was a dog. 'My stepson'--she loved to introduce him, so +tall, manly, distinguished, and dandiacal. Harry, enriched by his own +mother, belonged to a London club; he ran down to Llandudno for +week-ends; and it was reported that he had been behind the scenes at the +Alhambra. Clara felt for the word 'Harry' the unreasoning affection +which most women lavish on 'George.' + +'Like as not,' said Josiah. 'I haven't been to the works this +afternoon.' + +Another silence fell, and then Josiah, feeling himself unable to bear +any further suspense as to his wife's real mood and temper, suddenly +determined to tell her all about the geese, and know the worst. And +precisely at the instant that he opened his mouth, the maid opened the +door and announced: + +'Mr. Duncalf wishes to see you at once, sir. He won't keep you a +minute.' + +'Ask him in here, Mary,' said the Deputy-Mayoress sweetly; 'and bring +another cup and saucer.' + +Mr. Duncalf was the Town Clerk of Bursley: legal, portly, dry, and a +little shy. + +'I won't stop, Curtenty. How d'ye do, Mrs. Curtenty? No, thanks, +really----' But she, smiling, exquisitely gracious, flattered and +smoothed him into a chair. + +'Any interesting news, Mr. Duncalf?' she said, and added: 'But we're +glad that _anything_ should have brought you in.' + +'Well,' said Duncalf, 'I've just had a letter by the afternoon post from +Lord Chell.' + +'Oh, the Earl! Indeed; how very interesting.' + +'What's he after?' inquired Josiah cautiously. + +'He says he's just been appointed Governor of East +Australia--announcement 'll be in to-morrow's papers--and so he must +regretfully resign the mayoralty. Says he'll pay the fine, but of course +we shall have to remit that by special resolution of the Council.' + +'Well, I'm damned!' Josiah exclaimed. + +'Topham!' Mrs. Curtenty remonstrated, but with a delightful acquitting +dimple. She never would call him Josiah, much less Jos. Topham came more +easily to her lips, and sometimes Top. + +'Your husband,' said Mr. Duncalf impressively to Clara, 'will, of +course, have to step into the Mayor's shoes, and you'll have to fill +the place of the Countess.' He paused, and added: 'And very well you'll +do it, too--very well. Nobody better.' + +The Town Clerk frankly admired Clara. + +'Mr. Duncalf--Mr. Duncalf!' She raised a finger at him. 'You are the +most shameless flatterer in the town.' + +The flatterer was flattered. Having delivered the weighty news, he had +leisure to savour his own importance as the bearer of it. He drank a cup +of tea. Josiah was thoughtful, but Clara brimmed over with a fascinating +loquacity. Then Mr. Duncalf said that he must really be going, and, +having arranged with the Mayor-elect to call a special meeting of the +Council at once, he did go, all the while wishing he had the enterprise +to stay. + +Josiah accompanied him to the front-door. The sky had now cleared. + +'Thank ye for calling,' said the host. + +'Oh, that's all right. Good-night, Curtenty. Got that goose out of the +canal?' + +So the story was all abroad! + +Josiah returned to the dining-room, imperceptibly smiling. At the door +the sight of his wife halted him. The face of that precious and +adorable woman flamed out lightning and all menace and offence. Her +louring eyes showed what a triumph of dissimulation she must have +achieved in the presence of Mr. Duncalf, but now she could speak her +mind. + +'Yes, Topham!' she exploded, as though finishing an harangue. 'And on +this day of all days you choose to drive geese in the public road behind +my carriage!' + +Jos was stupefied, annihilated. + +'Did you see me, then, Clarry?' + +He vainly tried to carry it off. + +'Did I see you? Of course I saw you!' + +She withered him up with the hot wind of scorn. + +'Well,' he said foolishly, 'how was I to know that the Earl would resign +just to-day?' + +'How were you to----?' + +Harry came in for his tea. He glanced from one to the other, discreet, +silent. On the way home he had heard the tale of the geese in seven +different forms. The Deputy-Mayor, so soon to be Mayor, walked out of +the room. + +'Pond has just come back, father,' said Harry; 'I drove up the hill +with him.' + +And as Josiah hesitated a moment in the hall, he heard Clara exclaim, +'Oh, Harry!' + +'Damn!' he murmured. + + +III + +The _Signal_ of the following day contained the announcement which Mr. +Duncalf had forecast; it also stated, on authority, that Mr. Josiah +Curtenty would wear the mayoral chain of Bursley immediately, and added +as its own private opinion that, in default of the Right Honourable the +Earl of Chell and his Countess, no better 'civic heads' could have been +found than Mr. Curtenty and his charming wife. So far the tone of the +_Signal_ was unimpeachable. But underneath all this was a sub-title, +'Amusing Exploit of the Mayor-elect,' followed by an amusing description +of the procession of the geese, a description which concluded by +referring to Mr. Curtenty as His Worship the Goosedriver. + +Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, and Turnhill laughed heartily, and perhaps a +little viciously, at this paragraph, but Bursley was annoyed by it. In +print the affair did not look at all well. Bursley prided itself on +possessing a unique dignity as the 'Mother of the Five Towns,' and to be +presided over by a goosedriver, however humorous and hospitable he might +be, did not consort with that dignity. A certain Mayor of Longshaw, +years before, had driven a sow to market, and derived a tremendous +advertisement therefrom, but Bursley had no wish to rival Longshaw in +any particular. Bursley regarded Longshaw as the Inferno of the Five +Towns. In Bursley you were bidden to go to Longshaw as you were bidden +to go to ... Certain acute people in Hillport saw nothing but a +paralyzing insult in the opinion of the _Signal_ (first and foremost a +Hanbridge organ), that Bursley could find no better civic head than +Josiah Curtenty. At least three Aldermen and seven Councillors +privately, and in the Tiger, disagreed with any such view of Bursley's +capacity to find heads. + +And underneath all this brooding dissatisfaction lurked the thought, as +the alligator lurks in a muddy river, that 'the Earl wouldn't like +it'--meaning the geese episode. It was generally felt that the Earl had +been badly treated by Jos Curtenty. The town could not explain its +sentiments--could not argue about them. They were not, in fact, capable +of logical justification; but they were there, they violently existed. +It would have been useless to point out that if the inimitable Jos had +not been called to the mayoralty the episode of the geese would have +passed as a gorgeous joke; that everyone had been vastly amused by it +until that desolating issue of the _Signal_ announced the Earl's +retirement; that Jos Curtenty could not possibly have foreseen what was +about to happen; and that, anyhow, goosedriving was less a crime than a +social solecism, and less a social solecism than a brilliant +eccentricity. Bursley was hurt, and logic is no balm for wounds. + +Some may ask: If Bursley was offended, why did it not mark its sense of +Josiah's failure to read the future by electing another Mayor? The +answer is, that while all were agreed that his antic was inexcusable, +all were equally agreed to pretend that it was a mere trifle of no +importance; you cannot deprive a man of his prescriptive right for a +mere trifle of no importance. Besides, nobody could be so foolish as to +imagine that goosedriving, though reprehensible in a Mayor about to +succeed an Earl, is an act of which official notice can be taken. + +The most curious thing in the whole imbroglio is that Josiah Curtenty +secretly agreed with his wife and the town. He was ashamed, overset. His +procession of geese appeared to him in an entirely new light, and he had +the strength of mind to admit to himself, 'I've made a fool of myself.' + +Harry went to London for a week, and Josiah, under plea of his son's +absence, spent eight hours a day at the works. The brougham remained in +the coach-house. + +The Town Council duly met in special conclave, and Josiah Topham +Curtenty became Mayor of Bursley. + +Shortly after Christmas it was announced that the Mayor and Mayoress had +decided to give a New Year's treat to four hundred poor old people in +the St. Luke's covered market. It was also spread about that this treat +would eclipse and extinguish all previous treats of a similar nature, +and that it might be accepted as some slight foretaste of the +hospitality which the Mayor and Mayoress would dispense in that +memorable year of royal festival. The treat was to occur on January 9, +the Mayoress's birthday. + +On January 7 Josiah happened to go home early. He was proceeding into +the drawing-room without enthusiasm to greet his wife, when he heard +voices within; and one voice was the voice of Gas Gordon. + +Jos stood still. It has been mentioned that Gordon and the Mayor were in +love with the same woman. The Mayor had easily captured her under the +very guns of his not formidable rival, and he had always thereafter felt +a kind of benevolent, good-humoured, contemptuous pity for +Gordon--Gordon, whose life was a tragic blank; Gordon, who lived, a +melancholy and defeated bachelor, with his mother and two unmarried +sisters older than himself. That Gordon still worshipped at the shrine +did not disturb him; on the contrary, it pleased him. Poor Gordon! + +'But, really, Mrs. Curtenty,' Gordon was saying--'really, you know +I--that--is--really--' + +'To please me!' Mrs. Curtenty entreated, with a seductive charm that +Jos felt even outside the door. + +Then there was a pause. + +'Very well,' said Gordon. + +Mr. Curtenty tiptoed away and back into the street. He walked in the +dark nearly to Oldcastle, and returned about six o'clock. But Clara said +no word of Gordon's visit. She had scarcely spoken to Topham for three +weeks. + +The next morning, as Harry was departing to the works, Mrs. Curtenty +followed the handsome youth into the hall. + +'Harry,' she whispered, 'bring me two ten-pound notes this afternoon, +will you, and say nothing to your father.' + + +IV + +Gas Gordon was to be on the platform at the poor people's treat. As he +walked down Trafalgar Road his eye caught a still-exposed fragment of a +decayed bill on a hoarding. It referred to a meeting of the local branch +of the Anti-Gambling League a year ago in the lecture-hall of the +Wesleyan Chapel, and it said that Councillor Gordon would occupy the +chair on that occasion. Mechanically Councillor Gordon stopped and tore +the fragment away from the hoarding. + +The treat, which took the form of a dinner, was an unqualified success; +it surpassed all expectations. Even the diners themselves were +satisfied--a rare thing at such affairs. Goose was a prominent item in +the menu. After the repast the replete guests were entertained from the +platform, the Mayor being, of course, in the chair. Harry sang 'In Old +Madrid,' accompanied by his stepmother, with faultless expression. Mr. +Duncalf astonished everybody with the famous North-Country recitation, +'The Patent Hair-brushing Mashane.' There were also a banjo solo, a +skirt dance of discretion, and a campanological turn. At last, towards +ten o'clock, Mr. Gordon, who had hitherto done nothing, rose in his +place, amid good-natured cries of 'Gas!' + +'I feel sure you will all agree with me,' he began, 'that this evening +would not be complete without a vote of thanks--a very hearty vote of +thanks--to our excellent host and chairman.' + +Ear-splitting applause. + +'I've got a little story to tell you,' he continued--'a story that up +to this moment has been a close secret between his Worship the Mayor and +myself.' His Worship looked up sharply at the speaker. 'You've heard +about some geese, I reckon. (_Laughter_.) Well, you've not heard all, +but I'm going to tell you. I can't keep it to myself any longer. You +think his Worship drove those geese--I hope they're digesting well +(_loud laughter_)--just for fun. He didn't. I was with him when he +bought them, and I happened to say that goosedriving was a very +difficult accomplishment.' + +'Depends on the geese!' shouted a voice. + +'Yes, it does,' Mr. Gordon admitted. 'Well, his Worship contradicted me, +and we had a bit of an argument. I don't bet, as you know--at least, not +often--but I don't mind confessing that I offered to bet him a sovereign +he couldn't drive his geese half a mile. "Look here, Gordon," he said to +me: "there's a lot of distress in the town just now--trade bad, and so +on, and so on. I'll lay you a level ten pounds I drive these geese to +Hillport myself, the loser to give the money to charity." "Done," I +said. "Don't say anything about it," he says. "I won't," I says--but I +am doing. (_Applause_.) I feel it my duty to say something about it. +(_More applause_.) Well, I lost, as you all know. He drove 'em to +Hillport. ('_Good old Jos!_') That's not all. The Mayor insisted on +putting his own ten pounds to mine and making it twenty. Here are the +two identical notes, his and mine.' Mr. Gordon waved the identical notes +amid an uproar. 'We've decided that everyone who has dined here to-night +shall receive a brand-new shilling. I see Mr. Septimus Lovatt from the +bank there with a bag. He will attend to you as you go out. (_Wild +outbreak and tumult of rapturous applause_.) And now three cheers for +your Mayor--and Mayoress!' + +It was colossal, the enthusiasm. + +'_And_ for Gas Gordon!' called several voices. + +The cheers rose again in surging waves. + +Everyone remarked that the Mayor, usually so imperturbable, was quite +overcome--seemed as if he didn't know where to look. + +Afterwards, as the occupants of the platform descended, Mr. Gordon +glanced into the eyes of Mrs. Curtenty, and found there his exceeding +reward. The mediocrity had blossomed out that evening into something new +and strange. Liar, deliberate liar and self-accused gambler as he was, +he felt that he had lived during that speech; he felt that it was the +supreme moment of his life. + +'What a perfectly wonderful man your husband is!' said Mrs. Duncalf to +Mrs. Curtenty. + +Clara turned to her husband with a sublime gesture of satisfaction. In +the brougham, going home, she bewitched him with wifely endearments. She +could afford to do so. The stigma of the geese episode was erased. + +But the barmaid of the Tiger, as she let down her bright hair that night +in the attic of the Tiger, said to herself, 'Well, of all the----' Just +that. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + + +It was Monday afternoon of Bursley Wakes--not our modern rectified +festival, but the wild and naïve orgy of seventy years ago, the days of +bear-baiting and of bull-baiting, from which latter phrase, they say, +the town derives its name. In those times there was a town-bull, a sort +of civic beast; and a certain notorious character kept a bear in his +pantry. The 'beating' (baiting) occurred usually on Sunday mornings at +six o'clock, with formidable hungry dogs; and little boys used to look +forward eagerly to the day when they would be old enough to be permitted +to attend. On Sunday afternoons colliers and potters, gathered round the +jawbone of a whale which then stood as a natural curiosity on the waste +space near the corn-mill, would discuss the fray, and make bets for next +Sunday, while the exhausted dogs licked their wounds, or died. During +the Wakes week bull and bear were baited at frequent intervals, +according to popular demand, for thousands of sportsmen from +neighbouring villages seized the opportunity of the fair to witness the +fine beatings for which Bursley was famous throughout the country of the +Five Towns. In that week the Wakes took possession of the town, which +yielded itself with savage abandonment to all the frenzies of license. +The public-houses remained continuously open night and day, and the +barmen and barmaids never went to bed; every inn engaged special +'talent' in order to attract custom, and for a hundred hours the whole +thronged town drank, drank, until the supply of coin of George IV., +converging gradually into the coffers of a few persons, ceased to +circulate. Towards the end of the Wakes, by way of a last ecstasy, the +cockfighters would carry their birds, which had already fought and been +called off, perhaps, half a dozen times, to the town-field (where the +discreet 40 per cent. brewery now stands), and there match them to a +finish. It was a spacious age. + +On this Monday afternoon in June the less fervid activities of the +Wakes were proceeding as usual in the market-place, overshadowed by the +Town Hall--not the present stone structure with its gold angel, but a +brick edifice built on an ashlar basement. Hobby-horses and revolving +swing-boats, propelled, with admirable economy to the proprietors, by +privileged boys who took their pay in an occasional ride, competed +successfully with the skeleton man, the fat or bearded woman, and Aunt +Sally. The long toy-tents, artfully roofed with a tinted cloth which +permitted only a soft, mellow light to illuminate the wares displayed, +were crowded with jostling youth and full of the sound of whistles, +'squarkers,' and various pipes; and multitudes surrounded the +gingerbread, nut, and savoury stalls which lined both sides of the +roadway as far as Duck Bank. In front of the numerous boxing-booths +experts of the 'fancy,' obviously out of condition, offered to fight all +comers, and were not seldom well thrashed by impetuous champions of +local fame. There were no photographic studios and no cocoanut-shies, +for these things had not been thought of; and to us moderns the fair, +despite its uncontrolled exuberance of revelry, would have seemed +strangely quiet, since neither steam-organ nor hooter nor hurdy-gurdy +was there to overwhelm the ear with crashing waves of gigantic sound. +But if the special phenomena of a later day were missing from the +carnival, others, as astonishing to us as the steam-organ would have +been to those uncouth roisterers, were certainly present. Chief, +perhaps, among these was the man who retailed the elixir of youth, the +veritable _eau de jouvence_, to credulous drinkers at sixpence a bottle. +This magician, whose dark mysterious face and glittering eyes indicated +a strain of Romany blood, and whose accent proved that he had at any +rate lived much in Yorkshire, had a small booth opposite the watch-house +under the Town Hall. On a banner suspended in front of it was painted +the legend: + + THE INCA OF PERU'S + ELIXER OF YOUTH + SOLD HERE. + ETERNAL YOUTH FOR ALL. + DRINK THIS AND YOU WILL NEVER GROW OLD + AS SUPPLIED TO THE NOBILITY & GENTRY + SIXPENCE PER BOT. + WALK IN, WALK IN, & + CONSULT THE INCA OF PERU. + +The Inca of Peru, dressed in black velveteens, with a brilliant scarf +round his neck, stood at the door of his tent, holding an empty glass in +one jewelled hand, and with the other twirling a long and silken +moustache. Handsome, graceful, and thoroughly inured to the public gaze, +he fronted a small circle of gapers like an actor adroit to make the +best of himself, and his tongue wagged fast enough to wag a man's leg +off. At a casual glance he might have been taken for thirty, but his age +was fifty and more--if you could catch him in the morning before he had +put the paint on. + +'Ladies and gentlemen of Bursley, this enlightened and beautiful town +which I am now visiting for the first time,' he began in a hard, +metallic voice, employing again with the glib accuracy of a machine the +exact phrases which he had been using all day, 'look at me--look well at +me. How old do you think I am? How old do I seem? Twenty, my dear, do +you say?' and he turned with practised insolence to a pot-girl in a red +shawl who could not have uttered an audible word to save her soul, but +who blushed and giggled with pleasure at this mark of attention. 'Ah! +you flatter, fair maiden! I look more than twenty, but I think I may +say that I do not look thirty. Does any lady or gentleman think I look +thirty? No! As a matter of fact, I was twenty-nine years of age when, in +South America, while exploring the ruins of the most ancient +civilization of the world--of the world, ladies and gentlemen--I made my +wonderful discovery, the Elixir of Youth!' + +'What art blethering at, Licksy?' a drunken man called from the back of +the crowd, and the nickname stuck to the great discoverer during the +rest of the Wakes. + +'That, ladies and gentlemen,' the Inca of Peru continued unperturbed, +'was--seventy-two years ago. I am now a hundred and one years old +precisely, and as fresh as a kitten, all along of my marvellous elixir. +Far older, for instance, than this good dame here.' + +He pointed to an aged and wrinkled woman, in blue cotton and a white +mutch, who was placidly smoking a short cutty. This creature, bowed and +satiate with monotonous years, took the pipe from her indrawn lips, and +asked in a weary, trembling falsetto: + +'How many wives hast had?' + +'Seventane,' the Inca retorted quickly, dropping at once into broad +dialect, 'and now lone and lookin' to wed again. Wilt have me?' + +'Nay,' replied the crone. 'I've buried four mysen, and no man o' mine +shall bury me.' + +There was a burst of laughter, amid which the Inca, taking the crowd +archly into his confidence, remarked: + +'I've never administered my elixir to any of my wives, ladies and +gentlemen. You may blame me, but I freely confess the fact;' and he +winked. + +'Licksy! Licksy!' the drunken man idiotically chanted. + +'And now,' the Inca proceeded, coming at length to the practical part of +his ovation, 'see here!' With the rapidity of a conjurer he whipped from +his pocket a small bottle, and held it up before the increasing +audience. It contained a reddish fluid, which shone bright and rich in +the sunlight. 'See here!' he cried magnificently, but he was destined to +interruption. + +A sudden cry arose of 'Black Jack! Black Jack! 'Tis him! He's caught!' +And the Inca's crowd, together with all the other crowds filling the +market-place, surged off eastward in a dense, struggling mass. + +The cynosure of every eye was a springless clay-cart, which was being +slowly driven past the newly-erected 'big house' of Enoch Wood, Esquire, +towards the Town Hall. In this, cart were two constables, with their +painted staves drawn, and between the constables sat a man securely +chained--Black Jack of Moorthorne, the mining village which lies over +the ridge a mile or so east of Bursley. The captive was a ferocious and +splendid young Hercules, tall, with enormous limbs and hands and heavy +black brows. He was dressed in his soiled working attire of a collier, +the trousers strapped under the knees, and his feet shod in vast clogs. +With open throat, small head, great jaws, and bold beady eyes, he looked +what he was, the superb brute--the brute reckless of all save the +instant satisfaction of his desires. He came of a family of colliers, +the most debased class in a lawless district. Jack's father had been a +colliery-serf, legally enslaved to his colliery, legally liable to be +sold with the colliery as a chattel, and legally bound to bring up all +his sons as colliers, until the Act of George III. put an end to this +incredible survival from the customs of the Dark Ages. Black Jack was +now a hero to the crowd, and knew it, for those vast clogs had kicked a +woman to death on the previous day. She was a Moorthorne woman, not his +wife, but his sweetheart, older than he; people said that she nagged +him, and that he was tired of her. The murderer had hidden for a night, +and then, defiantly, surrendered to the watch, and the watch were taking +him to the watch-house in the ashlar basement of the Town Hall. The +feeble horse between the shafts of the cart moved with difficulty +through the press, and often the coloured staves of the constables came +down thwack on the heads of heedless youth. At length the cart reached +the space between the watch-house and the tent of the Inca of Peru, +where it stopped while the constables unlocked a massive door; the +prisoner remained proudly in the cart, accepting, with obvious delight, +the tribute of cheers and jeers, hoots and shouts, from five thousand +mouths. + +The Inca of Peru stood at the door of his tent and surveyed Black Jack, +who was not more than a few feet away from him. + +'Have a glass of my elixir,' he said to the death-dealer; 'no one in +this town needs it more than thee, by all accounts. Have a glass, and +live for ever. Only sixpence.' + +The man in the cart laughed aloud. + +'I've nowt on me--not a farden,' he answered, in a strong grating voice. + +At that moment a girl, half hidden by the cart, sprang forward, offering +something in her outstretched palm to the Inca; but he, misunderstanding +her intention, merely glanced with passing interest at her face, and +returned his gaze to the prisoner. + +'I'll give thee a glass, lad,' he said quickly, 'and then thou canst +defy Jack Ketch.' + +The crowd yelled with excitement, and the murderer held forth his great +hand for the potion. Using every art to enhance the effect of this +dramatic advertisement, the Inca of Peru raised his bottle on high, and +said in a loud, impressive tone: + +'This precious liquid has the property, possessed by no other liquid on +earth, of frothing twice. I shall pour it into the glass, and it will +froth. Black Jack will drink it, and after he has drunk it will froth +again. Observe!' + +He uncorked the bottle and filled the glass with the reddish fluid, +which after a few seconds duly effervesced, to the vague wonder of the +populace. The Inca held the glass till the froth had subsided, and then +solemnly gave it to Black Jack. + +'Drink!' commanded the Inca. + +Black Jack took the draught at a gulp, and instantly flung the glass at +the Inca's face. It missed him, however. There were signs of a fracas, +but the door of the watch-house swung opportunely open, and Jack was +dragged from the cart and hustled within. The crowd, with a crowd's +fickleness, turned to other affairs. + +That evening the ingenious Inca of Peru did good trade for several +hours, but towards eleven o'clock the attraction of the public-houses +and of a grand special combined bull and bear beating by moonlight in +the large yard of the Cock Inn drew away the circle of his customers +until there was none left. He retired inside the tent with several +pounds in his pocket and a god's consciousness of having made immortal +many of the sons and daughters of Adam. + +As he was counting out his gains on the tub of eternal youth by the +flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and stealthily +entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, which was +sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the young girl who +had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black Jack his priceless +boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing interest several times +during the evening as she loitered restless near the door of the +watch-house. + +'What do you want?' he asked her, with the ingratiating affability of +the rake who foresees everything. + +'Give me a drink.' + +'A drink of what, my dear?' + +'Licksy.' + +He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a kind of +face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out of ten, but +which will haunt the tenth: a child's face with a passionate woman's +eyes burning and dying in it--black hair, black eyes, thin pale cheeks, +equine nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin +conceivable. He smiled at her, pleased. + +'Can you pay for it?' he said pleasantly. + +The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, uncovered +head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of hardship and +neglect. + +'I've a silver groat,' she answered, and closed her small fist tighter. + +'A silver groat!' he exclaimed, rather astonished. 'Where did you get +that from?' + +'He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.' + +'Who?' + +'Him yonder'--she jerked her head back to indicate the +watch-house--'Black Jack.' + +'What for?' + +'He kissed me,' she said boldly; 'I'm his sweetheart.' + +'Eh!' The Inca paused a moment, startled. 'But he killed his sweetheart +yesterday.' + +'What! Meg!' the girl exclaimed with deep scorn. 'Her weren't his true +sweetheart. Her druv him to it. Serve her well right! Owd Meg!' + +'How old are you, my dear?' + +'Don't know. But feyther said last Wakes I was fourtane. I mun keep +young for Jack. He wunna have me if I'm owd.' + +'But he'll be hanged, they say.' + +She gave a short, satisfied laugh. + +'Not now he's drunk Licksy--hangman won't get him. I heard a man say +Jack 'd get off wi' twenty year for manslaughter, most like.' + +'And you'll wait twenty years for him?' + +'Yes,' she said; 'I'll meet him at prison gates. But I mun be young. +Give me a drink o' Licksy.' + +He drew the red draught in silence, and after it had effervesced offered +it to her. + +''Tis raight?' she questioned, taking the glass. + +The Inca nodded, and, lifting the vessel, she opened her eager lips and +became immortal. It was the first time in her life that she had drunk +out of a glass, and it would be the last. + +Struck dumb by the trusting joy in those profound eyes, the Inca took +the empty glass from her trembling hand. Frail organism and prey of +love! Passion had surprised her too young. Noon had come before the +flower could open. She went out of the tent. + +'Wench!' the Inca called after her, 'thy groat!' + +She paid him and stood aimless for a second, and then started to cross +the roadway. Simultaneously there was a rush and a roar from the Cock +yard close by. The raging bull, dragging its ropes, and followed by a +crowd of alarmed pursuers, dashed out. The girl was plain in the +moonlight. Many others were abroad, but the bull seemed to see nothing +but her, and, lowering his huge head, he charged with shut eyes and +flung her over the Inca's booth. + +'Thou's gotten thy wish: thou'rt young for ever!' the Inca of Peru, made +a poet for an instant by this disaster, murmured to himself as he bent +with the curious crowd over the corpse. + +Black Jack was hanged. + +Many years after all this Bursley built itself a new Town Hall (with a +spire, and a gold angel on the top in the act of crowning the bailiwick +with a gold crown), and began to think about getting up in the world. + + * * * * * + + + + +MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + + +In the front-bedroom of Edward Beechinor's small house in Trafalgar Road +the two primary social forces of action and reaction--those forces which +under a thousand names and disguises have alternately ruled the world +since the invention of politics--were pitted against each other in a +struggle rendered futile by the equality of the combatants. Edward +Beechinor had his money, his superior age, and the possible advantage of +being a dying man; Mark Beechinor had his youth and his devotion to an +ideal. Near the window, aloof and apart, stood the strange, silent girl +whose aroused individuality was to intervene with such effectiveness on +behalf of one of the antagonists. It was early dusk on an autumn day. + +'Tell me what it is you want, Edward,' said Mark quietly. 'Let us come +to the point.' + +'Ay,' said the sufferer, lifting his pale hand from the counterpane, +'I'll tell thee.' + +He moistened his lips as if in preparation, and pushed back a tuft of +sparse gray hair, damp with sweat. + +The physical and moral contrast between these two brothers was complete. +Edward was forty-nine, a small, thin, stunted man, with a look of narrow +cunning, of petty shrewdness working without imagination. He had been +clerk to Lawyer Ford for thirty-five years, and had also furtively +practised for himself. During this period his mode of life had never +varied, save once, and that only a year ago. At the age of fourteen he +sat in a grimy room with an old man on one side of him, a copying-press +on the other, and a law-stationer's almanac in front, and he earned half +a crown a week. At the age of forty-eight he still sat in the same grimy +room (of which the ceiling had meanwhile been whitened three times), +with the same copying-press and the almanac of the same law-stationers, +and he earned thirty shillings a week. But now he, Edward Beechinor, was +the old man, and the indispensable lad of fourteen, who had once been +himself, was another lad, perhaps thirtieth of the dynasty of +office-boys. Throughout this interminable and sterile desert of time he +had drawn the same deeds, issued the same writs, written the same +letters, kept the same accounts, lied the same lies, and thought the +same thoughts. He had learnt nothing except craft, and forgotten nothing +except happiness. He had never married, never loved, never been a rake, +nor deviated from respectability. He was a success because he had +conceived an object, and by sheer persistence attained it. In the eyes +of Bursley people he was a very decent fellow, a steady fellow, a +confirmed bachelor, a close un, a knowing customer, a curmudgeon, an +excellent clerk, a narrow-minded ass, a good Wesleyan, a thrifty +individual, and an intelligent burgess--according to the point of view. +The lifelong operation of rigorous habit had sunk him into a groove as +deep as the canon of some American river. His ideas on every subject +were eternally and immutably fixed, and, without being altogether aware +of it, he was part of the solid foundation of England's greatness. In +1892, when the whole of the Five Towns was agitated by the great probate +case of Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, in which Mr. Ford acted for the +defendants, Beechinor, then aged forty-eight, was torn from his stool +and sent out to Rio de Janeiro as part of a commission to take the +evidence of an important witness who had declined all offers to come +home. + +The old clerk was full of pride and self-importance at being thus +selected, but secretly he shrank from the journey, the mere idea of +which filled him with vague apprehension and alarm. His nature had lost +all its adaptability; he trembled like a young girl at the prospect of +new experiences. On the return voyage the vessel was quarantined at +Liverpool for a fortnight, and Beechinor had an attack of low fever. +Eight months afterwards he was ill again. Beechinor went to bed for the +last time, cursing Providence, Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, and Rio. + +Mark Beechinor was thirty, just nineteen years younger than his brother. +Tall, uncouth, big-boned, he had a rather ferocious and forbidding +aspect; yet all women seemed to like him, despite the fact that he +seldom could open his mouth to them. There must have been something in +his wild and liquid dark eyes which mutely appealed for their protective +sympathy, something about him of shy and wistful romance that atoned for +the huge awkwardness of this taciturn elephant. Mark was at present the +manager of a small china manufactory at Longshaw, the farthest of the +Five Towns in Staffordshire, and five miles from Bursley. He was an +exceptionally clever potter, but he never made money. He had the dreamy +temperament of the inventor. He was a man of ideas, the kind of man who +is capable of forgetting that he has not had his dinner, and who can +live apparently content amid the grossest domestic neglect. He had once +spoilt a hundred and fifty pounds' worth of ware by firing it in a new +kiln of his own contrivance; it cost him three years of atrocious +parsimony to pay for the ware and the building of the kiln. He was +impulsively and recklessly charitable, and his Saturday afternoons and +Sundays were chiefly devoted to the passionate propagandism of the +theories of liberty, equality, and fraternity. + +'Is it true as thou'rt for marrying Sammy Mellor's daughter over at +Hanbridge?' Edward Beechinor asked, in the feeble, tremulous voice of +one agonized by continual pain. + +Among relatives and acquaintances he commonly spoke the Five Towns +dialect, reserving the other English for official use. + +Mark stood at the foot of the bed, leaning with his elbows on the brass +rail. Like most men, he always felt extremely nervous and foolish in a +sick-room, and the delicacy of this question, so bluntly put, added to +his embarrassment. He looked round timidly in the direction of the girl +at the window; her back was towards him. + +'It's possible,' he replied. 'I haven't asked her yet.' + +'Her'll have no money?' + +'No.' + +'Thou'lt want some brass to set up with. Look thee here, Mark: I made my +will seven years ago i' thy favour.' + +'Thank ye,' said Mark gratefully. + +'But that,' the dying man continued with a frown--'that was afore +thou'dst taken up with these socialistic doctrines o' thine. I've heard +as thou'rt going to be th' secretary o' the Hanbridge Labour Church, as +they call it.' + +Hanbridge is the metropolis of the Five Towns, and its Labour Church is +the most audacious and influential of all the local activities, half +secret, but relentlessly determined, whose aim is to establish the new +democratic heaven and the new democratic earth by means of a gradual and +bloodless revolution. Edward Beechinor uttered its abhorred name with a +bitter and scornful hatred characteristic of the Toryism of a man who, +having climbed high up out of the crowd, fiercely resents any widening +or smoothing of the difficult path which he himself has conquered. + +'They've asked me to take the post,' Mark answered. + +'What's the wages?' the older man asked, with exasperated sarcasm. + +'Nothing.' + +'Mark, lad,' the other said, softening, 'I'm worth seven hundred pounds +and this freehold house. What dost think o' that?' + +Even in that moment, with the world and its riches slipping away from +his dying grasp, the contemplation of this great achievement of thrift +filled Edward Beechinor with a sublime satisfaction. That sum of seven +hundred pounds, which many men would dissipate in a single night, and +forget the next morning that they had done so, seemed vast and almost +incredible to him. + +'I know you've always been very careful,' said Mark politely. + +'Give up this old Labour Church'--again old Beechinor laid a withering +emphasis on the phrase--'give up this Labour Church, and its all +thine--house and all.' + +Mark shook his head. + +'Think twice,' the sick man ordered angrily. 'I tell thee thou'rt +standing to lose every shilling.' + +'I must manage without it, then.' + +A silence fell. + +Each brother was absolutely immovable in his decision, and the other +knew it. Edward might have said: 'I am a dying man: give up this thing +to oblige me.' And Mark could have pleaded: 'At such a moment I would do +anything to oblige you--except this, and this I really can't do. Forgive +me.' Such amenities would possibly have eased the cord which was about +to snap; but the idea of regarding Edward's condition as a factor in +the case did not suggest itself favourably to the grim Beechinor stock, +so stern, harsh, and rude. The sick man wiped from his sunken features +the sweat which continually gathered there. Then he turned upon his side +with a grunt. + +'Thou must fetch th' lawyer,' he said at length, 'for I'll cut thee +off.' + +It was a strange request--like ordering a condemned man to go out and +search for his executioner; but Mark answered with perfect naturalness: + +'Yes. Mr. Ford, I suppose?' + +'Ford? No! Dost think I want _him_ meddling i' my affairs? Go to young +Baines up th' road. Tell him to come at once. He's sure to be at home, +as it's Saturday night.' + +'Very well.' + +Mark turned to leave the room. + +'And, young un, I've done with thee. Never pass my door again till thou +know'st I'm i' my coffin. Understand?' + +Mark hesitated a moment, and then went out, quietly closing the door. No +sooner had he done so than the girl, hitherto so passive at the window, +flew after him. + +There are some women whose calm, enigmatic faces seem always to suggest +the infinite. It is given to few to know them, so rare as they are, and +their lives usually so withdrawn; but sometimes they pass in the street, +or sit like sphinxes in the church or the theatre, and then the memory +of their features, persistently recurring, troubles us for days. They +are peculiar to no class, these women: you may find them in a print gown +or in diamonds. Often they have thin, rather long lips and deep rounded +chins; but it is the fine upward curve of the nostrils and the fall of +the eyelids which most surely mark them. Their glances and their faint +smiles are beneficent, yet with a subtle shade of half-malicious +superiority. When they look at you from under those apparently fatigued +eyelids, you feel that they have an inward and concealed existence far +beyond the ordinary--that they are aware of many things which you can +never know. It is as though their souls, during former incarnations, had +trafficked with the secret forces of nature, and so acquired a +mysterious and nameless quality above all the transient attributes of +beauty, wit, and talent. They exist: that is enough; that is their +genius. Whether they control, or are at the mercy of, those secret +forces; whether they have in fact learnt, but may not speak, the true +answer to the eternal Why; whether they are not perhaps a riddle even to +their own simple selves: these are points which can never be decided. + +Everyone who knew Mary Beechinor, in her cousin's home, or at chapel, or +on Titus Price's earthenware manufactory, where she worked, said or +thought that 'there was something about her ...' and left the phrase +unachieved. She was twenty-five, and she had lived under the same roof +with Edward Beechinor for seven years, since the sudden death of her +parents. The arrangement then made was that Edward should keep her, +while she conducted his household. She had insisted on permission to +follow her own occupation, and in order that she might be at liberty to +do so she personally paid eighteenpence a week to a little girl who came +in to perform sundry necessary duties every day at noon. Mary Beechinor +was a paintress by trade. As a class the paintresses of the Five Towns +are somewhat similar to the more famous mill-girls of Lancashire and +Yorkshire--fiercely independent by reason of good wages earned, loving +finery and brilliant colours, loud-tongued and aggressive, perhaps, and +for the rest neither more nor less kindly, passionate, faithful, than +any other Saxon women anywhere. The paintresses, however, have some +slight advantage over the mill-girls in the outward reticences of +demeanour, due no doubt to the fact that their ancient craft demands a +higher skill, and is pursued under more humane and tranquil conditions. +Mary Beechinor worked in the 'band-and-line' department of the +painting-shop at Price's. You may have observed the geometrical +exactitude of the broad and thin coloured lines round the edges of a +common cup and saucer, and speculated upon the means by which it was +arrived at. A girl drew those lines, a girl with a hand as sure as +Giotto's, and no better tools than a couple of brushes and a small +revolving table called a whirler. Forty-eight hours a week Mary +Beechinor sat before her whirler. Actuating the treadle, she placed a +piece of ware on the flying disc, and with a single unerring flip of the +finger pushed it precisely to the centre; then she held the full brush +firmly against the ware, and in three seconds the band encircled it +truly; another brush taken up, and the line below the band also stood +complete. And this process was repeated, with miraculous swiftness, hour +after hour, week after week, year after year. Mary could decorate over +thirty dozen cups and saucers in a day, at three halfpence the dozen. +'Doesn't she ever do anything else?' some visitor might curiously +inquire, whom Titus Price was showing over his ramshackle manufactory. +'No, always the same thing,' Titus would answer, made proud for the +moment of this phenomenon of stupendous monotony. 'I wonder how she can +stand it--she has a refined face,' the visitor might remark; and Mary +Beechinor was left alone again. The idea that her work was monotonous +probably never occurred to the girl. It was her work--as natural as +sleep, or the knitting which she always did in the dinner-hour. The calm +and silent regularity of it had become part of her, deepening her +original quiescence, and setting its seal upon her inmost spirit. She +was not in the fellowship of the other girls in the painting-shop. She +seldom joined their more boisterous diversions, nor talked their talk, +and she never manoeuvred for their men. But they liked her, and their +attitude showed a certain respect, forced from them by they knew not +what. The powers in the office spoke of Mary Beechinor as 'a very +superior girl.' + +She ran downstairs after Mark, and he waited in the narrow hall, where +there was scarcely room for two people to pass. Mark looked at her +inquiringly. Rather thin, and by no means tall, she seemed the merest +morsel by his side. She was wearing her second-best crimson merino +frock, partly to receive the doctor and partly because it was Saturday +night; over this a plain bibless apron. Her cold gray eyes faintly +sparkled in anger above the cheeks white with watching, and the dropped +corners of her mouth showed a contemptuous indignation. Mary Beechinor +was ominously roused from the accustomed calm of years. Yet Mark at +first had no suspicion that she was disturbed. To him that pale and +inviolate face, even while it cast a spell over him, gave no sign of the +fires within. + +She took him by the coat-sleeve and silently directed him into the +gloomy little parlour crowded with mahogany and horsehair furniture, +white antimacassars, wax flowers under glass, and ponderous +gilt-clasped Bibles. + +'It's a cruel shame!' she whispered, as though afraid of being overheard +by the dying man upstairs. + +'Do you think I ought to have given way?' he questioned, reddening. + +'You mistake me,' she said quickly; and with a sudden movement she went +up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The caress, so innocent, +unpremeditated, and instinctive, ran through him like a voltaic shock. +These two were almost strangers; they had scarcely met till within the +past week, Mark being seldom in Bursley. 'You mistake me--it is a shame +of _him_! I'm fearfully angry.' + +'Angry?' he repeated, astonished. + +'Yes, angry.' She walked to the window, and, twitching at the +blind-cord, gazed into the dim street. It was beginning to grow dark. +'Shall you fetch the lawyer? I shouldn't if I were you. I won't.' + +'I must fetch him,' Mark said. + +She turned round and admired him. 'What _will_ he do with his precious +money?' she murmured. + +'Leave it to you, probably.' + +'Not he. I wouldn't touch it--not now; it's yours by rights. Perhaps you +don't know that when I came here it was distinctly understood I wasn't +to expect anything under his will. Besides, I have my own money ... Oh +dear! If he wasn't in such pain, wouldn't I talk to him--for the first +and last time in my life!' + +'You must please not say a word to him. I don't really want the money.' + +'But you ought to have it. If he takes it away from you he's _unjust_.' + +'What did the doctor say this afternoon?' asked Mark, wishing to change +the subject. + +'He said the crisis would come on Monday, and when it did Edward would +be dead all in a minute. He said it would be just like taking prussic +acid.' + +'Not earlier than Monday?' + +'He said he thought Monday.' + +'Of course I shall take no notice of what Edward said to me--I shall +call to-morrow morning--and stay. Perhaps he won't mind seeing me. And +then you can tell me what happens to-night.' + +'I'm sure I shall send that lawyer man about his business,' she +threatened. + +'Look here,' said Mark timorously as he was leaving the house, 'I've +told you I don't want the money--I would give it away to some charity; +but do you think I ought to pretend to yield, just to humour him, and +let him die quiet and peaceful? I shouldn't like him to die hating----' + +'Never--never!' she exclaimed. + + * * * * * + +'What have you and Mark been talking about?' asked Edward Beechinor +apprehensively as Mary re-entered the bedroom. + +'Nothing,' she replied with a grave and soothing kindliness of tone. + +'Because, miss, if you think----' + +'You must have your medicine now, Edward.' + +But before giving the patient his medicine she peeped through the +curtain and watched Mark's figure till it disappeared up the hill +towards Bleakridge. He, on his part, walked with her image always in +front of him. He thought hers was the strongest, most righteous soul he +had ever encountered; it seemed as if she had a perfect passion for +truth and justice. And a week ago he had deemed her a capable girl, +certainly--but lackadaisical! + + * * * * * + +The clock had struck ten before Mr. Baines, the solicitor, knocked at +the door. Mary hesitated, and then took him upstairs in silence while he +suavely explained to her why he had been unable to come earlier. This +lawyer was a young Scotsman who had descended upon the town from +nowhere, bought a small decayed practice, and within two years had +transformed it into a large and flourishing business by one of those +feats of energy, audacity, and tact, combined, of which some Scotsmen +seem to possess the secret. + +'Here is Mr. Baines, Edward,' Mary said quietly; and then, having +rearranged the sick man's pillow, she vanished out of the room and went +into the kitchen. + +The gas-jet there showed only a point of blue, but she did not turn it +up. Dragging an old oak rush-seated rocking-chair near to the range, +where a scrap of fire still glowed, she rocked herself gently in the +darkness. + +After about half an hour Mr. Baines's voice sounded at the head of the +stairs: + +'Miss Beechinor, will ye kindly step up? We shall want some +asseestance.' + +She obeyed, but not instantly. + +In the bedroom Mr. Baines, a fountain-pen between his fine white teeth, +was putting some coal on the fire. He stood up as she entered. + +'Mr. Beechinor is about to make a new will,' he said, without removing +the pen from his mouth, 'and ye will kindly witness it.' + +The small room appeared to be full of Baines--he was so large and fleshy +and assertive. The furniture, even the chest of drawers, was dwarfed +into toy-furniture, and Beechinor, slight and shrunken-up, seemed like a +cadaverous manikin in the bed. + +'Now, Mr. Beechinor.' Dusting his hands, the lawyer took a newly-written +document from the dressing-table, and, spreading it on the lid of a +cardboard box, held it before the dying man. 'Here's the pen. There! +I'll help ye to hold it.' + +Beechinor clutched the pen. His wrinkled and yellow face, flushed in +irregular patches as though the cheeks had been badly rouged, was +covered with perspiration, and each difficult movement, even to the +slightest lifting of the head, showed extreme exhaustion. He cast at +Mary a long sinister glance of mistrust and apprehension. + +'What is there in this will?' + +Mr. Baines looked sharply up at the girl, who now stood at the side of +the bed opposite him. Mechanically she smoothed the tumbled bed-clothes. + +'That's nowt to do wi' thee, lass,' said Beechinor resentfully. + +'It isn't necessary that a witness to a will should be aware of its +contents,' said Baines. 'In fact, it's quite unusual.' + +'I sign nothing in the dark,' she said, smiling. Through their +half-closed lids her eyes glimmered at Baines. + +'Ha! Legal caution acquired from your cousin, I presume.' Baines smiled +at her. 'But let me assure ye, Miss Beechinor, this is a mere matter of +form. A will must be signed in the presence of two witnesses, both +present at the same time; and there's only yeself and me for it.' + +Mary looked at the dying man, whose features were writhed in pain, and +shook her head. + +'Tell her,' he murmured with bitter despair, and sank down into the +pillows, dropping the fountain-pen, which had left a stain of ink on the +sheet before Baines could pick it up. + +'Well, then, Miss Beechinor, if ye must know,' Baines began with +sarcasm, 'the will is as follows: The testator--that's Mr. +Beechinor--leaves twenty guineas to his brother Mark to show that he +bears him no ill-will and forgives him. The rest of his estate is to be +realized, and the proceeds given to the North Staffordshire Infirmary, +to found a bed, which is to be called the Beechinor bed. If there is any +surplus, it is to go to the Law Clerks' Provident Society. That is all.' + +'I shall have nothing to do with it,' Mary said coldly. + +'Young lady, we don't want ye to have anything to do with it. We only +desire ye to witness the signature.' + +'I won't witness the signature, and I won't see it signed.' + +'Damn thee, Mary! thou'rt a wicked wench,' Beechinor whispered in +hoarse, feeble tones. He saw himself robbed of the legitimate fruit of +all those interminable years of toilsome thrift. This girl by a trick +would prevent him from disposing of his own. He, Edward Beechinor, +shrewd and wealthy, was being treated like a child. He was too weak to +rave, but from his aggrieved and furious heart he piled silent curses on +her. 'Go, fetch another witness,' he added to the lawyer. + +'Wait a moment,' said Baines. 'Miss Beechinor, do ye mean to say that ye +will cross the solemn wish of a dying man?' + +'I mean to say I won't help a dying man to commit a crime.' + +'A crime?' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'a crime. Seven years ago Mr. Beechinor willed +everything to his brother Mark, and Mark ought to have everything. Mark +is his only brother--his only relation except me. And Edward knows it +isn't me wants any of his money. North Staffordshire Infirmary indeed! +It's a crime!... What business have _you_,' she went on to Edward +Beechinor, 'to punish Mark just because his politics aren't----' + +'That's beside the point,' the lawyer interrupted. 'A testator has a +perfect right to leave his property as he chooses, without giving +reasons. Now, Miss Beechinor, I must ask ye to be judeecious.' + +Mary shut her lips. + +'Her'll never do it. I tell thee, fetch another witness.' + +The old man sprang up in a sort of frenzy as he uttered the words, and +then fell back in a brief swoon. + +Mary wiped his brow, and pushed away the wet and matted hair. Presently +he opened his eyes, moaning. Mr. Baines folded up the will, put it in +his pocket, and left the room with quick steps. Mary heard him open the +front-door and then return to the foot of the stairs. + +'Miss Beechinor,' he called, 'I'll speak with ye a moment.' + +She went down. + +'Do you mind coming into the kitchen?' she said, preceding him and +turning up the gas; 'there's no light in the front-room.' + +He leaned up against the high mantelpiece; his frock-coat hung to the +level of the oven-knob. She had one hand on the white deal table. +Between them a tortoiseshell cat purred on the red-tiled floor. + +'Ye're doing a verra serious thing, Miss Beechinor. As Mr. Beechinor's +solicitor, I should just like to be acquaint with the real reasons for +this conduct.' + +'I've told you.' She had a slightly quizzical look. + +'Now, as to Mark,' the lawyer continued blandly, 'Mr. Beechinor +explained the whole circumstances to me. Mark as good as defied his +brother.' + +'That's nothing to do with it.' + +'By the way, it appears that Mark is practically engaged to be married. +May I ask if the lady is yeself?' + +She hesitated. + +'If so,' he proceeded, 'I may tell ye informally that I admire the pluck +of ye. But, nevertheless, that will has got to be executed.' + +'The young lady is a Miss Mellor of Hanbridge.' + +'I'm going to fetch my clerk,' he said shortly. 'I can see ye're an +obstinate and unfathomable woman. I'll be back in half an hour.' + +When he had departed she bolted the front-door top and bottom, and went +upstairs to the dying man. + +Nearly an hour elapsed before she heard a knock. Mr. Baines had had to +arouse his clerk from sleep. Instead of going down to the front-door, +Mary threw up the bedroom window and looked out. It was a mild but +starless night. Trafalgar Road was silent save for the steam-car, which, +with its load of revellers returning from Hanbridge--that centre of +gaiety--slipped rumbling down the hill towards Bursley. + +'What do you want--disturbing a respectable house at this time of +night?' she called in a loud whisper when the car had passed. 'The +door's bolted, and I can't come down. You must come in the morning.' + +'Miss Beechinor, ye will let us in--I charge ye.' + +'It's useless, Mr. Baines.' + +'I'll break the door down. I'm a strong man, and a determined. Ye are +carrying things too far.' + +In another moment the two men heard the creak of the bolts. Mary stood +before them, vaguely discernible, but a forbidding figure. + +'If you must--come upstairs,' she said coldly. + +'Stay here in the passage, Arthur,' said Mr. Baines; 'I'll call ye when +I want ye;' and he followed Mary up the stairs. + +Edward Beechinor lay on his back, and his sunken eyes stared glassily at +the ceiling. The skin of his emaciated face, stretched tightly over the +protruding bones, had lost all its crimson, and was green, white, +yellow. The mouth was wide open. His drawn features wore a terribly +sardonic look--a purely physical effect of the disease; but it seemed to +the two spectators that this mean and disappointed slave of a miserly +habit had by one superb imaginative effort realized the full vanity of +all human wishes and pretensions. + +'Ye can go; I shan't want ye,' said Mr. Baines, returning to the clerk. + +The lawyer never spoke of that night's business. Why should he? To what +end? Mark Beechinor, under the old will, inherited the seven hundred +pounds and the house. Miss Mellor of Hanbridge is still Miss Mellor, her +hand not having been formally sought. But Mark, secretary of the Labour +Church, is married. Miss Mellor, with a quite pardonable air of tolerant +superiority, refers to his wife as 'a strange, timid little +creature--she couldn't say Bo to a goose.' + + * * * * * + + + + +THE DOG + + +This is a scandalous story. It scandalized the best people in Bursley; +some of them would wish it forgotten. But since I have begun to tell it +I may as well finish. Moreover, like most tales whispered behind fans +and across club-tables, it carries a high and valuable moral. The +moral--I will let you have it at once--is that those who love in glass +houses should pull down the blinds. + + +I + +He had got his collar on safely; it bore his name--Ellis Carter. Strange +name for a dog, perhaps; and perhaps it was even more strange that his +collar should be white. But such dogs are not common dogs. He tied his +necktie exquisitely; caressed his hair again with two brushes; curved +his young moustache, and then assumed his waistcoat and his coat; the +trousers had naturally preceded the collar. He beheld the suit in the +glass, and saw that it was good. And it was not built in London, either. +There are tailors in Bursley. And in particular there is the dog's +tailor. Ask the dog's tailor, as the dog once did, whether he can really +do as well as London, and he will smile on you with gentle pity; he will +not stoop to utter the obvious Yes. He may casually inform you that, if +he is not in London himself, the explanation is that he has reasons for +preferring Bursley. He is the social equal of all his clients. He +belongs to the dogs' club. He knows, and everybody knows, that he is a +first-class tailor with a first-class connection, and no dog would dare +to condescend to him. He is a great creative artist; the dogs who wear +his clothes may be said to interpret his creations. Now, Ellis was a +great interpretative artist, and the tailor recognised the fact. When +the tailor met Ellis on Duck Bank greatly wearing a new suit, the scene +was impressive. It was as though Elgar had stopped to hear Paderewski +play 'Pomp and Circumstance' on the piano. + +Ellis descended from his bedroom into the hall, took his straw hat, +chose a stick, and went out into the portico of the new large house on +the Hawkins, near Oldcastle. In the neighbourhood of the Five Towns no +road is more august, more correct, more detached, more umbrageous, than +the Hawkins. M.P.'s live there. It is the link between the aristocratic +and antique aloofness of Oldcastle and the solid commercial prosperity +of the Five Towns. Ellis adorned the portico. Young (a bare twenty-two), +fair, handsome, smiling, graceful, well-built, perfectly groomed, he was +an admirable and a characteristic specimen of the race of dogs which, +with the modern growth of luxury and the Luxurious Spirit, has become so +marked a phenomenon in the social development of the once barbarous Five +Towns. + +When old Jack Carter (reputed to be the best turner that Bursley ever +produced) started a little potbank near St. Peter's Church in 1861--he +was then forty, and had saved two hundred pounds--he little dreamt that +the supreme and final result after forty years would be the dog. But so +it was. Old Jack Carter had a son John Carter, who married at +twenty-five and lived at first on twenty-five shillings a week, and +enthusiastically continued the erection of the fortune which old Jack +had begun. At thirty-three, after old Jack's death, John became a Town +Councillor. At thirty-six he became Mayor and the father of Ellis, and +the recipient of a silver cradle. Ellis was his wife's maiden name. At +forty-two he built the finest earthenware manufactory in Bursley, down +by the canal-side at Shawport. At fifty-two he had been everything that +a man can be in the Five Towns--from County Councillor to President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons. Then Ellis left school and +came to the works to carry on the tradition, and his father suddenly +discovered him. The truth was that John Carter had been so laudably busy +with the affairs of his town and county that he had nearly forgotten his +family. Ellis, in the process of achieving doghood, soon taught his +father a thing or two. And John learnt. John could manage a public +meeting, but he could not manage Ellis. Besides, there was plenty of +money; and Ellis was so ingratiating, and had curly hair that somehow +won sympathy. And, after all, Ellis was not such a duffer as all that at +the works. John knew other people's sons who were worse. And Ellis could +keep order in the paintresses' 'shops' as order had never been kept +there before. + +John sometimes wondered what old Jack would have said about Ellis and +his friends, those handsome dogs, those fine dandies, who taught to the +Five Towns the virtue of grace and of style and of dash, who went up to +London--some of them even went to Paris--and brought back civilization +to the Five Towns, who removed from the Five Towns the reproach of being +uncouth and behind the times. Was the outcome of two generations of +unremitting toil merely Ellis? (Ellis had several pretty sisters, but +they did not count.) John could only guess at what old Jack's attitude +might have been towards Ellis--Ellis, who had his shirts made to +measure. He knew exactly what was Ellis's attitude towards the ideals of +old Jack, old Jack the class-leader, who wore clogs till he was thirty, +and dined in his shirt-sleeves at one o'clock to the end of his life. + +Ellis quitted the portico, ran down the winding garden-path, and jumped +neatly and fearlessly on to an electric tramcar as it passed at the rate +of fifteen miles an hour. The car was going to Hanbridge, and it was +crowded with the joy of life; Ellis had to stand on the step. This was +the Saturday before the first Monday in August, and therefore the formal +opening of Knype Wakes, the most carnivalesque of all the carnivals +which enliven the four seasons in the Five Towns. It is still called +Knype Wakes, because once Knype overshadowed Hanbridge in importance; +but its headquarters are now quite properly at Hanbridge, the hub, the +centre, the Paris of the Five Towns--Hanbridge, the county borough of +sixty odd thousand inhabitants. It is the festival of the masses that +old Jack sprang from, and every genteel person who can leaves the Five +Towns for the seaside at the end of July. Nevertheless, the district is +never more crammed than at Knype Wakes. And, of course, genteel persons, +whom circumstances have forced to remain in the Five Towns, sally out in +the evening to 'do' the Wakes in a spirit of tolerant condescension. +Ellis was in this case. His parents and sisters were at Llandudno, and +he had been left in charge of the works and of the new house. He was +always free; he could always pity the bondage of his sisters; but now he +was more free than ever--he was absolutely free. Imagine the delicious +feeling that surged in his heart as he prepared to plunge himself +doggishly into the wild ocean of the Wakes. By the way, in that heart +was the image of a girl. + + +II + +He stepped off the car on the outskirts of Hanbridge, and strolled +gently and spectacularly into the joyous town. The streets became more +and more crowded and noisy as he approached the market-place, and in +Crown Square tramcars from the four quarters of the earth discharged +tramloads of humanity at the rate of two a minute, and then glided off +again empty in search of more humanity. The lower portion of Crown +Square was devoted to tramlines; in the upper portion the Wakes began, +and spread into the market-place, and thence by many tentacles into all +manner of streets. + +No Wakes is better than Knype Wakes; that is to say, no Wakes is more +ear-splitting, more terrific, more dizzying, or more impassable. When +you go to Knype Wakes you get stuck in the midst of an enormous crowd, +and you see roundabouts, swings, switchbacks, myrioramas, atrocity +booths, quack dentists, shooting-galleries, cocoanut-shies, and bazaars, +all around you. Every establishment is jewelled, gilded, and +electrically lighted; every establishment has an orchestra, most often +played by steam and conducted by a stoker; every establishment has a +steam--whistle, which shrieks at the beginning and at the end of each +round or performance. You stand fixed in the multitude listening to a +thousand orchestras and whistles, with the roar of machinery and the +merry din of car-bells, and the popping of rifles for a background of +noise. Your eyes are charmed by the whirling of a million lights and the +mad whirling of millions of beautiful girls and happy youths under the +lights. For the roundabouts rule the scene; the roundabouts take the +money. The supreme desire of the revellers is to describe circles, +either on horseback or in yachts, either simple circles or complex +circles, either up and down or straight along, but always circles. And +it is as though inventors had sat up at nights puzzling their brains how +best to make revellers seasick while keeping them equidistant from a +steam-orchestra.... Then the crowd solidly lurches, and you find +yourself up against a dentist, or a firm of wrestlers, or a roundabout, +or an ice-cream refectory, and you take what comes. You have begun to +'do' the Wakes. The splendid insanity seizes you. The lights, the +colours, the explosions, the shrieks, the feathered hats, the pretty +faces as they fly past, the gilding, the statuary, the August night, and +the mingling of a thousand melodies in a counterpoint beyond the dreams +of Wagner--these things have stirred the sap of life in you, have shown +you how fine it is to be alive, and, careless and free, have caught up +your spirit into a heaven from which you scornfully survey the year of +daily toil between one Wakes and another as the eagle scornfully surveys +the potato-field. Your nostrils dilate--nay, matters reach such a pass +that, even if you are genteel, you forget to condescend. + + +III + +After Ellis had had the correct drink in the private bar up the passage +at the Turk's Head, and after he had plunged into the crowd and got lost +in it, and submitted good-humouredly to the frequent ordeal of the penny +squirt as administered by adorable creatures in bright skirts, he found +himself cast up by the human ocean on the macadam shore near a +shooting-gallery. This was no ordinary shooting-gallery. It was one of +Jenkins's affairs (Jenkins of Manchester), and on either side of it +Jenkins's Venetian gondalas and Jenkins's Mexican mustangs were whizzing +round two of Jenkins's orchestras at twopence a time, and taking +thirty-two pounds an hour. This gallery was very different from the old +galleries, in which you leaned against a brass bar and shot up a kind of +a drain. This gallery was a large and brilliant room, with the +front-wall taken out. It was hung with mirrors and cretonnes, it was +richly carpeted, and, of course, it was lighted by electricity. Carved +and gilded tables bore a whole armoury of weapons. You shot at +tobacco-pipes, twisting and stationary, at balls poised on jets of +water, and at proper targets. In the corners of the saloon, near the +open, were large crimson plush lounges, on which you lounged after the +fatigue of shooting. + +A pink-clad girl, young and radiant, had the concern in charge. + +She was speeding a party of bankrupt shooters, when she caught sight of +Ellis. Ellis answered her smile, and strolled up to the booth with a +countenance that might have meant anything. You can never tell what a +dog is thinking. + +''Ello!' said the girl prettily (or, rather, she shouted prettily, +having to compete with the two orchestras). 'You here again?' + +The truth was that Ellis had been there on the previous night, when the +Wakes was only half opened, and he had come again to-night expressly in +order to see her; but he would not have admitted, even to himself, that +he had come expressly in order to see her; in his mind it was just a +chance that he might see her. She was a jolly girl. (We are gradually +approaching the scandalous part.) + +'What a jolly frock!' he said, when he had shot five celluloid balls in +succession off a jet of water. + +Smiling, she mechanically took a ball out of the basket and let it roll +down the conduit to the fountain. + +'Do you think so?' she replied, smoothing the fluffy muslin apron with +her small hands, black from contact with the guns. 'That one I wore last +night was my second-best. I only wear this on Saturdays and Mondays.' + +He nodded like a connoisseur. The sixth ball had sprung up to the top of +the jet. He removed it with the certainty of a King's Prize winner, and +she complimented him. + +'Ah!' he said, 'you should have seen me before I took to smoking and +drinking!' + +She laughed freely. She was always showing her fine teeth. And she had +such a frank, jolly countenance, not exactly pretty--better than pretty. +She was a little short and a little plump, and she wore a necklace round +her neck, a ring on her dainty, dirty finger, and a watch-bracelet on +her wrist. + +'Why!' she exclaimed. 'How old are you?' + +'How old are _you_?' he retorted. + +Dogs do not give things away like that. + +'I'm nineteen,' she said submissively. 'At least, I shall be come +Martinmas.' + +And she yawned. + +'Well,' he said, 'a little girl like you ought to be in bed.' + +'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed. + +'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in Paris +you'd have to work Sundays too.' + +'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to Paris?' + +'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he told me. +He came back only last week, and he says they keep open Sundays, and all +night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over there.' + +'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police wouldn't +allow it. I know what the police are.' + +More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; he sank +into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and watched her serve +the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, and so jolly--with him. +He noticed with satisfaction that with the other marksmen she showed a +certain high reserve. + +They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across to the +lounge and gazed at him provocatively. + +'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!' + +The thought ran through him like lightning. + +'Well?' she said. + +'What do you do with yourself Sundays?' he asked her. + +'Oh, sleep.' + +'All day?' + +'All morning.' + +'What do you do in the afternoon?' + +'Oh, nothing.' + +She laughed gaily. + +'Come out with me, eh?' + +'To-morrow? Oh, I should LOVE TO!' she cried. + +Her voice expanded into large capitals because by a singular chance both +the neighbouring orchestras stopped momentarily together, and thus gave +her shout a fair field. The effect was startling. It startled Ellis. He +had not for an instant expected that she would consent. Never, dog +though he was, had he armed a girl out on any afternoon, to say nothing +of Sunday afternoon, and Knype's Wakes Sunday at that! He had talked +about girls at the club. He understood the theory. But the practice---- + +The foundation of England's greatness is that Englishmen hate to look +fools. The fear of being taken for a ninny will spur an Englishman to +the most surprising deeds of courage. Ellis said 'Good!' with apparent +enthusiasm, and arranged to be waiting for her at half-past two at the +Turk's Head. Then he left the saloon and struck out anew into the ocean. +He wanted to think it over. + +Once, painful to relate, he had thoughts of failing to keep the +appointment. However, she was so jolly and frank. And what a fancy she +must have taken to him! No, he would see it through. + + +IV + +If anybody had prophesied to Ellis that he would be driving out a Wakes +girl in a dogcart that Sunday afternoon he would have laughed at the +prophet; but so it occurred. He arrived at the Turk's Head at two +twenty-five. She was there before him, dressed all in blue, except the +white shoes and stockings, weighing herself on the machine in the yard. +She showed her teeth, told him she weighed nine stone one, and abruptly +asked him if he could drive. He said he could. She clapped her hands and +sprang off the machine. Her father had bought a new mare the day before, +and it was in the Turk's Head stable, and the yardman said it wanted +exercise, and there was a dogcart and harness idling about, and, in +short, Ellis should drive her to Sneyd Park, which she had long desired +to see. + +Ellis wished to ask questions, but the moment did not seem auspicious. + +In a few minutes the new mare, a high and somewhat frisky bay, with big +shoulders, was in the shafts of a high, green dogcart. When asked if he +could drive, Ellis ought to have answered: 'That depends--on the horse.' +Many men can tool a fifteen-year-old screw down a country lane who would +hesitate to get up behind a five-year-old animal (in need of exercise) +for a spin down Broad Street, Hanbridge, on Knype Wakes Sunday. Ellis +could drive; he could just drive. His father had always steadfastly +refused to keep horses, but the fathers of other dogs were more +progressive, and Ellis had had opportunities. He knew how to take the +reins, and get up, and give the office; indeed, he had read a handbook +on the subject. So he rook the reins and got up, and the Wakes girl got +up. + +He chirruped. The mare merely backed. + +'Give 'er 'er mouth,' said the yardman disgustedly. + +'Oh!' said Ellis, and slackened the reins, and the mare pawed forward. + +Then he had to turn her in the yard, and get her and the dogcart down +the passage. He doubted whether he should do it, for the passage seemed +a size too small. However, he did it, or the mare did it, and the entire +organism swerved across a portion of the footpath into Broad Street. + +For quite a quarter of a mile down Broad Street Ellis blushed, and kept +his gaze between the mare's ears. However, the mare went beautifully. +You could have driven her with a silken thread, so it seemed. And then +the dog, growing accustomed to his prominence up there on the dogcart, +began to be a bit doggy. He knew the little thing's age and weight, +but, really, when you take a girl out for a Sunday spin you want more +information about her than that. Her asked her name, and her name was +Jenkins--Ada. She was the great Jenkins's daughter. + +('Oh,' thought Ellis, 'the deuce you are!') + +'Father's gone to Manchester for the day, and aunt's looking after me,' +said Ada. + +'Do they know you've come out--like this?' + +'Not much!' She laughed deliciously. 'How lovely it is!' + +At Knype they drew up before the Five Towns Hotel and descended. The +Five Towns Hotel is the greatest hotel in North Staffordshire. It has +two hundred rooms. It would not entirely disgrace Northumberland Avenue. +In the Five Towns it is august, imposing, and unique. They had a +lemonade there, and proceeded. A clock struck; it was a near thing. No +more refreshments now until they had passed the three-mile limit! + +Yes! Not two hundred yards further on she spied an ice-cream shop in +Fleet Road, and Ellis learnt that she adored ice-cream. The mare waited +patiently outside in the thronged street. + +After that the pilgrimage to Sneyd was punctuated with ice-creams. At +the Stag at Sneyd (where, among ninety-and-nine dogcarts, Ellis's +dogcart was the brightest green of them all) Ada had another lemonade, +and Ellis had something else. They saw the Park, and Ada giggled +charmingly her appreciation of its beauty. The conversation throughout +consisted chiefly of Ada's teeth. Ellis said he would return by a +different route, and he managed to get lost. How anyone driving to +Hanbridge from Sneyd could arrive at the mining village of Silverton is +a mystery. But Ellis arrived there, and he ultimately came out at +Hillport, the aristocratic suburb of Bursley, where he had always lived +till the last year. He feared recognition there, and his fear was +justified. Some silly ass, a schoolmate, cried, 'Go it!' as the machine +bowled along, and the mischief was that the mare, startled, went it. She +went it down the curving hill, and the vehicle after her, like a kettle +tied to a dog's tail. + +Ellis winked stoutly at Ada when they reached the bottom, and gave the +mare a piece of his mind, to which she objected. As they crossed the +railway-bridge a goods-train ran underneath and puffed smoke into the +mare's eyes. She set her ears back. + +'Would you!' cried Ellis authoritatively, and touched her with the whip +(he had forgotten the handbook). + +He scarcely touched her, but you never know where you are with any +horse. That mare, which had been a mirror of all the virtues all the +afternoon, was off like a rocket. She overtook an electric car as if it +had been standing still. Ellis sawed her mouth; he might as well have +sawed the funnel of a locomotive. He had meant to turn off and traverse +Bursley by secluded streets, but he perceived that safety lay solely in +letting her go straight ahead up the very steep slope of Oldcastle +Street into the middle of the town. It would be an amazing mare that +galloped to the top of Oldcastle Street! She galloped nearly to the top, +and then Ellis began to get hold of her a bit. + +'Don't be afraid,' he said masculinely to Ada. + +And, conscious of victory, he jerked the mare to the left to avoid an +approaching car.... + +The next instant they were anchored against the roots of a lamp-post. +When Ellis saw the upper half of the lamp-post bent down at right +angles, and pieces of glass covering the pavement, he could not believe +that he and his dogcart had done that, especially as neither the mare, +nor the dogcart, nor its freight, was damaged. The machine was merely +jammed, and the mare, satisfied, stood quiet, breathing rapidly. + +But Ada Jenkins was crying. + +And the car stopped a moment to observe. And then a number of +chapel-goers on their way to the Sytch Chapel, which the Carter family +still faithfully attended, joined the scene; and then a policeman. + +Ellis sat like a stuck pig in the dogcart. He knew that speech was +demanded of him, but he did not know where to begin. + +The worst thing of all was the lamp-post, bent, moveless, unnatural, +atrociously comic, accusing him. + +The affair was over the town in a minute; the next morning it reached +Llandudno. Ellis Carter had been out on the spree with _a Wakes girl_ in +a dogcart on Sunday afternoon, and had got into such a condition that he +had driven into a lamp-post at the top of Oldcastle Street just as +people were going into chapel. + +The lamp-post remained bent for three days--a fearful warning to all +dogs that doggishness has limits. + +If it had not been a dogcart, and such a high, green dogcart; if it had +been, say, a brougham, or even a cab! If it had not been Sunday! And, +granting Sunday, if it had not been just as people were going into +chapel! If he had not chosen that particular lamp-post, visible both +from the market-place and St. Luke's Square! If he had only contrived to +destroy a less obtrusive lamp-post in some unfrequented street! And if +it had not been a Wakes girl--if the reprobate had only selected for his +guilty amours an actress from one of the touring companies, or even a +star from the Hanbridge Empire--yea, or even a local barmaid! But _a +Wakes girl_! + +Ellis himself saw the enormity of his transgression. He lay awake +astounded by his own doggishness. + +And yet he had seldom felt less doggy than during that trip. It seemed +to him that doggishness was not the glorious thing he had thought. +However, he cut a heroic figure at the dogs' club. Every admiring face +said: 'Well, you _have_ been going the pace! We always knew you were a +hot un, but, really----' + + +V + +On the following Friday evening, when Ellis jumped off the car opposite +his home on the Hawkins, he saw in the road, halted, a train of vast and +queer-shaped waggons in charge of two traction-engines. They were +painted on all sides with the great name of Jenkins. They contained +Jenkins's roundabouts and shooting-saloons, on their way to rouse the +joy of life in other towns. And he perceived in front of the portico the +high, green dogcart and the lamp-post-destroying mare. + +He went in. The family had come home that afternoon. Sundry of his +sisters greeted him with silent horror on their faces in the hall. In +the breakfast-room, which gave off the drawing-room, was his mother in +the attitude of an intent listener. She spoke no word. + +And Ellis listened, too. + +'Yes,' a very powerful and raucous voice was saying in the drawing-room, +'I reckoned I'd call and tell ye myself, Mister Carter, what I thought +on it. My gell, a motherless gell, but brought up respectable; sixth +standard at Whalley Range Board School; and her aunt a strict +God-fearing woman! And here your son comes along and gets hold of the +girl while her aunt's at the special service for Wakes folks in Bethesda +Chapel, and runs off with her in my dogcart with one of my hosses, and +raises a scandal all o'er the Five Towns. God bless my soul, mister! I +tell'n ye I hardly liked to open o' Monday afternoon, I was that +ashamed! And I packed Ada off to Manchester. It seems to me that if the +upper classes, as they call 'em--the immoral classes _I_ call 'em--'ud +look after themselves a bit instead o' looking after other people so +much, things might be a bit better, Mister Carter. I dare say you think +it's nothing as your son should go about ruining the reputation of any +decent, respectable girl as he happens to fancy, Mister Carter; but this +is what I say. I say----' + +Mr. Carter was understood to assert, in his most pacific and pained +public-meeting voice, that he regretted, infinitely regretted---- + +Mrs. Carter, weeping, ran out of the breakfast-room. + +And soon afterwards the traction-engines rumbled off, and the high, +green dogcart followed them. + +Ellis sat spell-bound. + +He heard the parlourmaid go into the drawing-room and announce, 'Tea is +ready, sir!' and then his father's dry cough. + +And then the parlourmaid came into the breakfast-room: 'Tea is ready, +Mr. Ellis!' + +Oh, the meal! + + * * * * * + + + + +A FEUD + + +When Clive Timmis paused at the side-door of Ezra Brunt's great shop in +Machin Street, and the door was opened to him by Ezra Brunt's daughter +before he had had time to pull the bell, not only all Machin Street knew +it within the hour, but also most persons of consequence left in +Hanbridge on a Thursday afternoon--Thursday being early-closing day. For +Hanbridge, though it counts sixty thousand inhabitants, and is the chief +of the Five Towns--that vast, huddled congeries of boroughs devoted to +the manufacture of earthenware--is a place where the art of attending to +other people's business still flourishes in rustic perfection. + +Ezra Brunt's drapery establishment was the foremost retail house, in any +branch of trade, of the Five Towns. It had no rival nearer than +Manchester, thirty-six miles off; and even Manchester could exhibit +nothing conspicuously superior to it. The most acutely critical shoppers +of the Five Towns--women who were in the habit of going to London every +year for the January sales--spoke of Brunt's as a 'right-down good +shop.' And the husbands of these ladies, manufacturers who employed from +two hundred to a thousand men, regarded Ezra Brunt as a commercial +magnate of equal importance with themselves. Brunt, who had served his +apprenticeship at Birmingham, started business in Machin Street in 1862, +when Hanbridge was half its present size and all the best shops of the +district were in Oldcastle, an ancient burg contiguous with, but holding +itself proudly aloof from, the industrial Five Towns. He paid eighty +pounds a year rent, and lived over the shop, and in the summer quarter +his gas bill was always under a sovereign. For ten years success +tarried, but in 1872 his daughter Eva was born and his wife died, and +from that moment the sun of his prosperity climbed higher and higher +into heaven. He had been profoundly attached to his wife, and, having +lost her he abandoned himself to the mercantile struggle with that +morose and terrible ferocity which was the root of his character. Of +rude, gaunt aspect, gruffly taciturn by nature, and variable in temper, +he yet had the precious instinct for soothing customers. To this day he +can surpass his own shop-walkers in the admirable and tender solicitude +with which, forsaking dialect, he drops into a lady's ear his famous +stereotyped phrase: 'Are you receiving proper attention, madam?' From +the first he eschewed the facile trickeries and ostentations which +allure the populace. He sought a high-class trade, and by waiting he +found it. He would never advertise on hoardings; for many years he had +no signboard over his shop-front; and whereas the name of 'Bostocks,' +the huge cheap drapers lower down Machin Street, on the opposite side, +attacks you at every railway-station and in every tramcar, the name of +'E. Brunt' is to be seen only in a modest regular advertisement on the +front page of the _Staffordshire Signal_. Repose, reticence, +respectability--it was these attributes which he decided his shop should +possess, and by means of which he succeeded. To enter Brunt's, with its +silently swinging doors, its broad, easy staircases, its long floors +covered with warm, red linoleum, its partitioned walls, its smooth +mahogany counters, its unobtrusive mirrors, its rows of youths and +virgins in black, and its pervading atmosphere of quietude and +discretion, was like entering a temple before the act of oblation has +commenced. You were conscious of some supreme administrative influence +everywhere imposing itself. That influence was Ezra Brunt. And yet the +man differed utterly from the thing he had created. His was one of those +dark and passionate souls which smoulder in this harsh Midland district +as slag-heaps smoulder on the pit-banks, revealing their strange fires +only in the darkness. + +In 1899 Brunt's establishment occupied four shops, Nos. 52, 56, 58, and +60, in Machin Street. He had bought the freeholds at a price which timid +people regarded as exorbitant, but the solicitors of Hanbridge secretly +applauded his enterprise and shrewdness in anticipating the enormous +rise in ground-values which has now been in rapid, steady progress there +for more than a decade. He had thrown the interiors together and rebuilt +the frontages in handsome freestone. He had also purchased several +shops opposite, and rumour said that it was his intention to offer these +latter to the Town Council at a low figure if the Council would cut a +new street leading from his premises to the Market Square. Such a scheme +would have met with general approval. But there was one serious hiatus +in the plans of Ezra Brunt--to wit, No. 54, Machin Street. No. 54, +separating 52 and 56, was a chemist's shop, shabby but sedate as to +appearance, owned and occupied by George Christopher Timmis, a mild and +venerable citizen, and a local preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist +Connexion. For nearly thirty years Brunt had coveted Mr. Timmis's shop; +more than twenty years have elapsed since he first opened negotiations +for it. Mr. Timmis was by no means eager to sell--indeed, his attitude +was distinctly a repellent one--but a bargain would undoubtedly have +been concluded had not a report reached the ears of Mr. Timmis to the +effect that Ezra Brunt had remarked at the Turk's Head that 'th' old +leech was only sticking out for every brass farthing he could get.' The +report was untrue, but Mr. Timmis believed it, and from that moment Ezra +Brunt's chances of obtaining the chemist's shop vanished completely. +His lawyer expended diplomacy in vain, raising the offer week by week +till the incredible sum of three thousand pounds was reached. Then Ezra +Brunt himself saw Mr. Timmis, and without a word of prelude said: + +'Will ye take three thousand guineas for this bit o' property?' + +'Not thirty thousand guineas,' said Mr. Timmis quietly; the stern pride +of the benevolent old local preacher had been aroused. + +'Then be damned to you!' said Ezra Brunt, who had never been known to +swear before. + +Thenceforth a feud existed, not less bitter because it was a feud in +which nothing was said and nothing done--a silent and implacable mutual +resistance. The sole outward sign of it was the dirty and stumpy +brown-brick shop-front of Mr. Timmis, squeezed in between those massive +luxurious façades of stone which Ezra Brunt soon afterwards erected. The +pharmaceutical business of Mr. Timmis was not a very large one, and, +fiscally, Ezra Brunt could have swallowed him at a meal and suffered no +inconvenience; but in that the aged chemist had lived on just half his +small income for some fifty years past, his position was impregnable. +Hanbridge smiled cynically at this _impasse_ produced by an idle word, +and, recognising the equality of the antagonists, leaned neither to one +side nor to the other. At intervals, however, the legend of the feud was +embroidered with new and effective detail in the mouth of some inventive +gossip, and by degrees it took high place among those piquant social +histories which illustrate the real life of a town, and which parents +recount to their children with such zest in moods of reminiscence. + +When George Christopher Timmis buried his wife, Ezra Brunt, as a near +neighbour, was asked to the funeral. 'The cortège will move at 1.30,' +ran the printed invitation, and at 1.15 Brunt's carriage was decorously +in place behind the hearse and the two mourning-coaches. The demeanour +of the chemist and the draper towards each other was a sublime answer to +the demands of the occasion; some people even said that the breach had +been healed, but these were not of the discerning. + +The most active person at the funeral was the chemist's only nephew, +Clive Timmis, partner in a small but prosperous firm of majolica +manufacturers at Bursley. Clive, who was seldom seen in Hanbridge, made +a favourable impression on everyone by his pleasing, unaffected manner +and his air of discretion and success. He was a bachelor of thirty-two, +and lived in lodgings at Bursley. On the return of the funeral-party +from the cemetery, Clive Timmis found Brunt's daughter Eva in his +uncle's house. Uninvited, she had left her place in the private room at +her father's shop in order to assist Timmis's servant Sarah in the +preparation of that solid and solemn repast which must inevitably follow +every proper interment in the Five Towns. Without false modesty, she +introduced herself to one or two of the men who had surprised her at her +work, and then quietly departed just as they were sitting down to table +and Sarah had brought in the hot tea-cakes. Clive Timmis saw her only +for a moment, but from that moment she was his one thought. During the +evening, which he spent alone with his uncle, he behaved in every +particular as a nephew should, yet he was acting a part; his real self +roved after Ezra Brunt's daughter, wherever she might be. Clive had +never fallen in love, though several times in his life he had tried hard +to do so. He had long wished to marry--wished ardently; he had even got +into the way of regarding every woman he met--and he met many--in the +light of a possible partner. 'Can it be _she_? he had asked himself a +thousand times, and then answered half sadly, 'No.' Not one woman had +touched his imagination, coincided with his dream. It is strange that +after seeing Eva Brunt he forgot thus to interrogate himself. For a +fortnight, while he went his ways as usual, her image occupied his +heart, throwing that once orderly chamber into the wildest confusion; +and he let it remain, dimly aware of some delicious danger. He inspected +the image every night before he slept, and every morning when he awoke, +and made no effort to define its distracting charm; he knew only that +Eva Brunt was absolutely and in every detail unlike all other women. On +the second Sunday he murmured during the sermon: 'But I only saw her for +a minute.' A few days afterwards he took the tram to Hanbridge. + +'Uncle,' he said, 'how should you like me to come and live here with +you? I've been thinking things out a bit, and I thought perhaps you'd +like it. I expect you must feel rather lonely now.' + +The neat, fragrant shop was empty, and the two men stood behind the big +glass-fronted case of Burroughs and Wellcome's preparations. Clive's +venerable uncle happened to be looking into a drawer marked 'Gentianæ +Rad. Pulv.' He closed the drawer with slow hesitation, and then, +stroking his long white beard, replied in that deliberate voice which +seemed always to tremble with religious fervour: + +'The hand of the Lord is in this thing, Clive. I have wished that you +might come to live here with me. But I was afraid it would be too far +from the works.' + +'Pooh! that's nothing,' said Clive. + +As he lingered at the shop door for the Bursley car to pass the end of +Machin Street, Eva Brunt went by. He raised his hat with diffidence, and +she smiled. It was a marvellous chance. His heart leapt into a throb +which was half agony and half delight. + +'I am in love,' he said gravely. + +He had just discovered the fact, and the discovery filled him with +exquisite apprehension. + +If he had waited till the age of thirty-two for that springtime of the +soul which we call love, Clive had not waited for nothing. Eva was a +woman to enravish the heart of a man whose imagination could pierce the +agitating secrets immured in that calm and silent bosom. Slender and +scarcely tall, she belonged to the order of spare, slight-made women, +who hide within their slim frames an endowment of profound passion far +exceeding that of their more voluptuously-formed sisters, who never +coarsen into stoutness, and who at forty are as disturbing as at twenty. +At this date Eva was twenty-six. She had a rather small, white face, +which was a mask to the casual observer, and the very mirror of her +feelings to anyone with eyes to read its signs. + +'I tell you what you are like,' said Clive to her once: 'you are like a +fine racehorse, always on the quiver.' + +Yet many people considered her cold and impassive. Her walk and bearing +showed a sensitive independence, and when she spoke it was usually in +tones of command. The girls in the shop, where she was a power second +only to Ezra Brunt, were a little afraid of her, chiefly because she +poured terrible scorn on their small affectations, jealousies, and +vendettas. But they liked her because, in their own phrase, 'there was +no nonsense about' this redoubtable woman. She hated shams and +make-believes with a bitter and ruthless hatred. She was the heiress to +at least five thousand a year, and knew it well, but she never +encouraged her father to complicate their simple mode of life with the +pomps of wealth. They lived in a house with a large garden at Pireford, +which is on the summit of the steep ridge between the Five Towns and +Oldcastle, and they kept two servants and a coachman, who was also +gardener. Eva paid the servants good wages, and took care to get good +value therefor. + +'It's not often I have any bother with my servants,' she would say, 'for +they know that if there is any trouble I would just as soon clear them +out and put on an apron and do the work myself.' + +She was an accomplished house-mistress, and could bake her own bread: in +towns not one woman in a thousand can bake. With the coachman she had +little to do, for she could not rid herself of a sentimental objection +to the carriage--it savoured of 'airs'; when she used it she used it as +she might use a tramcar. It was her custom, every day except Saturday, +to walk to the shop about eleven o'clock, after her house had been set +in order. She had been thoroughly trained in the business, and had spent +a year at a first-rate shop in High Street, Kensington. Millinery was +her speciality, and she still watched over that department with a +particular attention; but for some time past she had risen beyond the +limitations of departments, and assisted her father in the general +management of the vast concern. In commercial aptitude she resembled the +typical Frenchwoman. + +Although he was her father, Ezra Brunt had the wit to recognise her +talents, and he always listened to her suggestions, which, however, +sometimes startled him. One of them was that he should import into the +Five Towns a modiste from Paris, offering a salary of two hundred a +year. The old provincial stood aghast. He had the idea that all Parisian +women were stage-dancers. And to pay four pounds a week to a female! + +Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Bertot--styled in the shop 'Madame'--now +presides over Ezra Brunt's dressmakers, draws her four pounds a week (of +which she saves two), and by mere nationality has given a unique +distinction and success to her branch of the business. + +Eva occupied a small room opening off the principal showroom, and during +hours of work she issued thence but seldom. Only customers of the +highest importance might speak with her. She was a power felt rather +than seen. Employés who knocked at her door always did so with a certain +awe of what awaited them on the other side, and a consciousness that the +moment was unsuitable for levity. 'If you please, Miss Eva----'. Here +she gave audience to the 'buyers' and window-dressers, listened to +complaints and excuses, and occasionally had a secret orgy of afternoon +tea with one or two of her friends. None but these few girls--mostly +younger than herself, and remarkable only in that their dislike of the +snobbery of the Five Towns, though less fiercely displayed, agreed with +her own--really knew Eva. To them alone did she unveil herself, and by +them she was idolized. + +'She is simply splendid when you know her--such a jolly girl!' they +would say to other people; but other people, especially other women, +could not believe it. They fearfully respected her because she was very +well dressed and had quantities of money. But they called her 'a curious +creature'; it was inconceivable to them that she should choose to work +in a shop; and her tongue had a causticity which was sometimes +exceedingly disconcerting and mortifying. As for men, she was shy of +them, and, moreover, she loathed the elaborate and insincere ritual of +deference which the average man practises towards women unrelated to +him, particularly when they are young and rich. Her father she adored, +without knowing it; for he often angered her, and humiliated her in +private. As for the rest, she was, after all, only six-and-twenty. + +'If you don't mind, I should like to walk along with you,' Clive Timmis +said to her one Sunday evening in the porch of the Bethesda Chapel. + +'I shall be glad,' she answered at once; 'father isn't here, and I'm all +alone.' + +Ezra Brunt was indeed seldom there, counting in the matter of +attendance at chapel among what were called 'the weaker brethren.' + +'I am going over to Oldcastle,' Clive explained calmly. + +So began the formal courtship--more than a month after Clive had settled +in Machin Street, for he was far too discreet to engender by +precipitancy any suspicion in the haunts of scandal that his true reason +for establishing himself in his uncle's household was a certain rich +young woman who was to be found every day next door. Guided as much by +instinct as by tact, Clive approached Eva with an almost savage +simplicity and naturalness of manner, ignoring not only her father's +wealth, but all the feigned punctilio of a wooer. His face said: 'Let +there be no beating about the bush--I like you.' Hers answered: 'Good! +we will see.' + +From the first he pleased her, and not least in treating her exactly as +she would have wished to be treated--namely, as a quite plain person of +that part of the middle class which is neither upper nor lower. Few men +in the Five Towns would have been capable of forgetting Ezra Brunt's +income in talking to Ezra Brunt's daughter. Fortunately, Timmis had a +proud, confident spirit--the spirit of one who, unaided, has wrested +success from the world's deathlike clutch. Had Eva the reversion of +fifty thousand a year instead of five, he, Clive, was still a prosperous +plain man, well able to support a wife in the position to which God had +called him. + +Their walks together grew more and more frequent, and they became +intimate, exchanging ideas and rejoicing openly at the similarity of +those ideas. Although there was no concealment in these encounters, +still, there was a circumspection which resembled the clandestine. By a +silent understanding Clive did not enter the house at Pireford; to have +done so would have excited remark, for this house, unlike some, had +never been the rendezvous of young men; much less, therefore, did he +invade the shop. No! The chief part of their love-making (for such it +was, though the term would have roused Eva's contemptuous anger) +occurred in the streets; in this they did but follow the traditions of +their class. Thus, the idyll, so matter-of-fact upon the surface, but +within which glowed secret and adorable fires, progressed towards its +culmination. Eva, the artless fool--oh, how simple are the wisest at +times!--thought that the affair was hid from the shop. But was it +possible? Was it possible that in those tiny bedrooms on the third +floor, where the heavy evening hours were ever lightened with breathless +interminable recitals of what some 'he' had said and some 'she' had +replied, such an enthralling episode should escape discovery? The +dormitories knew of Eva's 'attachment' before Eva herself. Yet none knew +how it was known. The whisper arose like Venus from a sea of trivial +gossip, miraculously, exquisitely. On the night when the first rumour of +it traversed the passages there was scarcely any sleep at Brunt's, while +Eva up at Pireford slumbered as a young girl. + +On the Thursday afternoon with which we began, Brunt's was deserted save +for the housekeeper and Eva, who was writing letters in her room. + +'I saw you from my window, coming up the street,' she said to Clive, +'and so I ran down to open the door. Will you come into father's room? +He is in Manchester for the day, buying. + +'I knew that,' said Timmis. + +'How did you know?' She observed that his manner was somewhat nervous +and constrained. + +'You yourself told me last night--don't you remember?' + +'So I did.' + +'That's why I sent the note round this morning to say I'd call this +afternoon. You got it, I suppose?' + +She nodded thoughtfully. + +'Well, what is this business you want to talk about?' + +It was spoken with a brave carelessness, but he caught the tremor in her +voice, and saw her little hand shake as it lay on the table amid her +father's papers. Without knowing why he should do so, he stepped hastily +forward and seized that hand. Her emotion unmanned him. He thought he +was going to cry; he could not account for himself. + +'Eva,' he said thickly, 'you know what the business is; you know, don't +you?' + +She smiled. That smile, the softness of her hand, the sparkle in her +eye, the heave of her small bosom ... it was the divinest miracle! +Clive, manufacturer of majolica, went hot and then cold, and then his +wits were suddenly his own again. + +'That's all right,' he murmured, and sighed, and placed on Eva's lips +the first kiss that had ever lain there. + +'Dear boy,' she said later, 'you should have come up to Pireford, not +here, and when father was there.' + +'Should I?' he answered happily. 'It just occurred to me all of a sudden +this morning that you would be here, and that I couldn't wait.' + +'You will come up to-night and see father?' + +'I had meant to.' + +'You had better go home now.' + +'Had I?' + +She nodded, putting her lips tightly together--a trick of hers. + +'Come up about half-past eight.' + +'Good! I will let myself out.' + +He left her, and she gazed dreamily at the window, which looked on to a +whitewashed yard. The next moment someone else entered the room with +heavy footsteps. She turned round a little startled. + +It was her father. + +'Why! You _are_ back early, father! How----' She stopped. Something in +the old man's glance gave her a premonition of disaster. To this day she +does not know what accident brought him from Manchester two hours sooner +than usual, and to Machin Street instead of Pireford. + +'Has young Timmis been here?' he inquired curtly. + +'Yes.' + +'Ha!' with subdued, sinister satisfaction, 'I saw him going out. He +didna see me.' Ezra Brunt deposited his hat and sat down. + +Intimate with all her father's various moods, she saw instantly and with +terrible certainty that a series of chances had fatally combined +themselves against her. If only she had not happened to tell Clive that +her father would be at Manchester this day! If only her father had +adhered to his customary hour of return! If only Clive had had the sense +to make his proposal openly at Pireford some evening! If only he had +left a little earlier! If only her father had not caught him going out +by the side-door on a Thursday afternoon when the place was empty! +Here, she guessed, was the suggestion of furtiveness which had raised +her father's unreasoning anger, often fierce, and always incalculable. + +'Clive Timmis has asked me to marry him, father.' + +'Has he!' + +'Surely you must have known, father, that he and I were seeing each +other a great deal.' + +'Not from your lips, my girl.' + +'Well, father----' Again she stopped, this strong and capable woman, +gifted with a fine brain to organize and a powerful will to command. She +quailed, robbed of speech, before the causeless, vindictive, and +infantile wrath of an old man who happened to be in a bad temper. She +actually felt like a naughty schoolgirl before him. Such is the +tremendous influence of lifelong habit, the irresistible power of the +_patria potestas_ when it has never been relaxed. Ezra Brunt saw in +front of him only a cowering child. 'Clive is coming up to see you +to-night,' she went on timidly, clearing her throat. + +'Humph! Is he?' + +The rosy and tender dream of five minutes ago lay in fragments at Eva's +feet. She brooded with stricken apprehension upon the forms of +obstruction which his despotism might choose. + + * * * * * + +The next morning Clive and his uncle breakfasted together as usual in +the parlour behind, the chemist's shop. + +'Uncle,' said Clive brusquely, when the meal was nearly finished, 'I'd +better tell you that I've proposed to Eva Brunt.' + +Old George Timmis lowered the _Manchester Guardian_ and gazed at Clive +over his steel-rimmed spectacles. + +'She is a good girl,' he remarked; 'she will make you a good wife. Have +you spoken to her father?' + +'That's the point. I saw him last night, and I'll tell you what he said. +These were his words: "You can marry my daughter, Mr. Timmis, when your +uncle agrees to part with his shop!"' + +'That I shall never do, nephew,' said the aged patriarch quietly and +deliberately. + +'Of course you won't, uncle. I shouldn't think of suggesting it. I'm +merely telling you what he said.' Clive laughed harshly. 'Why,' he +added, 'the man must be mad!' + +'What did the young woman say to that?' his uncle inquired. + +Clive frowned. + +'I didn't see her last night,' he said. 'I didn't ask to see her. I was +too angry.' + +Just then the post arrived, and there was a letter for Clive, which he +read and put carefully in his waistcoat pocket. + +'Eva writes asking me to go to Pireford to-night,' he said, after a +pause. 'I'll soon settle it, depend on that. If Ezra Brunt refuses his +consent, so much the worse for him. I wonder whether he actually +imagines that a grown man and a grown woman are to be.... Ah well, I +can't talk about it! It's too silly. I'll be off to the works.' + +When Clive reached Pireford that night, Eva herself opened the door to +him. She was wearing a gray frock, and over it a large white apron, +perfectly plain. + +'My girls are both out to-night,' she said, 'and I was making some puffs +for the sewing-meeting tea. Come into the breakfast-room.... This way,' +she added, guiding him. He had entered the house on the previous night +for the first time. She spoke hurriedly, and, instead of stopping in +the breakfast-room, wandered uncertainly through it into the greenhouse, +to which it gave access by means of a French window. In the dark, +confined space, amid the close-packed blossoms, they stood together. She +bent down to smell at a musk-plant. He took her hand and drew her soft +and yielding form towards him and kissed her warm face. + +'Oh, Clive!' she said. 'Whatever are we to do?' + +'Do?' he replied, enchanted by her instinctive feminine surrender and +reliance upon him, which seemed the more precious in that creature so +proud and reserved to all others. 'Do! Where is your father?' + +'Reading the _Signal_ in the dining-room.' + +Every business man in the Five Towns reads the _Staffordshire Signal_ +from beginning to end every night. + +'I will see him. Of course he is your father; but I will just tell +him--as decently as I can--that neither you nor I will stand this +nonsense.' + +'You mustn't--you mustn't see him.' + +'Why not?' + +'It will only lead to unpleasantness.' + +'That can't be helped.' + +'He never, never changes when once he has _said_ a thing. I know him.' + +Clive was arrested by something in her tone, something new to him, that +in its poignant finality seemed to have caught up and expressed in a +single instant that bitterness of a lifetime's renunciation which falls +to the lot of most women. + +'Will you come outside?' he asked in a different voice. + +Without replying, she led the way down the long garden, which ended in +an ivy-grown brick wall and a panorama of the immense valley of +industries below. It was a warm, cloudy evening. The last silver tinge +of an August twilight lay on the shoulder of the hill to the left. There +was no moon, but the splendid watch-fires of labour flamed from ore-heap +and furnace across the whole expanse, performing their nightly miracle +of beauty. Trains crept with noiseless mystery along the middle +distance, under their canopies of yellow steam. Further off the +far-extending streets of Hanbridge made a map of starry lines on the +blackness. To the south-east stared the cold, blue electric lights of +Knype railway-station. All was silent, save for a distant thunderous +roar, the giant breathing of the forge at Cauldon Bar Ironworks. + +Eva leaned both elbows on the wall and looked forth. + +'Do you mean to say,' said Clive, 'that Mr. Brunt will actually stick by +what he has said?' + +'Like grim death,' said Eva. + +'But what's his idea?' + +'Oh! how can I tell you?' she burst out passionately. + +'Perhaps I did wrong. Perhaps I ought to have warned him earlier--said +to him, "Father, Clive Timmis is courting me!" Ugh! He cannot bear to be +surprised about anything. But yet he must have known.... It was all an +accident, Clive--all an accident. He saw you leaving the shop yesterday. +He would say he _caught_ you leaving the shop--_sneaking_ off like----' + +'But, Eva----' + +'I know--I know! Don't tell me! But it was that, I am sure. He would +resent the mere look of things, and then he would think and think, and +the notion of your uncle's shop would occur to him again, after all +these years. I can see his thoughts as plain ... My dear, if he had not +seen you at Machin Street yesterday, or if you had seen him and spoken +to him, all might have gone right. He would have objected, but he would +have given way in a day or two. Now he will never give way! I asked you +just now what was to be done, but I knew all the time that there was +nothing.' + +'There is one thing to be done, Eva, and the sooner the better.' + +'Do you mean that old Mr. Timmis must give up his shop to my father? +Never! never!' + +'I mean,' said Clive quietly, 'that we must marry without your father's +consent.' + +She shook her head slowly and sadly, relapsing into calmness. + +'You shake your head, Eva, but it must be so.' + +'I can't, my dear.' + +'Do you mean to say that you will allow your father's childish whim--for +it's nothing else; he can't find any objection to me as a husband for +you, and he knows it--that you will allow his childish whim to spoil +your life and mine? Remember, you are twenty-six and I am thirty-two.' + +'I can't do it! I daren't! I'm mad with myself for feeling like this, +but I daren't! And even if I dared I wouldn't. Clive, you don't know! +You can't tell how it is!' + +Her sorrowful, pathetic firmness daunted him. She was now composed, +mistress again of herself, and her moral force dominated him. + +'Then, you and I are to be unhappy all our lives, Eva?' + +The soft influences of the night seemed to direct her voice as, after a +long pause, she uttered the words: 'No one is ever quite unhappy in all +this world.' There was another pause, as she gazed steadily down into +the wonderful valley. 'We must wait.' + +'Wait!' echoed Clive with angry grimness. 'He will live for twenty +years!' + +'No one is ever quite unhappy in all this world,' she repeated dreamily, +as one might turn over a treasure in order to examine it. + +Now for the epilogue to the feud. Two years passed, and it happened +that there was to be a Revival at the Bethesda Chapel. One morning the +superintendent minister and the revivalist called on Ezra Brunt at his +shop. When informed of their presence, the great draper had an impulse +of anger, for, like many stouter chapel-goers than himself, he would +scarcely tolerate the intrusion of religion into commerce. However, the +visit had an air of ceremony, and he could not decline to see these +ambassadors of heaven in his private room. The revivalist, a cheery, +shrewd man, whose powers of organization were obvious, and who seemed to +put organization before everything else, pleased Ezra Brunt at once. + +'We want a specially good congregation at the opening meeting to-night,' +said the revivalist. 'Now, the basis of a good congregation must +necessarily be the regular pillars of the church, and therefore we are +making a few calls this morning to insure the presence of our chief +men--the men of influence and position. You will come, Mr. Brunt, and +you will let it be known among your employés that they will please you +by coming too?' + +Ezra Brunt was by no means a regular pillar of the Bethesda, but he had +a vague sensation of flattery, and he consented; indeed, there was no +alternative. + +The first hymn was being sung when he reached the chapel. To his +surprise, he found the place crowded in every part. A man whom he did +not know led him to a wooden form which had been put in the space +between the front pews and the Communion-rail. He felt strange there, +and uneasy, apprehensive. + +The usual discreet somnolence of the chapel had been disturbed as by +some indecorous but formidable awakener; the air was electric; anything +might occur. Ezra was astounded by the mere volume of the singing; never +had he heard such singing. At the end of the hymn the congregation sat +down, hiding their faces in expectation. The revivalist stood erect and +terrible in the pulpit, no longer a shrewd, cheery man of the world, but +the very mouthpiece of the wrath and mercy of God. Ezra's +self-importance dwindled before that gaze, till, from a renowned magnate +of the Five Towns, he became an item in the multitude of suppliants. He +profoundly wished he had never come. + +'Remember the hymn,' said the revivalist, with austere emphasis: + + '"My richest gain I count but loss, + And pour contempt on all my pride."' + +The admirable histrionic art with which he intensified the consonants in +the last line produced a tremendous effect. Not for nothing was this man +cerebrated throughout Methodism as a saver of souls. When, after a +pause, he raised his hand and ejaculated, 'Let us pray,' sobs could be +heard throughout the chapel. The Revival had begun. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour Ezra Brunt would have given fifty +pounds to be outside, but he could not stir; he was magnetized. Soon the +revivalist came down from the pulpit and stood within the +Communion-rail, whence he addressed the nearmost part of the people in +low, soothing tones of persuasion. Apparently he ignored Ezra Brunt, but +the man was convicted of sin, and felt himself melting like an icicle in +front of a fire. He recalled the days of his youth, the piety of his +father and mother, and the long traditions of a stern Dissenting +family. He had backslidden, slackened in the use of the means of grace, +run after the things of this world. It is true that none of his chiefest +iniquities presented themselves to him; he was quite unconscious of them +even then; but the lesser ones were more than sufficient to overwhelm +him. Class-leaders were now reasoning with stricken sinners, and Ezra, +who could not take his eyes off the revivalist, heard the footsteps of +those who were going to the 'inquiry-room' for more private counsel. In +vain he argued that he was about to be ridiculous; that the idea of him, +Ezra Brunt, a professed Wesleyan for half a century, being publicly +'saved' at the age of fifty-seven was not to be entertained; that the +town would talk; that his business might suffer if for any reason he +should be morally bound to apply to it too strictly the principles of +the New Testament. He was under the spell. The tears coursed down his +long cheeks, and he forgot to care, but sat entranced by the +revivalist's marvellous voice. Suddenly, with an awful sob, he bent and +hid his face in his hands. The spectacle of the old, proud man helpless +in the grasp of profound emotion was a sight to rend the heart-strings. + +'Brother, be of good cheer,' said a tremulous and benign voice above +him. 'The love of God compasseth all things. Only believe.' + +He looked up and saw the venerable face and long white beard of George +Christopher Timmis. + +Ezra Brunt shrank away, embittered and ashamed. + +'I cannot,' he murmured with difficulty. + +'The love of God is all-powerful.' + +'Will it make you part with that bit o' property, think you?' said Ezra +Brunt, with a kind of despairing ferocity. + +'Brother,' replied the aged servant of God, unmoved, 'if my shop is in +truth a stumbling-block in this solemn hour, you shall have it.' + +Ezra Brunt was staggered. + +'I believe! I believe!' he cried. + +'Praise God!' said the chemist, with majestic joy. + + * * * * * + +Three months afterwards Eva Brunt and Clive Timmis were married. It is +characteristic of the fine sentimentality which underlies the surface +harshness of the inhabitants of the Five Towns that, though No. 54 +Machin Street was duly transferred to Ezra Brunt, the chemist retiring +from business, he has never rebuilt it to accord with the rest of his +premises. In all its shabbiness it stands between the other big dazzling +shops as a reminding monument. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHANTOM + + +I + +The heart of the Five Towns--that undulating patch of England covered +with mean streets, and dominated by tall smoking chimneys, whence are +derived your cups and saucers and plates, some of your coal, and a +portion of your iron--is Hanbridge, a borough larger and busier than its +four sisters, and even more grimy and commonplace than they. And the +heart of Hanbridge is probably the offices of the Five Towns Banking +Company, where the last trace of magic and romance is beaten out of +human existence, and the meaning of life is expressed in balances, +deposits, percentages, and overdrafts--especially overdrafts. In a fine +suite of rooms on the first floor of the bank building resides Mr. +Lionel Woolley, the manager, with his wife May and their children. Mrs. +Woolley is compelled to change her white window-curtains once a week +because of the smuts. Mr. Woolley, forty-five, rather bald, frigidly +suave, positive, egotistic, and pontifical, is a specimen of the man of +business who is nothing else but a man of business. His career has been +a calculation from which sentiment is entirely omitted; he has no +instinct for the things which cannot be defined and assessed. Scarcely a +manufacturer in Hanbridge but who inimically and fearfully regards Mr. +Woolley as an amazing instance of a creature without a soul; and the +absence of soul in a fellow-man must be very marked indeed before a +Hanbridge manufacturer notices it. There are some sixty thousand +immortal souls in Hanbridge, but they seldom attract attention. + +Yet Mr. Woolley was once brought into contact with the things which +cannot be defined and assessed; once he stood face to face with some +strange visible resultant of those secret forces that lie beyond the +human ken. And, moreover, the adventure affected the whole of his +domestic life. The wonder and the pathos of the story lie in the fact +that Nature, prodigal though she is known to be, should have wasted the +rare and beautiful visitation on just Mr. Woolley. Mr. Woolley was +bathed in romance of the most singular kind, and the precious fluid ran +off him like water off a duck's back. + + +II + +Ten years ago on a Thursday afternoon in July, Lionel Woolley, as he +walked up through the new park at Bursley to his celibate rooms in Park +Terrace, was making addition sums out of various items connected with +the institution of marriage. Bursley is next door to Hanbridge, and +Lionel happened then to be cashier of the Bursley branch of the bank. He +had in mind two possible wives, each of whom possessed advantages which +appealed to him, and he was unable to decide between them by any +mathematical process. Suddenly, from a glazed shelter near the empty +bandstand, there emerged in front of him one of the delectable creatures +who had excited his fancy. May Lawton was twenty-eight, an orphan, and a +schoolmistress. She, too, had celibate rooms in Park Terrace, and it +was owing to this coincidence that Lionel had made her acquaintance six +months previously. She was not pretty, but she was tall, straight, well +dressed, well educated, and not lacking in experience; and she had a +little money of her own. + +'Well, Mr. Woolley,' she said easily, stopping for him as she raised her +sunshade, 'how satisfied you look!' + +'It's the sight of you,' he replied, without a moment's hesitation. + +He had a fine assured way with women (he need not have envied a curate +accustomed to sewing meetings), and May Lawton belonged to the type of +girl whose demeanour always challenges the masculine in a man. Gazing at +her, Lionel was swiftly conscious of several things: the piquancy of her +snub nose, the brightness of her smile, at once defiant and wistful, the +lingering softness of her gloved hand, and the extraordinary charm of +her sunshade, which matched her dress and formed a sort of canopy and +frame for that intelligent, tantalizing face. He remembered that of late +he and she had grown very intimate; and it came upon him with a shock, +as though he had just opened a telegram which said so, that May, and not +the other girl, was his destined mate. And he thought of her fortune, +tiny but nevertheless useful, and how clever she was, and how +inexplicably different from the rest of her sex, and how she would adorn +his house, and set him off, and help him in his career. He heard himself +saying negligently to friends: 'My wife speaks French like a native. Of +course, my wife has travelled a great deal. My wife has thoroughly +studied the management of children. Now, my wife does understand the art +of dress. I put my wife's bit of money into so-and-so.' In short, Lionel +was as near being in love as his character permitted. + +And while he walked by May's side past the bowling-greens at the summit +of the hill, she lightly quizzing the raw newness of the park and its +appurtenances, he wondered, he honestly wondered, that he could ever +have hesitated between May Lawton and the other. Her superiority was too +obvious; she was a woman of the world! She.... In a flash he knew that +he would propose to her that very afternoon. And when he had suggested +a stroll towards Moorthorne, and she had deliciously agreed, he was +conscious of a tumultuous uplifting and splendid carelessness of +spirits. 'Imagine me bringing it to a climax to-day,' he reflected, +profoundly pleased with himself. 'Ah well, it will be settled once for +all!' He admired his own decision; he was quite struck by it. 'I shall +call her May before I leave her,' he thought, gazing at her, and +discovering how well the name suited her, with its significances of +alertness, geniality, and half-mocking coyness. + +'So school is closed,' he said, and added humorously: '"Broken up" is +the technical term, I believe.' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'and I had walked out into the park to meditate +seriously upon the question of my holiday.' + +She caught his eye in a net of bright glances, and romance was in the +air. They had crossed a couple of smoke-soiled fields, and struck into +the old Hanbridge road just below the abandoned toll-house with its +broad eaves. + +'And whither do your meditations point?' he demanded playfully. + +'My meditations point to Switzerland,' she said. 'I have friends in +Lausanne.' + +The reference to foreign climes impressed him. + +'Would that I could go to Switzerland too!' he exclaimed; and privately: +'Now for it! I'm about to begin.' + +'Why?' she questioned, with elaborate simplicity. + +At the moment, as they were passing the toll-house, the other girl +appeared surprisingly from round the corner of the toll-house, where the +lane from Toft End joins the highroad. This second creature was smaller +than Miss Lawton, less assertive, less intelligent, perhaps, but much +more beautiful. + +Everyone halted and everyone blushed. + +'May!' the interrupter at length stammered. + +'May!' responded Miss Lawton lamely. + +The other girl was named May too--May Deane, child of the well-known +majolica manufacturer, who lived with his sons and daughter in a +solitary and ancient house at Toft End. + +Lionel Woolley said nothing until they had all shaken hands--his famous +way with women seemed to have deserted him--and then he actually stated +that he had forgotten an appointment, and must depart. He had gone +before the girls could move. + +When they were alone, the two Mays fronted each other, confused, +hostile, almost homicidal. + +'I hope I didn't spoil a _tête-à -tête_,' said May Deane, stiffly and +sharply, in a manner quite foreign to her soft and yielding nature. + +The schoolmistress, abandoning herself to an inexplicable but +overwhelming impulse, took breath for a proud lie. + +'No,' she answered; 'but if you had come three minutes earlier----' + +She smiled calmly. + +'Oh!' murmured May Deane, after a pause. + + +III + +That evening May Deane returned home at half-past nine. She had been +with her two brothers to a lawn-tennis party at Hillport, and she told +her father, who was reading the _Staffordshire Signal_ in his accustomed +solitude, that the boys were staying later for cards, but that she had +declined to stay because she felt tired. She kissed the old widower +good-night, and said that she should go to bed at once. But before +retiring she visited the housekeeper in the kitchen in order to discuss +certain household matters: Jim's early breakfast, the proper method of +washing Herbert's new flannels (Herbert would be very angry if they were +shrunk), and the dog-biscuits for Carlo. These questions settled, she +went to her room, drew the blind, lighted some candles, and sat down +near the window. + +She was twenty-two, and she had about her that strange and charming +nunlike mystery which often comes to a woman who lives alone and +unguessed-at among male relatives. Her room was her bower. No one, save +the servants and herself, ever entered it. Mr. Deane and Jim and Bertie +might glance carelessly through the open door in passing along the +corridor, but had they chanced in idle curiosity to enter, the room +would have struck them as unfamiliar, and they might perhaps have +exclaimed with momentary interest, 'So this is May's room!' And some +hint that May was more than a daughter and sister--a woman, withdrawn, +secret, disturbing, living her own inner life side by side with the +household life--might have penetrated their obtuse paternal and +fraternal masculinity. Her beautiful face (the nose and mouth were +perfect, and at either extremity of the upper lip grew a soft down), her +dark hair, her quiet voice and her gentle acquiescence (diversified by +occasional outbursts of sarcasm), appealed to them and won them; but +they accepted her as something of course, as something which went +without saying. They adored her, and did not know that they adored her. + +May took off her hat, stuck the pins into it again, and threw it on the +bed, whose white and green counterpane hung down nearly to the floor on +either side. Then she lay back in the chair, and, pulling away the +blind, glanced through the window; the moon, rather dim behind the +furnace lights of Red Cow Ironworks, was rising over Moorthorne. May +dropped the blind with a wearied gesture, and turned within the room, +examining its contents as if she had not seen them before: the wardrobe, +the chest of drawers, which was also a dressing-table, the washstand, +the dwarf book-case with its store of Edna Lyalls, Elizabeth Gaskells, +Thackerays, Charlotte Yonges, Charlotte Brontës, a Thomas Hardy or so, +and some old school-books. She looked at the pictures, including a +sampler worked by a deceased aunt, at the loud-ticking Swiss clock on +the mantelpiece, at the higgledy-piggledy photographs there, at the new +Axminster carpet, the piece of linoleum in front of the washstand, and +the bad joining of the wallpaper to the left of the door. She missed +none of the details which she knew so well, with such long monotonous +intimacy, and sighed. + +Then she got up from the chair, and, opening a small drawer in the chest +of drawers, put her hand familiarly to the back and drew forth a +photograph. She carried the photograph to the light of the candles on +the mantelpiece, and gazed at it attentively, puckering her brows. It +was a portrait of Lionel Woolley. Heaven knows by what subterfuge or +lucky accident she had obtained it, for Lionel certainly had not given +it to her. She loved Lionel. She had loved him for five years, with a +love silent, blind, intense, irrational, and too elemental to be +concealed. Everyone knew of May's passion. Many women admired her taste; +a few were shocked and puzzled by it. All the men of her acquaintance +either pitied or despised her for it. Her father said nothing. Her +brothers were less cautious, and summed up their opinion of Lionel in +the curt, scornful assertion that he showed a tendency to cheat at +tennis. But May would never hear ill of him; he was a god to her, and +she could not hide her worship. For more than a year, until lately, she +had been almost sure of him, and then came a faint vague rumour +concerning Lionel and May Lawton, a rumour which she had refused to take +seriously. The encounter of that afternoon, and Miss Lawton's triumphant +remark, had dazed her. For seven hours she had existed in a kind of +semi-conscious delirium, in which she could perceive nothing but the +fatal fact, emerging more clearly every moment from the welter of her +thoughts, that she had lost Lionel. Lionel had proposed to May Lawton, +and been accepted, just before she surprised them together; and Lionel, +with a man's excusable cowardice, had left his betrothed to announce +the engagement. + +She tore up the photograph, put the fragments in the grate, and set a +light to them. + +Her father's step sounded on the stairs; he hesitated, and knocked +sharply at her door. + +'What's burning, May?' + +'It's all right, father,' she answered calmly, 'I'm only burning some +papers in the fire-grate.' + +'Well, see you don't burn the house down.' + +He passed on. + +Then she found a sheet of notepaper, and wrote on it in pencil, using +the mantelpiece for a desk: 'Dear home. Good-night, good-bye.' She +cogitated, and wrote further: 'Forgive me.--MAY.' + +She put the message in an envelope, and wrote on the envelope 'Jim,' and +placed it prominently in front of the clock. But after she had looked at +it for a minute, she wrote 'Father' above Jim, and then 'Herbert' below. + +There were noises in the hall; the boys had returned earlier than she +expected. As they went along the corridor and caught a glimpse of her +light under the door, Jim cried gaily: 'Now then, out with that light! A +little thing like you ought to be asleep hours since.' + +She listened for the bang of their door, and then, very hurriedly, she +removed her pink frock and put on an old black one, which was rather +tight in the waist. And she donned her hat, securing it carefully with +both pins, extinguished the candles, and crept quietly downstairs, and +so by the back-door into the garden. Carlo, the retriever, came halfway +out of his kennel and greeted her in the moonlight with a yawn. She +patted his head and ran stealthily up the garden, through the gate, and +up the waste green land towards the crown of the hill. + + +IV + +The top of Toft End is the highest land in the Five Towns, and from it +may be clearly seen all the lurid evidences of manufacture which sweep +across the borders of the sky on north, east, west, and south. +North-eastwards lie the moorlands, and far off Manifold, the 'metropolis +of the moorlands,' as it is called. On this night the furnaces of Red +Cow Ironworks, in the hollow to the east, were in full blast; their +fluctuating yellow light illuminated queerly the grass of the fields +above Deane's house, and the regular roar of their breathing reached +that solitary spot like the distant rumour of some leviathan beast +angrily fuming. Further away to the south-west the Cauldon Bar Ironworks +reproduced the same phenomena, and round the whole horizon, near and +far, except to the north-east, the lesser fires of labour leapt and +flickered and glinted in their mists of smoke, burning ceaselessly, as +they burned every night and every day at all seasons of all years. The +town of Bursley slept in the deep valley to the west, and vast Hanbridge +in the shallower depression to the south, like two sleepers accustomed +to rest quietly amid great disturbances; the beacons of their Town Halls +and churches kept watch, and the whole scene was dominated by the +placidity of the moon, which had now risen clear of the Red Cow furnace +clouds, and was passing upwards through tracts of stars. + +Into this scene, climbing up from the direction of Manifold, came Lionel +Woolley, nearly at midnight, having walked some eighteen miles in a +vain effort to re-establish his self-satisfaction by a process of +reasoning and ingenious excuses. Lionel felt that in the brief episode +of the afternoon he had scarcely behaved with dignity. In other words, +he was fully and painfully aware that he must have looked a fool, a +coward, an ass, a contemptible and pitiful person, in the eyes of at +least one girl, if not of two. He did not like this--no man would have +liked it; and to Lionel the memory of an undignified act was acute +torture. Why had he bidden the girls adieu and departed? Why had he, in +fact, run away? What precisely would May Lawton think of him? How could +he explain his conduct to her--and to himself? And had that worshipping, +affectionate thing, May Deane, taken note of his confusion--of the +confusion of him who was never confused, who was equal to every occasion +and every emergency? These were some of the questions which harried him +and declined to be settled. He had walked to Manifold, and had tea at +the Roebuck, and walked back, and still the questions were harrying; and +as he came over the hill by the field-path, and descried the lone house +of the Deanes in the light of the Red Cow furnaces and of the moon, the +worship of May Deane seemed suddenly very precious to him, and he could +not bear to think that any stupidity of his should have impaired it. + +Then he saw May Deane walking slowly across the field, close to an +abandoned pit-shaft, whose low protecting circular wall of brick was +crumbling to ruin on the side nearest to him. + +She stopped, appeared to gaze at him intently, turned, and began to +approach him. And he too, moved by a mysterious impulse which he did not +pause to examine, swerved, and quickened his step in order to lessen the +distance between them. He did not at first even feel surprise that she +should be wandering solitary on the hill at that hour. Presently she +stood still, while he continued to move forward. It was as if she drew +him; and soon, in the pale moonlight and the wavering light of the +furnaces, he could decipher all the details of her face, and he saw that +she was smiling fondly, invitingly, admiringly, lustrously, with the old +undiminished worship and affection. And he perceived a dark +discoloration on her right cheek, as though she had suffered a blow, +but this mark did not long occupy his mind. He thought suddenly of the +strong probability that her father would leave a nice little bit of +money to each of his three children; and he thought of her beauty, and +of her timid fragility in the tight black dress, and of her immense and +unquestioning love for him, which would survive all accidents and +mishaps. He seemed to sink luxuriously into this grand passion of hers +(which he deemed quite natural and proper) as into a soft feather-bed. +To live secure in an atmosphere of exhaustless worship; to keep a fount +of balm and admiration for ever in the house, a bubbling spring of +passionate appreciation which would be continually available for the +refreshment of his self-esteem! To be always sure of an obedience blind +and willing, a subservience which no tyranny and no harshness and no +whim would rouse into revolt; to sit on a throne with so much beauty +kneeling at his feet! + +And the possession of her beauty would be a source of legitimate pride +to him. People would often refer to the beautiful Mrs. Woolley. + +He felt that in sending May Deane to interrupt his highly emotional +conversation with May Lawton Providence had watched over him and done +him a good turn. May Lawton had advantages, and striking advantages, but +he could not be sure of her. The suspicion that if she married him she +would marry him for her own ends caused him a secret disquiet, and he +feared that one day, perhaps one morning at breakfast, she might take it +into her intelligent head to mock him, to exercise upon him her gift of +irony, and to intimate to him that if he fancied she was his slave he +was deceived. That she sincerely admired him he never for an instant +doubted. But---- + +And, moreover, the unfortunate episode of the afternoon might have +cooled her ardour to freezing-point. + +He stood now in front of his worshipper, and the notion crossed his mind +that in after-years he could say to his friends: 'I proposed to my wife +at midnight under the moon. Not many men have done that.' + +'Good-evening,' he ventured to the girl; and he added with bravado: +'We've met before to-day, haven't we?' + +She made no reply, but her smile was more affectionate, more inviting, +than ever. + +'I'm glad of this opportunity--very glad,' he proceeded. 'I've been +wanting to ... You must know, my dear girl, how I feel....' + +She gave a gesture, charming in its sweet humility, as if to say: 'Who +am I that I should dare----' + +And then he proposed to her, asked her to share his life, and all that +sort of thing; and when he had finished he thought, 'It's done now, +anyway.' + +Strange to relate, she offered no immediate reply, but she bent a little +towards him with shining, happy eyes. He had an impulse to seize her in +his arms and kiss her, but prudence suggested that he should defer the +rite. She turned and began to walk slowly and meditatively towards the +pit-shaft. He followed almost at her side, but a foot or so behind, +waiting for her to speak. And as he waited, expectant, he looked at her +profile and reflected how well the name May suited her, with its +significances of shyness and dreamy hope, and hidden fire and the +modesty of spring. + +And while he was thus savouring her face, and they were still ten yards +from the pit-shaft, she suddenly disappeared from his vision, as it were +by a conjuring trick. He had a horrible sensation in his spinal column. +He was not the man to mistrust the evidence of his senses, and he knew, +therefore, that he had been proposing to a phantom. + + +V + +The next morning--early, because of Jim's early breakfast--when May +Deane's disappearance became known to the members of the household, Jim +had the idea of utilizing Carlo in the search for her. The retriever +went straight, without a fault, to the pit-shaft, and May was discovered +alive and unscathed, save for a contusion of the face and a sprain in +the wrist. + +Her suicidal plunge had been arrested, at only a few feet from the top +of the shaft, by a cross-stay of timber, upon which she lay prone. There +was no reason why the affair should be made public, and it was not. It +was suppressed into one of those secrets which embed themselves in the +history of families, and after two or three generations blossom into +romantic legends full of appropriate circumstantial detail. + +Lionel Woolley spent a woeful night at his rooms. He did not know what +to do, and on the following day May Lawton encountered him again, and +proved by her demeanour that the episode of the previous afternoon had +caused no estrangement. Lionel vacillated. The sway of the +schoolmistress was almost restored, and it would have been restored +fully had he not been preoccupied by a feverish curiosity--the curiosity +to know whether or not May Deane was dead. He felt that she must indeed +be dead, and he lived through the day expectant of the news of her +sudden decease. Towards night his state of mind was such that he was +obliged to call at the Deanes'. May heard him, and insisted on seeing +him; more, she insisted on seeing him alone in the breakfast-room, where +she reclined, interestingly white, on the sofa. Her father and brothers +objected strongly to the interview, but they yielded, afraid that a +refusal might induce hysteria and worse things. + +And when Lionel Woolley came into the room, May, steeped in felicity, +related to him the story of her impulsive crime. + +'I was so happy,' she said, 'when I knew that Miss Lawton had deceived +me.' And before he could inquire what she meant, she continued rapidly: +'I must have been unconscious, but I felt you were there, and something +of me went out towards you. And oh! the answer to your question--I heard +your question; the real _me_ heard it, but that _something_ could not +speak.' + +'My question?' + +'You asked a question, didn't you?' she faltered, sitting up. + +He hesitated, and then surrendered himself to her immense love and sank +into it, and forgot May Lawton. + +'Yes,' he said. + +'The answer is yes. Oh, you must have known the answer would be yes! You +did know, didn't you?' + +He nodded grandly. + +She sighed with delicious and overwhelming joy. + +In the ecstasy of the achievement of her desire the girl gave little +thought to the psychic aspect of the possibly unique wooing. + +As for Lionel, he refused to dwell on it even in thought. And so that +strange, magic, yearning effluence of a soul into a visible projection +and shape was ignored, slurred over, and, after ten years of domesticity +in the bank premises, is gradually being forgotten. + +He is a man of business, and she, with her fading beauty, her ardent, +continuous worship of the idol, her half-dozen small children, the +eldest of whom is only eight, and the white window-curtains to change +every week because of the smuts--do you suppose she has time or +inclination to ponder upon the theory of the subliminal consciousness +and kindred mysteries? + + * * * * * + + + + +TIDDY-FOL-LOL + + +It was the dinner-hour, and a group of ragged and clay-soiled apprentice +boys were making a great noise in the yard of Henry Mynors and Co.'s +small, compact earthenware manufactory up at Toft End. Toft End caps the +ridge to the east of Bursley; and Bursley, which has been the home of +the potter for ten centuries, is the most ancient of the Five Towns in +Staffordshire. The boys, dressed for the most part in shirt, trousers, +and boots, all equally ragged and insecure, were playing at prison-bars. + +Soon the game ended abruptly in a clamorous dispute upon a point of law, +and it was not recommenced. The dispute dying a natural death, the +tireless energies of the boys needed a fresh outlet. Inspired by a +common instinct, they began at once to bait one of their number, a +slight youngster of twelve years, much better clothed than the rest, who +had adventurously strolled in from a neighbouring manufactory. This +child answered their jibes in an amiable, silly, drawling tone which +seemed to justify the epithet 'Loony,' frequently applied to him. Now +and then he stammered; and then companions laughed loud, and he with +them. It was known that several years ago he had fallen down a flight of +stone steps, alighting on the back of his head, and that ever since he +had been deaf of one ear and under some trifling mental derangement. His +sublime calmness under their jests baffled them until the terrible +figure of Mr. Machin, the engine-man, standing at the door of the +slip-house, caught their attention and suggested a plan full of joyous +possibilities. They gathered round the lad, and, talking in subdued +murmurs, unanimously urged him with many persuasions to a certain course +of action. He declined the scheme, and declined again. Suddenly a boy +shouted: + +'Thee dars' na'!' + +'I dare,' was the drawled, smiling answer. + +'I tell thee thee dars' na'!' + +'I tell thee I dare.' And thereupon he slowly but resolutely set out +for the slip-house door and Mr. Machin. + +Eli Machin was beyond doubt the most considerable employé on Clarke's +'bank' (manufactory). Even Henry Clarke approached him with a +subtly-indicated deference, and whenever Silas Emery, the immensely rich +and miserly sleeping partner in the firm, came up to visit the works, +these two old men chatted as old friends. In a modern earthenware +manufactory the engine-room is the source of all activity, for, owing to +the inventive genius of a famous and venerable son of the Five Towns, +steam now presides at nearly every stage in the long process of turning +earth into ware. It moves the pug-mill, the jollies, and the marvellous +batting machines, dries the unfired clay, heats the printers' stoves, +and warms the offices where the 'jacket-men' dwell. Coal is a tremendous +item in the cost of production, and a competent, economical engine-man +can be sure of good wages and a choice of berths; he is desired like a +good domestic servant. Eli Machin was the prince of engine-men. His +engine never went wrong, his coal bills were never extravagant, and +(supreme virtue!) he was never absent on Mondays. From his post in the +slip-house he watched over the whole works like a father, stern, gruff, +forbidding, but to be trusted absolutely. He was sixty years old, and +had been 'putting by' for nearly half a century. He lived in a tiny +villa-cottage with his bed-ridden, cheerful wife, and lent small sums on +mortgage of approved freeholds at 5 per cent.--no more and no less. +Secure behind this rampart of saved money, he was the equal of the King +on the throne. Not a magnate in all the Five Towns who would dare to be +condescending to Eli Machin. He had been a sidesman at the old church. A +trades-union had once asked him to become a working-man candidate for +the Bursley Town Council, but he had refused because he did not care for +the possibility of losing caste by being concerned in a strike. His +personal respectability was entirely unsullied, and he worshipped this +abstract quality as he worshipped God. + +There was only one blot--but how foul!--on Eli Machin's career, and that +had been dropped by his daughter Miriam, when, defying his authority, +she married a scene-shifter at Hanbridge Theatre. The atrocious idea of +being connected with the theatre had rendered him speechless for a +time. He could but endure it in the most awful silence that ever hid +passionate feeling. Then one day he had burst out, 'The wench is no +better than a tiddy-fol-lol!' Only this solitary phrase--nothing else. + +What a tiddy-fol-lol was no one quite knew; but the word, getting about, +stuck to him, and for some weeks boys used to shout it after him in the +streets, until he caught one of them, and in thirty seconds put an end +to the practice. Thenceforth Miriam, with all hers, was dead to him. +When her husband expired of consumption, Eli Machin saw the avenging arm +of the Lord in action; and when her boy grew to be a source of painful +anxiety to her, he said to himself that the wrath of Heaven was not yet +cooled towards this impious daughter. The passage of fifteen years had +apparently in no way softened his resentment. + +The challenged lad in Mynors' yard slowly approached the slip-house +door, and halted before Eli Machin, grinning. + +'Well, young un,' the old man said absently, 'what dost want?' + +'Tiddy-fol-lol, grandfeyther,' the child drawled in his silly, +irritating voice, and added: 'They said I darena say it to ye.' + +Without and instant's hesitation Eli Machin raised his still powerful +arm, and, catching the boy under the ear, knocked him down. The other +boys yelled with unaffected pleasure and ran away. + +'Get up, and be off wi' ye. Ye dunna belong to this bank,' said Eli +Machin in cold anger to the lad. But the lad did not stir; the lad's +eyes were closed, and he lay white on the stones. + +Eli Machin bent down, and peered through his spectacles at the prone +form upon which the mid-day sun was beating. + +'It's Miriam's boy!' he ejaculated under his breath, and looked round as +if in inquiry--the yard was empty. Then with quick decision he picked up +this limp and inconvenient parcel of humanity and hastened--ran--with it +out of the yard into the road. + +Down the road he ran, turned to the left into Clowes Street, and stopped +before a row of small brown cottages. At the open door of one of these +cottages a woman sat sewing. She was rather stout and full-bosomed, +with a fair, fresh face, full of sense and peace; she looked under +thirty, but was older. + +'Here's thy Tommy, Miriam,' said Eli Machin shortly. 'He give me some of +his sauce, and I doubt I've done him an injury.' + +The woman dropped her sewing. + +'Eh, dear!' she cried, 'is that lad o' mine in mischief again? I do hope +he's no limb brokken.' + +'It in'na that,' said the old man, 'but he's dazed-like. Better lay him +on th' squab.' + +She calmly took Tommy and placed him gently down on the check-covered +sofa under the window. 'Come in, father, do.' + +The man obeyed, astonished at the entire friendliness of this daughter, +whom, though he had frequently seen her, he had never spoken to for more +than ten years. Her manner, at once filial and quite natural, perfectly +ignored the long breach, and disclosed no trace of animosity. + +Father and daughter examined the unconscious child. Pale, pulseless, +cold, he lay on the sofa like a corpse except for the short, faint +breaths which he drew through his blue lips. + +'I doubt I've killed him,' said Eli. + +'Nay, nay, father!' And her face actually smiled. This supremacy of the +soul against years of continued misfortune lifted her high above him, +and he suddenly felt himself an inferior creature. + +'I'll go for th' doctor,' he said. + +'Nay! I shall need ye.' And she put her head out of the window. 'Mrs. +Walley, will ye let your Lucy run quick for th' club doctor? my Tommy's +hurt.' + +The whole street awoke instantly from its nap, and in a few moments +every door was occupied. Miriam closed her own door softly, as though +she might wake the boy, and spoke in whispers to people through the +window, finally telling them to go away. When the doctor came, half an +hour afterwards, she had done all that she knew for Tommy, without the +slightest apparent result. + +'What is it?' asked the doctor curtly, as he lifted the child's thin and +lifeless hand. + +Eli Machin explained that he had boxed the boy's ear. + +'Tommy was impudent to his grandfather,' Miriam added hastily. + +'Which ear?' the doctor inquired. It was the left. He gazed into it, +and then raised the boy's right leg and arm. 'There is no paralysis,' he +said. Then he felt the heart, and then took out his stethoscope and +applied it, listening intently. + +'Canst hear owt?' the old man said. + +'I cannot,' he answered. + +'Don't say that, doctor--don't say that! said Miriam, with an accent of +appeal. + +'In these cases it is almost impossible to tell whether the patient is +alive or dead. We must wait. Mrs. Baddeley, make a mustard plaster for +his feet, and we will put another over the heart.' And so they waited +one hour, while the clock ticked and the mustard plasters gradually +cooled. Then Tommy's lips parted. + +After another half-hour the doctor said: + +'I must go now; I will come again at six. Do nothing but apply fresh +plasters. Be sure to keep his neck free. He is breathing, but I may as +well be plain with you--there is a great risk of your child dying in +this condition.' + +Neighbours were again at the window, and Miriam drew the blind, waving +them away. At six o'clock the doctor reappeared. 'There is no change,' +he remarked. 'I will call in before I go to bed.' + +When he lifted the latch for the third time, at ten o'clock, Eli Machin +and Miriam still sat by the sofa, and Tommy still lay thereon, moveless, +a terrible enigma. But the glass lamp was lighted on the mantelpiece, +and Miriam's sewing, by which she earned a livelihood, had been hidden +out of sight. + +'There is no change,' said the doctor. 'You can do nothing except hope.' + +'And pray,' the calm mother added. + +Eli neither stirred nor spoke. For nine hours he had absolutely +forgotten his engine. He knew the boy would die. + +The clock struck eleven, twelve, one, two, three, each time fretting the +nerves of the old man like a rasp. It was the hour of summer dawn. A +cold gray light fell unkindly across the small figure on the sofa. + +'Open th' door a bit, father,' said Miriam. 'This parlour's gettin' +close; th' lad canna breathe.' + +'Nay, lass,' Eli sighed, as he stumbled obediently to the door. 'The +lad'll breathe no more. I've killed him i' my anger.' He frowned +heavily, as though someone was annoying him. + +'Hist!' she exclaimed, when, after extinguishing the lamp, she returned +to her boy's side. 'He's reddened--he's reddened! Look thee at his +cheeks, father!' She seized the child's inert hands and rubbed them +between her own. The blood was now plain in Tommy's face. His legs +faintly twitched. His breathing was slower. Miriam moved the coverlet +and put her head upon his heart. 'It's beating loud, father,' she cried. +'Bless God!' + +Eli stared at the child with the fixity of a statue. Then Tommy opened +his eyes for an instant. The old man groaned. Tommy looked vacantly +round, closed his eyes again, and was unmistakably asleep. He slept for +one minute, and then waked. Eli involuntarily put a hand on the sofa. +Tommy gazed at him, and, with the most heavenly innocent smile of +recognition, lightly touched his grandfather's hand. Then he turned over +on his right side. In the anguish of sudden joy Eli gave a deep, piteous +sob. That smile burnt into him like a coal of fire. + +'Now for the beef-tea,' said Miriam, crying. + +'Beef-tea?' the boy repeated after her, mildly questioning. + +'Yes, my poppet,' she answered; and then aside, 'Father, he can hear i' +his left ear. Did ye notice it?' + +'It's a miracle--a miracle of God!' said Eli. + +In a few hours Tommy was as well as ever--indeed, better; not only was +his hearing fully restored, but he had ceased to stammer, and the thin, +almost imperceptible cloud upon his intellect was dissipated. The doctor +expressed but little surprise at these phenomena, and, in fact, stated +that similar things had occurred often before, and were duly written +down in the books of medicine. But Eli Machin's firm, instinctive faith +that Providence had intervened will never be shaken. + +Miriam and Tommy now live in the villa-cottage with the old people. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE IDIOT + + +William Froyle, ostler at the Queen's Arms at Moorthorne, took the +letter, and, with a curt nod which stifled the loquacity of the village +postman, went at once from the yard into the coach-house. He had +recognised the hand-writing on the envelope, and the recognition of it +gave form and quick life to all the vague suspicions that had troubled +him some months before, and again during the last few days. He felt +suddenly the near approach of a frightful calamity which had long been +stealing towards him. + +A wire-sheathed lantern, set on a rough oaken table, cast a wavering +light round the coach-house, and dimly showed the inner stable. Within +the latter could just be distinguished the mottled-gray flanks of a fat +cob which dragged its chain occasionally, making the large slow +movements of a horse comfortably lodged in its stall. The pleasant odour +of animals and hay filled the wide spaces of the shed, and through the +half-open door came a fresh thin mist rising from the rain-soaked yard +in the November evening. + +Froyle sat down on the oaken table, his legs dangling, and looked again +at the envelope before opening it. He was a man about thirty years of +age, with a serious and thoughtful, rather heavy countenance. He had a +long light moustache, and his skin was a fresh, rosy salmon colour; his +straw-tinted hair was cut very short, except over the forehead, where it +grew full and bushy. Dressed in his rough stable corduroys, his forearms +bare and white, he had all the appearance of the sturdy Englishman, the +sort of Englishman that crosses the world in order to find vent for his +taciturn energy on virgin soils. From the whole village he commanded and +received respect. He was known for a scholar, and it was his scholarship +which had obtained for him the proud position of secretary to the +provident society styled the Queen's Arms Slate Club. His respectability +and his learning combined had enabled him to win with dignity the hand +of Susie Trimmer, the grocer's daughter, to whom he had been engaged +about a year. The village could not make up its mind concerning that +match; without doubt it was a social victory for Froyle, but everyone +wondered that so sedate and sagacious a man should have seen in Susie a +suitable mate. + +He tore open the envelope with his huge forefinger, and, bending down +towards the lantern, began to read the letter. It ran: + + 'OLDCASTLE STREET, + + 'BURSLEY. + + 'DEAR WILL, + + 'I asked father to tell you, but he would not. He said I must + write. Dear Will, I hope you will never see me again. As you will + see by the above address, I am now at Aunt Penrose's at Bursley. + She is awful angry, but I was obliged to leave the village because + of my shame. I have been a wicked girl. It was in July. You know + the man, because you asked me about him one Sunday night. He is no + good. He is a villain. Please forget all about me. I want to go to + London. So many people know me here, and what with people coming + in from the village, too. Please forgive me. + + 'S. TRIMMER.' + +After reading the letter a second time, Froyle folded it up and put it +in his pocket. Beyond a slight unaccustomed pallor of the red cheeks, he +showed no sign of emotion. Before the arrival of the postman he had been +cleaning his master's bicycle, which stood against the table. To this he +returned. Kneeling down in some fresh straw, he used his dusters slowly +and patiently--rubbing, then stopping to examine the result, and then +rubbing again. When the machine was polished to his satisfaction, he +wheeled it carefully into the stable, where it occupied a stall next to +that of the cob. As he passed back again, the animal leisurely turned +its head and gazed at Froyle with its large liquid eyes. He slapped the +immense flank. Content, the animal returned to its feed, and the +weighted chain ran down with a rattle. + +The fortnightly meeting of the Slate Club was to take place at eight +o'clock that evening. Froyle had employed part of the afternoon in +making ready his books for the event, to him always so solemn and +ceremonious; and the affairs of the club were now prominent in his mind. +He was sorry that it would be impossible for him to attend the meeting; +fortunately, all the usual preliminaries were complete. + +He took a piece of notepaper from a little hanging cupboard, and, +sprawling across the table, began to write under the lantern. The pencil +seemed a tiny toy in his thick roughened fingers: + + '_To Mr. Andrew McCall, Chairman Queen's Arms Slate Club._ + + 'DEAR SIR, + + 'I regret to inform you that I shall not be at the meeting + to-night. You will find the books in order....' + +Here he stopped, biting the end of the pencil in thought. He put down +the pencil and stepped hastily out of the stable, across the yard, and +into the hotel. In the large room, the room where cyclists sometimes +took tea and cold meat during the summer season, the long deal table +and the double line of oaken chairs stood ready for the meeting. A fire +burnt warmly in the big grate, and the hanging lamp had been lighted. On +the wall was a large card containing the rules of the club, which had +been written out in a fair hand by the schoolmaster. It was to this card +that Froyle went. Passing his thumb down the card, he paused at Rule +VII.: + + 'Each member shall, on the death of another member, pay 1s. for + benefit of widow or nominee of deceased, same to be paid within + one month after notice given.' + + 'Or nominee--nominee,' he murmured reflectively, staring at the + card. He mechanically noticed, what he had noticed often before + with disdain, that the chairman had signed the rules without the + use of capitals. + + He went back to the dusk of the coach-house to finish his letter, + still murmuring the word 'nominee,' of whose meaning he was not + quite sure: + + 'I request that the money due to me from the Slate Club on my death + shall be paid to my nominee, Miss Susan Trimmer, now staying with + her aunt, Mrs. Penrose, at Bursley. + + 'Yours respectfully, + + 'WILLIAM FROYLE.' + +After further consideration he added: + + 'P.S.--My annual salary of sixpence per member would be due at the + end of December. If so be the members would pay that, or part of + it, should they consider the same due, to Susan Trimmer as well, I + should be thankful.--Yours resp, W.F.' + +He put the letter in an envelope, and, taking it to the large room, laid +it carefully at the end of the table opposite the chairman's seat. Once +more he returned to the coach-house. From the hanging cupboard he now +produced a piece of rope. Standing on the table he could just reach, by +leaning forward, a hook in the ceiling, that was sometimes used for the +slinging of bicycles. With difficulty he made the rope fast to the hook. +Putting a noose on the other end, he tightened it round his neck. He +looked up at the ceiling and down at the floor in order to judge whether +the rope was short enough. + +'Good-bye, Susan, and everyone,' he whispered, and then stepped off the +table. + +The tense rope swung him by his neck halfway across the coach-house. He +swung twice to and fro, but as he passed under the hook for the fifth +time his toes touched the floor. The rope had stretched. In another +second he was standing firm on the floor, purple and panting, but +ignominiously alive. + +'Good-even to you, Mr. Froyle. Be you committing suicide?' The tones +were drawling, uncertain, mildly astonished. + +He turned round hastily, his hands busy with the rope, and saw in the +doorway the figure of Daft Jimmy, the Moorthorne idiot. + +He hesitated before speaking, but he was not confused. No one could have +been confused before Daft Jimmy. Neither man nor woman in the village +considered his presence more than that of a cat. + +'Yes, I am,' he said. + +The middle-aged idiot regarded him with a vague, interested smile, and +came into the coach-house. + +'You'n gotten the rope too long, Mr. Froyle. Let me help you.' + +Froyle calmly assented. He stood on the table, and the two rearranged +the noose and made it secure. As they did so the idiot gossiped: + +'I was going to Bursley to-night to buy me a pair o' boots, and when I +was at top o' th' hill I remembered as I'd forgotten the measure o' my +feet. So I ran back again for it. Then I saw the light in here, and I +stepped up to bid ye good-evening.' + +Someone had told him the ancient story of the fool and his boots, and, +with the pride of an idiot in his idiocy, he had determined that it +should be related of himself. + +Froyle was silent. + +The idiot laughed with a dry cackle. + +'Now you go,' said Froyle, when the rope was fixed. + +'Let me see ye do it,' the idiot pleaded with pathetic eyes. + +'No; out you get!' + +Protesting, the idiot went forth, and his irregular clumsy footsteps +sounded on the pebble-paved yard. When the noise of them ceased in the +soft roadway, Froyle jumped off the table again. Gradually his body, +like a stopping pendulum, came to rest under the hook, and hung +twitching, with strange disconnected movements. The horse in the stable, +hearing unaccustomed noises, rattled his chain and stamped about in the +straw of his box. + +Furtive steps came down the yard again, and Daft Jimmy peeped into the +coach-house. + +'He done it! he done it!' the idiot cried gleefully. 'Damned if he +hasna'.' He slapped his leg and almost danced. The body still twitched +occasionally. 'He done it!' + +'Done what, Daft Jimmy? You're making a fine noise there! Done what?' + +The idiot ran out of the stable. At the side-entrance to the hotel stood +the barmaid, the outline of her fine figure distinct against the light +from within. + +The idiot continued to laugh. + +'Done what?' the girl repeated, calling out across the dark yard in +clear, pleasant tones of amused inquiry. 'Done what?' + +'What's that to you, Miss Tucker?' + +'Now, none of your sauce, Daft Jimmy! Is Willie Froyle in there?' + +The idiot roared with laughter. + +'Yes, he is, miss.' + +'Well, tell him his master wants him. I don't want to cross this mucky, +messy yard.' + +'Yes, miss.' + +The girl closed the door. + +The idiot went into the coach-house, and, slapping William's body in a +friendly way so that it trembled on the rope, he spluttered out between +his laughs: + +'Master wants ye, Mr. Froyle.' + +Then he walked out into the village street, and stood looking up the +muddy road, still laughing quietly. It was quite dark, but the moon +aloft in the clear sky showed the highway with its shining ruts leading +in a straight line over the hill to Bursley. + +'Them shoes!' the idiot ejaculated suddenly. 'Well, I be an idiot, and +that's true! They can take the measure from my feet, and I never thought +on it till this minute!' + +Laughing again, he set off at a run up the hill. + + * * * * * + + + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + + +I + +After a honeymoon of five weeks in the shining cities of the +Mediterranean and in Paris, they re-entered the British Empire by the +august portals of the Chatham and Dover Railway. They stood impatiently +waiting, part of a well-dressed, querulous crowd, while a few officials +performed their daily task of improvising a Custom-house for registered +luggage on a narrow platform of Victoria Station. John, Mr. Norris's +man, who had met them, attended behind. Suddenly, with a characteristic +movement, the husband lifted his head, and then looked down at his wife. + +'I say, May!' + +'Well?' + +She knew that he was about to propose some swift alteration of their +plans, but she smiled upwards out of her furs at his grave face, and +the tone of her voice granted all requests in advance. + +'I think I'd better go to the office,' he said. + +'Now?' + +She smiled again, inviting him to do exactly what he chose. She was +already familiar with his restiveness under enforced delays and +inaction, and his unfortunate capacity for being actively bored by +trifles which did not interest him aroused in her a sort of maternal +sympathy. + +'Yes,' he answered. 'I can be there and back in an hour or less. You +titivate yourself, and we'll dine at the Savoy, or anywhere you please. +We'll keep the ball rolling to-night. Yes,' he repeated, as if to +convince himself that he was not a deserter, 'I really must call in at +the office. You and John can see to the luggage, can't you?' + +'Of course,' she replied, with calm good-nature, and also with perfect +self-confidence. 'But give me the keys of the trunks, and don't be late, +Ted.' + +'Oh, I shan't be late,' he said. + +Their fingers touched as she took the keys. He went away enraptured +anew by her delightful acquiescences, her unique smile, her +common-sense, her mature charm, and the astonishing elegance of her +person. The honeymoon was over--and with what finished discretion, +combining the innocent girl with the woman of the world, she had lived +through the honeymoon!--another life, more delicious, was commencing. + +'What a wife!' he thought triumphantly. 'She does understand a man! And +fancy leaving any ordinary bride to look after luggage!' + +Nevertheless, once in his offices at Winchester House, he managed to +forget her, and to forget time, for nearly an hour and a half. When at +last he came to himself from the enchantment of affairs, he jumped into +a hansom, and told the driver to drive fast to Knightsbridge. He was +ardent to see her again. In the dark seclusion of the cab he speculated +upon her toilette, the colour of her shoes. He thought of the last five +weeks, of the next five years. Dwelling on their mutual love and esteem, +their health, their self-knowledge and experience and cheerfulness, her +sense and grace, his talent for getting money first and keeping it +afterwards, he foresaw nothing but happiness for them. Children? H'm! +Possibly.... + +At Piccadilly Circus it began to rain--cold, heavy March rain. + +'Window down, sir?' asked the voice of the cabman. + +'Yes,' he ordered sardonically. 'Better be suffocated than drowned.' + +'You're right, sir,' said the voice. + +Soon, through the streaming glass, which made every gas-jet into a +shooting pillar of flame, Norris discerned vaguely the vast bulk of Hyde +Park Mansions. 'Good!' he muttered, and at that very moment he was shot +through the window into the thin, light-reflecting mire of the street. +Enormous and strange beasts menaced him with pitiless hoofs. Millions of +people crowded about him. In response to a question that seemed to float +slowly towards him, he tried to give his address. He realized, by a +considerable feat of intellect, that the horse must have fallen down; +and then, with a dim notion that nothing mattered, he went to sleep. + + +II + +In the boudoir of the magnificent flat on the first floor, shielded from +the noise and the inclemency of the world by four silk-hung walls and a +double window, and surrounded by all the multitudinous and costly luxury +that a stockbroker with brains and taste can obtain for the wife of his +love, May was leisurely finishing her toilette. And every detail in the +long, elaborate process was accomplished with a passionate intention to +bewitch the man at Winchester House. + +These two had first met seven years before, when May, the daughter of a +successful wholesale draper at Hanbridge, in the Five Towns district of +Staffordshire, was aged twenty-two. Mr. Scarratt went to Manchester each +Tuesday to buy, and about once a month he took May with him. One day, +when they were lunching at the Exchange Restaurant, a young man came up +whom her father introduced as Mr. Edward Norris, his stockbroker. Mr. +Norris, whose years were thirty, glanced keenly at May, and accepted Mr. +Scarratt's invitation to join them. Ever afterwards May vividly +remembered the wonderful sensation, joyous yet disconcerting, which she +then experienced--the sensation of having captivated her father's +handsome and correct stockbroker. The three talked horses with a certain +freedom, and since May was accustomed to drive the Scarratt dogcart, so +famous in the Five Towns, she could bring her due share to the +conversation. The meal over, Mr. Norris discussed business matters with +his client, and then sedately departed, but not without the obviously +sincere expression of a desire to meet Miss Scarratt again. The +wholesale draper praised Edward's financial qualities behind his back, +and wondered that a man of such aptitude should remain in Manchester +while London existed. As for May, she decided that she would have a new +frock before she came to Manchester in the following month. + +She had a new frock, but not of the colour intended. By the following +month her father was enclosed in a coffin, and it happened to his +estate, as to the estates of many successful men who employ +stockbrokers, that the liabilities far more than covered the assets. May +and her mother were left without a penny. The mother did the right +thing, and died--it was best. May went direct to Brunt's, the largest +draper in the Five Towns, and asked for a place under 'Madame' in the +dress-making department. Brunt's daughter, who was about to be married, +gave her the place instantly. Three years later, when 'Madame' returned +to Paris, May stepped into the French-woman's shoes. + +On Sundays and on Thursday afternoons, and sometimes (but not too often) +at the theatre, May was the finest walking advertisement that Brunt's +ever had. Old Brunt would have proposed to her, it was rumoured, had he +not been scared by her elegance. Sundry sons of prosperous +manufacturers, unabashed by this elegance, did in fact secretly propose, +but with what result was known only to themselves. + +Later, as May waxed in importance at Brunt's, she was sent to Manchester +to buy. She lunched at the Exchange Restaurant. The world and Manchester +are very small. The first man she set eyes on was Edward Norris. Another +week, Norris said to her with a thrill, and he would have been gone for +ever to London. Chance is not to be flouted. The sequel was inevitable. +They loved. And all the select private bars in Hanbridge tinkled to the +news that May Scarratt had been and hooked a stockbroker! + +When the toilette was done, and the maid gone, she wound a thin black +scarf round her olive neck and shoulders, and sat down negligently on a +Chippendale settee in the attitude of a portrait by Boldini; her little +feet were tucked up sideways on the settee; the perforated lace ends of +the scarf fell over her low corsage to the level of the seat. And she +waited, still the bride. He was late, but she knew he would be late. +Sure in the conviction that he was a strong man, a man of imagination +and of deeds, she could easily excuse this failing in him, as she did +that other habit of impulsive action in trifles. Nay, more, she found +keen pleasure in excusing it. 'Dear thing!' she reflected, 'he forgets +so.' Therefore she waited, content in enjoying the image in the glass of +her dark face, her small plump person, and her Paris gown--that dream! +She thought with assuaged grief of her father's tragedy; she would have +liked him to see her now, the jewel in the case--her father and she had +understood each other. + +All around, and above and below, she felt, without hearing it, the +activity of the opulent, complex life of the mansions. Her mind dwelt +with satisfaction on long carpeted corridors noiselessly paraded by +flunkeys, mahogany lifts continually ascending and descending like the +angels of the ladder, the great entrance hall with its fire always +burning and its doors always swinging, the _salle à manger_ sown with +rose-shaded candles, and all the splendid privacies rising stage upon +stage to the attics, where the flunkeys philosophized together. She +confessed the beauty and distinction achieved by this extravagant +organization for gratifying earthly desires. Often, in the pinching days +of her servitude, she had murmured against the injustice of things, and +had called wealth a crime while poverty starved. But now she perceived +that society was what it was inevitably, and could not be altered. She +accepted it in profound peace of mind, gaily fraternal towards the +fortunate, compassionate towards those in adversity. + +In the next flat someone began to play very brilliantly a Hungarian +Rhapsody of Liszt's. And even the faint sound of that riotous torrent of +melody, so arrogantly gorgeous, intoxicated her soul. She shivered under +the sudden vision of the splendid joy of being alive. And how she envied +the player! French she had learned from 'Madame,' but she had no skill +on the piano; it was her one regret. + +She touched the bell. + +'Has your master come in yet?' she inquired of the maid. + +'No, madam, not yet.' + +She knew he had not come in, but she could not resist the impulse to +ask. + +Ten minutes later, when the piano had ceased, she jumped up, and, +creeping to the front-door of the flat, gazed foolishly across the +corridor at the grille of the lift. She heard the lift in travail. It +appeared and passed out of sight above. No, he had not come! Glancing +aside, she saw the tall slender figure of a girl in a green tea-gown--a +mere girl: it was the player of the Hungarian Rhapsody. And this girl, +too, she thought, was expectant and disappointed! They shut their doors +simultaneously, she and May, who also had her girlish moments. Then the +rhapsody recommenced. + +'Oh, madam!' screamed the maid, almost tumbling into the boudoir. + +'What is it?' May demanded with false calm. + +The maid lifted the corner of her black apron to her eyes, as though she +had been a stage soubrette in trouble. + +'The master, madam! He's fell out of his cab--just in front of the +mansions--and they're bringing him in--such blood I never did see!' + +The maid finished with hysterics. + + +III + +'And them just off their honeymoon!' + +The inconsolable tones of the lady's-maid came from the kitchen to the +open door of the bedroom, where May was giving instructions to the +elderly cook. + +'Send that girl out of the flat this moment!' May said. + +'Yes, ma'am.' + +'Make the beef-tea in case it's wanted, and let me have some more warm +water. There's John and the doctor!' + +She started at a knock. + +'No, it's only the postman, ma'am.' + +Some letters danced on the hall floor and on her nerves. + +'Oh dear!' May whispered. 'I thought it was the doctor at last.' + +'John's bound to be back with one in a minute, ma'am. Do bear up,' urged +the cook, hurrying to the kitchen. + +She could have destroyed the woman for those last words. + +With the proud certainty of being equal to the dreadful crisis, she +turned abruptly into the bedroom, where her husband lay insensible on +one of the new beds. Assisted by the policemen and the cook, she had +done everything that could be done: cut away the coats and the +waistcoat, removed the boots, straightened the limbs, washed the face +and neck--especially the neck--which had to be sponged continually, and +scattered messengers, including John, over the vicinity in search of +medical aid. And now the policemen had gone, the general emotion on the +staircase had subsided, the front-door of the flat was shut. The great +ocean of the life of the mansions had closed smoothly upon her little +episode. She was alone with the shattered organism. + +She bent fondly over the bed, and her Paris frock, and the black scarf +which she had not removed, touched its ruinous burden. Her right hand +directed the sponge with ineffable tenderness, and then the long thin +fingers tightened to a frenzied clutch to squeeze it over the basin. The +whole of her being was absorbed in a deep passion of pity and an +intolerable hunger for the doctor. + +Through the wall came once more the faint sound of the Hungarian +Rhapsody, astonishingly rapid and brilliant. She set her teeth to endure +its unconscious message of the vast indifference of life to death. + +The organism stirred, and May watched the deathly face for a sign. The +eyes opened and stared at her in agonized bewilderment. The lips tried +to speak, and failed. + +'It's all right, darling,' she said softly. 'You're in your own bed. The +doctor will be here directly. Drink this.' + +She gave him some brandy-and-water, and they looked at each other. He +was no longer Edward Norris, the finely regulated intelligence, the +masterful volition, the conqueror of the world and of a woman; but +merely the embodiment of a frightened, despairing, flickering, +hysterical will-to-live, which glanced in terror at the corners of the +room as though it saw fate there. And beneath her intense solicitude was +the instinctive feeling, which hurt her, but which she could not +dismiss, of her measureless, dominating superiority. With what glad +relief would she have changed places with him! + +'I'm dying, May,' he murmured at length, with a sigh. 'Why doesn't the +doctor come?' + +'He is coming,' she replied soothingly. 'You'll be better soon.' + +But his effort in speaking obliged her to use the sponge again, and he +saw it, and drew another sigh, more mortal than the first. + +'Oh! I'm dying,' he repeated. + +'Not you, Ted!' And her smile cost her an awful pang. + +'I am. I know it.' This time he spoke with sad resignation. 'You must +face it. And--listen.' + +'What, dear?' + +A physical sensation of sickness came over her. She could not disguise +from herself the fact that he was dying. The warped and pallid face, the +panic-struck eyes, the sweat, the wound in the neck, the damp hands +nervously pulling the hem of the sheet--these indications were not to be +gainsaid. The truth was too horrible to grasp; she wanted to put it away +from her. 'This calamity cannot happen to me!' she thought urgently, and +all the while she knew that it was happening to her. + +He collected the feeble remnant of his powers by an immense effort, and +began to speak, slowly and fragmentarily, and with such weakness that +she could only catch his words by putting her ear to his mouth. The +restless hands dropped the sheet and took the end of the black scarf. + +'You'll be comfortable--for money,' he said. 'Will made.... It's not +that. It's ... I must tell you. It's----' + +'Yes?' she encouraged him. 'Tell me. I can hear.' + +'It's about your father. I didn't treat him quite right ... once.... +Week after I first met you, May.... No, not quite right. He was holding +Hull and Barnsley shares ... you know, railway ... great gambling stock, +then, Hull and Barn--Barnsley. Holding them on cover; for the rise.... +They dropped too much--dropped to 23.... He couldn't hold any longer ... +wired to me to sell and cut the loss. Understand?' + +'Yes,' she said, trembling. 'I quite understand.' + +'Well ... I wired back, "Sold at 23." ... But some mistake. Shares not +sold. Clerk's mistake.... Clerk didn't sell.... Next day rise began.... +I didn't wire him shares not sold. Somehow, I couldn't.... Put it +off.... Rise went on.... I took over shares myself ... you +see--myself.... Made nearly five thousand clear.... I wanted money +then.... I think I would have told him, perhaps, later ... made it +right ... but he died ... sudden ... I wasn't going to let his creditors +have that five thou.... No, he'd meant to sell ... and, look here, May, +if those shares had dropped lower ... 'stead of rising ... I should have +had to stand the racket ... with your father, for my clerk's +mistake.... See?... He'd meant to sell.... Hard lines on him, but he'd +meant to sell.... He'd meant----' + +'Don't say any more, dear.' + +'Must explain this, May. Why didn't I give the money to you ... when he +was dead?... Because I knew you'd only ... give it ... to creditors.... +I knew you.... That's straight.... I've told you now.' + +He lost consciousness again, but for an instant May did not notice it. +She was crying, and her tears fell on his face. + +Then came a doctor, a little dark man, who explained with calm +politeness that he had been out when the messenger first arrived. He +took off his coat, hung it up, opened his bag, and proceeded to a minute +examination of the patient. His movements were so methodical, and he +gave orders to May in a tone so quiet, casual, and ordinary, that she +almost lost her sense of the reality of the scene. + +'Yes, yes,' he said, from time to time, as if to himself; nothing else; +not a single enlightening word to May. + +'I'm dying,' moaned Edward, opening his eyes. + +The doctor glanced round at May and winked. That wink, deliberate and +humorous, was like an electric shock to her. She could actually feel her +heart leap in her breast. If she had not been afraid of the doctor, she +would have fainted. + +'You all think you're dying,' the doctor remarked in a low, amused tone +to the ceiling, as he wiped a pair of scissors, 'when you've been +knocked silly, especially if there's a lot of blood about.' + +The door opened. + +'Here's John, ma'am,' said the cook, 'with two more doctors. What am I +to do?' + +May involuntarily turned towards the door. + +'Don't you go, Mrs. Norris,' the little dark man commanded. 'I want +you.' Then he carelessly scrutinized the elderly servant. 'Tell 'em +they're too late,' he said. 'It's generally like that when there's an +accident,' he continued after the housekeeper had gone. 'First you can't +get a doctor anywhere, and then in half an hour or so we come in crowds. +I've known seven doctors turn up one after another. But in that affair +the man happened to have been killed outright.' + +He smiled grimly. In a little while he was snapping his bag. + +'I'll come in the morning, of course,' he said, as he wrote on a piece +of paper. 'Have this made up, and give it him in the night if he is +wakeful. Keep him warm. You might put a couple of hot-water bags, one on +either side of him. You've got beef-tea made, you say? That's right. Let +him have as much as he wants. Mr. Norris, you'll sleep like a top.' + +'But, doctor,' May inquired the next morning in the hall, after Edward +had smiled at a joke, and been informed that he must run down to +Bournemouth in a week, 'have we nothing to fear?' + +'I think not,' was the measured answer. 'These affairs nearly always +seem much worse than they are. Of course, the immediate upset is +tremendous--the disorganization, and all that sort of thing. But +Nature's pretty wonderful. You'll find your husband will soon get over +it. I should say he had a good constitution.' + +'And there will be no permanent effects?' + +'Yes,' said the doctor, with genial cynicism. 'There'll be one +permanent effect. Nobody will ever persuade him to ride in a hansom +again. If he can't find a four-wheeler, he'll walk in future.' + +She returned to the bedroom. The man on the bed was Edward Norris once +more, in control of himself, risen out of his humiliation. A feeling of +thankfulness overwhelmed her for a moment, and she sat down. + +'Well, May?' he murmured. + +'Well, dear.' + +They both realized that what they had been through was a common, daily +street accident. The smile of each was self-conscious, apprehensive, +insincere. + +'Quite a concert going on next door,' he said with an affectation of +lightness. + +It was the Hungarian Rhapsody, impetuous and brilliant as ever. How she +hated it now--this symbol of the hurried, unheeding, relentless, hollow +gaiety of the world! Yet she longed for the magic fingers of the player, +that she, too, might smother grief in such glittering veils! + + +IV + +The marriage which had begun so dramatically fell into placid routine. +Edward fulfilled the prophecy of the doctor. In a week they were able to +go to Bournemouth for a few days, and in less than a fortnight he was at +the office--the strong man again, confident and ambitious. + +After days devoted to finance, he came home in the evenings +high-spirited and determined to enjoy himself. His voice was firm and +his eye steady when he spoke to his wife; there was no trace of +self-consciousness in his demeanour. She admired the masculinity of the +brain that could forget by an effort of will. She felt that he trusted +her to forget also; that he relied on her common-sense, her +characteristic sagacity, to extinguish for ever the memory of an awkward +incident. He loved her. He was intensely proud of her. He treated her +with every sort of generosity. And in return he expected her to behave +like a man. + +She loved him. She esteemed him as a wife should. She made a profession +of wifehood. He gave his days to finance and his nights to diversion; +but her vocation was always with her--she was never off duty. She aimed +to please him to the uttermost in everything, to be in all respects the +ideal helpmate of a husband who was at once strenuous, fastidious, and +wealthy. Elegance and suavity were a religion with her. She was the +delight of the eye and of the ear, the soother of groans, the refuge of +distress, the uplifter of the heart. + +She made new acquaintances for him, and cemented old friendships. Her +manner towards his old friends enchanted him; but when they were gone +she had a way of making him feel that she was only his. She thought that +she was succeeding in her aim. She thought that all these sweet, endless +labours--of traffic with dressmakers, milliners, coiffeurs, maids, +cooks, and furnishers; of paying and receiving calls; of delicious +surprise journeys to the City to bring home the breadwinner; of giving +and accepting dinners; of sitting alert and appreciative in theatres and +music-halls; of supping in golden restaurants; of being serious, +cautionary, submissive, and seductive; of smiles, laughter, and kisses; +and of continuous sympathetic responsiveness--she thought that all these +labours had attained their object: Edward's complete serenity and +satisfaction. She imagined that love and duty had combined successfully +to deceive him on one solitary point. She was sure that he was deceived. +But she was wrong. + +One evening they were at the theatre alone together. It was a musical +comedy, and they had a large stage-box. May sat a little behind. After +having been darkened for a scenic conjuring trick, the stage was very +suddenly thrown into brilliant light. Edward turned with equal +suddenness to share his appreciation of the effect with his wife, and +the light and his eye caught her unawares. She smiled instantly, but too +late; he had seen the expression of her features. For a second she felt +as if the whole fabric which she had been building for the last six +months had crumbled; but this disturbing idea passed as she recovered +herself. + +'Let's go home, eh?' he said, at the end of the first act. + +'Yes,' she agreed. 'It would be nice to be in early, wouldn't it?' + +In the brougham they exchanged the amiable banalities of people who are +thoroughly intimate. When they reached the flat, she poured out his +whisky-and-potass, and sat on the arm of his particular arm-chair while +he sipped it; then she whispered that she was going to bed. + +'Wait a bit,' he said; 'I want to talk to you seriously.' + +'Dear thing!' she murmured, stroking his coat. + +She had not the slightest notion of his purpose. + +'You've tried your best, May,' he said bluntly, 'but you've failed. I've +suspected it for a long time.' + +She flushed, and retired to a sofa, away from the orange electric lamp. + +'What do you mean, Edward?' she asked. + +'You know very well what I mean, my dear,' he replied. 'What I told +you--that night! You've tried to forget it. You've tried to look at me +as though you had forgotten it. But you can't do it. It's on your mind. +I've noticed it again and again. I noticed it at the theatre to-night. +So I said to myself, "I'll have it out with her." And I'm having it +out.' + +'My dear Ted, I assure you----' + +'No, you don't,' he stopped her. 'I wish you did. Now you must just +listen. I know exactly what sort of an idiot I was that night as well as +you do. But I couldn't help it. I was a fool to tell you. Still, I +thought I was dying. I simply had a babbling fit. People are like that. +You thought I was dying, too, didn't you?' + +'Yes,' she said quietly, 'for a minute or two.' + +'Ah! It was that minute or two that did it. Well, I let it out, the +rotten little secret. I admit it wasn't on the square, that bit of +business. But, on the other hand, it wasn't anything really bad--like +cruelty to animals or ruining a girl. Of course, the chap was your +father, but, but----. Look here, May, you ought to be able to see that I +was exactly the same man after I told you as I was before. You ought to +be able to see that. My character wasn't wrecked because I happened to +split on myself, like an ass, about that affair. Mind you, I don't blame +you. You can't help your feelings. But do you suppose there's a single +man on this blessed earth without a secret? I'm not going to grovel +before gods or men. I'm not going to pretend I'm so frightfully sorry. +I'm sorry in a way. But can't you see----' + +'Don't say any more, Ted,' she begged him, fingering her sash. 'I know +all that. I know it all, and everything else you can say. Oh, my darling +boy! do you think I would look down on you ever so little because +of--what you told me? Who am I? I wouldn't care twopence even if----' + +'But it's between us all the same,' he broke in. 'You can't get over +it.' + +'Get over it!' she repeated lamely. + +'Can you? Have you?' He pinned her to a direct answer. + +She did not flinch. + +'No,' she said. + +'I thought you would have done,' he remarked, half to himself. 'I +thought you would. I thought you were enough a woman of the world for +that, May. It isn't as if the confounded thing had made any real +difference to your father. The old man died, and----' + +'Ted!' she exclaimed, 'I shall have to tell you, after all. It killed +him.' + +'What killed him? He died of gastritis.' + +'He was ill with gastritis, but he died of suicide. It's easy for a +gastritis patient to commit suicide. And father did.' + +'Why?' + +'Oh, ruin, despair! He'd been in difficulties for a long time. He said +that selling those shares just one day too soon was the end of it. When +he saw them going up day after day, it got on his mind. He said he knew +he would never, never have any luck. And then ...' + +'You kept it quiet.' He was walking about the room. + +'Yes, that was pretty easy.' + +'And did your mother know?' + +He turned and looked at her. + +'Yes, mother knew. It finished her. Oh, Ted!' she burst out, 'if you'd +only telegraphed to him the next morning that the shares weren't sold, +things might have been quite different.' + +'You mean I killed your father--and your mother.' + +'No, I don't,' she cried passionately. 'I tell you I don't. You didn't +know. But I think of it all, sometimes. And that's why--that's why----' + +She sat down again. + +'By God, May,' he swore, 'I'm frightfully sorry!' + +'I never meant to tell you,' she said, composing herself. 'But, there! +things slip out. Good-night.' + +She was gone, but in passing him she had timidly caressed his shoulder. + +'It's all up,' he said to himself. 'This will always be between us. No +one could expect her to forget it.' + + +V + +Gradually her characteristic habits deserted her; she seemed to lose +energy and a part of her interest in those things which had occupied her +most. She changed her dress less frequently, ignoring dressmakers, and +she showed no longer the ravishing elegance of the bride. She often lay +in bed till noon, she who had always entered the dining-room at nine +o'clock precisely to dispense his coffee and listen to his remarks on +the contents of the newspaper. She said 'As you please' to the cook, and +the meals began to lose their piquancy. She paid no calls, but some of +her women friends continued, nevertheless, to visit her. Lastly, she +took to sewing. The little dark doctor, who had become an acquaintance, +smiled at her and told her to do no more than she felt disposed to do. +She reclined on sofas in shaded rooms, and appeared to meditate. She was +not depressed, but thoughtful. It was as though she had much to settle +in her own mind. At intervals the faint sound of the Hungarian Rhapsody +mingled with her reveries. + +As for Edward, his behaviour was immaculate. During the day he made +money furiously. In the evening he sat with his wife. They did not talk +much, and he never questioned her. She developed a certain curious +whimsicality now and then; but for him she could do no wrong. + +The past was not mentioned. They both looked apprehensively towards the +future, towards a crisis which they knew was inexorably approaching. +They were afraid, while pretending to have no fear. + +And one afternoon, precipitately, surprisingly, the crisis came. + +'You are the father of a son--a very noisy son,' said the doctor, coming +into the drawing-room where Edward had sat in torture for three hours. + +'And May?' + +'Oh, never fear: she's doing excellently.' + +'Can I go and see her?' he asked, like a humble petitioner. + +'Well--yes,' said the doctor, 'for one minute; not more.' + +So he went into the bedroom as into a church, feeling a fool. The nurse, +miraculously white and starched, stood like a sentinel at the foot of +the bed of mystery. + +'All serene, May?' he questioned. If he had attempted to say another +word he would have cried. + +The pale mother nodded with a fatigued smile, and by a scarcely +perceptible gesture drew his attention to a bundle. From the next flat +came a faint, familiar sound, insolently joyous. + +'Yes,' he thought, 'but if they had both been lying dead here that tune +would have been the same.' + +Two months later he left the office early, telling his secretary that he +had a headache. It was a mere fibbing excuse. He suffered from sudden +fits of anxiety about his wife and child. When he reached the flat, he +found no one at home but the cook. + +'Where's your mistress?' he demanded. + +'She's out in the park with baby and nurse, sir.' + +'But it's going to rain,' he cried angrily. 'It is raining. They'll get +wet through.' + +He rushed into the corridor, and met the procession--May, the +perambulator, and the nursemaid. + +'Only fancy, Ted!' May exclaimed, 'the perambulator will go into the +lift, after all. Aren't you glad?' + +'Yes,' he said. 'But you're wet, surely?' + +'Not a drop. We just got in in time.' + +'Sure?' + +'Quite.' + +The tableau of May, elegant as ever, but her eyes brighter and her body +more leniently curved, of the hooded perambulator, and of the +fluffy-white nursemaid behind--it was too much for him. Touching +clumsily the apron of the perambulator, the stockbroker turned into his +doorway. Just then the girl from the next flat came out into the +corridor, dressed for social rites of the afternoon. The perambulator +was her excuse for stopping. + +'What a pretty boy!' she exclaimed in ecstasy, trying to squeeze her +picture hat under the hood of the perambulator. + +'Do you really think so?' said the mother, enchanted. + +'Of course! The darling! How I envy you!' + +May wanted to reciprocate this politeness. + +'I can't tell you,' she said, 'how I envy you your piano-playing. +There's one piece----' + +'Envy me! Why! It's only a pianola we've got!' + +'Isn't he the picture of his granddad?' said May to Edward when they +bent over the cot that night before retiring. + +And as she said it there was such candour in her voice, such content in +her smiling and courageous eyes, that Edward could not fail to +comprehend her message to him. Down in some very secret part of his soul +he felt for the first time the real force of the great explanatory truth +that one generation succeeds another. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SISTERS QITA + +The manuscript ran thus: + + * * * * * + +When I had finished my daily personal examination of the ropes +and trapezes, I hesitated a moment, and then climbed up again, to the +roof, where the red and the blue long ropes were fastened. I took my +sharp scissors from my chatelaine, and gently fretted the blue rope with +one blade of the scissors until only a single strand was left intact. I +gazed down at the vast floor a hundred feet below. The afternoon +varieties were over, and a phrenologist was talking to a small crowd of +gapers in a corner. The rest of the floor was pretty empty save for the +chairs and the fancy stalls, and the fatigued stall-girls in their black +dresses. I too, had once almost been a stall-girl at the Aquarium! I +descended. Few observed me in my severe street dress. Our secretary, +Charles, attended me on the stage. + +'Everything right, Miss Paquita?' he said, handing me my hat and gloves, +which I had given him, to hold. + +I nodded. I could see that he thought I was in one of my stern, far-away +moods. + +'Miss Mariquita is waiting for you in the carriage,' he said. + +We drove away in silence--I with my inborn melancholy too sad, Sally +(Mariquita) too happy to speak. This daily afternoon drive was really +part of our 'turn'! A team of four mules driven by a negro will make a +sensation even in Regent Street. All London looked at us, and contrasted +our impassive beauty--mine mature (too mature!) and dark, Sally's so +blonde and youthful, our simple costumes, and the fact that we stayed at +an exclusive Mayfair hotel, with the stupendous flourish of our turnout. +The renowned Sisters Qita--Paquita and Mariquita Qita--and the renowned +mules of the Sisters Qita! Two hundred pounds a week at the Aquarium! +Twenty-five thousand francs for one month at the Casino de Paris! Twelve +thousand five hundred dollars for a tour of fifty performances in the +States! Fifteen hundred pesos a night and a special train _de luxe_ in +Argentina and Brazil! I could see the loungers and the drivers talking +and pointing as usual. The gilded loungers in Verrey's café got up and +watched us through the windows as we passed. This was fame. For nearly +twenty years I had been intimate with fame, and with the envy of women +and the foolish homage of men. + +We saw dozens of omnibuses bearing the legend 'Qita.' Then we met one +which said: 'Empire Theatre. Valdès, the matchless juggler,' and Sally +smiled with pleasure. + +'He's coming to see our turn to-night, after his,' she remarked, +blushing. + +'Valdès? Why?' I asked, without turning my head. + +'He wants us to sup with him, to celebrate our engagement.' + +'When do you mean to get married?' I asked her shortly. I felt quite +calm. + +'I guess you're a Tartar to-day,' said the pretty thing, with a touch of +her American sauciness. 'We haven't studied it out yet. It was only +yesterday afternoon he kissed me for the first time.' Then she bent +towards me with her characteristic plaintive, wistful appeal. 'Say! You +aren't vexed, Selina, are you, because of this? Of course, he wants me +to tour with him after we're married, and do a double act. He's got lots +of dandy ideas for a double act. But I won't, I won't, Selina, unless +you say the word. Now, don't you go and be cross, Selina.' + +I let myself expand generously. + +'My darling girl!' I said, glancing at her kindly. 'You ought to know me +better. Of course I'm not cross. And of course you must tour with +Valdès. I shall be all right. How do you suppose I managed before I +invented you?' I smiled like an indulgent mother. + +'Oh! I didn't mean that,' she said. 'I know you're frightfully clever. +I'm nothing----' + +'I hope you'll be awfully happy,' I whispered, squeezing her hand. 'And +don't forget that I introduced him to you--I knew him years before you +did. I'm the cause of this bliss----Do you remember that cold morning in +Berlin?' + +'Oh! well, I should say!' she exclaimed in ecstasy. + +When we reached our rooms in the hotel I kissed her warmly. Women do +that sort of thing. + +Then a card was brought to me. 'George Capey,' it said; and in pencil, +'Of the Five Towns.' + +I shrugged my shoulders. Sally had gone to scribble a note to her +Valdès. 'Show Mr. Capey in,' I said, and a natty young man entered, half +nervousness, half audacity. + +'How did you know I come from the Five Towns?' I questioned him. + +'I am on the _Evening Mail_,' he said, 'where they know everything, +madam.' + +I was annoyed. 'Then they know, on the _Evening Mail_ that Paquita Qita +has never been interviewed, and never will be,' I said. + +'Besides,' he went on, 'I come from the Five Towns myself.' + +'Bursley?' I asked mechanically. + +'Bursley,' he ejaculated; then added, 'you haven't been near old Bosley +since----' + +It was true. + +'No,' I said hastily. 'It is many years since I have been in England, +even. Do they know down there who Qita is?' + +'Not they!' he replied. + +I grew reflective. Stars such as I have no place of origin. We shoot up +out of a void, and sink back into a void. I had forgotten Bursley and +Bursley folk. Recollections rushed in upon me.... I felt beautifully +sad. I drew off my gloves, and flung my hat on a chair with a movement +that would have bewitched a man of the world, but Mr. George Capey was +unimpressed. I laughed. + +'What's the joke?' he inquired. I adored him for his Bursliness. + +'I was just thinking, of fat Mrs. Cartledge, who used to keep that +fishmonger's shop in Oldcastle Street, opposite Bates's. I wonder if +she's still there?' + +'She is,' he said. 'And fatter than ever! She's getting on in years +now.' + +I broke the rule of a lifetime, and let him interview me. + +'Tell them I'm thirty-seven,' I said. 'Yes, I mean it. Tell them.' + +And then for another tit-bit I explained to him how I had discovered +Sally at Koster and Bial's, in New York, five years ago, and made her my +sister for stage purposes because I was lonely, and liked her American +simplicity and twang. He departed full of tea and satisfaction. + + * * * * * + +It was our last night at the Aquarium. The place was crammed. The houses +where I performed were always crammed. Our turn was in three parts, and +lasted half an hour. The first part was a skirt dance in full afternoon +dress (_danse de modernité_, I called it); the second was a double +horizontal bar act; the third was the famous act of the red and the blue +ropes, in full evening dress. It was 10.45 when we climbed the silk +ladders for the third part. High up in the roof, separated from each +other by nearly the length of the great hall, Sally and I stood on two +little platforms. I held the ends of the red and the blue ropes. I had +to let the blue rope swing across the hall to her. She would seize it, +and, clutching it, swoop like the ball of an enormous pendulum from her +platform to mine. (But would she?) I should then swing on the red rope +to the platform she had left. + +Then the band would stop for the thrilling moment, and the lights would +be lowered. Each lighting and holding a powerful electric +hand-light--one red, one blue--we should signal the drummer and plunge +simultaneously into space, flash past each other in mid-flight, +exchanging lights as we passed (this was the trick), and soar to +opposite platforms again, amid frenzied applause. There were no nets. + +That was what ought to occur. + +I stood bowing to the floor of tiny upturned heads, and jerking the +ropes a little. Then I let Sally's rope go with a push, and it dropped +away from me, and in a few seconds she had it safe in her strong hand. +She was taller than me, with a fuller figure, yet she looked quite small +on her distant platform. All the evening I had been thinking of fat old +Mrs. Cartledge messing and slopping among cod and halibut on white +tiles. I could not get Bursley and my silly infancy out of my head. I +followed my feverish career from the age of fifteen, when that strange +Something in me, which makes an artist, had first driven me forth to +conquer two continents. I thought of all the golden loves I had scorned, +and my own love, which had been ignored, unnoticed, but which still +obstinately burned. I glanced downwards and descried Valdès precisely +where Sally had said he would be. Valdès, what a fool you were! And I +hated a fool. I am one of those who can love and hate, who can love and +despise, who can love and loathe the same object in the same moment. +Then I signalled to Sally to plunge, and my eyes filled with tears. For, +you see, somehow, in some senseless sentimental way, the thought of fat +Mrs. Cartledge and my silly infancy had forced me to send Sally the red +rope, not the blue one. We exchanged ropes on alternate nights, but this +was her night for the blue one. + +She swung over, alighting accurately at my side with that exquisite +outward curve of the spine which had originally attracted me to her. + +'You sent me the red one,' she said to me, after she had acknowledged +the applause. + +'Yes,' I said. 'Never mind; stick to it now you've got it. Here's the +red light. Have you seen Valdès?' + +She nodded. + +I took the blue light and clutched the blue rope. Instead of +murder--suicide, since it must be one or the other. And why not? Indeed, +I censured myself in that second for having meant to kill Sally. Not +because I was ashamed of the sin, but because the revenge would have +been so pitiful and weak. If Valdès the matchless was capable of passing +me over and kneeling to the pretty thing---- + +I stood ready. The world was to lose that fineness, that distinction, +that originality, that disturbing subtlety, which constituted Paquita +Qita. I plunged. + +... I was on the other platform. The rope had held, then: I remembered +nothing of the flight except that I had passed near the upturned, +pleasant face of Valdès. + +The band stopped. The lights of the hall were lowered. All was dark. I +switched on my dazzling blue light; Sally switched on her red one. I +stood ready. The rope could not possibly endure a second strain. I waved +to Sally and signalled to the conductor. The world was to lose Paquita. +The drum began its formidable roll. Whirrr! I plunged, and saw the red +star rushing towards me. I snatched it and soared upwards. The blue rope +seemed to tremble. As I came near the platform at decreasing speed, it +seemed to stretch like elastic. It broke! The platform jumped up +suddenly over my head, but I caught at the silk ladder. I was saved! +There was a fearful silence, and then the appalling shock of hysterical +applause from seven thousand throats. I slid down the ladder, ran across +the stage into my dressing-room for a cloak, out again into the street. +In two days I was in Buda-Pesth. + + * * * * * + + + + +NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + + +I + +In the daily strenuous life of a great hotel there are periods during +which its bewildering activities slacken, and the vast organism seems to +be under the influence of an opiate. Such a period recurs after dinner +when the guests are preoccupied by the mysterious processes of digestion +in the drawing-rooms or smoking-rooms or in the stalls of a theatre. On +the evening of this nocturne the well-known circular entrance-hall of +the Majestic, with its tessellated pavement, its malachite pillars, its +Persian rugs, its lounges, and its renowned stuffed bears at the foot of +the grand stairway, was for the moment deserted, save by the head +hall-porter and the head night-porter and the girl in the bureau. It was +a quarter to nine, and the head hall-porter was abdicating his pagoda +to the head night-porter, and telling him the necessary secrets of the +day. These two lords, before whom the motley panorama of human existence +was continually being enrolled, held a portentous confabulation night +and morning. They had no illusions; they knew life. Shakespeare himself +might have listened to them with advantage. + +The girl in the bureau, like a beautiful and languishing animal in its +cage, leaned against her window, and looked between two pillars at the +magnificent lords. She was too far off to catch their talk, and, indeed, +she watched them absently in a reverie induced by the sweet melancholy +of the summer twilight, by the torpidity of the hour, and by the +prospect of the next day, which was her day off. The liveried +functionaries ignored her, probably scorned her as a mere pretty little +morsel. Nevertheless, she was the centre of energy, not they. If money +were payable, she was the person to receive it; if a customer wanted a +room, she would choose it; and the lords had to call her 'miss.' The +immense and splendid hotel pulsed round this simple heart hidden under a +white blouse. Especially in summer, her presence and the presence of +her companions in the bureau (but to-night she was alone) ministered to +the satisfaction of male guests, whose cruel but profoundly human +instincts found pleasure in the fact that, no matter when they came in +from their wanderings, the pretty captives were always there in the +bureau, smiling welcome, puzzling stupid little brains and puckering +pale brows over enormous ledgers, twittering borrowed facetiousness from +rosy mouths, and smoothing out seductive toilettes with long thin hands +that were made for ring and bracelet and rudder-lines, and not a bit for +the pen and the ruler. + +The pretty little thing despised of the functionaries corresponded +almost exactly in appearance to the typical bureau girl. She was +moderately tall; she had a good slim figure, all pleasant curves, flaxen +hair and plenty of it, and a dainty, rather expressionless face; the +ears and mouth were very small, the eyes large and blue, the nose so-so, +the cheeks and forehead of an equal ivory pallor, the chin trifling, +with a crease under the lower lip and a rich convexity springing out +from below the crease. The extremities of the full lips were nearly +always drawn up in a smile, mechanical, but infallibly attractive. The +hair was of an orthodox frizziness. You would have said she was a nice, +kind, good-natured girl, flirtatious but correct, well adapted to adorn +a dogcart on Sundays. + +This was Nina, foolish Nina, aged twenty-one. In her reverie the entire +Hôtel Majestic weighed on her; she had a more than adequate sense of her +own solitary importance in the bureau, and stirring obscurely beneath +that consciousness were the deep ineradicable longings of a poor pretty +girl for heaps of money, endless luxury of finery and chocolates, and +sentimental silken dalliance. + +Suddenly a stranger entered the hall. His advent seemed to wake the +place out of the trance into which it had fallen. The nocturne had +begun. Nina straightened herself and intensified her eternal smile. The +two porters became military, and smiled with a special and peculiar +urbanity. Several lesser but still lordly functionaries appeared among +the pillars; a page-boy emerged by magic from the region of the +chimney-piece like Mephistopheles in Faust's study; and some guests of +both sexes strolled chattering across the tessellated pavement as they +passed from one wing of the hotel to the other. + +'How do, Tom?' said the stranger, grasping the hand of the head +hall-porter, and nodding to the head night-porter. + +His voice showed that he was an American, and his demeanour that he was +one of those experienced, wealthy, and kindly travellers who know the +Christian names of all the hall-porters in the world, and have the trick +of securing their intimacy and fealty. He wore a blue suit and a light +gray wideawake, and his fine moustache was grizzled. In his left hand he +carried a brown bag. + +'Nicely, thank you, sir,' Tom replied. 'How are you, sir?' + +'Oh, about six and six.' + +Whereupon both porters laughed heartily. + +Tom escorted him to the bureau, and tried to relieve him of his bag. +Inferior lords escorted Tom. + +'I guess I'll keep the grip,' said the stranger. 'Mr. Pank will be +around with some more baggage pretty soon. We've expressed the rest on +to the steamer. Well, my dear,' he went on, turning to Nina, 'you're a +fresh face here.' + +He looked her steadily in the eyes. + +'Yes, I am,' she said, conquered instantly. + +Radiant and triumphant, the man brought good-humour into every face, +like some wonderful combination of the sun and the sea-breeze. + +'Give me two bedrooms and a parlour, please,' he commanded. + +'First floor?' asked Nina prettily. + +'First floor! Well--I should say! _And_ on the Strand, my dear.' + +She bent over her ledgers, blushing. + +'Send someone to the 'phone, Tom, and let 'em put me on to the Regency, +will you?' said the stranger. + +'Yes, sir. Samuels, go and ring up the Regency Theatre--quick!' + +Swift departure of a lord. + +'And ask Alphonse to come up to my bedroom in ten minutes from now,' the +stranger proceeded to Tom. 'I shall want a dandy supper for fourteen at +a quarter after eleven.' + +'Yes, sir. No dinner, sir?' + +'No; we dined on the Pullman. Well, my dear, figured it out yet?' + +'Numbers 102, 120, and 107,' said Nina. + +'Keys 102, 120, and 107,' said Tom. + +Swift departure of another lord to the pagoda. + +'How much?' demanded the stranger. + +'The bedrooms are twenty-five shillings, and the sitting-room two +guineas.' + +'I guess Mr. Pank won't mind that. Hullo, Pank, you're here! I'm +through. Your number's 102 or 120, which you fancy. Just going to the +'phone a minute, and then I'll join you upstairs.' + +Mr. Pank was a younger man, possessing a thin, astute, intellectual +face. He walked into the hall with noticeable deliberation. His +travelling costume was faultless, but from beneath his straw hat his +black hair sprouted in a somewhat peculiar fashion over his broad +forehead. He smiled lazily and shrewdly, and without a word disappeared +into a lift. Two large portmanteaus accompanied him. + +Presently the elder stranger could be heard battling with the obstinate +idiosyncrasies of a London telephone. + +'You haven't registered,' Nina called to him in her tremulous, +delicate, captivating voice, as he came out of the telephone-box. + +He advanced to sign, and, taking a pen and leaning on the front of the +bureau, wrote in the visitor's book, in a careful, legible hand: 'Lionel +Belmont, New York.' Having thus written, and still resting on the right +elbow, he raised his right hand a little and waved the pen like a +delicious menace at Nina. + +'Mr. Pank hasn't registered, either,' he said slowly, with a charming +affectation of solemnity, as though accusing Mr. Pank of some appalling +crime. + +Nina laughed timidly as she pushed his room-ticket across the page of +the big book. She thought that Mr. Lionel Belmont was perfectly +delightful. + +'No,' he hasn't,' she said, trying also to be arch; 'but he must.' + +At that moment she happened to glance at the right hand of Mr. Belmont. +In the brilliance of the electric light she could see the fair skin of +the wrist and forearm within the whiteness of his shirt-sleeve. She +stared at what she saw, every muscle tense. + +'I guess you can round up Mr. Pank yourself, my dear, later on,' said +Lionel Belmont, and turned quickly away, intent on the next thing. + +He did not notice that her large eyes had grown larger and her pale face +paler. In another moment the hall was deserted again. Mr. Belmont had +ascended in the lift, Tom had gone to his rest, and the head +night-porter was concealed in the pagoda. Nina sank down limply on her +stool, her nostrils twitching; she feared she was about to faint, but +this final calamity did not occur. She had, nevertheless, experienced +the greatest shock of her brief life, and the way of it was thus. + + +II + +Nina Malpas was born amid the embers of one of those fiery conjugal +dramas which occur with romantic frequency in the provincial towns of +the northern Midlands, where industrial conditions are such as to foster +an independent spirit among women of the lower class generally, and +where by long tradition 'character' is allowed to exploit itself more +freely than in the southern parts of our island. Lemuel Malpas was a +dashing young commercial traveller, with what is known as 'an agreeable +address,' in Bursley, one of the Five Towns, Staffordshire. On the +strength of his dash he wooed and married the daughter of an +hotel-keeper in the neighbouring town of Hanbridge. Six months after the +wedding--in other words, at the most dangerous period of the connubial +career--Mrs. Malpas's father died, and Mrs. Malpas became the absolute +mistress of eight thousand pounds. Lemuel[1] had carefully foreseen this +windfall, and wished to use the money in enterprises of the earthenware +trade. Mrs. Malpas, pretty and vivacious, with a self-conceit hardened +by the adulation of saloon-bars, very decidedly thought otherwise. Her +motto was, 'What's yours is mine, but what's mine's my own.' The +difference was accentuated. Long mutual resistances were followed by +reconciliations, which grew more and more transitory, and at length both +recognised that the union, not founded on genuine affection, had been a +mistake. + + [1] This name is pronounced with the accent on the first syllable in + the Five Towns. + +'Keep your d----d brass!' Lemuel exclaimed one morning, and he went off +on a journey and forgot to come back. A curious letter dated from +Liverpool wished his wife happiness, and informed her that, since she +was well provided for, he had no scruples about leaving her. Mrs. Malpas +was startled at first, but she soon perceived that what Lemuel had done +was exactly what the brilliant and enterprising Lemuel might have been +expected to do. She jerked up her doll's head, and ejaculated, 'So much +the better!' + +A few weeks later she sold the furniture and took rooms in Scarborough, +where, amid pleasurable surroundings, she determined to lead the joyous +life of a grass-widow, free of all cares. Then, to her astonishment and +disgust, Nina was born. She had not bargained for Nina. She found +herself in the tiresome position of a mother whose explanations of her +child lack plausibility. One lodging-housekeeper to whom she hazarded +the statement that Lemuel was in Australia had saucily replied: 'I +thought maybe it was the North Pole he was gone to!' + +This decided Mrs. Malpas. She returned suddenly to the Five Towns, +where at least her reputation was secure. Only a week previously Lemuel +had learnt indirectly that she had left their native district. He +determined thenceforward to forget her completely. Mrs. Malpas's +prettiness was of the fleeting sort. After Nina's birth she began to get +stout and coarse, and the nostalgia of the saloon-bar, the coffee-room, +and the sanded portico overtook her. The Tiger at Bursley was for sale, +a respectable commercial hotel, the best in the town. She purchased it, +wines, omnibus connection, and all, and developed into the typical +landlady in black silk and gold rings. + +In the Tiger Nina was brought up. She was a pretty child from her +earliest years, and received the caresses of all as a matter of course. +She went to a good school, studied the piano, and learnt dancing, and at +sixteen did her hair up. She did as she was told without fuss, being +apparently of a lethargic temperament; she had all the money and all the +clothes that her heart could desire; she was happy, and in a quiet way +she deemed herself a rather considerable item in the world. When she was +eighteen her mother died miserably of cancer, and it was discovered +that the liabilities of Mrs. Malpas's estate exceeded its assets--and +the Tiger mortgaged up to its value! The creditors were not angry; they +attributed the state of affairs to illness and the absence of male +control, and good-humouredly accepted what they could get. None the +less, Nina, the child of luxury and sloth, had to start life with +several hundreds of pounds less than nothing. Of her father all trace +had been long since lost. A place was found for her, and for over two +years she saw the world from the office of a famous hotel in Doncaster. +Her lethargy, and an invaluable gift of adapting herself to +circumstances, saved her from any acute unhappiness in the Yorkshire +town. Instinctively she ceased to remember the Tiger and past +splendours. (Equally, if she had married a Duke instead of becoming a +book-keeper, she would have ceased to remember the Tiger and past +humility.) Then by good or ill fortune she had the offer of a situation +at the Hôtel Majestic, Strand, London. The Majestic and the sights +thereof woke up the sleeping soul. + +Before her death Mrs. Malpas had told Nina many things about the +vanished Lemuel; among others, the curious detail that he had two small +moles--one hairless, the other hirsute--close together on the under side +of his right wrist. Nina had seen precisely such marks of identification +on the right wrist of Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +She was convinced that Lionel Belmont was her father. There could not be +two men in the world so stamped by nature. She perceived that in +changing his name he had chosen Lionel because of its similarity to +Lemuel. She felt certain, too, that she had noticed vestiges of the Five +Towns accent beneath his Americanisms. But apart from these reasons, she +knew by a superrational instinct that Lionel Belmont was her father; it +was not the call of blood, but the positiveness of a woman asserting +that a thing is so because she is sure it is so. + + +III + +Nina was not of an imaginative disposition. The romance of this +extraordinary encounter made no appeal to her. She was the sort of girl +that constantly reads novelettes, and yet always, with fatigued scorn, +refers to them as 'silly.' Stupid little Nina was intensely practical +at heart, and it was the practical side of her father's reappearance +that engaged her birdlike mind. She did not stop to reflect that truth +is stranger than fiction. Her tiny heart was not agitated by any +ecstatic ponderings upon the wonder and mystery of fate. She did not +feel strangely drawn towards Lionel Belmont, nor did she feel that he +supplied a something which had always been wanting to her. + +On the other hand, her pride--and Nina was very proud--found much +satisfaction in the fact that her father, having turned up, was so fine, +handsome, dashing, good-humoured, and wealthy. It was well, and +excellently well, and delicious, to have a father like that. The +possession of such a father opened up vistas of a future so enticing and +glorious that her present career became instantly loathsome to her. + +It suddenly seemed impossible that she could have tolerated the +existence of a hotel clerk for a single week. Her eyes were opened, and +she saw, as many women have seen, that luxury was an absolute necessity +to her. All her ideas soared with the magic swiftness of the +bean-stalk. And at the same time she was terribly afraid, unaccountably +afraid, to confront Mr. Belmont and tell him that she was his Nina; he +was entirely unaware that he had a Nina. + +'I'm your daughter! I know by your moles!' + +She whispered the words in her tiny heart, and felt sure that she could +never find courage to say them aloud to that great and important man. +The announcement would be too monstrous, incredible, and absurd. People +would laugh. He would laugh. And Nina could stand anything better than +being laughed at. Even supposing she proved to him his paternity--she +thought of the horridness of going to lawyers' offices--he might decline +to recognise her. Or he might throw her fifty pounds a year, as one +throws sixpence to an importunate crossing-sweeper, to be rid of her. +The United States existed in her mind chiefly as a country of +highly-remarkable divorce laws, and she thought that Mr. Belmont might +have married again. A fashionable and arrogant Mrs. Belmont, and a +dazzling Miss Belmont, aged possibly eighteen, might arrive, both of +them steeped in all conceivable luxury, at any moment. Where would Nina +be then, with her two-and-eleven-pence-halfpenny blouse from Glave's?... + +Mr. Belmont, accompanied by Alphonse, the head-waiter in the _salle à +manger_, descended in the lift and crossed the hall to the portico, +where he stood talking for a few seconds. Mr. Belmont turned, and, as he +conversed with Alphonse, gazed absently in the direction of the bureau. +He looked straight through the pretty captive. After all, despite his +superficial heartiness, she could be nothing to him--so rich, assertive, +and truly important. A hansom was called for him, and he departed; she +observed that he was in evening dress now. + +No! Her cause was just; but it was too startling--that was what was the +matter with it. + +Then she told herself she would write to Lionel Belmont. She would write +a letter that night. + +At nine-thirty she was off duty. She went upstairs to her perch in the +roof, and sat on her bed for over two hours. Then she came down again +to the bureau with some bluish note-paper and envelopes in her hand, +and, in response to the surprised question of the pink-frocked colleague +who had taken her place, she explained that she wanted to write a +letter. + +'You do look that bad, Miss Malpas,' said the other girl, who made a +speciality of compassion. + +'Do I?' said Nina. + +'Yes, you do. What have you got _on_, _now_, my poor dear?' + +'What's that to you? I'll thank you to mind your own business, Miss +Bella Perkins.' + +Usually Nina was not soon ruffled; but that night all her nerves were +exasperated and exceedingly sensitive. + +'Oh!' said the girl. 'What price the Duchess of Doncaster? And I was +just going to wish you a nice day to-morrow for your holiday, too.' + +Nina seated herself at the table to write the letter. An electric light +burned directly over her frizzy head. She wrote a weak but legible and +regular back-hand. She hated writing letters, partly because she was +dubious about her spelling, and partly because of an obscure but +irrepressible suspicion that her letters were of necessity silly. She +pondered for a long time, and then wrote: 'Dear Mr. Belmont,--I +venture----' She made a new start: 'Dear Sir,--I hope you will not think +me----' And a third attempt: 'My dear Father----' No! it was +preposterous. It could no more be written than it could be said. + +The situation was too much for simple Nina. + +Suddenly the grand circular hall of the Majestic was filled with a +clamour at once charming and fantastic. There was chattering of musical, +gay American voices, pattering of elegant feet on the tessellated +pavement, the unique incomparable sound of the _frou-frou_ of many +frocks; and above all this the rich tones of Mr. Lionel Belmont. Nina +looked up and saw her radiant father the centre of a group of girls all +young, all beautiful, all stylish, all with picture hats, all +self-possessed, all sparkling, doubtless the recipients of the dandy +supper. + +Oh, how insignificant and homicidal Nina felt! + +'Thirteen of you!' exclaimed Lionel Belmont, pulling his superb +moustache. 'Two to a hansom. I guess I'll want six and a half hansoms, +boy.' + +There was an explosion of delicious laughter, and the page-boy grinned, +ran off, and began whistling in the portico like a vexed locomotive. The +thirteen fair, shepherded by Lionel Belmont, passed out into the +murmurous summer night of the Strand. Cab after cab drove up, and Nina +saw that her father, after filling each cab, paid each cabman. In three +minutes the dream-like scene was over. Mr. Belmont re-entered the hotel, +winked humorously at the occupant of the pagoda, ignored the bureau, and +departed to his rooms. + +Nina ripped her inchoate letters into small pieces, and, with a tart +good-night to Miss Bella Perkins, who was closing her ledgers, the hour +being close upon twelve-thirty, she passed sedately, stiffly, as though +in performance of some vestal's ritual, up the grand staircase. Turning +to the right at the first landing, she traversed a long corridor which +was no part of the route to her cubicle on the ninth floor. This +corridor was lighted by glowing sparks, which hung on yellow cords from +the central line of the ceiling; underfoot was a heavy but narrow +crimson patterned carpet with a strip of polished oak parquet on either +side of it. Exactly along the central line of the carpet Nina tripped, +languorously, like an automaton, and exactly over her head glittered the +line of electric sparks. The corridor and the journey seemed to be +interminable, and Nina on some inscrutable and mystic errand. At length +she moved aside from the religious line, went into a service cabinet, +and emerged with a small bunch of pass-keys. No. 107 was Lionel +Belmont's sitting-room; No. 102, his bedroom, was opposite to 107. No. +108, another sitting-room, was, as Nina knew, unoccupied. She +noiselessly let herself into No. 108, closed the door, and stood still. +After a minute she switched on the light. These two rooms, Nos. 108 and +107, had once communicated, but, as space grew precious with the growing +success of the Majestic, they had been finally separated, and the door +between them locked and masked by furniture. By reason of the door, Nina +could hear Lionel Belmont moving to and fro in No. 107. She listened a +long time. Then, involuntarily, she yawned with fatigue. + +'How silly of me to be here!' she thought. 'What good will this do me?' + +She extinguished the light and opened the door to leave. At the same +instant the door of No. 107, three feet off, opened. She drew back with +a start of horror. Suppose she had collided with her father on the +landing! Timorously she peeped out, and saw Lionel Belmont, in his +shirt-sleeves, disappear round the corner. + +'He is going to talk with his friend Mr. Pank,' Nina thought, knowing +that No. 120 lay at some little distance round that corner. + +Mr. Belmont had left the door of No. 107 slightly ajar. An unseen and +terrifying force compelled Nina to venture into the corridor, and then +to push the door of No. 107 wide open. The same force, not at all +herself, quite beyond herself, seemed to impel her by the shoulders into +the room. As she stood unmistakably within her father's private +sitting-room, scared, breathing rapidly, inquisitive, she said to +herself: + +'I shall hear him coming back, and I can run out before he turns the +corner of the corridor.' And she kept her little pink ears alert. + +She looked about the softly brilliant room, such an extravagant triumph +of luxurious comfort as twenty years ago would have aroused comment even +in Mayfair; but there were scores of similar rooms in the Majestic. No +one thought twice of them. Her father's dress-coat was thrown arrogantly +over a Louis Quatorze chair, and this careless flinging of the expensive +shining coat across the gilded chair somehow gave Nina a more intimate +appreciation of her father's grandeur and of the great and glorious life +he led. She longed to recline indolently in a priceless tea-gown on the +couch by the fireplace and issue orders.... She approached the +writing-table, littered with papers, documents, in scores and hundreds. +To the left was the brown bag. It was locked, and very heavy, she +thought. To the right was a pile of telegrams. She picked up one, and +read: + + '_Pank, Grand Hotel, Birmingham. Why not burgle hotel? Simplest + most effective plan and solves all difficulties._--BELMONT.' + +She read it twice, crunched it in her left hand, and picked up another +one: + + '_Pank, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. Your objection absurd. See safe + in bureau at Majestic. Quite easy. Scene with girl second + evening_.--BELMONT.' + +The thing flashed blindingly upon her. Her father and Mr. Pank belonged +to the swell mob of which she had heard and seen so much at Doncaster. +She at once became the excessively knowing and suspicious hotel employé, +to whom every stranger is a rogue until he has proved the contrary. Had +she lived through three St. Leger weeks for nothing? At the hotel at +Doncaster, what they didn't know about thieves and sharpers was not +knowledge. The landlord kept a loaded revolver in his desk there during +the week. And she herself had been provided with a whistle which she was +to blow at the slightest sign of a row; she had blown it once, and seven +policemen had appeared within thirty seconds. The landlord used to tell +tales of masterly and huge scoundrelism that would make Charles Peace +turn in his grave. And the landlord had ever insisted that no one, no +one at all, could always distinguish with certainty between a real gent +and a swell-mobsman. + +So her father and Mr. Pank had deceived everyone in the hotel except +herself, and they meant to rob the safe in the bureau to-morrow night. +Of course Mr. Lionel Belmont was a villain, or he would not have +deserted her poor dear mother; it was annoying, but indubitable.... Even +now he was maturing his plans round the corner with that Mr. Pank.... +Burglars always went about in shirt-sleeves.... The brown bag contained +the tools.... + +The shock was frightful, disastrous, tragic; but it had solved the +situation by destroying it. Practically, Nina no longer had a father. He +had existed for about four hours as a magnificent reality, full of +possibilities; he now ceased to be recognisable. + +She was about to pick up a third telegram when a slight noise caused her +to turn swiftly; she had forgotten to keep her little pink ears alert. +Her father stood in the doorway. He was certainly the victim of some +extraordinary emotion; his face worked; he seemed at a loss what to do +or say; he seemed pained, confused, even astounded. Simple, foolish Nina +had upset the balance of his equations. + +Then he resumed his self-control and came forward into the room with a +smile intended to be airy. Meanwhile Nina had not moved. One is inclined +to pity the artless and defenceless girl in this midnight duel of wits +with a shrewd, resourceful, and unscrupulous man of the world. But one's +pity should not be lavished on an undeserving object. Though Nina +trembled, she was mistress of herself. She knew just where she was, and +just how to behave. She was as impregnable as Gibraltar. + +'Well,' said Mr. Lionel Belmont, genially gazing at her pose, 'you do +put snap into it, any way.' + +'Into what?' she was about to inquire, but prudently she held her +tongue. Drawing, herself up with the gesture of an offended and +unapproachable queen, the little thing sailed past him, close past her +own father, and so out of the room. + +'Say!' she heard him remark: 'let's straighten this thing out, eh?' + +But she heroically ignored him, thinking the while that, with all his +sins, he was attractive enough. She still held the first telegram in her +long, thin fingers. + +So ended the nocturne. + + +IV + +At five o'clock the next morning Nina's trifling nose was pressed +against the windowpane of her cubicle. In the enormous slate roof of the +Majestic are three rows of round windows, like port-holes. Out of the +highest one, at the extremity of the left wing, Nina looked. From thence +she could see five other vast hotels, and the yard of Charing Cross +Station, with three night-cabs drawn up to the kerb, and a red van of +W.H. Smith and Son disappearing into the station. The Strand was quite +empty. It was a strange world of sleep and grayness and disillusion. +Within a couple of hundred yards or so of her thousands of people lay +asleep, and they would all soon wake into the disillusion, and the +Strand would wake, and the first omnibus of all the omnibuses would come +along.... + +Never had simple Nina felt so sad and weary. She was determined to give +up her father. She was bound to tell the manager of her discovery, for +Nina was an honest servant, and she was piqued in her honesty. No one +should know that Lionel Belmont was her father.... She saw before her +the task of forgetting him and forgetting the rich dreams of which he +had been the origin. She was once more a book-keeper with no prospects. + +At eight she saw the manager in the managerial room. Mr. Reuben was a +young Jew, aged about thirty-four, with a cold but indestructibly polite +manner. He was a great man, and knew it; he had almost invented the +Majestic. + +She told him her news; it was impossible for foolish Nina to conceal her +righteousness and her sense of her importance. + +'Whom did you say, Miss Malpas?' asked Mr. Reuben. + +'Mr. Lionel Belmont--at least, that's what he calls himself.' + +'Calls himself, Miss Malpas?' + +'Here's one of the telegrams.' + +Mr. Reuben read it, looked at little Nina, and smiled; he never laughed. + +'Is it possible, Miss Malpas,' said he, 'that you don't know who Mr. +Belmont and Mr. Pank are?' And then, as she shook her head, he continued +in his impassive, precise way: 'Mr. Belmont is one of the principal +theatrical managers in the United States. Mr. Pank is one of the +principal playwrights in the United States. Mr. Pank's melodrama +'Nebraska' is now being played at the Regency by Mr. Belmont's own +American company. Another of Mr. Belmont's companies starts shortly for +a tour in the provinces with the musical comedy 'The Dolmenico Doll.' I +believe that Mr. Pank and Mr. Belmont are now writing a new melodrama, +and as they have both been travelling, but not together, I expect that +these telegrams relate to that melodrama. Did you suppose that +safe-burglars wire their plans to each other like this?' He waved the +telegram with a gesture of fatigue. + +Silly, ruined Nina made no answer. + +'Do you ever read the papers--the _Telegraph_ or the _Mail_, Miss +Malpas?' + +'N-no, sir.' + +'You ought to, then you wouldn't be so ignorant and silly. A hotel-clerk +can't know too much. And, by-the-way, what were you doing in Mr. +Belmont's room last night, when you found these wonderful telegrams?' + +'I went there--I went there--to----' + +'Don't cry, please, it won't help you. You must leave here to-day. +You've been here three weeks, I think. I'll tell Mr. Smith to pay you +your month's wages. You don't know enough for the Majestic, Miss Malpas. +Or perhaps you know too much. I'm sorry. I had thought you would suit +us. Keep straight, that's all I have to say to you. Go back to +Doncaster, or wherever it is you came from. Leave before five o'clock. +That will do.' + +With a godlike air, Mr. Reuben swung round his office-chair and faced +his desk. He tried not to perceive that there was a mysterious quality +about this case which he had not quite understood. Nina tripped +piteously out. + +In the whole of London Nina had one acquaintance, and an hour or so +later, after drinking some tea, she set forth to visit this +acquaintance. The weight of her own foolishness, fatuity, silliness, and +ignorance was heavy upon her. And, moreover, she had been told that Mr. +Lionel Belmont had already departed back to America, his luggage being +marked for the American Transport Line. + +She was primly walking, the superlative of the miserable, past the +façade of the hotel, when someone sprang out of a cab and spoke to her. +And it was Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +'Get right into this hansom, Miss Malpas,' he said kindly, 'and I guess +we'll talk it out.' + +'Talk what out?' she thought. + +But she got in. + +'Marble Arch, and go up Regent Street, and don't hurry,' said Mr. +Belmont to the cabman. + +'How did he know my name?' she asked herself. + +'A hansom's the most private place in London,' he said after a pause. + +It certainly did seem to her very cosy and private, and her nearness to +one of the principal theatrical managers in America was almost +startling. Her white frock, with the black velvet decorations, touched +his gray suit. + +'Now,' he said, 'I do wish you'd tell me why you were in my parlour last +night. Honest.' + +'What for?' she parried, to gain time. + +Should she begin to disclose her identity? + +'Because--well, because--oh, look here, my girl, I want to be on very +peculiar terms with you. I want to straighten out everything. You'll be +sort of struck, but I'll be bound to tell you I'm your father. Now, +don't faint or anything.' + +'Oh, I knew that!' she gasped. 'I saw the moles on your wrist when your +were registering--mother told me about them. Oh, if I had only known you +knew!' + +They looked at one another. + +'It was only the day before yesterday I found out I possessed such a +thing as a daughter. I had a kind of fancy to go around to the old spot. +This notion of me having a daughter struck me considerable, and I +concluded to trace her and size her up at once.' Nina was bound to +smile. 'So your poor mother's been dead three years?' + +'Yes,' said Nina. + +'Ah! don't let us talk about that. I feel I can't say just the right +thing.... And so you knew me by those pips.' He pulled up his right +sleeve. 'Was that why you came up to my parlour?' + +Nina nodded, and Lionel Belmont sighed with relief. + +'Why didn't you tell me at once, my dear, who you where?' + +'I didn't dare,' she smiled; 'I was afraid. I thought you wouldn't----' + +'Listen,' he said; 'I've wanted someone like you for years, years, and +years. I've got no one to look after----' + +'Then why didn't _you_ tell _me_ at once who you were?' she questioned +with adorable pertness. + +'Oh!' he laughed; 'how could I--plump like that? When I saw you first, +in the bureau, the stricken image of your mother at your age, I was +nearly down. But I came up all right, didn't I, my dear? I acted it out +well, didn't I?' + + * * * * * + +The hansom was rolling through Hyde Park, and the sunshiny hour was +eleven in June. Nina looked forth on the gay and brilliant scene: +rhododendrons, duchesses, horses, dandies--the incomparable wealth and +splendour of the capital. She took a long breath, and began to be happy +for the rest of her life. She felt that, despite her plain frock, she +was in this picture. Her father had told her that his income was rising +on a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and he would thank her +to spend it. Her father had told her, when she had confessed the scene +with Mr. Reuben and what led to it, that she had grit, and that the +mistake was excusable, and that a girl as pretty as she was didn't want +to be as fly as Mr. Reuben had said. Her father had told her that he was +proud of her, and he had not been so rude as to laugh at her blunder. + +She felt that she was about to enter upon the true and only vocation of +a dainty little morsel--namely, to spend money earned by other people. +She thought less homicidally now of the thirteen chorus-girls of the +previous night. + +'Say,' said her father, 'I sail this afternoon for New York, Nina.' + +'They said you'd gone, at the hotel.' + +'Only my baggage. The _Minnehaha_ clears at five. I guess I want you to +come along too. On the voyage we'll get acquainted, and tell each other +things.' + +'Suppose I say I won't?' + +She spoke despotically, as the pampered darling should. + +'Then I'll wait for the next boat. But it'll be awkward.' + +'Then I'll come. But I've got no things.' + +He pushed up the trap-door. + +'Driver, Bond Street. And get on to yourself, for goodness' sake! +Hurry!' + +'You told me not to hurry,' grumbled the cabby. + +'And now I tell you to hustle. See?' + +'Shall you want me to call myself Belmont?' Nina asked. + +'I chose it because it was a fine ten-horse-power name twenty years +ago,' said her father; and she murmured that she liked the name very +much. + +As Lionel Belmont the Magnificent paid the cabman, and Nina walked +across the pavement into one of the most famous repositories of +expensive frippery in the world, she thrilled with the profoundest +pleasure her tiny soul was capable of. Foolish, simple Nina had achieved +the _nec plus ultra_ of her languorous dreams. + + * * * * * + + + + +CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + + +I + +'What did you say your name was?' asked Otto, the famous concert +manager. + +'Clara Toft.' + +'That won't do,' he said roughly. + +'My real proper name is Clarice,' she added, blushing. 'But----' + +'That's better, that's better.' His large, dark face smiled carelessly. +'Clarice--and stick an "e" on to Toft--Clarice Tofte. Looks like either +French or German then. I'll send you the date. It'll be the second week +in September. And you can come round to the theatre and try the +piano--Bechstein.' + +'And what do you think I had better play, Mr. Otto?' + +'You must play what you have just played, of course. Tschaikowsky's all +the rage just now. Your left hand's very weak, especially in the last +movement. You've got to make more noise--at my concerts. And see here, +Miss Toft, don't you go and make a fool of me. I believe you have a +great future, and I'm backing my opinion. Don't you go and make a fool +of me.' + +'I shall play my very best,' she smiled nervously. 'I'm awfully obliged +to you, Mr. Otto.' + +'Well,' he said, 'you ought to be.' + +At the age of fifteen her father, an earthenware manufacturer, and the +flamboyant Alderman of Turnhill, in the Five Towns, had let her depart +to London to the Royal College of Music. Thence, at nineteen, she had +proceeded to the Conservatoire of Liége. At twenty-two she could play +the great concert pieces--Liszt's 'Rhapsodies Hongroises,' Chopin's +Ballade, Op. 47, Beethoven's Op. 111, etc.--in concert style, and she +was the wonder of the Five Towns when she visited Turnhill. But in +London she had obtained neither engagements nor pupils: she had never +believed in herself. She knew of dozens of pianists whom she deemed +more brilliant than little, pretty, modest Clara Toft; and after her +father's death and the not surprising revelation of his true financial +condition, she settled with her faded, captious mother in Turnhill as a +teacher of the pianoforte, and did nicely. + +Then, when she was twenty-six, and content in provincialism, she had met +during an August holiday at Llandudno her old fellow pupil, Albert +Barbellion, who was conducting the Pier concerts. Barbellion had asked +her to play at a 'soirée musicale' which he gave one night in the +ball-room of his hotel, and she had performed Tschaikowsky's immense and +lurid Slavonic Sonata; and the unparalleled Otto, renowned throughout +the British Empire for Otto's Bohemian Autumn Nightly Concerts at Covent +Garden Theatre, had happened to hear her and that seldom played sonata +for the first time. It was a wondrous chance. Otto's large, picturesque, +extempore way of inviting her to appear at his promenade concerts +reminded her of her father. + + +II + +In the bleak three-cornered artists'-room she could faintly hear the +descending impetuous velocities of the Ride of the Walkyries. She was +waiting in her new yellow dress, waiting painfully. Otto rushed in, a +glass in his hand. + +'You all right?' he questioned sharply. + +'Oh, yes,' she said, getting up from the cane-chair. + +'Let me see you stand on one leg,' he said; and then, because she +hesitated: 'Go on, quick! Stand on one leg. It's a good test.' So she +stood on one leg, foolishly smiling. 'Here, drink this,' he ordered, and +she had to drink brandy-and-soda out of the glass. 'You're better now,' +he remarked; and decidedly, though her throat tingled and she coughed, +she felt equal to anything at that moment. + +A stout, middle-aged woman, in a rather shabby opera cloak, entered the +room. + +'Ah, Cornelia!' exclaimed Otto grandly. + +'My dear Otto!' the woman responded, wrinkling her wonderfully enamelled +cheeks. + +'Miss Toft, let me introduce you to Madame Lopez.' He turned to the +newcomer. 'Keep her calm for me, bright star, will you?' + +Then Otto went, and Clarice was left alone with the world-famous +operatic soprano, who was advertised to sing that night the Shadow Song +from 'Dinorah.' + +'Where did he pick you up, my dear?' the decayed diva inquired +maternally. + +Clarice briefly explained. + +'You aren't paying him anything, are you?' + +'Oh, no!' said Clarice, shocked. 'But I get no fee this time----' + +'Of course not, my dear,' the Lopez cut her short. 'It's all right so +long as you aren't paying him anything to let you go on. Now run along.' + +Clarice's heart stopped. The call-boy, with his cockney twang, had +pronounced her name. + +She moved forward, and, by dint of following the call-boy, at length +reached the stage. Applause--good-natured applause--seemed to roll +towards her from the uttermost parts of the vast auditorium. She +realized with a start that this applause was exclusively for her. She +sat down to the piano, and there ensued a death-like silence--a silence +broken only by the striking of matches and the tinkle of the embowered +fountain in front of the stage. She had a consciousness, rather than a +vision, of a floor of thousands of upturned faces below her, and tier +upon tier of faces rising above her and receding to the illimitable dark +distances of the gallery. She heard a door bang, and perceived that some +members of the orchestra were creeping quietly out at the back. Then she +plunged, dizzy, into the sonata, as into a heaving and profound sea. The +huge concert piano resounded under the onslaught of her broad hands. +When she had played ten bars she knew with an absolute conviction that +she would do justice to her talent. She could see, as it were, the +entire sonata stretched out in detail before her like a road over which +she had to travel.... + +At the end of the first movement the clapping enheartened her; she +smiled confidently at the conductor, who, unemployed during her number, +sat on a chair under his desk. Before recommencing she gazed boldly at +the house, and certain placards--'Smoking permitted,' 'Emergency exit,' +'Ices,' and 'Fancy Dress Balls'--were fixed for ever on the retina of +her eye. At the end of the second movement there was more applause, and +the conductor tapped appreciation with his stick against the pillar of +his desk; the leader of the listless orchestra also tapped with his +fiddle-bow and nodded. It seemed to her now that she more and more +dominated the piano, and that she rendered the great finale with +masterful and fierce assurance.... + +She was pleased with herself as she banged the last massive chord. And +the applause, the clapping, the hammering of sticks, astounded her, +staggered her. She might have died of happiness while she bowed and +bowed again. She ran off the stage triumphant, and the applause seemed +to assail her little figure from all quarters and overwhelm it. As she +stood waiting, concealed behind a group of palms, it suddenly occurred +to her that, after all, she had underestimated herself. She saw her rosy +future as the spoiled darling of continental capitals. The hail of +clapping persisted, and the apparition of Otto violently waved her to +return to the stage. She returned, bowed her passionate exultation with +burning face and trembling knees, and retired. The clapping continued. +Yes, she would be compelled to grant an encore--to _grant_ one. She +would grant it like a honeyed but imperious queen. + +Suddenly she heard the warning tap of the conductor's baton; the +applause was hushed as though by a charm, and the orchestra broke into +the overture to 'Zampa.' She could not understand, she could not think. +As she tripped tragically to the artists'-room in her new yellow dress +she said to herself that the conductor must have made some mistake, and +that---- + +'Very nice, my dear,' said the Lopez kindly to her. 'You got quite a +call--quite a call.' + +She waited for Otto to come and talk to her. + +At length the Lopez was summoned, and Clarice followed to listen to her. +And when the Lopez had soared with strong practised flight through the +brilliant intricacy of the Shadow Song, Clarice became aware what real +applause sounded like from the stage. It shook the stage as the old +favourite of two generations, wearing her set smile, waddled back to the +debutante. Scores of voices hoarsely shouted 'Encore!' and 'Last Rose +of Summer,' and with a proud sigh the Lopez went on again, bowing. + +Clarice saw nothing more of Otto, who doubtless had other birds to +snare. The next day only three daily papers mentioned the concert at +all. In fact, Otto expected press notices but once a week. All three +papers praised the matchless Lopez in her Shadow Song. One referred to +Clarice as talented; another called her well-intentioned; the third +merely said that she had played. The short dream of artistic ascendancy +lay in fragments around her. She was a sensible girl, and stamped those +iridescent fragments into dust. + + +III + +The _Staffordshire Signal_ contained the following advertisement: 'Miss +Clara Toft, solo pianist, of the Otto Autumn Concerts, London, will +resume lessons on the 1st proximo at Liszt House, Turnhill. Terms on +application.' At thirty Clarice married James Sillitoe, the pianoforte +dealer in Market Square, Turnhill, and captious old Mrs. Toft formed +part of the new household. At thirty-four Clarice possessed a little +girl and two little boys, twins. Sillitoe was a money-maker, and she no +longer gave lessons. + +Happy? Perhaps not unhappy. + + * * * * * + + + + +A LETTER HOME[2] + + [2] Written in 1893. + + +I + +Rain was falling--it had fallen steadily through the night--but the sky +showed promise of fairer weather. As the first streaks of dawn appeared, +the wind died away, and the young leaves on the trees were almost +silent. The birds were insistently clamorous, vociferating times without +number that it was a healthy spring morning and good to be alive. + +A little, bedraggled crowd stood before the park gates, awaiting the +hour named on the notice board when they would be admitted to such +lodging and shelter as iron seats and overspreading branches might +afford. A weary, patient-eyed, dogged crowd--a dozen men, a boy of +thirteen, and a couple of women, both past middle age--which had been +gathering slowly since five o'clock. The boy appeared to be the least +uncomfortable. His feet were bare, but he had slept well in an area in +Grosvenor Place, and was not very damp yet. The women had nodded on many +doorsteps, and were soaked. They stood apart from the men, who seemed +unconscious of their existence. The men were exactly such as one would +have expected to find there--beery and restless as to the eyes, quaintly +shod, and with nondescript greenish clothes which for the most part bore +traces of the yoke of the sandwich board. Only one amongst them was +different. + +He was young, and his cap, and manner of wearing it, gave sign of the +sea. His face showed the rough outlines of his history. Yet it was a +transparently honest face, very pale, but still boyish and fresh enough +to make one wonder by what rapid descent he had reached his present +level. Perhaps the receding chin, the heavy, pouting lower lip, and the +ceaselessly twitching mouth offered a key to the problem. + +'Say, Darkey!' he said. + +'Well?' + +'How much longer?' + +'Can't ye see the clock? It's staring ye in the face.' + +'No. Something queer's come over my eyes.' + +Darkey was a short, sturdy man, who kept his head down and his hands +deep in his pockets. The raindrops clinging to the rim of an ancient hat +fell every now and then into his gray beard, which presented a drowned +appearance. He was a person of long and varied experiences; he knew that +queer feeling in the eyes, and his heart softened. + +'Come, lean against the pillar,' he said, 'if you don't want to tumble. +Three of brandy's what you want. There's four minutes to wait yet.' + +With body flattened to the masonry, legs apart, and head thrown back, +Darkey's companion felt more secure, and his mercurial spirits began to +revive. He took off his cap, and brushing back his light brown curly +hair with the hand which held it, he looked down at Darkey through +half-closed eyes, the play of his features divided between a smile and a +yawn. + +He had a lively sense of humour, and the irony of his situation was not +lost on him. He took a grim, ferocious delight in calling up the +might-have-beens and the 'fatuous ineffectual yesterdays' of life. There +is a certain sardonic satisfaction to be gleaned from a frank +recognition of the fact that you are the architect of your own +misfortune. He felt that satisfaction, and laughed at Darkey, who was +one of those who moan about 'ill-luck' and 'victims of circumstance.' + +'No doubt,' he would say, 'you're a very deserving fellow, Darkey, who's +been treated badly. I'm not.' + +To have attained such wisdom at twenty-five is not to have lived +altogether in vain. + +A park-keeper presently arrived to unlock the gates, and the band of +outcasts straggled indolently towards the nearest sheltered seats. Some +went to sleep at once, in a sitting posture. Darkey produced a clay +pipe, and, charging it with a few shreds of tobacco laboriously gathered +from his waistcoat pocket, began to smoke. He was accustomed to this +sort of thing, and with a pipe in his mouth could contrive to be +moderately philosophical upon occasion. He looked curiously at his +companion, who lay stretched at full length on another bench. + +'I say, pal,' he remarked, 'I've known ye two days; ye've never told me +yer name, and I don't ask ye to. But I see ye've not slep' in a park +before.' + +'You hit it, Darkey; but how?' + +'Well, if the keeper catches ye lying down, he'll be on to ye. Lying +down's not allowed.' + +The man raised himself on his elbow. + +'Really now,' he said; 'that's interesting. But I think I'll give the +keeper the opportunity of moving me. Why, it's quite fine, the sun's +coming out, and the sparrows are hopping round--cheeky little devils! +I'm not sure that I don't feel jolly.' + +'I wish I'd got the price of a pint about me,' sighed Darkey, and the +other man dropped his head and appeared to sleep. Then Darkey dozed a +little, and heard in his waking sleep the heavy, crunching tread of an +approaching park-keeper; he started up to warn his companion, but +thought better of it, and closed his eyes again. + +'Now then, there,' the park-keeper shouted to the man with the sailor's +cap, 'get up! This ain't a fourpenny doss, you know. No lying down.' + +A rough shake accompanied the words, and the man sat up. + +'All right, my friend.' + +The keeper, who was a good-humoured man, passed on without further +objurgation. + +The face of the younger man had grown whiter. + +'Look here, Darkey,' he said, 'I believe I'm done for.' + +'Never say die.' + +'No, just die without speaking.' + +His head fell forward and his eyes closed. + +'At any rate, this is better than some deaths I've seen,' he began again +with a strange accession of liveliness. 'Darkey, did I tell you the +story of the five Japanese girls?' + +'What, in Suez Bay?' said Darkey, who had heard many sea-stories during +the last two days, and recollected them but hazily. + +'No, man. This was at Nagasaki. We were taking in a cargo of coal for +Hong Kong. Hundreds of little Jap girls pass the coal from hand to hand +over the ship's side in tiny baskets that hold about a plateful. In that +way you can get three thousand tons aboard in two days.' + +'Talking of platefuls reminds me of sausage and mash,' said Darkey. + +'Don't interrupt. Well, five of these gay little dolls wanted to go to +Hong Kong, and they arranged with the Chinese sailors to stow away; I +believe their friends paid those cold-blooded fiends something to pass +them down food on the voyage, and give them an airing at nights. We had +a particularly lively trip, battened everything down tight, and scarcely +uncovered till we got into port. Then I and another man found those five +girls among the coal.' + +'Dead, eh?' + +'They'd simply torn themselves to pieces. Their bits of frock things +were in strips, and they were scratched deep from top to toe. The +Chinese had never troubled their heads about them at all, although they +must have known it meant death. You may bet there was a row. The +Japanese authorities make you search ship before sailing, now.' + +'Well?' + +'Well, I shan't die like that. That's all.' + +He stretched himself out once more, and for ten minutes neither spoke. +The park-keeper strolled up again. + +'Get up, there!' he said shortly and gruffly. + +'Up ye get, mate,' added Darkey, but the man on the bench did not stir. +One look at his face sufficed to startle the keeper, and presently two +policemen were wheeling an ambulance cart to the hospital. Darkey +followed, gave such information as he could, and then went his own ways. + + +II + +In the afternoon the patient regained full consciousness. His eyes +wandered vacantly about the illimitable ward, with its rows of beds +stretching away on either side of him. A woman with a white cap, a white +apron, and white wristbands bent over him, and he felt something +gratefully warm passing down his throat. For just one second he was +happy. Then his memory returned, and the nurse saw that he was crying. +When he caught the nurse's eye he ceased, and looked steadily at the +distant ceiling. + +'You're better?' + +'Yes.' + +He tried to speak boldly, decisively, nonchalantly. He was filled with a +sense of physical shame, the shame which bodily helplessness always +experiences in the presence of arrogant, patronizing health. He would +have got up and walked briskly away if he could. He hated to be waited +on, to be humoured, to be examined and theorized about. This woman would +be wanting to feel his pulse. She should not; he would turn +cantankerous. No doubt they had been saying to each other, 'And so +young, too! How sad!' Confound them! + +'Have you any friends that you would like to send for?' + +'No, none.' + +The girl--she was only a girl--looked at him, and there was that in her +eye which overcame him. + +'None at all?' + +'Not that I want to see.' + +'Are your parents alive?' + +'My mother is, but she lives away in the Five Towns.' + +'You've not seen her lately, perhaps?' + +He did not reply, and the nurse spoke again, but her voice sounded +indistinct and far off. + +When he awoke it was night. At the other end of the ward was a long +table covered with a white cloth, and on this table a lamp. + +In the ring of light under the lamp was an open book, an inkstand and a +pen. A nurse--not _his_ nurse--was standing by the table, her fingers +idly drumming the cloth, and near her a man in evening dress. Perhaps a +doctor. They were conversing in low tones. In the middle of the ward was +an open stove, and the restless flames were reflected in all the brass +knobs of the bedsteads and in some shining metal balls which hung from +an unlighted chandelier. His part of the ward was almost in darkness. A +confused, subdued murmur of little coughs, breathings, rustlings, was +continually audible, and sometimes it rose above the conversation at the +table. He noticed all these things. He became conscious, too, of a +strangely familiar smell. What was it? Ah, yes! Acetic acid; his mother +used it for her rheumatics. + +Suddenly, magically, a great longing came over him. He must see his +mother, or his brothers, or his little sister--someone who knew him, +someone who _belonged_ to him. He could have cried out in his desire. +This one thought consumed all his faculties. If his mother could but +walk in just now through that doorway! If only old Spot even could amble +up to him, tongue out and tail furiously wagging! He tried to sit up, +and he could not move! Then despair settled on him, and weighed him +down. He closed his eyes. + +The doctor and the nurse came slowly up the ward, pausing here and +there. They stopped before his bed, and he held his breath. + +'Not roused up again, I suppose?' + +'No.' + +'H'm! He may flicker on for forty-eight hours. Not more.' + +They went on, and with a sigh of relief he opened his eyes again. The +doctor shook hands with the nurse, who returned to the table and sat +down. + +Death! The end of all this! Yes, it was coming. He felt it. His had been +one of those wasted lives of which he used to read in books. How +strange! Almost amusing! He was one of those sons who bring sorrow and +shame into a family. Again, how strange! What a coincidence that +he--just _he_ and not the man in the next bed--should be one of those +rare, legendary good-for-nothings who go recklessly to ruin. And yet, he +was sure that he was not such a bad fellow after all. Only somehow he +had been careless. Yes, careless; that was the word ... nothing +worse.... As to death, he was indifferent. Remembering his father's +death, he reflected that it was probably less disturbing to die one's +self than to watch another pass. + +He smelt the acetic acid once more, and his thoughts reverted to his +mother. Poor mother! No, great mother! The grandeur of her life's +struggle filled him with a sense of awe. Strange that until that moment +he had never seen the heroic side of her humdrum, commonplace existence! +He must write to her, now, at once, before it was too late. His letter +would trouble her, add another wrinkle to her face, but he must write; +she must know that he had been thinking of her. + +'Nurse!' he cried out, in a thin, weak voice. + +'Ssh!' + +She was by his side directly, but not before he had lost consciousness +again. + +The following morning he managed with infinite labour to scrawl a few +lines: + + 'DEAR MAMMA, + + 'You will be surprised but not glad to get this letter. I'm done + for, and you will never see me again. I'm sorry for what I've done, + and how I've treated you, but it's no use saying anything now. If + Pater had only lived he might have kept me in order. But you were + too kind, you know. You've had a hard struggle these last six + years, and I hope Arthur and Dick will stand by you better than I + did, now they are growing up. Give them my love, and kiss little + Fannie for me. + + 'WILLIE. + + '_Mrs. Hancock_----' + +He got no further with the address. + + +III + +By some turn of the wheel, Darkey gathered several shillings during the +next day or two, and, feeling both elated and benevolent, he called one +afternoon at the hospital, 'just to inquire like.' They told him the man +was dead. + +'By the way, he left a letter without an address. Mrs. Hancock--here it +is.' + +'That'll be his mother; he did tell me about her--lived at Knype, +Staffordshire, he said. I'll see to it.' + +They gave Darkey the letter. + +'So his name's Hancock,' he soliloquized, when he got into the street. +'I knew a girl of that name--once. I'll go and have a pint of +four-half.' + +At nine o'clock that night Darkey was still consuming four-half, and +relating certain adventures by sea which, he averred, had happened to +himself. He was very drunk. + +'Yes,' he said, 'and them five lil' gals was lying there without a +stitch on 'em, dead as meat; 's 'true as I'm 'ere. I've seen a thing or +two in my time, I can tell ye.' + +'Talking about these Anarchists--' said a man who appeared anxious to +change the subject. + +'An--kists,' Darkey interrupted. 'I tell ye what I'd do with that muck.' + +He stopped to light his pipe, looked in vain for a match, felt in his +pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper--the letter. + +'I tell you what I'd do. I'd--' + +He slowly and meditatively tore the letter in two, dropped one piece on +the floor, thrust the other into a convenient gas-jet, and applied it to +the tobacco. + +'I'd get 'em 'gether in a heap, and I'd--Damn this pipe!' + +He picked up the other half of the letter, and relighted the pipe. + +'After you, mate,' said a man sitting near, who was just biting the end +from a cigar. + + + + +THE END. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13293 *** diff --git a/13293-h/13293-h.htm b/13293-h/13293-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07effaf --- /dev/null +++ b/13293-h/13293-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5914 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st June 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +h1 { + margin-top: 4em; + text-align: center; +} + +h2, h3, h4 { + margin-top: 2em; + text-align: center; +} + +hr { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +hr.long { + width: 70%; + margin-bottom: 2em; +} + +hr.short { + width: 50%; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +/* Font sizes */ + .fs150 { font-size: 150%; font-weight: bold; } + .fs125 { font-size: 125%; font-weight: bold; } + .fs110 { font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold; } + +/* page numbers float in the margin */ +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: 50%; + text-align: right; +} + +.footnote { + font-size: 90%; +} + +.blockquote { + margin-left: 2em; + margin-right: 2em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +div.contents .chapter { + font-size: 110%; + font-weight: bold; +} + +div.contents .section { + margin-left: 2em; + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; +} + +/* poems */ + +.poem { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br { + display: none; +} + +.poem .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poem span { + display: block; + margin: 0; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem p { + margin: 0; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13293 ***</div> + + + + +<hr class='long' /> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page000' id="Page000"></a><span class='pagenum'>000</span></p> +<h1> +TALES<br /> +OF THE FIVE TOWNS</h1> +</div> +<p class="fs125 center">By</p> +<p class="fs150 center">ARNOLD BENNETT</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p class="fs110 center">First published January 1905</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p class="fs125 center">TO<br /> +MARCEL SCHWOB<br /> +MY LITERARY GODFATHER IN FRANCE</p> +<hr class='long' /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class='contents'> +<p class='chapter'>PART I<br /> +AT HOME</p> +<p class='section'><a href='#HIS_WORSHIP_THE_GOOSEDRIVER'>HIS +WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_ELIXIR_OF_YOUTH'>THE ELIXIR OF +YOUTH</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#MARY_WITH_THE_HIGH_HAND'>MARY WITH THE +HIGH HAND</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_DOG'>THE DOG</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#A_FEUD'>A FEUD</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#PHANTOM'>PHANTOM</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#TIDDY_FOL_LOL'>TIDDY-FOL-LOL</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_IDIOT'>THE IDIOT</a></p> +<p class='chapter'>PART II<br /> +ABROAD</p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_HUNGARIAN_RHAPSODY'>THE HUNGARIAN +RHAPSODY</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_SISTERS_QITA'>THE SISTERS +QITA</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#NOCTURNE_AT_THE_MAJESTIC'>NOCTURNE AT +THE MAJESTIC</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href= +'#CLARICE_OF_THE_AUTUMN_CONCERTS'>CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN +CONCERTS</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#A_LETTER_HOME'>A LETTER HOME</a></p> +</div> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><a name='Page001' id="Page001"></a><span class='pagenum'>001</span></p> +<h2><a name='PART_I' id="PART_I"></a> + +PART I<br /> +AT HOME</h2> +</div> +<hr class='long' /> + +<p><a name='Page003' id="Page003"></a><span class='pagenum'>003</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='HIS_WORSHIP_THE_GOOSEDRIVER' id= +"HIS_WORSHIP_THE_GOOSEDRIVER"></a> +HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER</h3> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>It was an amiable but deceitful afternoon in the third week of +December. Snow fell heavily in the windows of confectioners' shops, +and Father Christmas smiled in Keats's Bazaar the fawning smile of +a myth who knows himself to be exploded; but beyond these and +similar efforts to remedy the forgetfulness of a careless climate, +there was no sign anywhere in the Five Towns, and especially in +Bursley, of the immediate approach of the season of peace, +goodwill, and gluttony on earth.</p> +<p>At the Tiger, next door to Keats's in the market-place, Mr. +Josiah Topham Curtenty had put down his glass (the port was kept +specially for him), and told his boon companion, Mr. Gordon, that +he must be going. These two men had one powerful sentiment <a name= +'Page004' id="Page004"></a><span class='pagenum'>004</span> in +common: they loved the same woman. Mr. Curtenty, aged twenty-six in +heart, thirty-six in mind, and forty-six in looks, was fifty-six +only in years. He was a rich man; he had made money as an +earthenware manufacturer in the good old times before Satan was +ingenious enough to invent German competition, American tariffs, +and the price of coal; he was still making money with the aid of +his son Harry, who now managed the works, but he never admitted +that he was making it. No one has yet succeeded, and no one ever +will succeed, in catching an earthenware manufacturer in the act of +making money; he may confess with a sigh that he has performed the +feat in the past, he may give utterance to a vague, preposterous +hope that he will perform it again in the remote future, but as for +surprising him in the very act, you would as easily surprise a hen +laying an egg. Nowadays Mr. Curtenty, commercially secure, spent +most of his energy in helping to shape and control the high +destinies of the town. He was Deputy-Mayor, and Chairman of the +General Purposes Committee of the Town Council; he was also a +Guardian of the Poor, <a name='Page005' id= +"Page005"></a><span class='pagenum'>005</span> a Justice of the +Peace, President of the Society for the Prosecution of Felons, a +sidesman, an Oddfellow, and several other things that meant dining, +shrewdness, and good-nature. He was a short, stiff, stout, +red-faced man, jolly with the jollity that springs from a kind +heart, a humorous disposition, a perfect digestion, and the +respectful deference of one's bank-manager. Without being a member +of the Browning Society, he held firmly to the belief that all's +right with the world.</p> +<p>Mr. Gordon, who has but a sorry part in the drama, was a +younger, quieter, less forceful person, rather shy; a municipal +mediocrity, perhaps a little inflated that day by reason of his +having been elected to the Chairmanship of the Gas and Lighting +Committee.</p> +<p>Both men had sat on their committees at the Town Hall across the +way that deceitful afternoon, and we see them now, after +refreshment well earned and consumed, about to separate and sink +into private life. But as they came out into the portico of the +Tiger, the famous Calypso-like barmaid of the Tiger a hovering +enchantment in the background, it occurred that a flock of geese +were meditating, <a name='Page006' id="Page006"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>006</span> as geese will, in the middle of the road. The +gooseherd, a shabby middle-aged man, looked as though he had +recently lost the Battle of Marathon, and was asking himself +whether the path of his retreat might not lie through the +bar-parlour of the Tiger.</p> +<p>'Business pretty good?' Mr. Curtenty inquired of him +cheerfully.</p> +<p>In the Five Towns business takes the place of weather as a topic +of salutation.</p> +<p>'Business!' echoed the gooseherd.</p> +<p>In that one unassisted noun, scorning the aid of verb, +adjective, or adverb, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound +and subtle emphasis, contrived to express the fact that he existed +in a world of dead illusions, that he had become a convert to +Schopenhauer, and that Mr. Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a +final grievance to him.</p> +<p>'There ain't no business!' he added.</p> +<p>'Ah!' returned Mr. Curtenty, thoughtful: such an assertion of +the entire absence of business was a reflection upon the town.</p> +<p>'Sithee!' said the gooseherd in ruthless accents, 'I druv these +'ere geese into this 'ere town this morning.' (Here he exaggerated +<a name='Page007' id="Page007"></a><span class='pagenum'>007</span> +the number of miles traversed.) 'Twelve geese and two +gander—a Brent and a Barnacle. And how many is there now? How +many?'</p> +<p>'Fourteen,' said Mr. Gordon, having counted; and Mr. Curtenty +gazed at him in reproach, for that he, a Town Councillor, had thus +mathematically demonstrated the commercial decadence of +Bursley.</p> +<p>'Market overstocked, eh?' Mr. Curtenty suggested, throwing a +side-glance at Callear the poulterer's close by, which was crammed +with everything that flew, swam, or waddled.</p> +<p>'Call this a market?' said the gooseherd. 'I'st tak' my lot over +to Hanbridge, wheer there <i>is</i> a bit doing, by all +accounts.'</p> +<p>Now, Mr. Curtenty had not the least intention of buying those +geese, but nothing could be better calculated to straighten the +back of a Bursley man than a reference to the mercantile activity +of Hanbridge, that Chicago of the Five Towns.</p> +<p>'How much for the lot?' he inquired.</p> +<p>In that moment he reflected upon his reputation; he knew that he +was a cure, a card, a character; he knew that everyone would think +it just like Jos Curtenty, the renowned <a name='Page008' id= +"Page008"></a><span class='pagenum'>008</span> Deputy-Mayor of +Bursley, to stand on the steps of the Tiger and pretend to chaffer +with a gooseherd for a flock of geese. His imagination caught the +sound of an oft-repeated inquiry, 'Did ye hear about old Jos's +latest—trying to buy them there geese?' and the appreciative +laughter that would follow.</p> +<p>The gooseherd faced him in silence.</p> +<p>'Well,' said Mr. Curtenty again, his eyes twinkling, 'how much +for the lot?'</p> +<p>The gooseherd gloomily and suspiciously named a sum.</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty named a sum startlingly less, ending in +sixpence.</p> +<p>'I'll tak' it,' said the gooseherd, in a tone that closed on the +bargain like a vice.</p> +<p>The Deputy-Mayor perceived himself the owner of twelve geese and +two ganders—one Brent, one Barnacle. It was a shock, but he +sustained it. Involuntarily he looked at Mr. Gordon.</p> +<p>'How are you going to get 'em home, Curtenty?' asked Gordon, +with coarse sarcasm; 'drive 'em?'</p> +<p>Nettled, Mr. Curtenty retorted:</p> +<p>'Now, then, Gas Gordon!'</p> +<p><a name='Page009' id="Page009"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>009</span> The barmaid laughed aloud at this sobriquet, +which that same evening was all over the town, and which has stuck +ever since to the Chairman of the Gas and Lighting Committee. Mr. +Gordon wished, and has never ceased to wish, either that he had +been elected to some other committee, or that his name had begun +with some other letter.</p> +<p>The gooseherd received the purchase-money like an affront, but +when Mr. Curtenty, full of private mirth, said, 'Chuck us your +stick in,' he give him the stick, and smiled under reservation. Jos +Curtenty had no use for the geese; he could conceive no purpose +which they might be made to serve, no smallest corner for them in +his universe. Nevertheless, since he had rashly stumbled into a +ditch, he determined to emerge from it grandly, impressively, +magnificently. He instantaneously formed a plan by which he would +snatch victory out of defeat. He would take Gordon's suggestion, +and himself drive the geese up to his residence in Hillport, that +lofty and aristocratic suburb. It would be an immense, an +unparalleled farce; a wonder, a topic for years, the crown of his +reputation as a card.</p> +<p><a name='Page010' id="Page010"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>010</span> He announced his intention with that +misleading sobriety and ordinariness of tone which it has been the +foible of many great humorists to assume. Mr. Gordon lifted his +head several times very quickly, as if to say, 'What next?' and +then actually departed, which was a clear proof that the man had no +imagination and no soul.</p> +<p>The gooseherd winked.</p> +<p>'You be rightly called "Curtenty," mester,' said he, and passed +into the Tiger.</p> +<p>'That's the best joke I ever heard,' Jos said to himself 'I +wonder whether he saw it.'</p> +<p>Then the procession of the geese and the Deputy-Mayor commenced. +Now, it is not to be assumed that Mr. Curtenty was necessarily +bound to look foolish in the driving of geese. He was no +nincompoop. On the contrary, he was one of those men who, bringing +common-sense and presence of mind to every action of their lives, +do nothing badly, and always escape the ridiculous. He marshalled +his geese with notable gumption, adopted towards them exactly the +correct stress of persuasion, and presently he smiled to see them +preceding him in the direction <a name='Page011' id= +"Page011"></a><span class='pagenum'>011</span> of Hillport. He +looked neither to right nor left, but simply at his geese, and thus +the quidnuncs of the market-place and the supporters of shop-fronts +were unable to catch his eye. He tried to feel like a gooseherd; +and such was his histrionic quality, his instinct for the dramatic, +he <i>was</i> a gooseherd, despite his blue Melton overcoat, his +hard felt hat with the flattened top, and that opulent-curving +collar which was the secret despair of the young dandies of +Hillport. He had the most natural air in the world. The geese were +the victims of this imaginative effort of Mr. Curtenty's. They took +him seriously as a gooseherd. These fourteen intelligences, each +with an object in life, each bent on self-aggrandisement and the +satisfaction of desires, began to follow the line of least +resistance in regard to the superior intelligence unseen but felt +behind them, feigning, as geese will, that it suited them so to +submit, and that in reality they were still quite independent. But +in the peculiar eye of the Barnacle gander, who was leading, an +observer with sufficient fancy might have deciphered a mild revolt +against this triumph of the absurd, the accidental, and <a name= +'Page012' id="Page012"></a><span class='pagenum'>012</span> the +futile; a passive yet Promethean spiritual defiance of the supreme +powers.</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty got his fourteen intelligences safely across the +top of St. Luke's Square, and gently urged them into the steep +defile of Oldcastle Street. By this time rumour had passed in front +of him and run off down side-streets like water let into an +irrigation system. At every corner was a knot of people, at most +windows a face. And the Deputy-Mayor never spoke nor smiled. The +farce was enormous; the memory of it would survive revolutions and +religions.</p> +<p>Halfway down Oldcastle Street the first disaster happened. +Electric tramways had not then knitted the Five Towns in a network +of steel; but the last word of civilization and refinement was +about to be uttered, and a gang of men were making patterns with +wires on the skyscape of Oldcastle Street. One of the wires, +slipping from its temporary gripper, swirled with an extraordinary +sound into the roadway, and writhed there in spirals. Several of +Mr. Curtenty's geese were knocked down, and rose obviously annoyed; +but the Barnacle gander fell with a clinging circle of wire round +his <a name='Page013' id="Page013"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>013</span> muscular, glossy neck, and did not rise again. +It was a violent, mysterious, agonizing, and sudden death for him, +and must have confirmed his theories about the arbitrariness of +things. The thirteen passed pitilessly on. Mr. Curtenty freed the +gander from the coiling wire, and picked it up, but, finding it far +too heavy to carry, he handed it to a Corporation road-sweeper.</p> +<p>'I'll send for it,' he said; 'wait here.'</p> +<p>These were the only words uttered by him during a memorable +journey.</p> +<p>The second disaster was that the deceitful afternoon turned to +rain—cold, cruel rain, persistent rain, full of sinister +significance. Mr. Curtenty ruefully raised the velvet of his +Melton. As he did so a brougham rolled into Oldcastle Street, a +little in front of him, from the direction of St. Peter's Church, +and vanished towards Hillport. He knew the carriage; he had bought +it and paid for it. Deep, far down, in his mind stirred the +thought:</p> +<p>'I'm just the least bit glad she didn't see me.'</p> +<p>He had the suspicion, which recurs even to optimists, that +happiness is after all a chimera.</p> +<p>The third disaster was that the sun set and <a name='Page014' id="Page014"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>014</span> darkness +descended. Mr. Curtenty had, unfortunately, not reckoned with this +diurnal phenomenon; he had not thought upon the undesirability of +being under compulsion to drive geese by the sole illumination of +gas-lamps lighted by Corporation gas.</p> +<p>After this disasters multiplied. Dark and the rain had +transformed the farce into something else. It was five-thirty when +at last he reached The Firs, and the garden of The Firs was filled +with lamentable complainings of a remnant of geese. His man Pond +met him with a stable-lantern.</p> +<p>'Damp, sir,' said Pond.</p> +<p>'Oh, nowt to speak of,' said Mr. Curtenty, and, taking off his +hat, he shot the fluid contents of the brim into Pond's face. It +was his way of dotting the 'i' of irony. 'Missis come in?'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir; I have but just rubbed the horse down.'</p> +<p>So far no reference to the surrounding geese, all forlorn in the +heavy winter rain.</p> +<p>'I've gotten a two-three geese and one gander here for +Christmas,' said Mr. Curtenty after a pause. To inferiors he always +used the dialect.</p> +<p><a name='Page015' id="Page015"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>015</span> 'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'Turn 'em into th' orchard, as you call it.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'They aren't all here. Thou mun put th' horse in the trap and +fetch the rest thysen.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'One's dead. A roadman's takkin' care on it in Oldcastle Street. +He'll wait for thee. Give him sixpence.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'There's another got into th' cut [canal].'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'There's another strayed on the railway-line—happen it's +run over by this.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'And one's making the best of her way to Oldcastle. I couldna +coax her in here.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'Collect 'em.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty walked away towards the house.</p> +<p>'Mester!' Pond called after him, flashing the lantern.</p> +<p>'Well, lad?'</p> +<p>'There's no gander i' this lot.'</p> +<p><a name='Page016' id="Page016"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>016</span> 'Hast forgotten to count thysen?' Mr. Curtenty +answered blithely from the shelter of the side-door.</p> +<p>But within himself he was a little crest-fallen to think that +the surviving gander should have escaped his vigilance, even in the +darkness. He had set out to drive the geese home, and he had driven +them home, most of them. He had kept his temper, his dignity, his +cheerfulness. He had got a bargain in geese. So much was +indisputable ground for satisfaction. And yet the feeling of an +anticlimax would not be dismissed. Upon the whole, his transit +lacked glory. It had begun in splendour, but it had ended in +discomfort and almost ignominy. Nevertheless, Mr. Curtenty's +unconquerable soul asserted itself in a quite genuine and tuneful +whistle as he entered the house.</p> +<p>The fate of the Brent gander was never ascertained.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>The dining-room of The Firs was a spacious and inviting +refectory, which owed nothing of its charm to William Morris, +Regent Street, <a name='Page017' id="Page017"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>017</span> or the Arts and Crafts Society. Its triple +aim, was richness, solidity, and comfort, but especially comfort; +and this aim was achieved in new oak furniture of immovable +firmness, in a Turkey carpet which swallowed up the feet like a +feather bed, and in large oil-paintings, whose darkly-glinting +frames were a guarantee of their excellence. On a winter's night, +as now, the room was at its richest, solidest, most comfortable. +The blue plush curtains were drawn on their stout brass rods across +door and French window. Finest selected silkstone fizzed and flamed +in a patent grate which had the extraordinary gift of radiating +heat into the apartment instead of up the chimney. The shaded +Welsbach lights of the chandelier cast a dazzling luminance on the +tea-table of snow and silver, while leaving the pictures in a gloom +so discreet that not Ruskin himself could have decided whether +these were by Whistler or Peter Paul Rubens. On either side of the +marble mantelpiece were two easy-chairs of an immense, incredible +capacity, chairs of crimson plush for Titans, chairs softer than +moss, more pliant than a loving heart, more enveloping than a +caress. In one of <a name='Page018' id="Page018"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>018</span> these chairs, that to the left of the +fireplace, Mr. Curtenty was accustomed to snore every Saturday and +Sunday afternoon, and almost every evening. The other was usually +empty, but to-night it was occupied by Mrs. Curtenty, the jewel of +the casket. In the presence of her husband she always used a small +rocking-chair of ebonized cane.</p> +<p>To glance at this short, slight, yet plump little creature as +she reclined crosswise in the vast chair, leaving great spaces of +the seat unfilled, was to think rapturously to one's self: <i>This +is a woman</i>. Her fluffy head was such a dot against the back of +the chair, the curve of her chubby ringed hand above the head was +so adorable, her black eyes were so provocative, her slippered feet +so wee—yes, and there was something so mysteriously thrilling +about the fall of her skirt that you knew instantly her name was +Clara, her temper both fiery and obstinate, and her personality +distracting. You knew that she was one of those women of frail +physique who can endure fatigues that would destroy a camel; one of +those dæmonic women capable of doing without sleep for ten +nights in order to nurse you; capable of dying and <a name= +'Page019' id="Page019"></a><span class='pagenum'>019</span> seeing +you die rather than give way about the tint of a necktie; capable +of laughter and tears simultaneously; capable of never being in the +wrong except for the idle whim of so being. She had a big mouth and +very wide nostrils, and her years were thirty-five. It was no +matter; it would have been no matter had she been a hundred and +thirty-five. In short....</p> +<p>Clara Curtenty wore tight-fitting black silk, with a long gold +chain that descended from her neck nearly to her waist, and was +looped up in the middle to an old-fashioned gold brooch. She was in +mourning for a distant relative. Black pre-eminently suited her. +Consequently her distant relatives died at frequent intervals.</p> +<p>The basalt clock on the mantelpiece trembled and burst into the +song of six. Clara Curtenty rose swiftly from the easy-chair, and +took her seat in front of the tea-tray. Almost at the same moment a +neat black-and-white parlourmaid brought in teapot, copper kettle, +and a silver-covered dish containing hot pikelets; then departed. +Clara was alone again; not the same Clara now, but a personage +demure, prim, precise, frightfully upright of back—a <a name= +'Page020' id="Page020"></a><span class='pagenum'>020</span> sort of +impregnable stronghold—without doubt a Deputy-Mayoress.</p> +<p>At five past six Josiah Curtenty entered the room, radiant from +a hot bath, and happy in dry clothes—a fine, if mature, +figure of a man. His presence filled the whole room.</p> +<p>'Well, my chuck!' he said, and kissed her on the cheek.</p> +<p>She gazed at him with a look that might mean anything. Did she +raise her cheek to his greeting, or was it fancy that she had +endured, rather than accepted, his kiss? He was scarcely sure. And +if she had endured instead of accepting the kiss, was her mood to +be attributed to his lateness for tea, or to the fact that she was +aware of the episode of the geese? He could not divine.</p> +<p>'Pikelets! Good!' he exclaimed, taking the cover off the +dish.</p> +<p>This strong, successful, and dominant man adored his wife, and +went in fear of her. She was his first love, but his second spouse. +They had been married ten years. In those ten years they had +quarrelled only five times, and she had changed the very colour of +his life. Till his second marriage he had boasted that <a name= +'Page021' id="Page021"></a><span class='pagenum'>021</span> he +belonged to the people and retained the habits of the people. +Clara, though she also belonged to the people, very soon altered +all that. Clara had a passion for the genteel. Like many +warm-hearted, honest, clever, and otherwise sensible persons, Clara +was a snob, but a charming little snob. She ordered him to forget +that he belonged to the people. She refused to listen when he +talked in the dialect. She made him dress with opulence, and even +with tidiness; she made him buy a fashionable house and fill it +with fine furniture; she made him buy a brougham in which her +gentility could pay calls and do shopping (she shopped in +Oldcastle, where a decrepit aristocracy of tradesmen sneered at +Hanbridge's lack of style); she had her 'day'; she taught the +servants to enter the reception-rooms without knocking; she took +tea in bed in the morning, and tea in the afternoon in the +drawing-room. She would have instituted dinner at seven, but she +was a wise woman, and realized that too much tyranny often means +revolution and the crumbling of-thrones; therefore the ancient +plebeian custom of high tea at six was allowed to persist and +continue.</p> +<p><a name='Page022' id="Page022"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>022</span> She it was who had compelled Josiah (or +bewitched, beguiled, coaxed and wheedled him), after a public +refusal, to accept the unusual post of Deputy-Mayor. In two years' +time he might count on being Mayor. Why, then, should Clara have +been so anxious for this secondary dignity? Because, in that year +of royal festival, Bursley, in common with many other boroughs, had +had a fancy to choose a Mayor out of the House of Lords. The Earl +of Chell, a magnate of the county, had consented to wear the +mayoral chain and dispense the mayoral hospitalities on condition +that he was provided with a deputy for daily use.</p> +<p>It was the idea of herself being deputy to the lovely, +meddlesome, and arrogant Countess of Chell that had appealed to +Clara.</p> +<p>The deputy of a Countess at length spoke.</p> +<p>'Will Harry be late at the works again to-night?' she asked in +her colder, small-talk manner, which committed her to nothing, as +Josiah well knew.</p> +<p>Her way of saying that word 'Harry' was inimitably significant. +She gave it an air. She liked Harry, and she liked Harry's name, +because it had a Kensingtonian sound. Harry, <a name='Page023' id= +"Page023"></a><span class='pagenum'>023</span> so accomplished in +business, was also a dandy, and he was a dog. 'My +stepson'—she loved to introduce him, so tall, manly, +distinguished, and dandiacal. Harry, enriched by his own mother, +belonged to a London club; he ran down to Llandudno for week-ends; +and it was reported that he had been behind the scenes at the +Alhambra. Clara felt for the word 'Harry' the unreasoning affection +which most women lavish on 'George.'</p> +<p>'Like as not,' said Josiah. 'I haven't been to the works this +afternoon.'</p> +<p>Another silence fell, and then Josiah, feeling himself unable to +bear any further suspense as to his wife's real mood and temper, +suddenly determined to tell her all about the geese, and know the +worst. And precisely at the instant that he opened his mouth, the +maid opened the door and announced:</p> +<p>'Mr. Duncalf wishes to see you at once, sir. He won't keep you a +minute.'</p> +<p>'Ask him in here, Mary,' said the Deputy-Mayoress sweetly; 'and +bring another cup and saucer.'</p> +<p>Mr. Duncalf was the Town Clerk of Bursley: legal, portly, dry, +and a little shy.</p> +<p><a name='Page024' id="Page024"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>024</span> 'I won't stop, Curtenty. How d'ye do, Mrs. +Curtenty? No, thanks, really——' But she, smiling, +exquisitely gracious, flattered and smoothed him into a chair.</p> +<p>'Any interesting news, Mr. Duncalf?' she said, and added: 'But +we're glad that <i>anything</i> should have brought you in.'</p> +<p>'Well,' said Duncalf, 'I've just had a letter by the afternoon +post from Lord Chell.'</p> +<p>'Oh, the Earl! Indeed; how very interesting.'</p> +<p>'What's he after?' inquired Josiah cautiously.</p> +<p>'He says he's just been appointed Governor of East +Australia—announcement 'll be in to-morrow's papers—and +so he must regretfully resign the mayoralty. Says he'll pay the +fine, but of course we shall have to remit that by special +resolution of the Council.'</p> +<p>'Well, I'm damned!' Josiah exclaimed.</p> +<p>'Topham!' Mrs. Curtenty remonstrated, but with a delightful +acquitting dimple. She never would call him Josiah, much less Jos. +Topham came more easily to her lips, and sometimes Top.</p> +<p>'Your husband,' said Mr. Duncalf impressively to Clara, 'will, +of course, have to step <a name='Page025' id= +"Page025"></a><span class='pagenum'>025</span> into the Mayor's +shoes, and you'll have to fill the place of the Countess.' He +paused, and added: 'And very well you'll do it, too—very +well. Nobody better.'</p> +<p>The Town Clerk frankly admired Clara.</p> +<p>'Mr. Duncalf—Mr. Duncalf!' She raised a finger at him. +'You are the most shameless flatterer in the town.'</p> +<p>The flatterer was flattered. Having delivered the weighty news, +he had leisure to savour his own importance as the bearer of it. He +drank a cup of tea. Josiah was thoughtful, but Clara brimmed over +with a fascinating loquacity. Then Mr. Duncalf said that he must +really be going, and, having arranged with the Mayor-elect to call +a special meeting of the Council at once, he did go, all the while +wishing he had the enterprise to stay.</p> +<p>Josiah accompanied him to the front-door. The sky had now +cleared.</p> +<p>'Thank ye for calling,' said the host.</p> +<p>'Oh, that's all right. Good-night, Curtenty. Got that goose out +of the canal?'</p> +<p>So the story was all abroad!</p> +<p>Josiah returned to the dining-room, imperceptibly smiling. At +the door the sight of <a name='Page026' id= +"Page026"></a><span class='pagenum'>026</span> his wife halted him. +The face of that precious and adorable woman flamed out lightning +and all menace and offence. Her louring eyes showed what a triumph +of dissimulation she must have achieved in the presence of Mr. +Duncalf, but now she could speak her mind.</p> +<p>'Yes, Topham!' she exploded, as though finishing an harangue. +'And on this day of all days you choose to drive geese in the +public road behind my carriage!'</p> +<p>Jos was stupefied, annihilated.</p> +<p>'Did you see me, then, Clarry?'</p> +<p>He vainly tried to carry it off.</p> +<p>'Did I see you? Of course I saw you!'</p> +<p>She withered him up with the hot wind of scorn.</p> +<p>'Well,' he said foolishly, 'how was I to know that the Earl +would resign just to-day?'</p> +<p>'How were you to——?'</p> +<p>Harry came in for his tea. He glanced from one to the other, +discreet, silent. On the way home he had heard the tale of the +geese in seven different forms. The Deputy-Mayor, so soon to be +Mayor, walked out of the room.</p> +<p><a name='Page027' id="Page027"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>027</span> 'Pond has just come back, father,' said Harry; +'I drove up the hill with him.'</p> +<p>And as Josiah hesitated a moment in the hall, he heard Clara +exclaim, 'Oh, Harry!'</p> +<p>'Damn!' he murmured.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>The <i>Signal</i> of the following day contained the +announcement which Mr. Duncalf had forecast; it also stated, on +authority, that Mr. Josiah Curtenty would wear the mayoral chain of +Bursley immediately, and added as its own private opinion that, in +default of the Right Honourable the Earl of Chell and his Countess, +no better 'civic heads' could have been found than Mr. Curtenty and +his charming wife. So far the tone of the <i>Signal</i> was +unimpeachable. But underneath all this was a sub-title, 'Amusing +Exploit of the Mayor-elect,' followed by an amusing description of +the procession of the geese, a description which concluded by +referring to Mr. Curtenty as His Worship the Goosedriver.</p> +<p>Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, and Turnhill laughed heartily, and +perhaps a little viciously, <a name='Page028' id= +"Page028"></a><span class='pagenum'>028</span> at this paragraph, +but Bursley was annoyed by it. In print the affair did not look at +all well. Bursley prided itself on possessing a unique dignity as +the 'Mother of the Five Towns,' and to be presided over by a +goosedriver, however humorous and hospitable he might be, did not +consort with that dignity. A certain Mayor of Longshaw, years +before, had driven a sow to market, and derived a tremendous +advertisement therefrom, but Bursley had no wish to rival Longshaw +in any particular. Bursley regarded Longshaw as the Inferno of the +Five Towns. In Bursley you were bidden to go to Longshaw as you +were bidden to go to ... Certain acute people in Hillport saw +nothing but a paralyzing insult in the opinion of the <i>Signal</i> +(first and foremost a Hanbridge organ), that Bursley could find no +better civic head than Josiah Curtenty. At least three Aldermen and +seven Councillors privately, and in the Tiger, disagreed with any +such view of Bursley's capacity to find heads.</p> +<p>And underneath all this brooding dissatisfaction lurked the +thought, as the alligator lurks in a muddy river, that 'the Earl +wouldn't like it'—meaning the geese episode. It was <a name= +'Page029' id="Page029"></a><span class='pagenum'>029</span> +generally felt that the Earl had been badly treated by Jos +Curtenty. The town could not explain its sentiments—could not +argue about them. They were not, in fact, capable of logical +justification; but they were there, they violently existed. It +would have been useless to point out that if the inimitable Jos had +not been called to the mayoralty the episode of the geese would +have passed as a gorgeous joke; that everyone had been vastly +amused by it until that desolating issue of the <i>Signal</i> +announced the Earl's retirement; that Jos Curtenty could not +possibly have foreseen what was about to happen; and that, anyhow, +goosedriving was less a crime than a social solecism, and less a +social solecism than a brilliant eccentricity. Bursley was hurt, +and logic is no balm for wounds.</p> +<p>Some may ask: If Bursley was offended, why did it not mark its +sense of Josiah's failure to read the future by electing another +Mayor? The answer is, that while all were agreed that his antic was +inexcusable, all were equally agreed to pretend that it was a mere +trifle of no importance; you cannot deprive a man of his +prescriptive right for a mere trifle of no <a name='Page030' id= +"Page030"></a><span class='pagenum'>030</span> importance. Besides, +nobody could be so foolish as to imagine that goosedriving, though +reprehensible in a Mayor about to succeed an Earl, is an act of +which official notice can be taken.</p> +<p>The most curious thing in the whole imbroglio is that Josiah +Curtenty secretly agreed with his wife and the town. He was +ashamed, overset. His procession of geese appeared to him in an +entirely new light, and he had the strength of mind to admit to +himself, 'I've made a fool of myself.'</p> +<p>Harry went to London for a week, and Josiah, under plea of his +son's absence, spent eight hours a day at the works. The brougham +remained in the coach-house.</p> +<p>The Town Council duly met in special conclave, and Josiah Topham +Curtenty became Mayor of Bursley.</p> +<p>Shortly after Christmas it was announced that the Mayor and +Mayoress had decided to give a New Year's treat to four hundred +poor old people in the St. Luke's covered market. It was also +spread about that this treat would eclipse and extinguish all +previous treats of a similar nature, and that it might be accepted +as some slight foretaste of the hospitality which <a name='Page031' id="Page031"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>031</span> the Mayor and +Mayoress would dispense in that memorable year of royal festival. +The treat was to occur on January 9, the Mayoress's birthday.</p> +<p>On January 7 Josiah happened to go home early. He was proceeding +into the drawing-room without enthusiasm to greet his wife, when he +heard voices within; and one voice was the voice of Gas Gordon.</p> +<p>Jos stood still. It has been mentioned that Gordon and the Mayor +were in love with the same woman. The Mayor had easily captured her +under the very guns of his not formidable rival, and he had always +thereafter felt a kind of benevolent, good-humoured, contemptuous +pity for Gordon—Gordon, whose life was a tragic blank; +Gordon, who lived, a melancholy and defeated bachelor, with his +mother and two unmarried sisters older than himself. That Gordon +still worshipped at the shrine did not disturb him; on the +contrary, it pleased him. Poor Gordon!</p> +<p>'But, really, Mrs. Curtenty,' Gordon was saying—'really, +you know I—that—is—really—'</p> +<p>'To please me!' Mrs. Curtenty entreated, <a name='Page032' id= +"Page032"></a><span class='pagenum'>032</span> with a seductive +charm that Jos felt even outside the door.</p> +<p>Then there was a pause.</p> +<p>'Very well,' said Gordon.</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty tiptoed away and back into the street. He walked in +the dark nearly to Oldcastle, and returned about six o'clock. But +Clara said no word of Gordon's visit. She had scarcely spoken to +Topham for three weeks.</p> +<p>The next morning, as Harry was departing to the works, Mrs. +Curtenty followed the handsome youth into the hall.</p> +<p>'Harry,' she whispered, 'bring me two ten-pound notes this +afternoon, will you, and say nothing to your father.'</p> +<h4>IV</h4> +<p>Gas Gordon was to be on the platform at the poor people's treat. +As he walked down Trafalgar Road his eye caught a still-exposed +fragment of a decayed bill on a hoarding. It referred to a meeting +of the local branch of the Anti-Gambling League a year ago in the +lecture-hall of the Wesleyan Chapel, and it said that Councillor +Gordon would occupy the <a name='Page033' id= +"Page033"></a><span class='pagenum'>033</span> chair on that +occasion. Mechanically Councillor Gordon stopped and tore the +fragment away from the hoarding.</p> +<p>The treat, which took the form of a dinner, was an unqualified +success; it surpassed all expectations. Even the diners themselves +were satisfied—a rare thing at such affairs. Goose was a +prominent item in the menu. After the repast the replete guests +were entertained from the platform, the Mayor being, of course, in +the chair. Harry sang 'In Old Madrid,' accompanied by his +stepmother, with faultless expression. Mr. Duncalf astonished +everybody with the famous North-Country recitation, 'The Patent +Hair-brushing Mashane.' There were also a banjo solo, a skirt dance +of discretion, and a campanological turn. At last, towards ten +o'clock, Mr. Gordon, who had hitherto done nothing, rose in his +place, amid good-natured cries of 'Gas!'</p> +<p>'I feel sure you will all agree with me,' he began, 'that this +evening would not be complete without a vote of thanks—a very +hearty vote of thanks—to our excellent host and +chairman.'</p> +<p>Ear-splitting applause.</p> +<p><a name='Page034' id="Page034"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>034</span> 'I've got a little story to tell you,' he +continued—'a story that up to this moment has been a close +secret between his Worship the Mayor and myself.' His Worship +looked up sharply at the speaker. 'You've heard about some geese, I +reckon. (<i>Laughter</i>.) Well, you've not heard all, but I'm +going to tell you. I can't keep it to myself any longer. You think +his Worship drove those geese—I hope they're digesting well +(<i>loud laughter</i>)—just for fun. He didn't. I was with +him when he bought them, and I happened to say that goosedriving +was a very difficult accomplishment.'</p> +<p>'Depends on the geese!' shouted a voice.</p> +<p>'Yes, it does,' Mr. Gordon admitted. 'Well, his Worship +contradicted me, and we had a bit of an argument. I don't bet, as +you know—at least, not often—but I don't mind +confessing that I offered to bet him a sovereign he couldn't drive +his geese half a mile. "Look here, Gordon," he said to me: "there's +a lot of distress in the town just now—trade bad, and so on, +and so on. I'll lay you a level ten pounds I drive these geese to +Hillport myself, the loser to give the money to charity." <a name= +'Page035' id="Page035"></a><span class='pagenum'>035</span> "Done," +I said. "Don't say anything about it," he says. "I won't," I +says—but I am doing. (<i>Applause</i>.) I feel it my duty to +say something about it. (<i>More applause</i>.) Well, I lost, as +you all know. He drove 'em to Hillport. ('<i>Good old Jos!</i>') +That's not all. The Mayor insisted on putting his own ten pounds to +mine and making it twenty. Here are the two identical notes, his +and mine.' Mr. Gordon waved the identical notes amid an uproar. +'We've decided that everyone who has dined here to-night shall +receive a brand-new shilling. I see Mr. Septimus Lovatt from the +bank there with a bag. He will attend to you as you go out. +(<i>Wild outbreak and tumult of rapturous applause</i>.) And now +three cheers for your Mayor—and Mayoress!'</p> +<p>It was colossal, the enthusiasm.</p> +<p>'<i>And</i> for Gas Gordon!' called several voices.</p> +<p>The cheers rose again in surging waves.</p> +<p>Everyone remarked that the Mayor, usually so imperturbable, was +quite overcome—seemed as if he didn't know where to look.</p> +<p>Afterwards, as the occupants of the platform descended, Mr. +Gordon glanced into the eyes of Mrs. Curtenty, and found there his +exceeding <a name='Page036' id="Page036"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>036</span> reward. The mediocrity had blossomed out that +evening into something new and strange. Liar, deliberate liar and +self-accused gambler as he was, he felt that he had lived during +that speech; he felt that it was the supreme moment of his +life.</p> +<p>'What a perfectly wonderful man your husband is!' said Mrs. +Duncalf to Mrs. Curtenty.</p> +<p>Clara turned to her husband with a sublime gesture of +satisfaction. In the brougham, going home, she bewitched him with +wifely endearments. She could afford to do so. The stigma of the +geese episode was erased.</p> +<p>But the barmaid of the Tiger, as she let down her bright hair +that night in the attic of the Tiger, said to herself, 'Well, of +all the——' Just that.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page039' id="Page039"></a><span class='pagenum'>039</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_ELIXIR_OF_YOUTH' id="THE_ELIXIR_OF_YOUTH"></a> +THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH</h3> +</div> +<p>It was Monday afternoon of Bursley Wakes—not our modern +rectified festival, but the wild and naïve orgy of seventy +years ago, the days of bear-baiting and of bull-baiting, from which +latter phrase, they say, the town derives its name. In those times +there was a town-bull, a sort of civic beast; and a certain +notorious character kept a bear in his pantry. The 'beating' +(baiting) occurred usually on Sunday mornings at six o'clock, with +formidable hungry dogs; and little boys used to look forward +eagerly to the day when they would be old enough to be permitted to +attend. On Sunday afternoons colliers and potters, gathered round +the jawbone of a whale which then stood as a natural curiosity on +the waste space near the corn-mill, would discuss the fray, and +make bets for next Sunday, while the exhausted dogs <a name= +'Page040' id="Page040"></a><span class='pagenum'>040</span> licked +their wounds, or died. During the Wakes week bull and bear were +baited at frequent intervals, according to popular demand, for +thousands of sportsmen from neighbouring villages seized the +opportunity of the fair to witness the fine beatings for which +Bursley was famous throughout the country of the Five Towns. In +that week the Wakes took possession of the town, which yielded +itself with savage abandonment to all the frenzies of license. The +public-houses remained continuously open night and day, and the +barmen and barmaids never went to bed; every inn engaged special +'talent' in order to attract custom, and for a hundred hours the +whole thronged town drank, drank, until the supply of coin of +George IV., converging gradually into the coffers of a few persons, +ceased to circulate. Towards the end of the Wakes, by way of a last +ecstasy, the cockfighters would carry their birds, which had +already fought and been called off, perhaps, half a dozen times, to +the town-field (where the discreet 40 per cent. brewery now +stands), and there match them to a finish. It was a spacious +age.</p> +<p>On this Monday afternoon in June the less <a name='Page041' id= +"Page041"></a><span class='pagenum'>041</span> fervid activities of +the Wakes were proceeding as usual in the market-place, +overshadowed by the Town Hall—not the present stone structure +with its gold angel, but a brick edifice built on an ashlar +basement. Hobby-horses and revolving swing-boats, propelled, with +admirable economy to the proprietors, by privileged boys who took +their pay in an occasional ride, competed successfully with the +skeleton man, the fat or bearded woman, and Aunt Sally. The long +toy-tents, artfully roofed with a tinted cloth which permitted only +a soft, mellow light to illuminate the wares displayed, were +crowded with jostling youth and full of the sound of whistles, +'squarkers,' and various pipes; and multitudes surrounded the +gingerbread, nut, and savoury stalls which lined both sides of the +roadway as far as Duck Bank. In front of the numerous boxing-booths +experts of the 'fancy,' obviously out of condition, offered to +fight all comers, and were not seldom well thrashed by impetuous +champions of local fame. There were no photographic studios and no +cocoanut-shies, for these things had not been thought of; and to us +moderns the fair, despite its uncontrolled exuberance of revelry, +<a name='Page042' id="Page042"></a><span class='pagenum'>042</span> +would have seemed strangely quiet, since neither steam-organ nor +hooter nor hurdy-gurdy was there to overwhelm the ear with crashing +waves of gigantic sound. But if the special phenomena of a later +day were missing from the carnival, others, as astonishing to us as +the steam-organ would have been to those uncouth roisterers, were +certainly present. Chief, perhaps, among these was the man who +retailed the elixir of youth, the veritable <i>eau de jouvence</i>, +to credulous drinkers at sixpence a bottle. This magician, whose +dark mysterious face and glittering eyes indicated a strain of +Romany blood, and whose accent proved that he had at any rate lived +much in Yorkshire, had a small booth opposite the watch-house under +the Town Hall. On a banner suspended in front of it was painted the +legend:</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>THE INCA OF PERU'S<br /></span> +<span>ELIXER OF YOUTH<br /></span> <span>SOLD HERE.<br /></span> +<span>ETERNAL YOUTH FOR ALL.<br /></span> <span>DRINK THIS AND YOU +WILL NEVER GROW OLD<br /></span> <span>AS SUPPLIED TO THE NOBILITY +& GENTRY<br /></span> <span>SIXPENCE PER BOT.<br /></span> +<span>WALK IN, WALK IN, &<br /></span> <span>CONSULT THE INCA +OF PERU.<br /></span></div> +</div> +<p><a name='Page043' id="Page043"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>043</span> The Inca of Peru, dressed in black velveteens, +with a brilliant scarf round his neck, stood at the door of his +tent, holding an empty glass in one jewelled hand, and with the +other twirling a long and silken moustache. Handsome, graceful, and +thoroughly inured to the public gaze, he fronted a small circle of +gapers like an actor adroit to make the best of himself, and his +tongue wagged fast enough to wag a man's leg off. At a casual +glance he might have been taken for thirty, but his age was fifty +and more—if you could catch him in the morning before he had +put the paint on.</p> +<p>'Ladies and gentlemen of Bursley, this enlightened and beautiful +town which I am now visiting for the first time,' he began in a +hard, metallic voice, employing again with the glib accuracy of a +machine the exact phrases which he had been using all day, 'look at +me—look well at me. How old do you think I am? How old do I +seem? Twenty, my dear, do you say?' and he turned with practised +insolence to a pot-girl in a red shawl who could not have uttered +an audible word to save her soul, but who blushed and giggled with +pleasure at this mark of attention. 'Ah! you flatter, <a name= +'Page044' id="Page044"></a><span class='pagenum'>044</span> fair +maiden! I look more than twenty, but I think I may say that I do +not look thirty. Does any lady or gentleman think I look thirty? +No! As a matter of fact, I was twenty-nine years of age when, in +South America, while exploring the ruins of the most ancient +civilization of the world—of the world, ladies and +gentlemen—I made my wonderful discovery, the Elixir of +Youth!'</p> +<p>'What art blethering at, Licksy?' a drunken man called from the +back of the crowd, and the nickname stuck to the great discoverer +during the rest of the Wakes.</p> +<p>'That, ladies and gentlemen,' the Inca of Peru continued +unperturbed, 'was—seventy-two years ago. I am now a hundred +and one years old precisely, and as fresh as a kitten, all along of +my marvellous elixir. Far older, for instance, than this good dame +here.'</p> +<p>He pointed to an aged and wrinkled woman, in blue cotton and a +white mutch, who was placidly smoking a short cutty. This creature, +bowed and satiate with monotonous years, took the pipe from her +indrawn lips, and asked in a weary, trembling falsetto:</p> +<p>'How many wives hast had?'</p> +<p><a name='Page045' id="Page045"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>045</span> 'Seventane,' the Inca retorted quickly, +dropping at once into broad dialect, 'and now lone and lookin' to +wed again. Wilt have me?'</p> +<p>'Nay,' replied the crone. 'I've buried four mysen, and no man o' +mine shall bury me.'</p> +<p>There was a burst of laughter, amid which the Inca, taking the +crowd archly into his confidence, remarked:</p> +<p>'I've never administered my elixir to any of my wives, ladies +and gentlemen. You may blame me, but I freely confess the fact;' +and he winked.</p> +<p>'Licksy! Licksy!' the drunken man idiotically chanted.</p> +<p>'And now,' the Inca proceeded, coming at length to the practical +part of his ovation, 'see here!' With the rapidity of a conjurer he +whipped from his pocket a small bottle, and held it up before the +increasing audience. It contained a reddish fluid, which shone +bright and rich in the sunlight. 'See here!' he cried +magnificently, but he was destined to interruption.</p> +<p>A sudden cry arose of 'Black Jack! Black Jack! 'Tis him! He's +caught!' And the <a name='Page046' id="Page046"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>046</span> Inca's crowd, together with all the other +crowds filling the market-place, surged off eastward in a dense, +struggling mass.</p> +<p>The cynosure of every eye was a springless clay-cart, which was +being slowly driven past the newly-erected 'big house' of Enoch +Wood, Esquire, towards the Town Hall. In this, cart were two +constables, with their painted staves drawn, and between the +constables sat a man securely chained—Black Jack of +Moorthorne, the mining village which lies over the ridge a mile or +so east of Bursley. The captive was a ferocious and splendid young +Hercules, tall, with enormous limbs and hands and heavy black +brows. He was dressed in his soiled working attire of a collier, +the trousers strapped under the knees, and his feet shod in vast +clogs. With open throat, small head, great jaws, and bold beady +eyes, he looked what he was, the superb brute—the brute +reckless of all save the instant satisfaction of his desires. He +came of a family of colliers, the most debased class in a lawless +district. Jack's father had been a colliery-serf, legally enslaved +to his colliery, legally liable to be sold with the colliery as a +chattel, <a name='Page047' id="Page047"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>047</span> and legally bound to bring up all his sons as +colliers, until the Act of George III. put an end to this +incredible survival from the customs of the Dark Ages. Black Jack +was now a hero to the crowd, and knew it, for those vast clogs had +kicked a woman to death on the previous day. She was a Moorthorne +woman, not his wife, but his sweetheart, older than he; people said +that she nagged him, and that he was tired of her. The murderer had +hidden for a night, and then, defiantly, surrendered to the watch, +and the watch were taking him to the watch-house in the ashlar +basement of the Town Hall. The feeble horse between the shafts of +the cart moved with difficulty through the press, and often the +coloured staves of the constables came down thwack on the heads of +heedless youth. At length the cart reached the space between the +watch-house and the tent of the Inca of Peru, where it stopped +while the constables unlocked a massive door; the prisoner remained +proudly in the cart, accepting, with obvious delight, the tribute +of cheers and jeers, hoots and shouts, from five thousand +mouths.</p> +<p>The Inca of Peru stood at the door of his <a name='Page048' id= +"Page048"></a><span class='pagenum'>048</span> tent and surveyed +Black Jack, who was not more than a few feet away from him.</p> +<p>'Have a glass of my elixir,' he said to the death-dealer; 'no +one in this town needs it more than thee, by all accounts. Have a +glass, and live for ever. Only sixpence.'</p> +<p>The man in the cart laughed aloud.</p> +<p>'I've nowt on me—not a farden,' he answered, in a strong +grating voice.</p> +<p>At that moment a girl, half hidden by the cart, sprang forward, +offering something in her outstretched palm to the Inca; but he, +misunderstanding her intention, merely glanced with passing +interest at her face, and returned his gaze to the prisoner.</p> +<p>'I'll give thee a glass, lad,' he said quickly, 'and then thou +canst defy Jack Ketch.'</p> +<p>The crowd yelled with excitement, and the murderer held forth +his great hand for the potion. Using every art to enhance the +effect of this dramatic advertisement, the Inca of Peru raised his +bottle on high, and said in a loud, impressive tone:</p> +<p>'This precious liquid has the property, possessed by no other +liquid on earth, of frothing twice. I shall pour it into the glass, +<a name='Page049' id="Page049"></a><span class='pagenum'>049</span> +and it will froth. Black Jack will drink it, and after he has drunk +it will froth again. Observe!'</p> +<p>He uncorked the bottle and filled the glass with the reddish +fluid, which after a few seconds duly effervesced, to the vague +wonder of the populace. The Inca held the glass till the froth had +subsided, and then solemnly gave it to Black Jack.</p> +<p>'Drink!' commanded the Inca.</p> +<p>Black Jack took the draught at a gulp, and instantly flung the +glass at the Inca's face. It missed him, however. There were signs +of a fracas, but the door of the watch-house swung opportunely +open, and Jack was dragged from the cart and hustled within. The +crowd, with a crowd's fickleness, turned to other affairs.</p> +<p>That evening the ingenious Inca of Peru did good trade for +several hours, but towards eleven o'clock the attraction of the +public-houses and of a grand special combined bull and bear beating +by moonlight in the large yard of the Cock Inn drew away the circle +of his customers until there was none left. He retired inside the +tent with several pounds in his pocket and a god's consciousness of +having <a name='Page050' id="Page050"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>050</span> made immortal many of the sons and daughters +of Adam.</p> +<p>As he was counting out his gains on the tub of eternal youth by +the flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and +stealthily entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, +which was sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the +young girl who had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black +Jack his priceless boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing +interest several times during the evening as she loitered restless +near the door of the watch-house.</p> +<p>'What do you want?' he asked her, with the ingratiating +affability of the rake who foresees everything.</p> +<p>'Give me a drink.'</p> +<p>'A drink of what, my dear?'</p> +<p>'Licksy.'</p> +<p>He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a +kind of face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out +of ten, but which will haunt the tenth: a child's face with a +passionate woman's eyes burning and dying in it—black hair, +black eyes, thin pale <a name='Page051' id= +"Page051"></a><span class='pagenum'>051</span> cheeks, equine +nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin conceivable. +He smiled at her, pleased.</p> +<p>'Can you pay for it?' he said pleasantly.</p> +<p>The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, +uncovered head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of +hardship and neglect.</p> +<p>'I've a silver groat,' she answered, and closed her small fist +tighter.</p> +<p>'A silver groat!' he exclaimed, rather astonished. 'Where did +you get that from?'</p> +<p>'He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.'</p> +<p>'Who?'</p> +<p>'Him yonder'—she jerked her head back to indicate the +watch-house—'Black Jack.'</p> +<p>'What for?'</p> +<p>'He kissed me,' she said boldly; 'I'm his sweetheart.'</p> +<p>'Eh!' The Inca paused a moment, startled. 'But he killed his +sweetheart yesterday.'</p> +<p>'What! Meg!' the girl exclaimed with deep scorn. 'Her weren't +his true sweetheart. Her druv him to it. Serve her well right! Owd +Meg!'</p> +<p>'How old are you, my dear?'</p> +<p><a name='Page052' id="Page052"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>052</span> 'Don't know. But feyther said last Wakes I was +fourtane. I mun keep young for Jack. He wunna have me if I'm +owd.'</p> +<p>'But he'll be hanged, they say.'</p> +<p>She gave a short, satisfied laugh.</p> +<p>'Not now he's drunk Licksy—hangman won't get him. I heard +a man say Jack 'd get off wi' twenty year for manslaughter, most +like.'</p> +<p>'And you'll wait twenty years for him?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she said; 'I'll meet him at prison gates. But I mun be +young. Give me a drink o' Licksy.'</p> +<p>He drew the red draught in silence, and after it had effervesced +offered it to her.</p> +<p>''Tis raight?' she questioned, taking the glass.</p> +<p>The Inca nodded, and, lifting the vessel, she opened her eager +lips and became immortal. It was the first time in her life that +she had drunk out of a glass, and it would be the last.</p> +<p>Struck dumb by the trusting joy in those profound eyes, the Inca +took the empty glass from her trembling hand. Frail organism and +prey of love! Passion had surprised her too young. Noon had come +before the flower could open. She went out of the tent.</p> +<p><a name='Page053' id="Page053"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>053</span> 'Wench!' the Inca called after her, 'thy +groat!'</p> +<p>She paid him and stood aimless for a second, and then started to +cross the roadway. Simultaneously there was a rush and a roar from +the Cock yard close by. The raging bull, dragging its ropes, and +followed by a crowd of alarmed pursuers, dashed out. The girl was +plain in the moonlight. Many others were abroad, but the bull +seemed to see nothing but her, and, lowering his huge head, he +charged with shut eyes and flung her over the Inca's booth.</p> +<p>'Thou's gotten thy wish: thou'rt young for ever!' the Inca of +Peru, made a poet for an instant by this disaster, murmured to +himself as he bent with the curious crowd over the corpse.</p> +<p>Black Jack was hanged.</p> +<p>Many years after all this Bursley built itself a new Town Hall +(with a spire, and a gold angel on the top in the act of crowning +the bailiwick with a gold crown), and began to think about getting +up in the world.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page057' id="Page057"></a><span class='pagenum'>057</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='MARY_WITH_THE_HIGH_HAND' id="MARY_WITH_THE_HIGH_HAND"></a> +MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND</h3> +</div> +<p>In the front-bedroom of Edward Beechinor's small house in +Trafalgar Road the two primary social forces of action and +reaction—those forces which under a thousand names and +disguises have alternately ruled the world since the invention of +politics—were pitted against each other in a struggle +rendered futile by the equality of the combatants. Edward Beechinor +had his money, his superior age, and the possible advantage of +being a dying man; Mark Beechinor had his youth and his devotion to +an ideal. Near the window, aloof and apart, stood the strange, +silent girl whose aroused individuality was to intervene with such +effectiveness on behalf of one of the antagonists. It was early +dusk on an autumn day.</p> +<p>'Tell me what it is you want, Edward,' said Mark quietly. 'Let +us come to the point.'</p> +<p><a name='Page058' id="Page058"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>058</span> 'Ay,' said the sufferer, lifting his pale hand +from the counterpane, 'I'll tell thee.'</p> +<p>He moistened his lips as if in preparation, and pushed back a +tuft of sparse gray hair, damp with sweat.</p> +<p>The physical and moral contrast between these two brothers was +complete. Edward was forty-nine, a small, thin, stunted man, with a +look of narrow cunning, of petty shrewdness working without +imagination. He had been clerk to Lawyer Ford for thirty-five +years, and had also furtively practised for himself. During this +period his mode of life had never varied, save once, and that only +a year ago. At the age of fourteen he sat in a grimy room with an +old man on one side of him, a copying-press on the other, and a +law-stationer's almanac in front, and he earned half a crown a +week. At the age of forty-eight he still sat in the same grimy room +(of which the ceiling had meanwhile been whitened three times), +with the same copying-press and the almanac of the same +law-stationers, and he earned thirty shillings a week. But now he, +Edward Beechinor, was the old man, and the indispensable lad of +fourteen, who had once been <a name='Page059' id= +"Page059"></a><span class='pagenum'>059</span> himself, was another +lad, perhaps thirtieth of the dynasty of office-boys. Throughout +this interminable and sterile desert of time he had drawn the same +deeds, issued the same writs, written the same letters, kept the +same accounts, lied the same lies, and thought the same thoughts. +He had learnt nothing except craft, and forgotten nothing except +happiness. He had never married, never loved, never been a rake, +nor deviated from respectability. He was a success because he had +conceived an object, and by sheer persistence attained it. In the +eyes of Bursley people he was a very decent fellow, a steady +fellow, a confirmed bachelor, a close un, a knowing customer, a +curmudgeon, an excellent clerk, a narrow-minded ass, a good +Wesleyan, a thrifty individual, and an intelligent +burgess—according to the point of view. The lifelong +operation of rigorous habit had sunk him into a groove as deep as +the canon of some American river. His ideas on every subject were +eternally and immutably fixed, and, without being altogether aware +of it, he was part of the solid foundation of England's greatness. +In 1892, when the whole of the Five Towns was agitated by the great +probate case of <a name='Page060' id="Page060"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>060</span> Wilbraham <i>v.</i> Wilbraham, in which Mr. +Ford acted for the defendants, Beechinor, then aged forty-eight, +was torn from his stool and sent out to Rio de Janeiro as part of a +commission to take the evidence of an important witness who had +declined all offers to come home.</p> +<p>The old clerk was full of pride and self-importance at being +thus selected, but secretly he shrank from the journey, the mere +idea of which filled him with vague apprehension and alarm. His +nature had lost all its adaptability; he trembled like a young girl +at the prospect of new experiences. On the return voyage the vessel +was quarantined at Liverpool for a fortnight, and Beechinor had an +attack of low fever. Eight months afterwards he was ill again. +Beechinor went to bed for the last time, cursing Providence, +Wilbraham <i>v.</i> Wilbraham, and Rio.</p> +<p>Mark Beechinor was thirty, just nineteen years younger than his +brother. Tall, uncouth, big-boned, he had a rather ferocious and +forbidding aspect; yet all women seemed to like him, despite the +fact that he seldom could open his mouth to them. There must have +been <a name='Page061' id="Page061"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>061</span> something in his wild and liquid dark eyes +which mutely appealed for their protective sympathy, something +about him of shy and wistful romance that atoned for the huge +awkwardness of this taciturn elephant. Mark was at present the +manager of a small china manufactory at Longshaw, the farthest of +the Five Towns in Staffordshire, and five miles from Bursley. He +was an exceptionally clever potter, but he never made money. He had +the dreamy temperament of the inventor. He was a man of ideas, the +kind of man who is capable of forgetting that he has not had his +dinner, and who can live apparently content amid the grossest +domestic neglect. He had once spoilt a hundred and fifty pounds' +worth of ware by firing it in a new kiln of his own contrivance; it +cost him three years of atrocious parsimony to pay for the ware and +the building of the kiln. He was impulsively and recklessly +charitable, and his Saturday afternoons and Sundays were chiefly +devoted to the passionate propagandism of the theories of liberty, +equality, and fraternity.</p> +<p>'Is it true as thou'rt for marrying Sammy Mellor's daughter over +at Hanbridge?' Edward <a name='Page062' id= +"Page062"></a><span class='pagenum'>062</span> Beechinor asked, in +the feeble, tremulous voice of one agonized by continual pain.</p> +<p>Among relatives and acquaintances he commonly spoke the Five +Towns dialect, reserving the other English for official use.</p> +<p>Mark stood at the foot of the bed, leaning with his elbows on +the brass rail. Like most men, he always felt extremely nervous and +foolish in a sick-room, and the delicacy of this question, so +bluntly put, added to his embarrassment. He looked round timidly in +the direction of the girl at the window; her back was towards +him.</p> +<p>'It's possible,' he replied. 'I haven't asked her yet.'</p> +<p>'Her'll have no money?'</p> +<p>'No.'</p> +<p>'Thou'lt want some brass to set up with. Look thee here, Mark: I +made my will seven years ago i' thy favour.'</p> +<p>'Thank ye,' said Mark gratefully.</p> +<p>'But that,' the dying man continued with a frown—'that was +afore thou'dst taken up with these socialistic doctrines o' thine. +I've heard as thou'rt going to be th' secretary o' the Hanbridge +Labour Church, as they call it.'</p> +<p><a name='Page063' id="Page063"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>063</span> Hanbridge is the metropolis of the Five Towns, +and its Labour Church is the most audacious and influential of all +the local activities, half secret, but relentlessly determined, +whose aim is to establish the new democratic heaven and the new +democratic earth by means of a gradual and bloodless revolution. +Edward Beechinor uttered its abhorred name with a bitter and +scornful hatred characteristic of the Toryism of a man who, having +climbed high up out of the crowd, fiercely resents any widening or +smoothing of the difficult path which he himself has conquered.</p> +<p>'They've asked me to take the post,' Mark answered.</p> +<p>'What's the wages?' the older man asked, with exasperated +sarcasm.</p> +<p>'Nothing.'</p> +<p>'Mark, lad,' the other said, softening, 'I'm worth seven hundred +pounds and this freehold house. What dost think o' that?'</p> +<p>Even in that moment, with the world and its riches slipping away +from his dying grasp, the contemplation of this great achievement +of thrift filled Edward Beechinor with a sublime <a name='Page064' id="Page064"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>064</span> satisfaction. +That sum of seven hundred pounds, which many men would dissipate in +a single night, and forget the next morning that they had done so, +seemed vast and almost incredible to him.</p> +<p>'I know you've always been very careful,' said Mark +politely.</p> +<p>'Give up this old Labour Church'—again old Beechinor laid +a withering emphasis on the phrase—'give up this Labour +Church, and its all thine—house and all.'</p> +<p>Mark shook his head.</p> +<p>'Think twice,' the sick man ordered angrily. 'I tell thee +thou'rt standing to lose every shilling.'</p> +<p>'I must manage without it, then.'</p> +<p>A silence fell.</p> +<p>Each brother was absolutely immovable in his decision, and the +other knew it. Edward might have said: 'I am a dying man: give up +this thing to oblige me.' And Mark could have pleaded: 'At such a +moment I would do anything to oblige you—except this, and +this I really can't do. Forgive me.' Such amenities would possibly +have eased the cord which was about to snap; but the idea of +regarding <a name='Page065' id="Page065"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>065</span> Edward's condition as a factor in the case did +not suggest itself favourably to the grim Beechinor stock, so +stern, harsh, and rude. The sick man wiped from his sunken features +the sweat which continually gathered there. Then he turned upon his +side with a grunt.</p> +<p>'Thou must fetch th' lawyer,' he said at length, 'for I'll cut +thee off.'</p> +<p>It was a strange request—like ordering a condemned man to +go out and search for his executioner; but Mark answered with +perfect naturalness:</p> +<p>'Yes. Mr. Ford, I suppose?'</p> +<p>'Ford? No! Dost think I want <i>him</i> meddling i' my affairs? +Go to young Baines up th' road. Tell him to come at once. He's sure +to be at home, as it's Saturday night.'</p> +<p>'Very well.'</p> +<p>Mark turned to leave the room.</p> +<p>'And, young un, I've done with thee. Never pass my door again +till thou know'st I'm i' my coffin. Understand?'</p> +<p>Mark hesitated a moment, and then went out, quietly closing the +door. No sooner had he done so than the girl, hitherto so passive +at the window, flew after him.</p> +<p><a name='Page066' id="Page066"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>066</span> There are some women whose calm, enigmatic +faces seem always to suggest the infinite. It is given to few to +know them, so rare as they are, and their lives usually so +withdrawn; but sometimes they pass in the street, or sit like +sphinxes in the church or the theatre, and then the memory of their +features, persistently recurring, troubles us for days. They are +peculiar to no class, these women: you may find them in a print +gown or in diamonds. Often they have thin, rather long lips and +deep rounded chins; but it is the fine upward curve of the nostrils +and the fall of the eyelids which most surely mark them. Their +glances and their faint smiles are beneficent, yet with a subtle +shade of half-malicious superiority. When they look at you from +under those apparently fatigued eyelids, you feel that they have an +inward and concealed existence far beyond the ordinary—that +they are aware of many things which you can never know. It is as +though their souls, during former incarnations, had trafficked with +the secret forces of nature, and so acquired a mysterious and +nameless quality above all the transient attributes of beauty, wit, +and talent. They exist: that is <a name='Page067' id= +"Page067"></a><span class='pagenum'>067</span> enough; that is +their genius. Whether they control, or are at the mercy of, those +secret forces; whether they have in fact learnt, but may not speak, +the true answer to the eternal Why; whether they are not perhaps a +riddle even to their own simple selves: these are points which can +never be decided.</p> +<p>Everyone who knew Mary Beechinor, in her cousin's home, or at +chapel, or on Titus Price's earthenware manufactory, where she +worked, said or thought that 'there was something about her ...' +and left the phrase unachieved. She was twenty-five, and she had +lived under the same roof with Edward Beechinor for seven years, +since the sudden death of her parents. The arrangement then made +was that Edward should keep her, while she conducted his household. +She had insisted on permission to follow her own occupation, and in +order that she might be at liberty to do so she personally paid +eighteenpence a week to a little girl who came in to perform sundry +necessary duties every day at noon. Mary Beechinor was a paintress +by trade. As a class the paintresses of the Five Towns are somewhat +similar to the more famous mill-girls of Lancashire and +Yorkshire—fiercely <a name='Page068' id= +"Page068"></a><span class='pagenum'>068</span> independent by +reason of good wages earned, loving finery and brilliant colours, +loud-tongued and aggressive, perhaps, and for the rest neither more +nor less kindly, passionate, faithful, than any other Saxon women +anywhere. The paintresses, however, have some slight advantage over +the mill-girls in the outward reticences of demeanour, due no doubt +to the fact that their ancient craft demands a higher skill, and is +pursued under more humane and tranquil conditions. Mary Beechinor +worked in the 'band-and-line' department of the painting-shop at +Price's. You may have observed the geometrical exactitude of the +broad and thin coloured lines round the edges of a common cup and +saucer, and speculated upon the means by which it was arrived at. A +girl drew those lines, a girl with a hand as sure as Giotto's, and +no better tools than a couple of brushes and a small revolving +table called a whirler. Forty-eight hours a week Mary Beechinor sat +before her whirler. Actuating the treadle, she placed a piece of +ware on the flying disc, and with a single unerring flip of the +finger pushed it precisely to the centre; then she held the full +brush firmly against the ware, and in three <a name='Page069' id= +"Page069"></a><span class='pagenum'>069</span> seconds the band +encircled it truly; another brush taken up, and the line below the +band also stood complete. And this process was repeated, with +miraculous swiftness, hour after hour, week after week, year after +year. Mary could decorate over thirty dozen cups and saucers in a +day, at three halfpence the dozen. 'Doesn't she ever do anything +else?' some visitor might curiously inquire, whom Titus Price was +showing over his ramshackle manufactory. 'No, always the same +thing,' Titus would answer, made proud for the moment of this +phenomenon of stupendous monotony. 'I wonder how she can stand +it—she has a refined face,' the visitor might remark; and +Mary Beechinor was left alone again. The idea that her work was +monotonous probably never occurred to the girl. It was her +work—as natural as sleep, or the knitting which she always +did in the dinner-hour. The calm and silent regularity of it had +become part of her, deepening her original quiescence, and setting +its seal upon her inmost spirit. She was not in the fellowship of +the other girls in the painting-shop. She seldom joined their more +boisterous diversions, nor talked their talk, and she never +<a name='Page070' id="Page070"></a><span class='pagenum'>070</span> +manoeuvred for their men. But they liked her, and their attitude +showed a certain respect, forced from them by they knew not what. +The powers in the office spoke of Mary Beechinor as 'a very +superior girl.'</p> +<p>She ran downstairs after Mark, and he waited in the narrow hall, +where there was scarcely room for two people to pass. Mark looked +at her inquiringly. Rather thin, and by no means tall, she seemed +the merest morsel by his side. She was wearing her second-best +crimson merino frock, partly to receive the doctor and partly +because it was Saturday night; over this a plain bibless apron. Her +cold gray eyes faintly sparkled in anger above the cheeks white +with watching, and the dropped corners of her mouth showed a +contemptuous indignation. Mary Beechinor was ominously roused from +the accustomed calm of years. Yet Mark at first had no suspicion +that she was disturbed. To him that pale and inviolate face, even +while it cast a spell over him, gave no sign of the fires +within.</p> +<p>She took him by the coat-sleeve and silently directed him into +the gloomy little parlour crowded with mahogany and horsehair +furniture, <a name='Page071' id="Page071"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>071</span> white antimacassars, wax flowers under glass, +and ponderous gilt-clasped Bibles.</p> +<p>'It's a cruel shame!' she whispered, as though afraid of being +overheard by the dying man upstairs.</p> +<p>'Do you think I ought to have given way?' he questioned, +reddening.</p> +<p>'You mistake me,' she said quickly; and with a sudden movement +she went up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The caress, so +innocent, unpremeditated, and instinctive, ran through him like a +voltaic shock. These two were almost strangers; they had scarcely +met till within the past week, Mark being seldom in Bursley. 'You +mistake me—it is a shame of <i>him</i>! I'm fearfully +angry.'</p> +<p>'Angry?' he repeated, astonished.</p> +<p>'Yes, angry.' She walked to the window, and, twitching at the +blind-cord, gazed into the dim street. It was beginning to grow +dark. 'Shall you fetch the lawyer? I shouldn't if I were you. I +won't.'</p> +<p>'I must fetch him,' Mark said.</p> +<p>She turned round and admired him. 'What <i>will</i> he do with +his precious money?' she murmured.</p> +<p><a name='Page072' id="Page072"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>072</span> 'Leave it to you, probably.'</p> +<p>'Not he. I wouldn't touch it—not now; it's yours by +rights. Perhaps you don't know that when I came here it was +distinctly understood I wasn't to expect anything under his will. +Besides, I have my own money ... Oh dear! If he wasn't in such +pain, wouldn't I talk to him—for the first and last time in +my life!'</p> +<p>'You must please not say a word to him. I don't really want the +money.'</p> +<p>'But you ought to have it. If he takes it away from you he's +<i>unjust</i>.'</p> +<p>'What did the doctor say this afternoon?' asked Mark, wishing to +change the subject.</p> +<p>'He said the crisis would come on Monday, and when it did Edward +would be dead all in a minute. He said it would be just like taking +prussic acid.'</p> +<p>'Not earlier than Monday?'</p> +<p>'He said he thought Monday.'</p> +<p>'Of course I shall take no notice of what Edward said to +me—I shall call to-morrow morning—and stay. Perhaps he +won't mind seeing me. And then you can tell me what happens +to-night.'</p> +<p><a name='Page073' id="Page073"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>073</span> 'I'm sure I shall send that lawyer man about +his business,' she threatened.</p> +<p>'Look here,' said Mark timorously as he was leaving the house, +'I've told you I don't want the money—I would give it away to +some charity; but do you think I ought to pretend to yield, just to +humour him, and let him die quiet and peaceful? I shouldn't like +him to die hating——'</p> +<p>'Never—never!' she exclaimed.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>'What have you and Mark been talking about?' asked Edward +Beechinor apprehensively as Mary re-entered the bedroom.</p> +<p>'Nothing,' she replied with a grave and soothing kindliness of +tone.</p> +<p>'Because, miss, if you think——'</p> +<p>'You must have your medicine now, Edward.'</p> +<p>But before giving the patient his medicine she peeped through +the curtain and watched Mark's figure till it disappeared up the +hill towards Bleakridge. He, on his part, walked with her image +always in front of him. He thought hers was the strongest, most +righteous soul he had ever encountered; it seemed as if she had a +perfect passion for truth and justice. <a name='Page074' id= +"Page074"></a><span class='pagenum'>074</span> And a week ago he +had deemed her a capable girl, certainly—but +lackadaisical!</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>The clock had struck ten before Mr. Baines, the solicitor, +knocked at the door. Mary hesitated, and then took him upstairs in +silence while he suavely explained to her why he had been unable to +come earlier. This lawyer was a young Scotsman who had descended +upon the town from nowhere, bought a small decayed practice, and +within two years had transformed it into a large and flourishing +business by one of those feats of energy, audacity, and tact, +combined, of which some Scotsmen seem to possess the secret.</p> +<p>'Here is Mr. Baines, Edward,' Mary said quietly; and then, +having rearranged the sick man's pillow, she vanished out of the +room and went into the kitchen.</p> +<p>The gas-jet there showed only a point of blue, but she did not +turn it up. Dragging an old oak rush-seated rocking-chair near to +the range, where a scrap of fire still glowed, she rocked herself +gently in the darkness.</p> +<p>After about half an hour Mr. Baines's voice sounded at the head +of the stairs:</p> +<p><a name='Page075' id="Page075"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>075</span> 'Miss Beechinor, will ye kindly step up? We +shall want some asseestance.'</p> +<p>She obeyed, but not instantly.</p> +<p>In the bedroom Mr. Baines, a fountain-pen between his fine white +teeth, was putting some coal on the fire. He stood up as she +entered.</p> +<p>'Mr. Beechinor is about to make a new will,' he said, without +removing the pen from his mouth, 'and ye will kindly witness +it.'</p> +<p>The small room appeared to be full of Baines—he was so +large and fleshy and assertive. The furniture, even the chest of +drawers, was dwarfed into toy-furniture, and Beechinor, slight and +shrunken-up, seemed like a cadaverous manikin in the bed.</p> +<p>'Now, Mr. Beechinor.' Dusting his hands, the lawyer took a +newly-written document from the dressing-table, and, spreading it +on the lid of a cardboard box, held it before the dying man. +'Here's the pen. There! I'll help ye to hold it.'</p> +<p>Beechinor clutched the pen. His wrinkled and yellow face, +flushed in irregular patches as though the cheeks had been badly +rouged, was covered with perspiration, and each difficult movement, +even to the slightest lifting of the <a name='Page076' id= +"Page076"></a><span class='pagenum'>076</span> head, showed extreme +exhaustion. He cast at Mary a long sinister glance of mistrust and +apprehension.</p> +<p>'What is there in this will?'</p> +<p>Mr. Baines looked sharply up at the girl, who now stood at the +side of the bed opposite him. Mechanically she smoothed the tumbled +bed-clothes.</p> +<p>'That's nowt to do wi' thee, lass,' said Beechinor +resentfully.</p> +<p>'It isn't necessary that a witness to a will should be aware of +its contents,' said Baines. 'In fact, it's quite unusual.'</p> +<p>'I sign nothing in the dark,' she said, smiling. Through their +half-closed lids her eyes glimmered at Baines.</p> +<p>'Ha! Legal caution acquired from your cousin, I presume.' Baines +smiled at her. 'But let me assure ye, Miss Beechinor, this is a +mere matter of form. A will must be signed in the presence of two +witnesses, both present at the same time; and there's only yeself +and me for it.'</p> +<p>Mary looked at the dying man, whose features were writhed in +pain, and shook her head.</p> +<p><a name='Page077' id="Page077"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>077</span> 'Tell her,' he murmured with bitter despair, +and sank down into the pillows, dropping the fountain-pen, which +had left a stain of ink on the sheet before Baines could pick it +up.</p> +<p>'Well, then, Miss Beechinor, if ye must know,' Baines began with +sarcasm, 'the will is as follows: The testator—that's Mr. +Beechinor—leaves twenty guineas to his brother Mark to show +that he bears him no ill-will and forgives him. The rest of his +estate is to be realized, and the proceeds given to the North +Staffordshire Infirmary, to found a bed, which is to be called the +Beechinor bed. If there is any surplus, it is to go to the Law +Clerks' Provident Society. That is all.'</p> +<p>'I shall have nothing to do with it,' Mary said coldly.</p> +<p>'Young lady, we don't want ye to have anything to do with it. We +only desire ye to witness the signature.'</p> +<p>'I won't witness the signature, and I won't see it signed.'</p> +<p>'Damn thee, Mary! thou'rt a wicked wench,' Beechinor whispered +in hoarse, feeble tones. <a name='Page078' id= +"Page078"></a><span class='pagenum'>078</span> He saw himself +robbed of the legitimate fruit of all those interminable years of +toilsome thrift. This girl by a trick would prevent him from +disposing of his own. He, Edward Beechinor, shrewd and wealthy, was +being treated like a child. He was too weak to rave, but from his +aggrieved and furious heart he piled silent curses on her. 'Go, +fetch another witness,' he added to the lawyer.</p> +<p>'Wait a moment,' said Baines. 'Miss Beechinor, do ye mean to say +that ye will cross the solemn wish of a dying man?'</p> +<p>'I mean to say I won't help a dying man to commit a crime.'</p> +<p>'A crime?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she answered, 'a crime. Seven years ago Mr. Beechinor +willed everything to his brother Mark, and Mark ought to have +everything. Mark is his only brother—his only relation except +me. And Edward knows it isn't me wants any of his money. North +Staffordshire Infirmary indeed! It's a crime!... What business have +<i>you</i>,' she went on to Edward Beechinor, 'to punish Mark just +because his politics aren't——'</p> +<p>'That's beside the point,' the lawyer interrupted. <a name= +'Page079' id="Page079"></a><span class='pagenum'>079</span> 'A +testator has a perfect right to leave his property as he chooses, +without giving reasons. Now, Miss Beechinor, I must ask ye to be +judeecious.'</p> +<p>Mary shut her lips.</p> +<p>'Her'll never do it. I tell thee, fetch another witness.'</p> +<p>The old man sprang up in a sort of frenzy as he uttered the +words, and then fell back in a brief swoon.</p> +<p>Mary wiped his brow, and pushed away the wet and matted hair. +Presently he opened his eyes, moaning. Mr. Baines folded up the +will, put it in his pocket, and left the room with quick steps. +Mary heard him open the front-door and then return to the foot of +the stairs.</p> +<p>'Miss Beechinor,' he called, 'I'll speak with ye a moment.'</p> +<p>She went down.</p> +<p>'Do you mind coming into the kitchen?' she said, preceding him +and turning up the gas; 'there's no light in the front-room.'</p> +<p>He leaned up against the high mantelpiece; his frock-coat hung +to the level of the oven-knob. She had one hand on the white deal +<a name='Page080' id="Page080"></a><span class='pagenum'>080</span> +table. Between them a tortoiseshell cat purred on the red-tiled +floor.</p> +<p>'Ye're doing a verra serious thing, Miss Beechinor. As Mr. +Beechinor's solicitor, I should just like to be acquaint with the +real reasons for this conduct.'</p> +<p>'I've told you.' She had a slightly quizzical look.</p> +<p>'Now, as to Mark,' the lawyer continued blandly, 'Mr. Beechinor +explained the whole circumstances to me. Mark as good as defied his +brother.'</p> +<p>'That's nothing to do with it.'</p> +<p>'By the way, it appears that Mark is practically engaged to be +married. May I ask if the lady is yeself?'</p> +<p>She hesitated.</p> +<p>'If so,' he proceeded, 'I may tell ye informally that I admire +the pluck of ye. But, nevertheless, that will has got to be +executed.'</p> +<p>'The young lady is a Miss Mellor of Hanbridge.'</p> +<p>'I'm going to fetch my clerk,' he said shortly. 'I can see ye're +an obstinate and unfathomable woman. I'll be back in half an +hour.'</p> +<p><a name='Page081' id="Page081"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>081</span> When he had departed she bolted the front-door +top and bottom, and went upstairs to the dying man.</p> +<p>Nearly an hour elapsed before she heard a knock. Mr. Baines had +had to arouse his clerk from sleep. Instead of going down to the +front-door, Mary threw up the bedroom window and looked out. It was +a mild but starless night. Trafalgar Road was silent save for the +steam-car, which, with its load of revellers returning from +Hanbridge—that centre of gaiety—slipped rumbling down +the hill towards Bursley.</p> +<p>'What do you want—disturbing a respectable house at this +time of night?' she called in a loud whisper when the car had +passed. 'The door's bolted, and I can't come down. You must come in +the morning.'</p> +<p>'Miss Beechinor, ye will let us in—I charge ye.'</p> +<p>'It's useless, Mr. Baines.'</p> +<p>'I'll break the door down. I'm a strong man, and a determined. +Ye are carrying things too far.'</p> +<p>In another moment the two men heard the creak of the bolts. Mary +stood before <a name='Page082' id="Page082"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>082</span> them, vaguely discernible, but a forbidding +figure.</p> +<p>'If you must—come upstairs,' she said coldly.</p> +<p>'Stay here in the passage, Arthur,' said Mr. Baines; 'I'll call +ye when I want ye;' and he followed Mary up the stairs.</p> +<p>Edward Beechinor lay on his back, and his sunken eyes stared +glassily at the ceiling. The skin of his emaciated face, stretched +tightly over the protruding bones, had lost all its crimson, and +was green, white, yellow. The mouth was wide open. His drawn +features wore a terribly sardonic look—a purely physical +effect of the disease; but it seemed to the two spectators that +this mean and disappointed slave of a miserly habit had by one +superb imaginative effort realized the full vanity of all human +wishes and pretensions.</p> +<p>'Ye can go; I shan't want ye,' said Mr. Baines, returning to the +clerk.</p> +<p>The lawyer never spoke of that night's business. Why should he? +To what end? Mark Beechinor, under the old will, inherited the +seven hundred pounds and the house. Miss Mellor of Hanbridge is +still Miss Mellor, her <a name='Page083' id= +"Page083"></a><span class='pagenum'>083</span> hand not having been +formally sought. But Mark, secretary of the Labour Church, is +married. Miss Mellor, with a quite pardonable air of tolerant +superiority, refers to his wife as 'a strange, timid little +creature—she couldn't say Bo to a goose.'</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page087' id="Page087"></a><span class='pagenum'>087</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_DOG' id="THE_DOG"></a> +THE DOG</h3> +</div> +<p>This is a scandalous story. It scandalized the best people in +Bursley; some of them would wish it forgotten. But since I have +begun to tell it I may as well finish. Moreover, like most tales +whispered behind fans and across club-tables, it carries a high and +valuable moral. The moral—I will let you have it at +once—is that those who love in glass houses should pull down +the blinds.</p> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>He had got his collar on safely; it bore his name—Ellis +Carter. Strange name for a dog, perhaps; and perhaps it was even +more strange that his collar should be white. But such dogs are not +common dogs. He tied his necktie exquisitely; caressed his hair +again with two brushes; curved his young moustache, <a name= +'Page088' id="Page088"></a><span class='pagenum'>088</span> and +then assumed his waistcoat and his coat; the trousers had naturally +preceded the collar. He beheld the suit in the glass, and saw that +it was good. And it was not built in London, either. There are +tailors in Bursley. And in particular there is the dog's tailor. +Ask the dog's tailor, as the dog once did, whether he can really do +as well as London, and he will smile on you with gentle pity; he +will not stoop to utter the obvious Yes. He may casually inform you +that, if he is not in London himself, the explanation is that he +has reasons for preferring Bursley. He is the social equal of all +his clients. He belongs to the dogs' club. He knows, and everybody +knows, that he is a first-class tailor with a first-class +connection, and no dog would dare to condescend to him. He is a +great creative artist; the dogs who wear his clothes may be said to +interpret his creations. Now, Ellis was a great interpretative +artist, and the tailor recognised the fact. When the tailor met +Ellis on Duck Bank greatly wearing a new suit, the scene was +impressive. It was as though Elgar had stopped to hear Paderewski +play 'Pomp and Circumstance' on the piano.</p> +<p><a name='Page089' id="Page089"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>089</span> Ellis descended from his bedroom into the +hall, took his straw hat, chose a stick, and went out into the +portico of the new large house on the Hawkins, near Oldcastle. In +the neighbourhood of the Five Towns no road is more august, more +correct, more detached, more umbrageous, than the Hawkins. M.P.'s +live there. It is the link between the aristocratic and antique +aloofness of Oldcastle and the solid commercial prosperity of the +Five Towns. Ellis adorned the portico. Young (a bare twenty-two), +fair, handsome, smiling, graceful, well-built, perfectly groomed, +he was an admirable and a characteristic specimen of the race of +dogs which, with the modern growth of luxury and the Luxurious +Spirit, has become so marked a phenomenon in the social development +of the once barbarous Five Towns.</p> +<p>When old Jack Carter (reputed to be the best turner that Bursley +ever produced) started a little potbank near St. Peter's Church in +1861—he was then forty, and had saved two hundred +pounds—he little dreamt that the supreme and final result +after forty years would be the dog. But so it was. Old Jack +<a name='Page090' id="Page090"></a><span class='pagenum'>090</span> +Carter had a son John Carter, who married at twenty-five and lived +at first on twenty-five shillings a week, and enthusiastically +continued the erection of the fortune which old Jack had begun. At +thirty-three, after old Jack's death, John became a Town +Councillor. At thirty-six he became Mayor and the father of Ellis, +and the recipient of a silver cradle. Ellis was his wife's maiden +name. At forty-two he built the finest earthenware manufactory in +Bursley, down by the canal-side at Shawport. At fifty-two he had +been everything that a man can be in the Five Towns—from +County Councillor to President of the Society for the Prosecution +of Felons. Then Ellis left school and came to the works to carry on +the tradition, and his father suddenly discovered him. The truth +was that John Carter had been so laudably busy with the affairs of +his town and county that he had nearly forgotten his family. Ellis, +in the process of achieving doghood, soon taught his father a thing +or two. And John learnt. John could manage a public meeting, but he +could not manage Ellis. Besides, there was plenty of money; and +Ellis was so ingratiating, <a name='Page091' id= +"Page091"></a><span class='pagenum'>091</span> and had curly hair +that somehow won sympathy. And, after all, Ellis was not such a +duffer as all that at the works. John knew other people's sons who +were worse. And Ellis could keep order in the paintresses' 'shops' +as order had never been kept there before.</p> +<p>John sometimes wondered what old Jack would have said about +Ellis and his friends, those handsome dogs, those fine dandies, who +taught to the Five Towns the virtue of grace and of style and of +dash, who went up to London—some of them even went to Paris +—and brought back civilization to the Five Towns, who removed +from the Five Towns the reproach of being uncouth and behind the +times. Was the outcome of two generations of unremitting toil +merely Ellis? (Ellis had several pretty sisters, but they did not +count.) John could only guess at what old Jack's attitude might +have been towards Ellis—Ellis, who had his shirts made to +measure. He knew exactly what was Ellis's attitude towards the +ideals of old Jack, old Jack the class-leader, who wore clogs till +he was thirty, and dined in his shirt-sleeves at one o'clock to the +end of his life.</p> +<p><a name='Page092' id="Page092"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>092</span> Ellis quitted the portico, ran down the +winding garden-path, and jumped neatly and fearlessly on to an +electric tramcar as it passed at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. +The car was going to Hanbridge, and it was crowded with the joy of +life; Ellis had to stand on the step. This was the Saturday before +the first Monday in August, and therefore the formal opening of +Knype Wakes, the most carnivalesque of all the carnivals which +enliven the four seasons in the Five Towns. It is still called +Knype Wakes, because once Knype overshadowed Hanbridge in +importance; but its headquarters are now quite properly at +Hanbridge, the hub, the centre, the Paris of the Five +Towns—Hanbridge, the county borough of sixty odd thousand +inhabitants. It is the festival of the masses that old Jack sprang +from, and every genteel person who can leaves the Five Towns for +the seaside at the end of July. Nevertheless, the district is never +more crammed than at Knype Wakes. And, of course, genteel persons, +whom circumstances have forced to remain in the Five Towns, sally +out in the evening to 'do' the Wakes in a spirit of tolerant +condescension. <a name='Page093' id="Page093"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>093</span> Ellis was in this case. His parents and +sisters were at Llandudno, and he had been left in charge of the +works and of the new house. He was always free; he could always +pity the bondage of his sisters; but now he was more free than +ever—he was absolutely free. Imagine the delicious feeling +that surged in his heart as he prepared to plunge himself doggishly +into the wild ocean of the Wakes. By the way, in that heart was the +image of a girl.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>He stepped off the car on the outskirts of Hanbridge, and +strolled gently and spectacularly into the joyous town. The streets +became more and more crowded and noisy as he approached the +market-place, and in Crown Square tramcars from the four quarters +of the earth discharged tramloads of humanity at the rate of two a +minute, and then glided off again empty in search of more humanity. +The lower portion of Crown Square was devoted to tramlines; in the +upper portion the Wakes began, and spread into the market-place, +and thence by many tentacles into all manner of streets.</p> +<p><a name='Page094' id="Page094"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>094</span> No Wakes is better than Knype Wakes; that is +to say, no Wakes is more ear-splitting, more terrific, more +dizzying, or more impassable. When you go to Knype Wakes you get +stuck in the midst of an enormous crowd, and you see roundabouts, +swings, switchbacks, myrioramas, atrocity booths, quack dentists, +shooting-galleries, cocoanut-shies, and bazaars, all around you. +Every establishment is jewelled, gilded, and electrically lighted; +every establishment has an orchestra, most often played by steam +and conducted by a stoker; every establishment has a +steam—whistle, which shrieks at the beginning and at the end +of each round or performance. You stand fixed in the multitude +listening to a thousand orchestras and whistles, with the roar of +machinery and the merry din of car-bells, and the popping of rifles +for a background of noise. Your eyes are charmed by the whirling of +a million lights and the mad whirling of millions of beautiful +girls and happy youths under the lights. For the roundabouts rule +the scene; the roundabouts take the money. The supreme desire of +the revellers is to describe circles, either on horseback or in +yachts, either simple circles or complex <a name='Page095' id= +"Page095"></a><span class='pagenum'>095</span> circles, either up +and down or straight along, but always circles. And it is as though +inventors had sat up at nights puzzling their brains how best to +make revellers seasick while keeping them equidistant from a +steam-orchestra.... Then the crowd solidly lurches, and you find +yourself up against a dentist, or a firm of wrestlers, or a +roundabout, or an ice-cream refectory, and you take what comes. You +have begun to 'do' the Wakes. The splendid insanity seizes you. The +lights, the colours, the explosions, the shrieks, the feathered +hats, the pretty faces as they fly past, the gilding, the statuary, +the August night, and the mingling of a thousand melodies in a +counterpoint beyond the dreams of Wagner—these things have +stirred the sap of life in you, have shown you how fine it is to be +alive, and, careless and free, have caught up your spirit into a +heaven from which you scornfully survey the year of daily toil +between one Wakes and another as the eagle scornfully surveys the +potato-field. Your nostrils dilate—nay, matters reach such a +pass that, even if you are genteel, you forget to condescend.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page096' id="Page096"></a><span class='pagenum'>096</span></p> +<h4> +III</h4> +<p>After Ellis had had the correct drink in the private bar up the +passage at the Turk's Head, and after he had plunged into the crowd +and got lost in it, and submitted good-humouredly to the frequent +ordeal of the penny squirt as administered by adorable creatures in +bright skirts, he found himself cast up by the human ocean on the +macadam shore near a shooting-gallery. This was no ordinary +shooting-gallery. It was one of Jenkins's affairs (Jenkins of +Manchester), and on either side of it Jenkins's Venetian gondalas +and Jenkins's Mexican mustangs were whizzing round two of Jenkins's +orchestras at twopence a time, and taking thirty-two pounds an +hour. This gallery was very different from the old galleries, in +which you leaned against a brass bar and shot up a kind of a drain. +This gallery was a large and brilliant room, with the front-wall +taken out. It was hung with mirrors and cretonnes, it was richly +carpeted, and, of course, it was lighted by electricity. Carved and +gilded tables bore a whole armoury of weapons. You shot at +tobacco-pipes, twisting <a name='Page097' id= +"Page097"></a><span class='pagenum'>097</span> and stationary, at +balls poised on jets of water, and at proper targets. In the +corners of the saloon, near the open, were large crimson plush +lounges, on which you lounged after the fatigue of shooting.</p> +<p>A pink-clad girl, young and radiant, had the concern in +charge.</p> +<p>She was speeding a party of bankrupt shooters, when she caught +sight of Ellis. Ellis answered her smile, and strolled up to the +booth with a countenance that might have meant anything. You can +never tell what a dog is thinking.</p> +<p>''Ello!' said the girl prettily (or, rather, she shouted +prettily, having to compete with the two orchestras). 'You here +again?'</p> +<p>The truth was that Ellis had been there on the previous night, +when the Wakes was only half opened, and he had come again to-night +expressly in order to see her; but he would not have admitted, even +to himself, that he had come expressly in order to see her; in his +mind it was just a chance that he might see her. She was a jolly +girl. (We are gradually approaching the scandalous part.)</p> +<p>'What a jolly frock!' he said, when he had <a name='Page098' id= +"Page098"></a><span class='pagenum'>098</span> shot five celluloid +balls in succession off a jet of water.</p> +<p>Smiling, she mechanically took a ball out of the basket and let +it roll down the conduit to the fountain.</p> +<p>'Do you think so?' she replied, smoothing the fluffy muslin +apron with her small hands, black from contact with the guns. 'That +one I wore last night was my second-best. I only wear this on +Saturdays and Mondays.'</p> +<p>He nodded like a connoisseur. The sixth ball had sprung up to +the top of the jet. He removed it with the certainty of a King's +Prize winner, and she complimented him.</p> +<p>'Ah!' he said, 'you should have seen me before I took to smoking +and drinking!'</p> +<p>She laughed freely. She was always showing her fine teeth. And +she had such a frank, jolly countenance, not exactly +pretty—better than pretty. She was a little short and a +little plump, and she wore a necklace round her neck, a ring on her +dainty, dirty finger, and a watch-bracelet on her wrist.</p> +<p>'Why!' she exclaimed. 'How old are you?'</p> +<p>'How old are <i>you</i>?' he retorted.</p> +<p><a name='Page099' id="Page099"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>099</span> Dogs do not give things away like that.</p> +<p>'I'm nineteen,' she said submissively. 'At least, I shall be +come Martinmas.'</p> +<p>And she yawned.</p> +<p>'Well,' he said, 'a little girl like you ought to be in +bed.'</p> +<p>'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed.</p> +<p>'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in +Paris you'd have to work Sundays too.'</p> +<p>'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to +Paris?'</p> +<p>'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he +told me. He came back only last week, and he says they keep open +Sundays, and all night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over +there.'</p> +<p>'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police +wouldn't allow it. I know what the police are.'</p> +<p>More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; +he sank into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and +watched her serve the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, +and so jolly—with him. He noticed with satisfaction that with +the <a name='Page100' id="Page100"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>100</span> other marksmen she showed a certain high +reserve.</p> +<p>They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across +to the lounge and gazed at him provocatively.</p> +<p>'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!'</p> +<p>The thought ran through him like lightning.</p> +<p>'Well?' she said.</p> +<p>'What do you do with yourself Sundays?' he asked her.</p> +<p>'Oh, sleep.'</p> +<p>'All day?'</p> +<p>'All morning.'</p> +<p>'What do you do in the afternoon?'</p> +<p>'Oh, nothing.'</p> +<p>She laughed gaily.</p> +<p>'Come out with me, eh?'</p> +<p>'To-morrow? Oh, I should LOVE TO!' she cried.</p> +<p>Her voice expanded into large capitals because by a singular +chance both the neighbouring orchestras stopped momentarily +together, and thus gave her shout a fair field. The effect was +startling. It startled Ellis. He had not for an instant expected +that she would consent. Never, dog though he was, had he armed +<a name='Page101' id="Page101"></a><span class='pagenum'>101</span> +a girl out on any afternoon, to say nothing of Sunday afternoon, +and Knype's Wakes Sunday at that! He had talked about girls at the +club. He understood the theory. But the practice——</p> +<p>The foundation of England's greatness is that Englishmen hate to +look fools. The fear of being taken for a ninny will spur an +Englishman to the most surprising deeds of courage. Ellis said +'Good!' with apparent enthusiasm, and arranged to be waiting for +her at half-past two at the Turk's Head. Then he left the saloon +and struck out anew into the ocean. He wanted to think it over.</p> +<p>Once, painful to relate, he had thoughts of failing to keep the +appointment. However, she was so jolly and frank. And what a fancy +she must have taken to him! No, he would see it through.</p> +<h4>IV</h4> +<p>If anybody had prophesied to Ellis that he would be driving out +a Wakes girl in a dogcart that Sunday afternoon he would have +laughed at the prophet; but so it occurred. He arrived at the +Turk's Head at two twenty-five. <a name='Page102' id= +"Page102"></a><span class='pagenum'>102</span> She was there before +him, dressed all in blue, except the white shoes and stockings, +weighing herself on the machine in the yard. She showed her teeth, +told him she weighed nine stone one, and abruptly asked him if he +could drive. He said he could. She clapped her hands and sprang off +the machine. Her father had bought a new mare the day before, and +it was in the Turk's Head stable, and the yardman said it wanted +exercise, and there was a dogcart and harness idling about, and, in +short, Ellis should drive her to Sneyd Park, which she had long +desired to see.</p> +<p>Ellis wished to ask questions, but the moment did not seem +auspicious.</p> +<p>In a few minutes the new mare, a high and somewhat frisky bay, +with big shoulders, was in the shafts of a high, green dogcart. +When asked if he could drive, Ellis ought to have answered: 'That +depends—on the horse.' Many men can tool a fifteen-year-old +screw down a country lane who would hesitate to get up behind a +five-year-old animal (in need of exercise) for a spin down Broad +Street, Hanbridge, on Knype Wakes Sunday. Ellis could drive; he +could just drive. His father <a name='Page103' id= +"Page103"></a><span class='pagenum'>103</span> had always +steadfastly refused to keep horses, but the fathers of other dogs +were more progressive, and Ellis had had opportunities. He knew how +to take the reins, and get up, and give the office; indeed, he had +read a handbook on the subject. So he rook the reins and got up, +and the Wakes girl got up.</p> +<p>He chirruped. The mare merely backed.</p> +<p>'Give 'er 'er mouth,' said the yardman disgustedly.</p> +<p>'Oh!' said Ellis, and slackened the reins, and the mare pawed +forward.</p> +<p>Then he had to turn her in the yard, and get her and the dogcart +down the passage. He doubted whether he should do it, for the +passage seemed a size too small. However, he did it, or the mare +did it, and the entire organism swerved across a portion of the +footpath into Broad Street.</p> +<p>For quite a quarter of a mile down Broad Street Ellis blushed, +and kept his gaze between the mare's ears. However, the mare went +beautifully. You could have driven her with a silken thread, so it +seemed. And then the dog, growing accustomed to his prominence up +there on the dogcart, began to be a bit <a name='Page104' id= +"Page104"></a><span class='pagenum'>104</span> doggy. He knew the +little thing's age and weight, but, really, when you take a girl +out for a Sunday spin you want more information about her than +that. Her asked her name, and her name was Jenkins—Ada. She +was the great Jenkins's daughter.</p> +<p>('Oh,' thought Ellis, 'the deuce you are!')</p> +<p>'Father's gone to Manchester for the day, and aunt's looking +after me,' said Ada.</p> +<p>'Do they know you've come out—like this?'</p> +<p>'Not much!' She laughed deliciously. 'How lovely it is!'</p> +<p>At Knype they drew up before the Five Towns Hotel and descended. +The Five Towns Hotel is the greatest hotel in North Staffordshire. +It has two hundred rooms. It would not entirely disgrace +Northumberland Avenue. In the Five Towns it is august, imposing, +and unique. They had a lemonade there, and proceeded. A clock +struck; it was a near thing. No more refreshments now until they +had passed the three-mile limit!</p> +<p>Yes! Not two hundred yards further on she spied an ice-cream +shop in Fleet Road, <a name='Page105' id="Page105"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>105</span> and Ellis learnt that she adored ice-cream. +The mare waited patiently outside in the thronged street.</p> +<p>After that the pilgrimage to Sneyd was punctuated with +ice-creams. At the Stag at Sneyd (where, among ninety-and-nine +dogcarts, Ellis's dogcart was the brightest green of them all) Ada +had another lemonade, and Ellis had something else. They saw the +Park, and Ada giggled charmingly her appreciation of its beauty. +The conversation throughout consisted chiefly of Ada's teeth. Ellis +said he would return by a different route, and he managed to get +lost. How anyone driving to Hanbridge from Sneyd could arrive at +the mining village of Silverton is a mystery. But Ellis arrived +there, and he ultimately came out at Hillport, the aristocratic +suburb of Bursley, where he had always lived till the last year. He +feared recognition there, and his fear was justified. Some silly +ass, a schoolmate, cried, 'Go it!' as the machine bowled along, and +the mischief was that the mare, startled, went it. She went it down +the curving hill, and the vehicle after her, like a kettle tied to +a dog's tail.</p> +<p>Ellis winked stoutly at Ada when they <a name='Page106' id= +"Page106"></a><span class='pagenum'>106</span> reached the bottom, +and gave the mare a piece of his mind, to which she objected. As +they crossed the railway-bridge a goods-train ran underneath and +puffed smoke into the mare's eyes. She set her ears back.</p> +<p>'Would you!' cried Ellis authoritatively, and touched her with +the whip (he had forgotten the handbook).</p> +<p>He scarcely touched her, but you never know where you are with +any horse. That mare, which had been a mirror of all the virtues +all the afternoon, was off like a rocket. She overtook an electric +car as if it had been standing still. Ellis sawed her mouth; he +might as well have sawed the funnel of a locomotive. He had meant +to turn off and traverse Bursley by secluded streets, but he +perceived that safety lay solely in letting her go straight ahead +up the very steep slope of Oldcastle Street into the middle of the +town. It would be an amazing mare that galloped to the top of +Oldcastle Street! She galloped nearly to the top, and then Ellis +began to get hold of her a bit.</p> +<p>'Don't be afraid,' he said masculinely to Ada.</p> +<p><a name='Page107' id="Page107"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>107</span> And, conscious of victory, he jerked the mare +to the left to avoid an approaching car....</p> +<p>The next instant they were anchored against the roots of a +lamp-post. When Ellis saw the upper half of the lamp-post bent down +at right angles, and pieces of glass covering the pavement, he +could not believe that he and his dogcart had done that, especially +as neither the mare, nor the dogcart, nor its freight, was damaged. +The machine was merely jammed, and the mare, satisfied, stood +quiet, breathing rapidly.</p> +<p>But Ada Jenkins was crying.</p> +<p>And the car stopped a moment to observe. And then a number of +chapel-goers on their way to the Sytch Chapel, which the Carter +family still faithfully attended, joined the scene; and then a +policeman.</p> +<p>Ellis sat like a stuck pig in the dogcart. He knew that speech +was demanded of him, but he did not know where to begin.</p> +<p>The worst thing of all was the lamp-post, bent, moveless, +unnatural, atrociously comic, accusing him.</p> +<p>The affair was over the town in a minute; <a name='Page108' id= +"Page108"></a><span class='pagenum'>108</span> the next morning it +reached Llandudno. Ellis Carter had been out on the spree with <i>a +Wakes girl</i> in a dogcart on Sunday afternoon, and had got into +such a condition that he had driven into a lamp-post at the top of +Oldcastle Street just as people were going into chapel.</p> +<p>The lamp-post remained bent for three days—a fearful +warning to all dogs that doggishness has limits.</p> +<p>If it had not been a dogcart, and such a high, green dogcart; if +it had been, say, a brougham, or even a cab! If it had not been +Sunday! And, granting Sunday, if it had not been just as people +were going into chapel! If he had not chosen that particular +lamp-post, visible both from the market-place and St. Luke's +Square! If he had only contrived to destroy a less obtrusive +lamp-post in some unfrequented street! And if it had not been a +Wakes girl—if the reprobate had only selected for his guilty +amours an actress from one of the touring companies, or even a star +from the Hanbridge Empire—yea, or even a local barmaid! But +<i>a Wakes girl</i>!</p> +<p>Ellis himself saw the enormity of his transgression. <a name= +'Page109' id="Page109"></a><span class='pagenum'>109</span> He lay +awake astounded by his own doggishness.</p> +<p>And yet he had seldom felt less doggy than during that trip. It +seemed to him that doggishness was not the glorious thing he had +thought. However, he cut a heroic figure at the dogs' club. Every +admiring face said: 'Well, you <i>have</i> been going the pace! We +always knew you were a hot un, but, really——'</p> +<h4>V</h4> +<p>On the following Friday evening, when Ellis jumped off the car +opposite his home on the Hawkins, he saw in the road, halted, a +train of vast and queer-shaped waggons in charge of two +traction-engines. They were painted on all sides with the great +name of Jenkins. They contained Jenkins's roundabouts and +shooting-saloons, on their way to rouse the joy of life in other +towns. And he perceived in front of the portico the high, green +dogcart and the lamp-post-destroying mare.</p> +<p>He went in. The family had come home that afternoon. Sundry of +his sisters greeted <a name='Page110' id="Page110"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>110</span> him with silent horror on their faces in the +hall. In the breakfast-room, which gave off the drawing-room, was +his mother in the attitude of an intent listener. She spoke no +word.</p> +<p>And Ellis listened, too.</p> +<p>'Yes,' a very powerful and raucous voice was saying in the +drawing-room, 'I reckoned I'd call and tell ye myself, Mister +Carter, what I thought on it. My gell, a motherless gell, but +brought up respectable; sixth standard at Whalley Range Board +School; and her aunt a strict God-fearing woman! And here your son +comes along and gets hold of the girl while her aunt's at the +special service for Wakes folks in Bethesda Chapel, and runs off +with her in my dogcart with one of my hosses, and raises a scandal +all o'er the Five Towns. God bless my soul, mister! I tell'n ye I +hardly liked to open o' Monday afternoon, I was that ashamed! And I +packed Ada off to Manchester. It seems to me that if the upper +classes, as they call 'em—the immoral classes <i>I</i> call +'em—'ud look after themselves a bit instead o' looking after +other people so much, things might be a bit better, Mister Carter. +I dare say you <a name='Page111' id="Page111"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>111</span> think it's nothing as your son should go about +ruining the reputation of any decent, respectable girl as he +happens to fancy, Mister Carter; but this is what I say. I +say——'</p> +<p>Mr. Carter was understood to assert, in his most pacific and +pained public-meeting voice, that he regretted, infinitely +regretted——</p> +<p>Mrs. Carter, weeping, ran out of the breakfast-room.</p> +<p>And soon afterwards the traction-engines rumbled off, and the +high, green dogcart followed them.</p> +<p>Ellis sat spell-bound.</p> +<p>He heard the parlourmaid go into the drawing-room and announce, +'Tea is ready, sir!' and then his father's dry cough.</p> +<p>And then the parlourmaid came into the breakfast-room: 'Tea is +ready, Mr. Ellis!'</p> +<p>Oh, the meal!</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page115' id="Page115"></a><span class='pagenum'>115</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='A_FEUD' id="A_FEUD"></a> +A FEUD</h3> +</div> +<p>When Clive Timmis paused at the side-door of Ezra Brunt's great +shop in Machin Street, and the door was opened to him by Ezra +Brunt's daughter before he had had time to pull the bell, not only +all Machin Street knew it within the hour, but also most persons of +consequence left in Hanbridge on a Thursday +afternoon—Thursday being early-closing day. For Hanbridge, +though it counts sixty thousand inhabitants, and is the chief of +the Five Towns—that vast, huddled congeries of boroughs +devoted to the manufacture of earthenware—is a place where +the art of attending to other people's business still flourishes in +rustic perfection.</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt's drapery establishment was the foremost retail +house, in any branch of trade, of the Five Towns. It had no rival +nearer than Manchester, thirty-six miles off; and <a name='Page116' id="Page116"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>116</span> even Manchester +could exhibit nothing conspicuously superior to it. The most +acutely critical shoppers of the Five Towns—women who were in +the habit of going to London every year for the January +sales—spoke of Brunt's as a 'right-down good shop.' And the +husbands of these ladies, manufacturers who employed from two +hundred to a thousand men, regarded Ezra Brunt as a commercial +magnate of equal importance with themselves. Brunt, who had served +his apprenticeship at Birmingham, started business in Machin Street +in 1862, when Hanbridge was half its present size and all the best +shops of the district were in Oldcastle, an ancient burg contiguous +with, but holding itself proudly aloof from, the industrial Five +Towns. He paid eighty pounds a year rent, and lived over the shop, +and in the summer quarter his gas bill was always under a +sovereign. For ten years success tarried, but in 1872 his daughter +Eva was born and his wife died, and from that moment the sun of his +prosperity climbed higher and higher into heaven. He had been +profoundly attached to his wife, and, having lost her he abandoned +himself to the mercantile struggle with that <a name='Page117' id= +"Page117"></a><span class='pagenum'>117</span> morose and terrible +ferocity which was the root of his character. Of rude, gaunt +aspect, gruffly taciturn by nature, and variable in temper, he yet +had the precious instinct for soothing customers. To this day he +can surpass his own shop-walkers in the admirable and tender +solicitude with which, forsaking dialect, he drops into a lady's +ear his famous stereotyped phrase: 'Are you receiving proper +attention, madam?' From the first he eschewed the facile trickeries +and ostentations which allure the populace. He sought a high-class +trade, and by waiting he found it. He would never advertise on +hoardings; for many years he had no signboard over his shop-front; +and whereas the name of 'Bostocks,' the huge cheap drapers lower +down Machin Street, on the opposite side, attacks you at every +railway-station and in every tramcar, the name of 'E. Brunt' is to +be seen only in a modest regular advertisement on the front page of +the <i>Staffordshire Signal</i>. Repose, reticence, +respectability—it was these attributes which he decided his +shop should possess, and by means of which he succeeded. To enter +Brunt's, with its silently swinging doors, its broad, easy +staircases, its long floors <a name='Page118' id= +"Page118"></a><span class='pagenum'>118</span> covered with warm, +red linoleum, its partitioned walls, its smooth mahogany counters, +its unobtrusive mirrors, its rows of youths and virgins in black, +and its pervading atmosphere of quietude and discretion, was like +entering a temple before the act of oblation has commenced. You +were conscious of some supreme administrative influence everywhere +imposing itself. That influence was Ezra Brunt. And yet the man +differed utterly from the thing he had created. His was one of +those dark and passionate souls which smoulder in this harsh +Midland district as slag-heaps smoulder on the pit-banks, revealing +their strange fires only in the darkness.</p> +<p>In 1899 Brunt's establishment occupied four shops, Nos. 52, 56, +58, and 60, in Machin Street. He had bought the freeholds at a +price which timid people regarded as exorbitant, but the solicitors +of Hanbridge secretly applauded his enterprise and shrewdness in +anticipating the enormous rise in ground-values which has now been +in rapid, steady progress there for more than a decade. He had +thrown the interiors together and rebuilt the frontages in handsome +freestone. He had also purchased <a name='Page119' id= +"Page119"></a><span class='pagenum'>119</span> several shops +opposite, and rumour said that it was his intention to offer these +latter to the Town Council at a low figure if the Council would cut +a new street leading from his premises to the Market Square. Such a +scheme would have met with general approval. But there was one +serious hiatus in the plans of Ezra Brunt—to wit, No. 54, +Machin Street. No. 54, separating 52 and 56, was a chemist's shop, +shabby but sedate as to appearance, owned and occupied by George +Christopher Timmis, a mild and venerable citizen, and a local +preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist Connexion. For nearly thirty +years Brunt had coveted Mr. Timmis's shop; more than twenty years +have elapsed since he first opened negotiations for it. Mr. Timmis +was by no means eager to sell—indeed, his attitude was +distinctly a repellent one—but a bargain would undoubtedly +have been concluded had not a report reached the ears of Mr. Timmis +to the effect that Ezra Brunt had remarked at the Turk's Head that +'th' old leech was only sticking out for every brass farthing he +could get.' The report was untrue, but Mr. Timmis believed it, and +from that moment Ezra Brunt's <a name='Page120' id= +"Page120"></a><span class='pagenum'>120</span> chances of obtaining +the chemist's shop vanished completely. His lawyer expended +diplomacy in vain, raising the offer week by week till the +incredible sum of three thousand pounds was reached. Then Ezra +Brunt himself saw Mr. Timmis, and without a word of prelude +said:</p> +<p>'Will ye take three thousand guineas for this bit o' +property?'</p> +<p>'Not thirty thousand guineas,' said Mr. Timmis quietly; the +stern pride of the benevolent old local preacher had been +aroused.</p> +<p>'Then be damned to you!' said Ezra Brunt, who had never been +known to swear before.</p> +<p>Thenceforth a feud existed, not less bitter because it was a +feud in which nothing was said and nothing done—a silent and +implacable mutual resistance. The sole outward sign of it was the +dirty and stumpy brown-brick shop-front of Mr. Timmis, squeezed in +between those massive luxurious façades of stone which Ezra +Brunt soon afterwards erected. The pharmaceutical business of Mr. +Timmis was not a very large one, and, fiscally, Ezra Brunt could +have swallowed him at a meal and suffered no inconvenience; but in +that the aged chemist had lived on just half his <a name='Page121' id="Page121"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>121</span> small income for +some fifty years past, his position was impregnable. Hanbridge +smiled cynically at this <i>impasse</i> produced by an idle word, +and, recognising the equality of the antagonists, leaned neither to +one side nor to the other. At intervals, however, the legend of the +feud was embroidered with new and effective detail in the mouth of +some inventive gossip, and by degrees it took high place among +those piquant social histories which illustrate the real life of a +town, and which parents recount to their children with such zest in +moods of reminiscence.</p> +<p>When George Christopher Timmis buried his wife, Ezra Brunt, as a +near neighbour, was asked to the funeral. 'The cortège will +move at 1.30,' ran the printed invitation, and at 1.15 Brunt's +carriage was decorously in place behind the hearse and the two +mourning-coaches. The demeanour of the chemist and the draper +towards each other was a sublime answer to the demands of the +occasion; some people even said that the breach had been healed, +but these were not of the discerning.</p> +<p>The most active person at the funeral was the chemist's only +nephew, Clive Timmis, <a name='Page122' id= +"Page122"></a><span class='pagenum'>122</span> partner in a small +but prosperous firm of majolica manufacturers at Bursley. Clive, +who was seldom seen in Hanbridge, made a favourable impression on +everyone by his pleasing, unaffected manner and his air of +discretion and success. He was a bachelor of thirty-two, and lived +in lodgings at Bursley. On the return of the funeral-party from the +cemetery, Clive Timmis found Brunt's daughter Eva in his uncle's +house. Uninvited, she had left her place in the private room at her +father's shop in order to assist Timmis's servant Sarah in the +preparation of that solid and solemn repast which must inevitably +follow every proper interment in the Five Towns. Without false +modesty, she introduced herself to one or two of the men who had +surprised her at her work, and then quietly departed just as they +were sitting down to table and Sarah had brought in the hot +tea-cakes. Clive Timmis saw her only for a moment, but from that +moment she was his one thought. During the evening, which he spent +alone with his uncle, he behaved in every particular as a nephew +should, yet he was acting a part; his real self roved after Ezra +Brunt's daughter, wherever she might be. <a name='Page123' id= +"Page123"></a><span class='pagenum'>123</span> Clive had never +fallen in love, though several times in his life he had tried hard +to do so. He had long wished to marry—wished ardently; he had +even got into the way of regarding every woman he met—and he +met many—in the light of a possible partner. 'Can it be +<i>she</i>? he had asked himself a thousand times, and then +answered half sadly, 'No.' Not one woman had touched his +imagination, coincided with his dream. It is strange that after +seeing Eva Brunt he forgot thus to interrogate himself. For a +fortnight, while he went his ways as usual, her image occupied his +heart, throwing that once orderly chamber into the wildest +confusion; and he let it remain, dimly aware of some delicious +danger. He inspected the image every night before he slept, and +every morning when he awoke, and made no effort to define its +distracting charm; he knew only that Eva Brunt was absolutely and +in every detail unlike all other women. On the second Sunday he +murmured during the sermon: 'But I only saw her for a minute.' A +few days afterwards he took the tram to Hanbridge.</p> +<p>'Uncle,' he said, 'how should you like me to come and live here +with you? I've been <a name='Page124' id="Page124"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>124</span> thinking things out a bit, and I thought +perhaps you'd like it. I expect you must feel rather lonely +now.'</p> +<p>The neat, fragrant shop was empty, and the two men stood behind +the big glass-fronted case of Burroughs and Wellcome's +preparations. Clive's venerable uncle happened to be looking into a +drawer marked 'Gentianæ Rad. Pulv.' He closed the drawer with +slow hesitation, and then, stroking his long white beard, replied +in that deliberate voice which seemed always to tremble with +religious fervour:</p> +<p>'The hand of the Lord is in this thing, Clive. I have wished +that you might come to live here with me. But I was afraid it would +be too far from the works.'</p> +<p>'Pooh! that's nothing,' said Clive.</p> +<p>As he lingered at the shop door for the Bursley car to pass the +end of Machin Street, Eva Brunt went by. He raised his hat with +diffidence, and she smiled. It was a marvellous chance. His heart +leapt into a throb which was half agony and half delight.</p> +<p>'I am in love,' he said gravely.</p> +<p>He had just discovered the fact, and the discovery filled him +with exquisite apprehension.</p> +<p><a name='Page125' id="Page125"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>125</span> If he had waited till the age of thirty-two +for that springtime of the soul which we call love, Clive had not +waited for nothing. Eva was a woman to enravish the heart of a man +whose imagination could pierce the agitating secrets immured in +that calm and silent bosom. Slender and scarcely tall, she belonged +to the order of spare, slight-made women, who hide within their +slim frames an endowment of profound passion far exceeding that of +their more voluptuously-formed sisters, who never coarsen into +stoutness, and who at forty are as disturbing as at twenty. At this +date Eva was twenty-six. She had a rather small, white face, which +was a mask to the casual observer, and the very mirror of her +feelings to anyone with eyes to read its signs.</p> +<p>'I tell you what you are like,' said Clive to her once: 'you are +like a fine racehorse, always on the quiver.'</p> +<p>Yet many people considered her cold and impassive. Her walk and +bearing showed a sensitive independence, and when she spoke it was +usually in tones of command. The girls in the shop, where she was a +power second only to Ezra Brunt, were a little afraid of her, +<a name='Page126' id="Page126"></a><span class='pagenum'>126</span> +chiefly because she poured terrible scorn on their small +affectations, jealousies, and vendettas. But they liked her +because, in their own phrase, 'there was no nonsense about' this +redoubtable woman. She hated shams and make-believes with a bitter +and ruthless hatred. She was the heiress to at least five thousand +a year, and knew it well, but she never encouraged her father to +complicate their simple mode of life with the pomps of wealth. They +lived in a house with a large garden at Pireford, which is on the +summit of the steep ridge between the Five Towns and Oldcastle, and +they kept two servants and a coachman, who was also gardener. Eva +paid the servants good wages, and took care to get good value +therefor.</p> +<p>'It's not often I have any bother with my servants,' she would +say, 'for they know that if there is any trouble I would just as +soon clear them out and put on an apron and do the work +myself.'</p> +<p>She was an accomplished house-mistress, and could bake her own +bread: in towns not one woman in a thousand can bake. With the +coachman she had little to do, for she could <a name='Page127' id= +"Page127"></a><span class='pagenum'>127</span> not rid herself of a +sentimental objection to the carriage—it savoured of 'airs'; +when she used it she used it as she might use a tramcar. It was her +custom, every day except Saturday, to walk to the shop about eleven +o'clock, after her house had been set in order. She had been +thoroughly trained in the business, and had spent a year at a +first-rate shop in High Street, Kensington. Millinery was her +speciality, and she still watched over that department with a +particular attention; but for some time past she had risen beyond +the limitations of departments, and assisted her father in the +general management of the vast concern. In commercial aptitude she +resembled the typical Frenchwoman.</p> +<p>Although he was her father, Ezra Brunt had the wit to recognise +her talents, and he always listened to her suggestions, which, +however, sometimes startled him. One of them was that he should +import into the Five Towns a modiste from Paris, offering a salary +of two hundred a year. The old provincial stood aghast. He had the +idea that all Parisian women were stage-dancers. And to pay four +pounds a week to a female!</p> +<p><a name='Page128' id="Page128"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>128</span> Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Bertot—styled +in the shop 'Madame'—now presides over Ezra Brunt's +dressmakers, draws her four pounds a week (of which she saves two), +and by mere nationality has given a unique distinction and success +to her branch of the business.</p> +<p>Eva occupied a small room opening off the principal showroom, +and during hours of work she issued thence but seldom. Only +customers of the highest importance might speak with her. She was a +power felt rather than seen. Employés who knocked at her +door always did so with a certain awe of what awaited them on the +other side, and a consciousness that the moment was unsuitable for +levity. 'If you please, Miss Eva——'. Here she gave +audience to the 'buyers' and window-dressers, listened to +complaints and excuses, and occasionally had a secret orgy of +afternoon tea with one or two of her friends. None but these few +girls—mostly younger than herself, and remarkable only in +that their dislike of the snobbery of the Five Towns, though less +fiercely displayed, agreed with her own—really knew Eva. To +them alone did she unveil herself, and by them she was +idolized.</p> +<p><a name='Page129' id="Page129"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>129</span> 'She is simply splendid when you know +her—such a jolly girl!' they would say to other people; but +other people, especially other women, could not believe it. They +fearfully respected her because she was very well dressed and had +quantities of money. But they called her 'a curious creature'; it +was inconceivable to them that she should choose to work in a shop; +and her tongue had a causticity which was sometimes exceedingly +disconcerting and mortifying. As for men, she was shy of them, and, +moreover, she loathed the elaborate and insincere ritual of +deference which the average man practises towards women unrelated +to him, particularly when they are young and rich. Her father she +adored, without knowing it; for he often angered her, and +humiliated her in private. As for the rest, she was, after all, +only six-and-twenty.</p> +<p>'If you don't mind, I should like to walk along with you,' Clive +Timmis said to her one Sunday evening in the porch of the Bethesda +Chapel.</p> +<p>'I shall be glad,' she answered at once; 'father isn't here, and +I'm all alone.'</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt was indeed seldom there, counting <a name='Page130' id="Page130"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>130</span> in the matter of +attendance at chapel among what were called 'the weaker +brethren.'</p> +<p>'I am going over to Oldcastle,' Clive explained calmly.</p> +<p>So began the formal courtship—more than a month after +Clive had settled in Machin Street, for he was far too discreet to +engender by precipitancy any suspicion in the haunts of scandal +that his true reason for establishing himself in his uncle's +household was a certain rich young woman who was to be found every +day next door. Guided as much by instinct as by tact, Clive +approached Eva with an almost savage simplicity and naturalness of +manner, ignoring not only her father's wealth, but all the feigned +punctilio of a wooer. His face said: 'Let there be no beating about +the bush—I like you.' Hers answered: 'Good! we will see.'</p> +<p>From the first he pleased her, and not least in treating her +exactly as she would have wished to be treated—namely, as a +quite plain person of that part of the middle class which is +neither upper nor lower. Few men in the Five Towns would have been +capable of forgetting Ezra Brunt's income in talking to <a name= +'Page131' id="Page131"></a><span class='pagenum'>131</span> Ezra +Brunt's daughter. Fortunately, Timmis had a proud, confident +spirit—the spirit of one who, unaided, has wrested success +from the world's deathlike clutch. Had Eva the reversion of fifty +thousand a year instead of five, he, Clive, was still a prosperous +plain man, well able to support a wife in the position to which God +had called him.</p> +<p>Their walks together grew more and more frequent, and they +became intimate, exchanging ideas and rejoicing openly at the +similarity of those ideas. Although there was no concealment in +these encounters, still, there was a circumspection which resembled +the clandestine. By a silent understanding Clive did not enter the +house at Pireford; to have done so would have excited remark, for +this house, unlike some, had never been the rendezvous of young +men; much less, therefore, did he invade the shop. No! The chief +part of their love-making (for such it was, though the term would +have roused Eva's contemptuous anger) occurred in the streets; in +this they did but follow the traditions of their class. Thus, the +idyll, so matter-of-fact upon the surface, but within which glowed +secret and adorable fires, <a name='Page132' id= +"Page132"></a><span class='pagenum'>132</span> progressed towards +its culmination. Eva, the artless fool—oh, how simple are the +wisest at times!—thought that the affair was hid from the +shop. But was it possible? Was it possible that in those tiny +bedrooms on the third floor, where the heavy evening hours were +ever lightened with breathless interminable recitals of what some +'he' had said and some 'she' had replied, such an enthralling +episode should escape discovery? The dormitories knew of Eva's +'attachment' before Eva herself. Yet none knew how it was known. +The whisper arose like Venus from a sea of trivial gossip, +miraculously, exquisitely. On the night when the first rumour of it +traversed the passages there was scarcely any sleep at Brunt's, +while Eva up at Pireford slumbered as a young girl.</p> +<p>On the Thursday afternoon with which we began, Brunt's was +deserted save for the housekeeper and Eva, who was writing letters +in her room.</p> +<p>'I saw you from my window, coming up the street,' she said to +Clive, 'and so I ran down to open the door. Will you come into +father's room? He is in Manchester for the day, buying.</p> +<p><a name='Page133' id="Page133"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>133</span> 'I knew that,' said Timmis.</p> +<p>'How did you know?' She observed that his manner was somewhat +nervous and constrained.</p> +<p>'You yourself told me last night—don't you remember?'</p> +<p>'So I did.'</p> +<p>'That's why I sent the note round this morning to say I'd call +this afternoon. You got it, I suppose?'</p> +<p>She nodded thoughtfully.</p> +<p>'Well, what is this business you want to talk about?'</p> +<p>It was spoken with a brave carelessness, but he caught the +tremor in her voice, and saw her little hand shake as it lay on the +table amid her father's papers. Without knowing why he should do +so, he stepped hastily forward and seized that hand. Her emotion +unmanned him. He thought he was going to cry; he could not account +for himself.</p> +<p>'Eva,' he said thickly, 'you know what the business is; you +know, don't you?'</p> +<p>She smiled. That smile, the softness of her hand, the sparkle in +her eye, the heave of her small bosom ... it was the divinest +miracle! <a name='Page134' id="Page134"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>134</span> Clive, manufacturer of majolica, went hot and +then cold, and then his wits were suddenly his own again.</p> +<p>'That's all right,' he murmured, and sighed, and placed on Eva's +lips the first kiss that had ever lain there.</p> +<p>'Dear boy,' she said later, 'you should have come up to +Pireford, not here, and when father was there.'</p> +<p>'Should I?' he answered happily. 'It just occurred to me all of +a sudden this morning that you would be here, and that I couldn't +wait.'</p> +<p>'You will come up to-night and see father?'</p> +<p>'I had meant to.'</p> +<p>'You had better go home now.'</p> +<p>'Had I?'</p> +<p>She nodded, putting her lips tightly together—a trick of +hers.</p> +<p>'Come up about half-past eight.'</p> +<p>'Good! I will let myself out.'</p> +<p>He left her, and she gazed dreamily at the window, which looked +on to a whitewashed yard. The next moment someone else entered the +room with heavy footsteps. She turned round a little startled.</p> +<p><a name='Page135' id="Page135"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>135</span> It was her father.</p> +<p>'Why! You <i>are</i> back early, father! How——' She +stopped. Something in the old man's glance gave her a premonition +of disaster. To this day she does not know what accident brought +him from Manchester two hours sooner than usual, and to Machin +Street instead of Pireford.</p> +<p>'Has young Timmis been here?' he inquired curtly.</p> +<p>'Yes.'</p> +<p>'Ha!' with subdued, sinister satisfaction, 'I saw him going out. +He didna see me.' Ezra Brunt deposited his hat and sat down.</p> +<p>Intimate with all her father's various moods, she saw instantly +and with terrible certainty that a series of chances had fatally +combined themselves against her. If only she had not happened to +tell Clive that her father would be at Manchester this day! If only +her father had adhered to his customary hour of return! If only +Clive had had the sense to make his proposal openly at Pireford +some evening! If only he had left a little earlier! If only her +father had not caught him going out by the side-door on a Thursday +afternoon when the <a name='Page136' id="Page136"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>136</span> place was empty! Here, she guessed, was the +suggestion of furtiveness which had raised her father's unreasoning +anger, often fierce, and always incalculable.</p> +<p>'Clive Timmis has asked me to marry him, father.'</p> +<p>'Has he!'</p> +<p>'Surely you must have known, father, that he and I were seeing +each other a great deal.'</p> +<p>'Not from your lips, my girl.'</p> +<p>'Well, father——' Again she stopped, this strong and +capable woman, gifted with a fine brain to organize and a powerful +will to command. She quailed, robbed of speech, before the +causeless, vindictive, and infantile wrath of an old man who +happened to be in a bad temper. She actually felt like a naughty +schoolgirl before him. Such is the tremendous influence of lifelong +habit, the irresistible power of the <i>patria potestas</i> when it +has never been relaxed. Ezra Brunt saw in front of him only a +cowering child. 'Clive is coming up to see you to-night,' she went +on timidly, clearing her throat.</p> +<p>'Humph! Is he?'</p> +<p>The rosy and tender dream of five minutes ago lay in fragments +at Eva's feet. She brooded <a name='Page137' id= +"Page137"></a><span class='pagenum'>137</span> with stricken +apprehension upon the forms of obstruction which his despotism +might choose.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>The next morning Clive and his uncle breakfasted together as +usual in the parlour behind, the chemist's shop.</p> +<p>'Uncle,' said Clive brusquely, when the meal was nearly +finished, 'I'd better tell you that I've proposed to Eva +Brunt.'</p> +<p>Old George Timmis lowered the <i>Manchester Guardian</i> and +gazed at Clive over his steel-rimmed spectacles.</p> +<p>'She is a good girl,' he remarked; 'she will make you a good +wife. Have you spoken to her father?'</p> +<p>'That's the point. I saw him last night, and I'll tell you what +he said. These were his words: "You can marry my daughter, Mr. +Timmis, when your uncle agrees to part with his shop!"'</p> +<p>'That I shall never do, nephew,' said the aged patriarch quietly +and deliberately.</p> +<p>'Of course you won't, uncle. I shouldn't think of suggesting it. +I'm merely telling you what he said.' Clive laughed harshly. 'Why,' +he added, 'the man must be mad!'</p> +<p><a name='Page138' id="Page138"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>138</span> 'What did the young woman say to that?' his +uncle inquired.</p> +<p>Clive frowned.</p> +<p>'I didn't see her last night,' he said. 'I didn't ask to see +her. I was too angry.'</p> +<p>Just then the post arrived, and there was a letter for Clive, +which he read and put carefully in his waistcoat pocket.</p> +<p>'Eva writes asking me to go to Pireford to-night,' he said, +after a pause. 'I'll soon settle it, depend on that. If Ezra Brunt +refuses his consent, so much the worse for him. I wonder whether he +actually imagines that a grown man and a grown woman are to be.... +Ah well, I can't talk about it! It's too silly. I'll be off to the +works.'</p> +<p>When Clive reached Pireford that night, Eva herself opened the +door to him. She was wearing a gray frock, and over it a large +white apron, perfectly plain.</p> +<p>'My girls are both out to-night,' she said, 'and I was making +some puffs for the sewing-meeting tea. Come into the +breakfast-room.... This way,' she added, guiding him. He had +entered the house on the previous night for the first time. She +spoke hurriedly, and, <a name='Page139' id= +"Page139"></a><span class='pagenum'>139</span> instead of stopping +in the breakfast-room, wandered uncertainly through it into the +greenhouse, to which it gave access by means of a French window. In +the dark, confined space, amid the close-packed blossoms, they +stood together. She bent down to smell at a musk-plant. He took her +hand and drew her soft and yielding form towards him and kissed her +warm face.</p> +<p>'Oh, Clive!' she said. 'Whatever are we to do?'</p> +<p>'Do?' he replied, enchanted by her instinctive feminine +surrender and reliance upon him, which seemed the more precious in +that creature so proud and reserved to all others. 'Do! Where is +your father?'</p> +<p>'Reading the <i>Signal</i> in the dining-room.'</p> +<p>Every business man in the Five Towns reads the <i>Staffordshire +Signal</i> from beginning to end every night.</p> +<p>'I will see him. Of course he is your father; but I will just +tell him—as decently as I can—that neither you nor I +will stand this nonsense.'</p> +<p>'You mustn't—you mustn't see him.'</p> +<p>'Why not?'</p> +<p><a name='Page140' id="Page140"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>140</span> 'It will only lead to unpleasantness.'</p> +<p>'That can't be helped.'</p> +<p>'He never, never changes when once he has <i>said</i> a thing. I +know him.'</p> +<p>Clive was arrested by something in her tone, something new to +him, that in its poignant finality seemed to have caught up and +expressed in a single instant that bitterness of a lifetime's +renunciation which falls to the lot of most women.</p> +<p>'Will you come outside?' he asked in a different voice.</p> +<p>Without replying, she led the way down the long garden, which +ended in an ivy-grown brick wall and a panorama of the immense +valley of industries below. It was a warm, cloudy evening. The last +silver tinge of an August twilight lay on the shoulder of the hill +to the left. There was no moon, but the splendid watch-fires of +labour flamed from ore-heap and furnace across the whole expanse, +performing their nightly miracle of beauty. Trains crept with +noiseless mystery along the middle distance, under their canopies +of yellow steam. Further off the far-extending streets of Hanbridge +made a map of starry lines on <a name='Page141' id= +"Page141"></a><span class='pagenum'>141</span> the blackness. To +the south-east stared the cold, blue electric lights of Knype +railway-station. All was silent, save for a distant thunderous +roar, the giant breathing of the forge at Cauldon Bar +Ironworks.</p> +<p>Eva leaned both elbows on the wall and looked forth.</p> +<p>'Do you mean to say,' said Clive, 'that Mr. Brunt will actually +stick by what he has said?'</p> +<p>'Like grim death,' said Eva.</p> +<p>'But what's his idea?'</p> +<p>'Oh! how can I tell you?' she burst out passionately.</p> +<p>'Perhaps I did wrong. Perhaps I ought to have warned him +earlier—said to him, "Father, Clive Timmis is courting me!" +Ugh! He cannot bear to be surprised about anything. But yet he must +have known.... It was all an accident, Clive—all an accident. +He saw you leaving the shop yesterday. He would say he +<i>caught</i> you leaving the shop—<i>sneaking</i> off +like——'</p> +<p>'But, Eva——'</p> +<p>'I know—I know! Don't tell me! But it was that, I am sure. +He would resent the <a name='Page142' id="Page142"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>142</span> mere look of things, and then he would think +and think, and the notion of your uncle's shop would occur to him +again, after all these years. I can see his thoughts as plain ... +My dear, if he had not seen you at Machin Street yesterday, or if +you had seen him and spoken to him, all might have gone right. He +would have objected, but he would have given way in a day or two. +Now he will never give way! I asked you just now what was to be +done, but I knew all the time that there was nothing.'</p> +<p>'There is one thing to be done, Eva, and the sooner the +better.'</p> +<p>'Do you mean that old Mr. Timmis must give up his shop to my +father? Never! never!'</p> +<p>'I mean,' said Clive quietly, 'that we must marry without your +father's consent.'</p> +<p>She shook her head slowly and sadly, relapsing into +calmness.</p> +<p>'You shake your head, Eva, but it must be so.'</p> +<p>'I can't, my dear.'</p> +<p>'Do you mean to say that you will allow your father's childish +whim—for it's nothing <a name='Page143' id= +"Page143"></a><span class='pagenum'>143</span> else; he can't find +any objection to me as a husband for you, and he knows +it—that you will allow his childish whim to spoil your life +and mine? Remember, you are twenty-six and I am thirty-two.'</p> +<p>'I can't do it! I daren't! I'm mad with myself for feeling like +this, but I daren't! And even if I dared I wouldn't. Clive, you +don't know! You can't tell how it is!'</p> +<p>Her sorrowful, pathetic firmness daunted him. She was now +composed, mistress again of herself, and her moral force dominated +him.</p> +<p>'Then, you and I are to be unhappy all our lives, Eva?'</p> +<p>The soft influences of the night seemed to direct her voice as, +after a long pause, she uttered the words: 'No one is ever quite +unhappy in all this world.' There was another pause, as she gazed +steadily down into the wonderful valley. 'We must wait.'</p> +<p>'Wait!' echoed Clive with angry grimness. 'He will live for +twenty years!'</p> +<p>'No one is ever quite unhappy in all this world,' she repeated +dreamily, as one might turn over a treasure in order to examine +it.</p> +<p><a name='Page144' id="Page144"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>144</span> Now for the epilogue to the feud. Two years +passed, and it happened that there was to be a Revival at the +Bethesda Chapel. One morning the superintendent minister and the +revivalist called on Ezra Brunt at his shop. When informed of their +presence, the great draper had an impulse of anger, for, like many +stouter chapel-goers than himself, he would scarcely tolerate the +intrusion of religion into commerce. However, the visit had an air +of ceremony, and he could not decline to see these ambassadors of +heaven in his private room. The revivalist, a cheery, shrewd man, +whose powers of organization were obvious, and who seemed to put +organization before everything else, pleased Ezra Brunt at +once.</p> +<p>'We want a specially good congregation at the opening meeting +to-night,' said the revivalist. 'Now, the basis of a good +congregation must necessarily be the regular pillars of the church, +and therefore we are making a few calls this morning to insure the +presence of our chief men—the men of influence and position. +You will come, Mr. Brunt, and you will let it be known among your +employés that they will please you by coming too?'</p> +<p><a name='Page145' id="Page145"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>145</span> Ezra Brunt was by no means a regular pillar of +the Bethesda, but he had a vague sensation of flattery, and he +consented; indeed, there was no alternative.</p> +<p>The first hymn was being sung when he reached the chapel. To his +surprise, he found the place crowded in every part. A man whom he +did not know led him to a wooden form which had been put in the +space between the front pews and the Communion-rail. He felt +strange there, and uneasy, apprehensive.</p> +<p>The usual discreet somnolence of the chapel had been disturbed +as by some indecorous but formidable awakener; the air was +electric; anything might occur. Ezra was astounded by the mere +volume of the singing; never had he heard such singing. At the end +of the hymn the congregation sat down, hiding their faces in +expectation. The revivalist stood erect and terrible in the pulpit, +no longer a shrewd, cheery man of the world, but the very +mouthpiece of the wrath and mercy of God. Ezra's self-importance +dwindled before that gaze, till, from a renowned magnate of the +Five Towns, he became an item in the multitude <a name='Page146' id="Page146"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>146</span> of suppliants. He +profoundly wished he had never come.</p> +<p>'Remember the hymn,' said the revivalist, with austere +emphasis:</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>'"My richest gain I count but +loss,<br /></span> <span>And pour contempt on all my +pride."'<br /></span></div> +</div> +<p>The admirable histrionic art with which he intensified the +consonants in the last line produced a tremendous effect. Not for +nothing was this man cerebrated throughout Methodism as a saver of +souls. When, after a pause, he raised his hand and ejaculated, 'Let +us pray,' sobs could be heard throughout the chapel. The Revival +had begun.</p> +<p>At the end of a quarter of an hour Ezra Brunt would have given +fifty pounds to be outside, but he could not stir; he was +magnetized. Soon the revivalist came down from the pulpit and stood +within the Communion-rail, whence he addressed the nearmost part of +the people in low, soothing tones of persuasion. Apparently he +ignored Ezra Brunt, but the man was convicted of sin, and felt +himself melting like an icicle in front of a fire. He recalled the +days of his youth, the piety of his father and mother, <a name= +'Page147' id="Page147"></a><span class='pagenum'>147</span> and the +long traditions of a stern Dissenting family. He had backslidden, +slackened in the use of the means of grace, run after the things of +this world. It is true that none of his chiefest iniquities +presented themselves to him; he was quite unconscious of them even +then; but the lesser ones were more than sufficient to overwhelm +him. Class-leaders were now reasoning with stricken sinners, and +Ezra, who could not take his eyes off the revivalist, heard the +footsteps of those who were going to the 'inquiry-room' for more +private counsel. In vain he argued that he was about to be +ridiculous; that the idea of him, Ezra Brunt, a professed Wesleyan +for half a century, being publicly 'saved' at the age of +fifty-seven was not to be entertained; that the town would talk; +that his business might suffer if for any reason he should be +morally bound to apply to it too strictly the principles of the New +Testament. He was under the spell. The tears coursed down his long +cheeks, and he forgot to care, but sat entranced by the +revivalist's marvellous voice. Suddenly, with an awful sob, he bent +and hid his face in his hands. The spectacle of the old, proud man +helpless in the grasp of <a name='Page148' id= +"Page148"></a><span class='pagenum'>148</span> profound emotion was +a sight to rend the heart-strings.</p> +<p>'Brother, be of good cheer,' said a tremulous and benign voice +above him. 'The love of God compasseth all things. Only +believe.'</p> +<p>He looked up and saw the venerable face and long white beard of +George Christopher Timmis.</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt shrank away, embittered and ashamed.</p> +<p>'I cannot,' he murmured with difficulty.</p> +<p>'The love of God is all-powerful.'</p> +<p>'Will it make you part with that bit o' property, think you?' +said Ezra Brunt, with a kind of despairing ferocity.</p> +<p>'Brother,' replied the aged servant of God, unmoved, 'if my shop +is in truth a stumbling-block in this solemn hour, you shall have +it.'</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt was staggered.</p> +<p>'I believe! I believe!' he cried.</p> +<p>'Praise God!' said the chemist, with majestic joy.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>Three months afterwards Eva Brunt and Clive Timmis were married. +It is characteristic of the fine sentimentality which underlies the +<a name='Page149' id="Page149"></a><span class='pagenum'>149</span> +surface harshness of the inhabitants of the Five Towns that, though +No. 54 Machin Street was duly transferred to Ezra Brunt, the +chemist retiring from business, he has never rebuilt it to accord +with the rest of his premises. In all its shabbiness it stands +between the other big dazzling shops as a reminding monument.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page153' id="Page153"></a><span class='pagenum'>153</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='PHANTOM' id="PHANTOM"></a> +PHANTOM</h3> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>The heart of the Five Towns—that undulating patch of +England covered with mean streets, and dominated by tall smoking +chimneys, whence are derived your cups and saucers and plates, some +of your coal, and a portion of your iron—is Hanbridge, a +borough larger and busier than its four sisters, and even more +grimy and commonplace than they. And the heart of Hanbridge is +probably the offices of the Five Towns Banking Company, where the +last trace of magic and romance is beaten out of human existence, +and the meaning of life is expressed in balances, deposits, +percentages, and overdrafts—especially overdrafts. In a fine +suite of rooms on the first floor of the bank building resides Mr. +Lionel Woolley, the manager, with his wife May and their +children. <a name='Page154' id="Page154"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>154</span> +Mrs. Woolley is compelled to change her white window-curtains once a week +because of the smuts. Mr. Woolley, forty-five, rather bald, frigidly +suave, positive, egotistic, and pontifical, is a specimen of the man of +business who is nothing else but a man of business. His career has been +a calculation from which sentiment is entirely omitted; he has no +instinct for the things which cannot be defined and assessed. Scarcely a +manufacturer in Hanbridge but who inimically and fearfully regards Mr. +Woolley as an amazing instance of a creature without a soul; and the +absence of soul in a fellow-man must be very marked indeed before a +Hanbridge manufacturer notices it. There are some sixty thousand +immortal souls in Hanbridge, but they seldom attract attention.</p> +<p>Yet Mr. Woolley was once brought into contact with the things +which cannot be defined and assessed; once he stood face to face +with some strange visible resultant of those secret forces that lie +beyond the human ken. And, moreover, the adventure affected the +whole of his domestic life. The wonder and the pathos of the story +lie in the fact that <a name='Page155' id= +"Page155"></a><span class='pagenum'>155</span> Nature, prodigal +though she is known to be, should have wasted the rare and +beautiful visitation on just Mr. Woolley. Mr. Woolley was bathed in +romance of the most singular kind, and the precious fluid ran off +him like water off a duck's back.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>Ten years ago on a Thursday afternoon in July, Lionel Woolley, +as he walked up through the new park at Bursley to his celibate +rooms in Park Terrace, was making addition sums out of various +items connected with the institution of marriage. Bursley is next +door to Hanbridge, and Lionel happened then to be cashier of the +Bursley branch of the bank. He had in mind two possible wives, each +of whom possessed advantages which appealed to him, and he was +unable to decide between them by any mathematical process. +Suddenly, from a glazed shelter near the empty bandstand, there +emerged in front of him one of the delectable creatures who had +excited his fancy. May Lawton was twenty-eight, an orphan, and a +schoolmistress. She, too, had <a name='Page156' id= +"Page156"></a><span class='pagenum'>156</span> celibate rooms in +Park Terrace, and it was owing to this coincidence that Lionel had +made her acquaintance six months previously. She was not pretty, +but she was tall, straight, well dressed, well educated, and not +lacking in experience; and she had a little money of her own.</p> +<p>'Well, Mr. Woolley,' she said easily, stopping for him as she +raised her sunshade, 'how satisfied you look!'</p> +<p>'It's the sight of you,' he replied, without a moment's +hesitation.</p> +<p>He had a fine assured way with women (he need not have envied a +curate accustomed to sewing meetings), and May Lawton belonged to +the type of girl whose demeanour always challenges the masculine in +a man. Gazing at her, Lionel was swiftly conscious of several +things: the piquancy of her snub nose, the brightness of her smile, +at once defiant and wistful, the lingering softness of her gloved +hand, and the extraordinary charm of her sunshade, which matched +her dress and formed a sort of canopy and frame for that +intelligent, tantalizing face. He remembered that of late he and +she had grown very intimate; and it <a name='Page157' id= +"Page157"></a><span class='pagenum'>157</span> came upon him with a +shock, as though he had just opened a telegram which said so, that +May, and not the other girl, was his destined mate. And he thought +of her fortune, tiny but nevertheless useful, and how clever she +was, and how inexplicably different from the rest of her sex, and +how she would adorn his house, and set him off, and help him in his +career. He heard himself saying negligently to friends: 'My wife +speaks French like a native. Of course, my wife has travelled a +great deal. My wife has thoroughly studied the management of +children. Now, my wife does understand the art of dress. I put my +wife's bit of money into so-and-so.' In short, Lionel was as near +being in love as his character permitted.</p> +<p>And while he walked by May's side past the bowling-greens at the +summit of the hill, she lightly quizzing the raw newness of the +park and its appurtenances, he wondered, he honestly wondered, that +he could ever have hesitated between May Lawton and the other. Her +superiority was too obvious; she was a woman of the world! She.... +In a flash he knew that he would propose to her that <a name= +'Page158' id="Page158"></a><span class='pagenum'>158</span> very +afternoon. And when he had suggested a stroll towards Moorthorne, +and she had deliciously agreed, he was conscious of a tumultuous +uplifting and splendid carelessness of spirits. 'Imagine me +bringing it to a climax to-day,' he reflected, profoundly pleased +with himself. 'Ah well, it will be settled once for all!' He +admired his own decision; he was quite struck by it. 'I shall call +her May before I leave her,' he thought, gazing at her, and +discovering how well the name suited her, with its significances of +alertness, geniality, and half-mocking coyness.</p> +<p>'So school is closed,' he said, and added humorously: '"Broken +up" is the technical term, I believe.'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she answered, 'and I had walked out into the park to +meditate seriously upon the question of my holiday.'</p> +<p>She caught his eye in a net of bright glances, and romance was +in the air. They had crossed a couple of smoke-soiled fields, and +struck into the old Hanbridge road just below the abandoned +toll-house with its broad eaves.</p> +<p>'And whither do your meditations point?' he demanded +playfully.</p> +<p><a name='Page159' id="Page159"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>159</span> 'My meditations point to Switzerland,' she +said. 'I have friends in Lausanne.'</p> +<p>The reference to foreign climes impressed him.</p> +<p>'Would that I could go to Switzerland too!' he exclaimed; and +privately: 'Now for it! I'm about to begin.'</p> +<p>'Why?' she questioned, with elaborate simplicity.</p> +<p>At the moment, as they were passing the toll-house, the other +girl appeared surprisingly from round the corner of the toll-house, +where the lane from Toft End joins the highroad. This second +creature was smaller than Miss Lawton, less assertive, less +intelligent, perhaps, but much more beautiful.</p> +<p>Everyone halted and everyone blushed.</p> +<p>'May!' the interrupter at length stammered.</p> +<p>'May!' responded Miss Lawton lamely.</p> +<p>The other girl was named May too—May Deane, child of the +well-known majolica manufacturer, who lived with his sons and +daughter in a solitary and ancient house at Toft End.</p> +<p>Lionel Woolley said nothing until they had all shaken +hands—his famous way with women <a name='Page160' id= +"Page160"></a><span class='pagenum'>160</span> seemed to have +deserted him—and then he actually stated that he had +forgotten an appointment, and must depart. He had gone before the +girls could move.</p> +<p>When they were alone, the two Mays fronted each other, confused, +hostile, almost homicidal.</p> +<p>'I hope I didn't spoil a <i>tête-à-tête</i>,' +said May Deane, stiffly and sharply, in a manner quite foreign to +her soft and yielding nature.</p> +<p>The schoolmistress, abandoning herself to an inexplicable but +overwhelming impulse, took breath for a proud lie.</p> +<p>'No,' she answered; 'but if you had come three minutes +earlier——'</p> +<p>She smiled calmly.</p> +<p>'Oh!' murmured May Deane, after a pause.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>That evening May Deane returned home at half-past nine. She had +been with her two brothers to a lawn-tennis party at Hillport, and +she told her father, who was reading the <i>Staffordshire +Signal</i> in his accustomed solitude, that the boys were staying +later for cards, but <a name='Page161' id= +"Page161"></a><span class='pagenum'>161</span> that she had +declined to stay because she felt tired. She kissed the old widower +good-night, and said that she should go to bed at once. But before +retiring she visited the housekeeper in the kitchen in order to +discuss certain household matters: Jim's early breakfast, the +proper method of washing Herbert's new flannels (Herbert would be +very angry if they were shrunk), and the dog-biscuits for Carlo. +These questions settled, she went to her room, drew the blind, +lighted some candles, and sat down near the window.</p> +<p>She was twenty-two, and she had about her that strange and +charming nunlike mystery which often comes to a woman who lives +alone and unguessed-at among male relatives. Her room was her +bower. No one, save the servants and herself, ever entered it. Mr. +Deane and Jim and Bertie might glance carelessly through the open +door in passing along the corridor, but had they chanced in idle +curiosity to enter, the room would have struck them as unfamiliar, +and they might perhaps have exclaimed with momentary interest, 'So +this is May's room!' And some hint that May was more than a +daughter and sister—a <a name='Page162' id= +"Page162"></a><span class='pagenum'>162</span> woman, withdrawn, +secret, disturbing, living her own inner life side by side with the +household life—might have penetrated their obtuse paternal +and fraternal masculinity. Her beautiful face (the nose and mouth +were perfect, and at either extremity of the upper lip grew a soft +down), her dark hair, her quiet voice and her gentle acquiescence +(diversified by occasional outbursts of sarcasm), appealed to them +and won them; but they accepted her as something of course, as +something which went without saying. They adored her, and did not +know that they adored her.</p> +<p>May took off her hat, stuck the pins into it again, and threw it +on the bed, whose white and green counterpane hung down nearly to +the floor on either side. Then she lay back in the chair, and, +pulling away the blind, glanced through the window; the moon, +rather dim behind the furnace lights of Red Cow Ironworks, was +rising over Moorthorne. May dropped the blind with a wearied +gesture, and turned within the room, examining its contents as if +she had not seen them before: the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, +which was also a dressing-table, the washstand, the dwarf book-case +<a name='Page163' id="Page163"></a><span class='pagenum'>163</span> +with its store of Edna Lyalls, Elizabeth Gaskells, Thackerays, +Charlotte Yonges, Charlotte Brontës, a Thomas Hardy or so, and +some old school-books. She looked at the pictures, including a +sampler worked by a deceased aunt, at the loud-ticking Swiss clock +on the mantelpiece, at the higgledy-piggledy photographs there, at +the new Axminster carpet, the piece of linoleum in front of the +washstand, and the bad joining of the wallpaper to the left of the +door. She missed none of the details which she knew so well, with +such long monotonous intimacy, and sighed.</p> +<p>Then she got up from the chair, and, opening a small drawer in +the chest of drawers, put her hand familiarly to the back and drew +forth a photograph. She carried the photograph to the light of the +candles on the mantelpiece, and gazed at it attentively, puckering +her brows. It was a portrait of Lionel Woolley. Heaven knows by +what subterfuge or lucky accident she had obtained it, for Lionel +certainly had not given it to her. She loved Lionel. She had loved +him for five years, with a love silent, blind, intense, irrational, +<a name='Page164' id="Page164"></a><span class='pagenum'>164</span> +and too elemental to be concealed. Everyone knew of May's passion. +Many women admired her taste; a few were shocked and puzzled by it. +All the men of her acquaintance either pitied or despised her for +it. Her father said nothing. Her brothers were less cautious, and +summed up their opinion of Lionel in the curt, scornful assertion +that he showed a tendency to cheat at tennis. But May would never +hear ill of him; he was a god to her, and she could not hide her +worship. For more than a year, until lately, she had been almost +sure of him, and then came a faint vague rumour concerning Lionel +and May Lawton, a rumour which she had refused to take seriously. +The encounter of that afternoon, and Miss Lawton's triumphant +remark, had dazed her. For seven hours she had existed in a kind of +semi-conscious delirium, in which she could perceive nothing but +the fatal fact, emerging more clearly every moment from the welter +of her thoughts, that she had lost Lionel. Lionel had proposed to +May Lawton, and been accepted, just before she surprised them +together; and Lionel, with a man's excusable cowardice, <a name= +'Page165' id="Page165"></a><span class='pagenum'>165</span> had +left his betrothed to announce the engagement.</p> +<p>She tore up the photograph, put the fragments in the grate, and +set a light to them.</p> +<p>Her father's step sounded on the stairs; he hesitated, and +knocked sharply at her door.</p> +<p>'What's burning, May?'</p> +<p>'It's all right, father,' she answered calmly, 'I'm only burning +some papers in the fire-grate.'</p> +<p>'Well, see you don't burn the house down.'</p> +<p>He passed on.</p> +<p>Then she found a sheet of notepaper, and wrote on it in pencil, +using the mantelpiece for a desk: 'Dear home. Good-night, +good-bye.' She cogitated, and wrote further: 'Forgive +me.—MAY.'</p> +<p>She put the message in an envelope, and wrote on the envelope +'Jim,' and placed it prominently in front of the clock. But after +she had looked at it for a minute, she wrote 'Father' above Jim, +and then 'Herbert' below.</p> +<p>There were noises in the hall; the boys had returned earlier +than she expected. As they went along the corridor and caught a +glimpse <a name='Page166' id="Page166"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>166</span> of her light under the door, Jim cried gaily: +'Now then, out with that light! A little thing like you ought to be +asleep hours since.'</p> +<p>She listened for the bang of their door, and then, very +hurriedly, she removed her pink frock and put on an old black one, +which was rather tight in the waist. And she donned her hat, +securing it carefully with both pins, extinguished the candles, and +crept quietly downstairs, and so by the back-door into the garden. +Carlo, the retriever, came halfway out of his kennel and greeted +her in the moonlight with a yawn. She patted his head and ran +stealthily up the garden, through the gate, and up the waste green +land towards the crown of the hill.</p> +<h4>IV</h4> +<p>The top of Toft End is the highest land in the Five Towns, and +from it may be clearly seen all the lurid evidences of manufacture +which sweep across the borders of the sky on north, east, west, and +south. North-eastwards lie the moorlands, and far off Manifold, the +'metropolis of the moorlands,' as it is called. On <a name= +'Page167' id="Page167"></a><span class='pagenum'>167</span> this +night the furnaces of Red Cow Ironworks, in the hollow to the east, +were in full blast; their fluctuating yellow light illuminated +queerly the grass of the fields above Deane's house, and the +regular roar of their breathing reached that solitary spot like the +distant rumour of some leviathan beast angrily fuming. Further away +to the south-west the Cauldon Bar Ironworks reproduced the same +phenomena, and round the whole horizon, near and far, except to the +north-east, the lesser fires of labour leapt and flickered and +glinted in their mists of smoke, burning ceaselessly, as they +burned every night and every day at all seasons of all years. The +town of Bursley slept in the deep valley to the west, and vast +Hanbridge in the shallower depression to the south, like two +sleepers accustomed to rest quietly amid great disturbances; the +beacons of their Town Halls and churches kept watch, and the whole +scene was dominated by the placidity of the moon, which had now +risen clear of the Red Cow furnace clouds, and was passing upwards +through tracts of stars.</p> +<p>Into this scene, climbing up from the direction of Manifold, +came Lionel Woolley, nearly <a name='Page168' id= +"Page168"></a><span class='pagenum'>168</span> at midnight, having +walked some eighteen miles in a vain effort to re-establish his +self-satisfaction by a process of reasoning and ingenious excuses. +Lionel felt that in the brief episode of the afternoon he had +scarcely behaved with dignity. In other words, he was fully and +painfully aware that he must have looked a fool, a coward, an ass, +a contemptible and pitiful person, in the eyes of at least one +girl, if not of two. He did not like this—no man would have +liked it; and to Lionel the memory of an undignified act was acute +torture. Why had he bidden the girls adieu and departed? Why had +he, in fact, run away? What precisely would May Lawton think of +him? How could he explain his conduct to her—and to himself? +And had that worshipping, affectionate thing, May Deane, taken note +of his confusion—of the confusion of him who was never +confused, who was equal to every occasion and every emergency? +These were some of the questions which harried him and declined to +be settled. He had walked to Manifold, and had tea at the Roebuck, +and walked back, and still the questions were harrying; and as he +came over the hill by the <a name='Page169' id= +"Page169"></a><span class='pagenum'>169</span> field-path, and +descried the lone house of the Deanes in the light of the Red Cow +furnaces and of the moon, the worship of May Deane seemed suddenly +very precious to him, and he could not bear to think that any +stupidity of his should have impaired it.</p> +<p>Then he saw May Deane walking slowly across the field, close to +an abandoned pit-shaft, whose low protecting circular wall of brick +was crumbling to ruin on the side nearest to him.</p> +<p>She stopped, appeared to gaze at him intently, turned, and began +to approach him. And he too, moved by a mysterious impulse which he +did not pause to examine, swerved, and quickened his step in order +to lessen the distance between them. He did not at first even feel +surprise that she should be wandering solitary on the hill at that +hour. Presently she stood still, while he continued to move +forward. It was as if she drew him; and soon, in the pale moonlight +and the wavering light of the furnaces, he could decipher all the +details of her face, and he saw that she was smiling fondly, +invitingly, admiringly, lustrously, with the old undiminished +worship and affection. And he perceived a dark discoloration on her +right <a name='Page170' id="Page170"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>170</span> cheek, as though she had suffered a blow, but +this mark did not long occupy his mind. He thought suddenly of the +strong probability that her father would leave a nice little bit of +money to each of his three children; and he thought of her beauty, +and of her timid fragility in the tight black dress, and of her +immense and unquestioning love for him, which would survive all +accidents and mishaps. He seemed to sink luxuriously into this +grand passion of hers (which he deemed quite natural and proper) as +into a soft feather-bed. To live secure in an atmosphere of +exhaustless worship; to keep a fount of balm and admiration for +ever in the house, a bubbling spring of passionate appreciation +which would be continually available for the refreshment of his +self-esteem! To be always sure of an obedience blind and willing, a +subservience which no tyranny and no harshness and no whim would +rouse into revolt; to sit on a throne with so much beauty kneeling +at his feet!</p> +<p>And the possession of her beauty would be a source of legitimate +pride to him. People would often refer to the beautiful Mrs. +Woolley.</p> +<p><a name='Page171' id="Page171"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>171</span> He felt that in sending May Deane to interrupt +his highly emotional conversation with May Lawton Providence had +watched over him and done him a good turn. May Lawton had +advantages, and striking advantages, but he could not be sure of +her. The suspicion that if she married him she would marry him for +her own ends caused him a secret disquiet, and he feared that one +day, perhaps one morning at breakfast, she might take it into her +intelligent head to mock him, to exercise upon him her gift of +irony, and to intimate to him that if he fancied she was his slave +he was deceived. That she sincerely admired him he never for an +instant doubted. But——</p> +<p>And, moreover, the unfortunate episode of the afternoon might +have cooled her ardour to freezing-point.</p> +<p>He stood now in front of his worshipper, and the notion crossed +his mind that in after-years he could say to his friends: 'I +proposed to my wife at midnight under the moon. Not many men have +done that.'</p> +<p>'Good-evening,' he ventured to the girl; and he added with +bravado: 'We've met before to-day, haven't we?'</p> +<p><a name='Page172' id="Page172"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>172</span> She made no reply, but her smile was more +affectionate, more inviting, than ever.</p> +<p>'I'm glad of this opportunity—very glad,' he proceeded. +'I've been wanting to ... You must know, my dear girl, how I +feel....'</p> +<p>She gave a gesture, charming in its sweet humility, as if to +say: 'Who am I that I should dare——'</p> +<p>And then he proposed to her, asked her to share his life, and +all that sort of thing; and when he had finished he thought, 'It's +done now, anyway.'</p> +<p>Strange to relate, she offered no immediate reply, but she bent +a little towards him with shining, happy eyes. He had an impulse to +seize her in his arms and kiss her, but prudence suggested that he +should defer the rite. She turned and began to walk slowly and +meditatively towards the pit-shaft. He followed almost at her side, +but a foot or so behind, waiting for her to speak. And as he +waited, expectant, he looked at her profile and reflected how well +the name May suited her, with its significances of shyness and +dreamy hope, and hidden fire and the modesty of spring.</p> +<p>And while he was thus savouring her face, <a name='Page173' id= +"Page173"></a><span class='pagenum'>173</span> and they were still +ten yards from the pit-shaft, she suddenly disappeared from his +vision, as it were by a conjuring trick. He had a horrible +sensation in his spinal column. He was not the man to mistrust the +evidence of his senses, and he knew, therefore, that he had been +proposing to a phantom.</p> +<h4>V</h4> +<p>The next morning—early, because of Jim's early +breakfast—when May Deane's disappearance became known to the +members of the household, Jim had the idea of utilizing Carlo in +the search for her. The retriever went straight, without a fault, +to the pit-shaft, and May was discovered alive and unscathed, save +for a contusion of the face and a sprain in the wrist.</p> +<p>Her suicidal plunge had been arrested, at only a few feet from +the top of the shaft, by a cross-stay of timber, upon which she lay +prone. There was no reason why the affair should be made public, +and it was not. It was suppressed into one of those secrets which +embed themselves <a name='Page174' id="Page174"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>174</span> in the history of families, and after two or +three generations blossom into romantic legends full of appropriate +circumstantial detail.</p> +<p>Lionel Woolley spent a woeful night at his rooms. He did not +know what to do, and on the following day May Lawton encountered +him again, and proved by her demeanour that the episode of the +previous afternoon had caused no estrangement. Lionel vacillated. +The sway of the schoolmistress was almost restored, and it would +have been restored fully had he not been preoccupied by a feverish +curiosity—the curiosity to know whether or not May Deane was +dead. He felt that she must indeed be dead, and he lived through +the day expectant of the news of her sudden decease. Towards night +his state of mind was such that he was obliged to call at the +Deanes'. May heard him, and insisted on seeing him; more, she +insisted on seeing him alone in the breakfast-room, where she +reclined, interestingly white, on the sofa. Her father and brothers +objected strongly to the interview, but they yielded, afraid that a +refusal might induce hysteria and worse things.</p> +<p><a name='Page175' id="Page175"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>175</span> And when Lionel Woolley came into the room, +May, steeped in felicity, related to him the story of her impulsive +crime.</p> +<p>'I was so happy,' she said, 'when I knew that Miss Lawton had +deceived me.' And before he could inquire what she meant, she +continued rapidly: 'I must have been unconscious, but I felt you +were there, and something of me went out towards you. And oh! the +answer to your question—I heard your question; the real +<i>me</i> heard it, but that <i>something</i> could not speak.'</p> +<p>'My question?'</p> +<p>'You asked a question, didn't you?' she faltered, sitting +up.</p> +<p>He hesitated, and then surrendered himself to her immense love +and sank into it, and forgot May Lawton.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he said.</p> +<p>'The answer is yes. Oh, you must have known the answer would be +yes! You did know, didn't you?'</p> +<p>He nodded grandly.</p> +<p>She sighed with delicious and overwhelming joy.</p> +<p>In the ecstasy of the achievement of her <a name='Page176' id= +"Page176"></a><span class='pagenum'>176</span> desire the girl gave +little thought to the psychic aspect of the possibly unique +wooing.</p> +<p>As for Lionel, he refused to dwell on it even in thought. And so +that strange, magic, yearning effluence of a soul into a visible +projection and shape was ignored, slurred over, and, after ten +years of domesticity in the bank premises, is gradually being +forgotten.</p> +<p>He is a man of business, and she, with her fading beauty, her +ardent, continuous worship of the idol, her half-dozen small +children, the eldest of whom is only eight, and the white +window-curtains to change every week because of the smuts—do +you suppose she has time or inclination to ponder upon the theory +of the subliminal consciousness and kindred mysteries?</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page179' id="Page179"></a><span class='pagenum'>179</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='TIDDY_FOL_LOL' id="TIDDY_FOL_LOL"></a> +TIDDY-FOL-LOL</h3> +</div> +<p>It was the dinner-hour, and a group of ragged and clay-soiled +apprentice boys were making a great noise in the yard of Henry +Mynors and Co.'s small, compact earthenware manufactory up at Toft +End. Toft End caps the ridge to the east of Bursley; and Bursley, +which has been the home of the potter for ten centuries, is the +most ancient of the Five Towns in Staffordshire. The boys, dressed +for the most part in shirt, trousers, and boots, all equally ragged +and insecure, were playing at prison-bars.</p> +<p>Soon the game ended abruptly in a clamorous dispute upon a point +of law, and it was not recommenced. The dispute dying a natural +death, the tireless energies of the boys needed a fresh outlet. +Inspired by a common instinct, they began at once to bait one of +their number, <a name='Page180' id="Page180"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>180</span> a slight youngster of twelve years, much +better clothed than the rest, who had adventurously strolled in +from a neighbouring manufactory. This child answered their jibes in +an amiable, silly, drawling tone which seemed to justify the +epithet 'Loony,' frequently applied to him. Now and then he +stammered; and then companions laughed loud, and he with them. It +was known that several years ago he had fallen down a flight of +stone steps, alighting on the back of his head, and that ever since +he had been deaf of one ear and under some trifling mental +derangement. His sublime calmness under their jests baffled them +until the terrible figure of Mr. Machin, the engine-man, standing +at the door of the slip-house, caught their attention and suggested +a plan full of joyous possibilities. They gathered round the lad, +and, talking in subdued murmurs, unanimously urged him with many +persuasions to a certain course of action. He declined the scheme, +and declined again. Suddenly a boy shouted:</p> +<p>'Thee dars' na'!'</p> +<p>'I dare,' was the drawled, smiling answer.</p> +<p>'I tell thee thee dars' na'!'</p> +<p>'I tell thee I dare.' And thereupon he <a name='Page181' id= +"Page181"></a><span class='pagenum'>181</span> slowly but +resolutely set out for the slip-house door and Mr. Machin.</p> +<p>Eli Machin was beyond doubt the most considerable employé +on Clarke's 'bank' (manufactory). Even Henry Clarke approached him +with a subtly-indicated deference, and whenever Silas Emery, the +immensely rich and miserly sleeping partner in the firm, came up to +visit the works, these two old men chatted as old friends. In a +modern earthenware manufactory the engine-room is the source of all +activity, for, owing to the inventive genius of a famous and +venerable son of the Five Towns, steam now presides at nearly every +stage in the long process of turning earth into ware. It moves the +pug-mill, the jollies, and the marvellous batting machines, dries +the unfired clay, heats the printers' stoves, and warms the offices +where the 'jacket-men' dwell. Coal is a tremendous item in the cost +of production, and a competent, economical engine-man can be sure +of good wages and a choice of berths; he is desired like a good +domestic servant. Eli Machin was the prince of engine-men. His +engine never went wrong, his coal bills were never extravagant, and +(supreme <a name='Page182' id="Page182"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>182</span> virtue!) he was never absent on Mondays. From +his post in the slip-house he watched over the whole works like a +father, stern, gruff, forbidding, but to be trusted absolutely. He +was sixty years old, and had been 'putting by' for nearly half a +century. He lived in a tiny villa-cottage with his bed-ridden, +cheerful wife, and lent small sums on mortgage of approved +freeholds at 5 per cent.—no more and no less. Secure behind +this rampart of saved money, he was the equal of the King on the +throne. Not a magnate in all the Five Towns who would dare to be +condescending to Eli Machin. He had been a sidesman at the old +church. A trades-union had once asked him to become a working-man +candidate for the Bursley Town Council, but he had refused because +he did not care for the possibility of losing caste by being +concerned in a strike. His personal respectability was entirely +unsullied, and he worshipped this abstract quality as he worshipped +God.</p> +<p>There was only one blot—but how foul!—on Eli +Machin's career, and that had been dropped by his daughter Miriam, +when, defying his authority, she married a scene-shifter at +Hanbridge Theatre. The atrocious idea of <a name='Page183' id= +"Page183"></a><span class='pagenum'>183</span> being connected with +the theatre had rendered him speechless for a time. He could but +endure it in the most awful silence that ever hid passionate +feeling. Then one day he had burst out, 'The wench is no better +than a tiddy-fol-lol!' Only this solitary phrase—nothing +else.</p> +<p>What a tiddy-fol-lol was no one quite knew; but the word, +getting about, stuck to him, and for some weeks boys used to shout +it after him in the streets, until he caught one of them, and in +thirty seconds put an end to the practice. Thenceforth Miriam, with +all hers, was dead to him. When her husband expired of consumption, +Eli Machin saw the avenging arm of the Lord in action; and when her +boy grew to be a source of painful anxiety to her, he said to +himself that the wrath of Heaven was not yet cooled towards this +impious daughter. The passage of fifteen years had apparently in no +way softened his resentment.</p> +<p>The challenged lad in Mynors' yard slowly approached the +slip-house door, and halted before Eli Machin, grinning.</p> +<p>'Well, young un,' the old man said absently, 'what dost +want?'</p> +<p><a name='Page184' id="Page184"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>184</span> 'Tiddy-fol-lol, grandfeyther,' the child +drawled in his silly, irritating voice, and added: 'They said I +darena say it to ye.'</p> +<p>Without and instant's hesitation Eli Machin raised his still +powerful arm, and, catching the boy under the ear, knocked him +down. The other boys yelled with unaffected pleasure and ran +away.</p> +<p>'Get up, and be off wi' ye. Ye dunna belong to this bank,' said +Eli Machin in cold anger to the lad. But the lad did not stir; the +lad's eyes were closed, and he lay white on the stones.</p> +<p>Eli Machin bent down, and peered through his spectacles at the +prone form upon which the mid-day sun was beating.</p> +<p>'It's Miriam's boy!' he ejaculated under his breath, and looked +round as if in inquiry—the yard was empty. Then with quick +decision he picked up this limp and inconvenient parcel of humanity +and hastened—ran—with it out of the yard into the +road.</p> +<p>Down the road he ran, turned to the left into Clowes Street, and +stopped before a row of small brown cottages. At the open door of +one of these cottages a woman sat sewing. <a name='Page185' id= +"Page185"></a><span class='pagenum'>185</span> She was rather stout +and full-bosomed, with a fair, fresh face, full of sense and peace; +she looked under thirty, but was older.</p> +<p>'Here's thy Tommy, Miriam,' said Eli Machin shortly. 'He give me +some of his sauce, and I doubt I've done him an injury.'</p> +<p>The woman dropped her sewing.</p> +<p>'Eh, dear!' she cried, 'is that lad o' mine in mischief again? I +do hope he's no limb brokken.'</p> +<p>'It in'na that,' said the old man, 'but he's dazed-like. Better +lay him on th' squab.'</p> +<p>She calmly took Tommy and placed him gently down on the +check-covered sofa under the window. 'Come in, father, do.'</p> +<p>The man obeyed, astonished at the entire friendliness of this +daughter, whom, though he had frequently seen her, he had never +spoken to for more than ten years. Her manner, at once filial and +quite natural, perfectly ignored the long breach, and disclosed no +trace of animosity.</p> +<p>Father and daughter examined the unconscious child. Pale, +pulseless, cold, he lay on the sofa like a corpse except for the +short, faint breaths which he drew through his blue lips.</p> +<p><a name='Page186' id="Page186"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>186</span> 'I doubt I've killed him,' said Eli.</p> +<p>'Nay, nay, father!' And her face actually smiled. This supremacy +of the soul against years of continued misfortune lifted her high +above him, and he suddenly felt himself an inferior creature.</p> +<p>'I'll go for th' doctor,' he said.</p> +<p>'Nay! I shall need ye.' And she put her head out of the window. +'Mrs. Walley, will ye let your Lucy run quick for th' club doctor? +my Tommy's hurt.'</p> +<p>The whole street awoke instantly from its nap, and in a few +moments every door was occupied. Miriam closed her own door softly, +as though she might wake the boy, and spoke in whispers to people +through the window, finally telling them to go away. When the +doctor came, half an hour afterwards, she had done all that she +knew for Tommy, without the slightest apparent result.</p> +<p>'What is it?' asked the doctor curtly, as he lifted the child's +thin and lifeless hand.</p> +<p>Eli Machin explained that he had boxed the boy's ear.</p> +<p>'Tommy was impudent to his grandfather,' Miriam added +hastily.</p> +<p><a name='Page187' id="Page187"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>187</span> 'Which ear?' the doctor inquired. It was the +left. He gazed into it, and then raised the boy's right leg and +arm. 'There is no paralysis,' he said. Then he felt the heart, and +then took out his stethoscope and applied it, listening +intently.</p> +<p>'Canst hear owt?' the old man said.</p> +<p>'I cannot,' he answered.</p> +<p>'Don't say that, doctor—don't say that! said Miriam, with +an accent of appeal.</p> +<p>'In these cases it is almost impossible to tell whether the +patient is alive or dead. We must wait. Mrs. Baddeley, make a +mustard plaster for his feet, and we will put another over the +heart.' And so they waited one hour, while the clock ticked and the +mustard plasters gradually cooled. Then Tommy's lips parted.</p> +<p>After another half-hour the doctor said:</p> +<p>'I must go now; I will come again at six. Do nothing but apply +fresh plasters. Be sure to keep his neck free. He is breathing, but +I may as well be plain with you—there is a great risk of your +child dying in this condition.'</p> +<p>Neighbours were again at the window, and Miriam drew the blind, +waving them away. At six o'clock the doctor reappeared. 'There +<a name='Page188' id="Page188"></a><span class='pagenum'>188</span> +is no change,' he remarked. 'I will call in before I go to +bed.'</p> +<p>When he lifted the latch for the third time, at ten o'clock, Eli +Machin and Miriam still sat by the sofa, and Tommy still lay +thereon, moveless, a terrible enigma. But the glass lamp was +lighted on the mantelpiece, and Miriam's sewing, by which she +earned a livelihood, had been hidden out of sight.</p> +<p>'There is no change,' said the doctor. 'You can do nothing +except hope.'</p> +<p>'And pray,' the calm mother added.</p> +<p>Eli neither stirred nor spoke. For nine hours he had absolutely +forgotten his engine. He knew the boy would die.</p> +<p>The clock struck eleven, twelve, one, two, three, each time +fretting the nerves of the old man like a rasp. It was the hour of +summer dawn. A cold gray light fell unkindly across the small +figure on the sofa.</p> +<p>'Open th' door a bit, father,' said Miriam. 'This parlour's +gettin' close; th' lad canna breathe.'</p> +<p>'Nay, lass,' Eli sighed, as he stumbled obediently to the door. +'The lad'll breathe no more. I've killed him i' my anger.' He +<a name='Page189' id="Page189"></a><span class='pagenum'>189</span> +frowned heavily, as though someone was annoying him.</p> +<p>'Hist!' she exclaimed, when, after extinguishing the lamp, she +returned to her boy's side. 'He's reddened—he's reddened! +Look thee at his cheeks, father!' She seized the child's inert +hands and rubbed them between her own. The blood was now plain in +Tommy's face. His legs faintly twitched. His breathing was slower. +Miriam moved the coverlet and put her head upon his heart. 'It's +beating loud, father,' she cried. 'Bless God!'</p> +<p>Eli stared at the child with the fixity of a statue. Then Tommy +opened his eyes for an instant. The old man groaned. Tommy looked +vacantly round, closed his eyes again, and was unmistakably asleep. +He slept for one minute, and then waked. Eli involuntarily put a +hand on the sofa. Tommy gazed at him, and, with the most heavenly +innocent smile of recognition, lightly touched his grandfather's +hand. Then he turned over on his right side. In the anguish of +sudden joy Eli gave a deep, piteous sob. That smile burnt into him +like a coal of fire.</p> +<p>'Now for the beef-tea,' said Miriam, crying.</p> +<p><a name='Page190' id="Page190"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>190</span> 'Beef-tea?' the boy repeated after her, mildly +questioning.</p> +<p>'Yes, my poppet,' she answered; and then aside, 'Father, he can +hear i' his left ear. Did ye notice it?'</p> +<p>'It's a miracle—a miracle of God!' said Eli.</p> +<p>In a few hours Tommy was as well as ever—indeed, better; +not only was his hearing fully restored, but he had ceased to +stammer, and the thin, almost imperceptible cloud upon his +intellect was dissipated. The doctor expressed but little surprise +at these phenomena, and, in fact, stated that similar things had +occurred often before, and were duly written down in the books of +medicine. But Eli Machin's firm, instinctive faith that Providence +had intervened will never be shaken.</p> +<p>Miriam and Tommy now live in the villa-cottage with the old +people.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page193' id="Page193"></a><span class='pagenum'>193</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_IDIOT' id="THE_IDIOT"></a> +THE IDIOT</h3> +</div> +<p>William Froyle, ostler at the Queen's Arms at Moorthorne, took +the letter, and, with a curt nod which stifled the loquacity of the +village postman, went at once from the yard into the coach-house. +He had recognised the hand-writing on the envelope, and the +recognition of it gave form and quick life to all the vague +suspicions that had troubled him some months before, and again +during the last few days. He felt suddenly the near approach of a +frightful calamity which had long been stealing towards him.</p> +<p>A wire-sheathed lantern, set on a rough oaken table, cast a +wavering light round the coach-house, and dimly showed the inner +stable. Within the latter could just be distinguished the +mottled-gray flanks of a fat cob which dragged its chain +occasionally, making <a name='Page194' id= +"Page194"></a><span class='pagenum'>194</span> the large slow +movements of a horse comfortably lodged in its stall. The pleasant +odour of animals and hay filled the wide spaces of the shed, and +through the half-open door came a fresh thin mist rising from the +rain-soaked yard in the November evening.</p> +<p>Froyle sat down on the oaken table, his legs dangling, and +looked again at the envelope before opening it. He was a man about +thirty years of age, with a serious and thoughtful, rather heavy +countenance. He had a long light moustache, and his skin was a +fresh, rosy salmon colour; his straw-tinted hair was cut very +short, except over the forehead, where it grew full and bushy. +Dressed in his rough stable corduroys, his forearms bare and white, +he had all the appearance of the sturdy Englishman, the sort of +Englishman that crosses the world in order to find vent for his +taciturn energy on virgin soils. From the whole village he +commanded and received respect. He was known for a scholar, and it +was his scholarship which had obtained for him the proud position +of secretary to the provident society styled the Queen's Arms Slate +Club. His respectability and his learning combined <a name= +'Page195' id="Page195"></a><span class='pagenum'>195</span> had +enabled him to win with dignity the hand of Susie Trimmer, the +grocer's daughter, to whom he had been engaged about a year. The +village could not make up its mind concerning that match; without +doubt it was a social victory for Froyle, but everyone wondered +that so sedate and sagacious a man should have seen in Susie a +suitable mate.</p> +<p>He tore open the envelope with his huge forefinger, and, bending +down towards the lantern, began to read the letter. It ran:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'OLDCASTLE STREET,</p> +<p>'BURSLEY.</p> +<p>'DEAR WILL,</p> +<p>'I asked father to tell you, but he would not. He said I must +write. Dear Will, I hope you will never see me again. As you will +see by the above address, I am now at Aunt Penrose's at Bursley. +She is awful angry, but I was obliged to leave the village because +of my shame. I have been a wicked girl. It was in July. You know +the man, because you asked me about him one Sunday night. He is no +good. He is a villain. Please forget all about me. I want to go to +London. So many people know me here, and <a name='Page196' id= +"Page196"></a><span class='pagenum'>196</span> what with people +coming in from the village, too. Please forgive me.</p> +<p>'S. TRIMMER.'</p> +</div> +<p>After reading the letter a second time, Froyle folded it up and +put it in his pocket. Beyond a slight unaccustomed pallor of the +red cheeks, he showed no sign of emotion. Before the arrival of the +postman he had been cleaning his master's bicycle, which stood +against the table. To this he returned. Kneeling down in some fresh +straw, he used his dusters slowly and patiently—rubbing, then +stopping to examine the result, and then rubbing again. When the +machine was polished to his satisfaction, he wheeled it carefully +into the stable, where it occupied a stall next to that of the cob. +As he passed back again, the animal leisurely turned its head and +gazed at Froyle with its large liquid eyes. He slapped the immense +flank. Content, the animal returned to its feed, and the weighted +chain ran down with a rattle.</p> +<p>The fortnightly meeting of the Slate Club was to take place at +eight o'clock that evening. Froyle had employed part of the +afternoon in <a name='Page197' id="Page197"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>197</span> making ready his books for the event, to him +always so solemn and ceremonious; and the affairs of the club were +now prominent in his mind. He was sorry that it would be impossible +for him to attend the meeting; fortunately, all the usual +preliminaries were complete.</p> +<p>He took a piece of notepaper from a little hanging cupboard, +and, sprawling across the table, began to write under the lantern. +The pencil seemed a tiny toy in his thick roughened fingers:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'<i>To Mr. Andrew McCall, Chairman Queen's Arms Slate +Club.</i></p> +<p>'DEAR SIR,</p> +<p>'I regret to inform you that I shall not be at the meeting +to-night. You will find the books in order....'</p> +</div> +<p>Here he stopped, biting the end of the pencil in thought. He put +down the pencil and stepped hastily out of the stable, across the +yard, and into the hotel. In the large room, the room where +cyclists sometimes took tea and cold meat during the summer season, +the <a name='Page198' id="Page198"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>198</span> long deal table and the double line of oaken +chairs stood ready for the meeting. A fire burnt warmly in the big +grate, and the hanging lamp had been lighted. On the wall was a +large card containing the rules of the club, which had been written +out in a fair hand by the schoolmaster. It was to this card that +Froyle went. Passing his thumb down the card, he paused at Rule +VII.:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'Each member shall, on the death of another member, pay 1s. for +benefit of widow or nominee of deceased, same to be paid within one +month after notice given.'</p> +<p>'Or nominee—nominee,' he murmured reflectively, staring at +the card. He mechanically noticed, what he had noticed often before +with disdain, that the chairman had signed the rules without the +use of capitals.</p> +<p>He went back to the dusk of the coach-house to finish his +letter, still murmuring the word 'nominee,' of whose meaning he was +not quite sure:</p> +<p>'I request that the money due to me from the Slate Club on my +death shall be paid to <a name='Page199' id= +"Page199"></a><span class='pagenum'>199</span> my nominee, Miss +Susan Trimmer, now staying with her aunt, Mrs. Penrose, at +Bursley.</p> +<p>'Yours respectfully,</p> +<p>'WILLIAM FROYLE.'</p> +</div> +<p>After further consideration he added:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'P.S.—My annual salary of sixpence per member would be due +at the end of December. If so be the members would pay that, or +part of it, should they consider the same due, to Susan Trimmer as +well, I should be thankful.—Yours resp, W.F.'</p> +</div> +<p>He put the letter in an envelope, and, taking it to the large +room, laid it carefully at the end of the table opposite the +chairman's seat. Once more he returned to the coach-house. From the +hanging cupboard he now produced a piece of rope. Standing on the +table he could just reach, by leaning forward, a hook in the +ceiling, that was sometimes used for the slinging of bicycles. With +difficulty he made the rope fast to the hook. Putting a noose on +the other end, he tightened it round his neck. He looked up at the +ceiling and down at the floor in order to judge whether the rope +was short enough.</p> +<p><a name='Page200' id="Page200"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>200</span> 'Good-bye, Susan, and everyone,' he whispered, +and then stepped off the table.</p> +<p>The tense rope swung him by his neck halfway across the +coach-house. He swung twice to and fro, but as he passed under the +hook for the fifth time his toes touched the floor. The rope had +stretched. In another second he was standing firm on the floor, +purple and panting, but ignominiously alive.</p> +<p>'Good-even to you, Mr. Froyle. Be you committing suicide?' The +tones were drawling, uncertain, mildly astonished.</p> +<p>He turned round hastily, his hands busy with the rope, and saw +in the doorway the figure of Daft Jimmy, the Moorthorne idiot.</p> +<p>He hesitated before speaking, but he was not confused. No one +could have been confused before Daft Jimmy. Neither man nor woman +in the village considered his presence more than that of a cat.</p> +<p>'Yes, I am,' he said.</p> +<p>The middle-aged idiot regarded him with a vague, interested +smile, and came into the coach-house.</p> +<p>'You'n gotten the rope too long, Mr. Froyle. Let me help +you.'</p> +<p><a name='Page201' id="Page201"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>201</span> Froyle calmly assented. He stood on the table, +and the two rearranged the noose and made it secure. As they did so +the idiot gossiped:</p> +<p>'I was going to Bursley to-night to buy me a pair o' boots, and +when I was at top o' th' hill I remembered as I'd forgotten the +measure o' my feet. So I ran back again for it. Then I saw the +light in here, and I stepped up to bid ye good-evening.'</p> +<p>Someone had told him the ancient story of the fool and his +boots, and, with the pride of an idiot in his idiocy, he had +determined that it should be related of himself.</p> +<p>Froyle was silent.</p> +<p>The idiot laughed with a dry cackle.</p> +<p>'Now you go,' said Froyle, when the rope was fixed.</p> +<p>'Let me see ye do it,' the idiot pleaded with pathetic eyes.</p> +<p>'No; out you get!'</p> +<p>Protesting, the idiot went forth, and his irregular clumsy +footsteps sounded on the pebble-paved yard. When the noise of them +ceased in the soft roadway, Froyle jumped off the table again. +Gradually his body, like a <a name='Page202' id= +"Page202"></a><span class='pagenum'>202</span> stopping pendulum, +came to rest under the hook, and hung twitching, with strange +disconnected movements. The horse in the stable, hearing +unaccustomed noises, rattled his chain and stamped about in the +straw of his box.</p> +<p>Furtive steps came down the yard again, and Daft Jimmy peeped +into the coach-house.</p> +<p>'He done it! he done it!' the idiot cried gleefully. 'Damned if +he hasna'.' He slapped his leg and almost danced. The body still +twitched occasionally. 'He done it!'</p> +<p>'Done what, Daft Jimmy? You're making a fine noise there! Done +what?'</p> +<p>The idiot ran out of the stable. At the side-entrance to the +hotel stood the barmaid, the outline of her fine figure distinct +against the light from within.</p> +<p>The idiot continued to laugh.</p> +<p>'Done what?' the girl repeated, calling out across the dark yard +in clear, pleasant tones of amused inquiry. 'Done what?'</p> +<p>'What's that to you, Miss Tucker?'</p> +<p>'Now, none of your sauce, Daft Jimmy! Is Willie Froyle in +there?'</p> +<p>The idiot roared with laughter.</p> +<p>'Yes, he is, miss.'</p> +<p><a name='Page203' id="Page203"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>203</span> 'Well, tell him his master wants him. I don't +want to cross this mucky, messy yard.'</p> +<p>'Yes, miss.'</p> +<p>The girl closed the door.</p> +<p>The idiot went into the coach-house, and, slapping William's +body in a friendly way so that it trembled on the rope, he +spluttered out between his laughs:</p> +<p>'Master wants ye, Mr. Froyle.'</p> +<p>Then he walked out into the village street, and stood looking up +the muddy road, still laughing quietly. It was quite dark, but the +moon aloft in the clear sky showed the highway with its shining +ruts leading in a straight line over the hill to Bursley.</p> +<p>'Them shoes!' the idiot ejaculated suddenly. 'Well, I be an +idiot, and that's true! They can take the measure from my feet, and +I never thought on it till this minute!'</p> +<p>Laughing again, he set off at a run up the hill.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page205' id="Page205"></a><span class='pagenum'>205</span></p> +<h2><a name='PART_II' id="PART_II"></a> +PART II<br /> +ABROAD</h2> +</div> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<p> +<a name='Page207' id="Page207"></a><span class='pagenum'>207</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_HUNGARIAN_RHAPSODY' id="THE_HUNGARIAN_RHAPSODY"></a> +THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY</h3> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>After a honeymoon of five weeks in the shining cities of the +Mediterranean and in Paris, they re-entered the British Empire by +the august portals of the Chatham and Dover Railway. They stood +impatiently waiting, part of a well-dressed, querulous crowd, while +a few officials performed their daily task of improvising a +Custom-house for registered luggage on a narrow platform of +Victoria Station. John, Mr. Norris's man, who had met them, +attended behind. Suddenly, with a characteristic movement, the +husband lifted his head, and then looked down at his wife.</p> +<p>'I say, May!'</p> +<p>'Well?'</p> +<p>She knew that he was about to propose some swift alteration of +their plans, but she smiled <a name='Page208' id= +"Page208"></a><span class='pagenum'>208</span> upwards out of her +furs at his grave face, and the tone of her voice granted all +requests in advance.</p> +<p>'I think I'd better go to the office,' he said.</p> +<p>'Now?'</p> +<p>She smiled again, inviting him to do exactly what he chose. She +was already familiar with his restiveness under enforced delays and +inaction, and his unfortunate capacity for being actively bored by +trifles which did not interest him aroused in her a sort of +maternal sympathy.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he answered. 'I can be there and back in an hour or less. +You titivate yourself, and we'll dine at the Savoy, or anywhere you +please. We'll keep the ball rolling to-night. Yes,' he repeated, as +if to convince himself that he was not a deserter, 'I really must +call in at the office. You and John can see to the luggage, can't +you?'</p> +<p>'Of course,' she replied, with calm good-nature, and also with +perfect self-confidence. 'But give me the keys of the trunks, and +don't be late, Ted.'</p> +<p>'Oh, I shan't be late,' he said.</p> +<p>Their fingers touched as she took the keys. <a name='Page209' id="Page209"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>209</span> He went away +enraptured anew by her delightful acquiescences, her unique smile, +her common-sense, her mature charm, and the astonishing elegance of +her person. The honeymoon was over—and with what finished +discretion, combining the innocent girl with the woman of the +world, she had lived through the honeymoon!—another life, +more delicious, was commencing.</p> +<p>'What a wife!' he thought triumphantly. 'She does understand a +man! And fancy leaving any ordinary bride to look after +luggage!'</p> +<p>Nevertheless, once in his offices at Winchester House, he +managed to forget her, and to forget time, for nearly an hour and a +half. When at last he came to himself from the enchantment of +affairs, he jumped into a hansom, and told the driver to drive fast +to Knightsbridge. He was ardent to see her again. In the dark +seclusion of the cab he speculated upon her toilette, the colour of +her shoes. He thought of the last five weeks, of the next five +years. Dwelling on their mutual love and esteem, their health, +their self-knowledge and experience and cheerfulness, her <a name= +'Page210' id="Page210"></a><span class='pagenum'>210</span> sense +and grace, his talent for getting money first and keeping it +afterwards, he foresaw nothing but happiness for them. Children? +H'm! Possibly....</p> +<p>At Piccadilly Circus it began to rain—cold, heavy March +rain.</p> +<p>'Window down, sir?' asked the voice of the cabman.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he ordered sardonically. 'Better be suffocated than +drowned.'</p> +<p>'You're right, sir,' said the voice.</p> +<p>Soon, through the streaming glass, which made every gas-jet into +a shooting pillar of flame, Norris discerned vaguely the vast bulk +of Hyde Park Mansions. 'Good!' he muttered, and at that very moment +he was shot through the window into the thin, light-reflecting mire +of the street. Enormous and strange beasts menaced him with +pitiless hoofs. Millions of people crowded about him. In response +to a question that seemed to float slowly towards him, he tried to +give his address. He realized, by a considerable feat of intellect, +that the horse must have fallen down; and then, with a dim notion +that nothing mattered, he went to sleep.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page211' id="Page211"></a><span class='pagenum'>211</span></p> +<h4> +II</h4> +<p>In the boudoir of the magnificent flat on the first floor, +shielded from the noise and the inclemency of the world by four +silk-hung walls and a double window, and surrounded by all the +multitudinous and costly luxury that a stockbroker with brains and +taste can obtain for the wife of his love, May was leisurely +finishing her toilette. And every detail in the long, elaborate +process was accomplished with a passionate intention to bewitch the +man at Winchester House.</p> +<p>These two had first met seven years before, when May, the +daughter of a successful wholesale draper at Hanbridge, in the Five +Towns district of Staffordshire, was aged twenty-two. Mr. Scarratt +went to Manchester each Tuesday to buy, and about once a month he +took May with him. One day, when they were lunching at the Exchange +Restaurant, a young man came up whom her father introduced as Mr. +Edward Norris, his stockbroker. Mr. Norris, whose years were +thirty, glanced keenly at May, and accepted Mr. Scarratt's +invitation to join them. Ever afterwards May vividly remembered +<a name='Page212' id="Page212"></a><span class='pagenum'>212</span> +the wonderful sensation, joyous yet disconcerting, which she then +experienced—the sensation of having captivated her father's +handsome and correct stockbroker. The three talked horses with a +certain freedom, and since May was accustomed to drive the Scarratt +dogcart, so famous in the Five Towns, she could bring her due share +to the conversation. The meal over, Mr. Norris discussed business +matters with his client, and then sedately departed, but not +without the obviously sincere expression of a desire to meet Miss +Scarratt again. The wholesale draper praised Edward's financial +qualities behind his back, and wondered that a man of such aptitude +should remain in Manchester while London existed. As for May, she +decided that she would have a new frock before she came to +Manchester in the following month.</p> +<p>She had a new frock, but not of the colour intended. By the +following month her father was enclosed in a coffin, and it +happened to his estate, as to the estates of many successful men +who employ stockbrokers, that the liabilities far more than covered +the assets. May and her mother were left without a penny. <a name= +'Page213' id="Page213"></a><span class='pagenum'>213</span> The +mother did the right thing, and died—it was best. May went +direct to Brunt's, the largest draper in the Five Towns, and asked +for a place under 'Madame' in the dress-making department. Brunt's +daughter, who was about to be married, gave her the place +instantly. Three years later, when 'Madame' returned to Paris, May +stepped into the French-woman's shoes.</p> +<p>On Sundays and on Thursday afternoons, and sometimes (but not +too often) at the theatre, May was the finest walking advertisement +that Brunt's ever had. Old Brunt would have proposed to her, it was +rumoured, had he not been scared by her elegance. Sundry sons of +prosperous manufacturers, unabashed by this elegance, did in fact +secretly propose, but with what result was known only to +themselves.</p> +<p>Later, as May waxed in importance at Brunt's, she was sent to +Manchester to buy. She lunched at the Exchange Restaurant. The +world and Manchester are very small. The first man she set eyes on +was Edward Norris. Another week, Norris said to her with a thrill, +and he would have been gone for ever to <a name='Page214' id= +"Page214"></a><span class='pagenum'>214</span> London. Chance is +not to be flouted. The sequel was inevitable. They loved. And all +the select private bars in Hanbridge tinkled to the news that May +Scarratt had been and hooked a stockbroker!</p> +<p>When the toilette was done, and the maid gone, she wound a thin +black scarf round her olive neck and shoulders, and sat down +negligently on a Chippendale settee in the attitude of a portrait +by Boldini; her little feet were tucked up sideways on the settee; +the perforated lace ends of the scarf fell over her low corsage to +the level of the seat. And she waited, still the bride. He was +late, but she knew he would be late. Sure in the conviction that he +was a strong man, a man of imagination and of deeds, she could +easily excuse this failing in him, as she did that other habit of +impulsive action in trifles. Nay, more, she found keen pleasure in +excusing it. 'Dear thing!' she reflected, 'he forgets so.' +Therefore she waited, content in enjoying the image in the glass of +her dark face, her small plump person, and her Paris +gown—that dream! She thought with assuaged grief of her +father's tragedy; she would have liked him to see her <a name= +'Page215' id="Page215"></a><span class='pagenum'>215</span> now, +the jewel in the case—her father and she had understood each +other.</p> +<p>All around, and above and below, she felt, without hearing it, +the activity of the opulent, complex life of the mansions. Her mind +dwelt with satisfaction on long carpeted corridors noiselessly +paraded by flunkeys, mahogany lifts continually ascending and +descending like the angels of the ladder, the great entrance hall +with its fire always burning and its doors always swinging, the +<i>salle à manger</i> sown with rose-shaded candles, and all +the splendid privacies rising stage upon stage to the attics, where +the flunkeys philosophized together. She confessed the beauty and +distinction achieved by this extravagant organization for +gratifying earthly desires. Often, in the pinching days of her +servitude, she had murmured against the injustice of things, and +had called wealth a crime while poverty starved. But now she +perceived that society was what it was inevitably, and could not be +altered. She accepted it in profound peace of mind, gaily fraternal +towards the fortunate, compassionate towards those in +adversity.</p> +<p>In the next flat someone began to play very <a name='Page216' id="Page216"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>216</span> brilliantly a +Hungarian Rhapsody of Liszt's. And even the faint sound of that +riotous torrent of melody, so arrogantly gorgeous, intoxicated her +soul. She shivered under the sudden vision of the splendid joy of +being alive. And how she envied the player! French she had learned +from 'Madame,' but she had no skill on the piano; it was her one +regret.</p> +<p>She touched the bell.</p> +<p>'Has your master come in yet?' she inquired of the maid.</p> +<p>'No, madam, not yet.'</p> +<p>She knew he had not come in, but she could not resist the +impulse to ask.</p> +<p>Ten minutes later, when the piano had ceased, she jumped up, +and, creeping to the front-door of the flat, gazed foolishly across +the corridor at the grille of the lift. She heard the lift in +travail. It appeared and passed out of sight above. No, he had not +come! Glancing aside, she saw the tall slender figure of a girl in +a green tea-gown—a mere girl: it was the player of the +Hungarian Rhapsody. And this girl, too, she thought, was expectant +and disappointed! They shut their doors simultaneously, she and +May, who also had her <a name='Page217' id= +"Page217"></a><span class='pagenum'>217</span> girlish moments. +Then the rhapsody recommenced.</p> +<p>'Oh, madam!' screamed the maid, almost tumbling into the +boudoir.</p> +<p>'What is it?' May demanded with false calm.</p> +<p>The maid lifted the corner of her black apron to her eyes, as +though she had been a stage soubrette in trouble.</p> +<p>'The master, madam! He's fell out of his cab—just in front +of the mansions—and they're bringing him in—such blood +I never did see!'</p> +<p>The maid finished with hysterics.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>'And them just off their honeymoon!'</p> +<p>The inconsolable tones of the lady's-maid came from the kitchen +to the open door of the bedroom, where May was giving instructions +to the elderly cook.</p> +<p>'Send that girl out of the flat this moment!' May said.</p> +<p>'Yes, ma'am.'</p> +<p>'Make the beef-tea in case it's wanted, and <a name='Page218' id="Page218"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>218</span> let me have some +more warm water. There's John and the doctor!'</p> +<p>She started at a knock.</p> +<p>'No, it's only the postman, ma'am.'</p> +<p>Some letters danced on the hall floor and on her nerves.</p> +<p>'Oh dear!' May whispered. 'I thought it was the doctor at +last.'</p> +<p>'John's bound to be back with one in a minute, ma'am. Do bear +up,' urged the cook, hurrying to the kitchen.</p> +<p>She could have destroyed the woman for those last words.</p> +<p>With the proud certainty of being equal to the dreadful crisis, +she turned abruptly into the bedroom, where her husband lay +insensible on one of the new beds. Assisted by the policemen and +the cook, she had done everything that could be done: cut away the +coats and the waistcoat, removed the boots, straightened the limbs, +washed the face and neck—especially the neck—which had +to be sponged continually, and scattered messengers, including +John, over the vicinity in search of medical aid. And now the +policemen had gone, the general emotion on the staircase had +subsided, <a name='Page219' id="Page219"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>219</span> the front-door of the flat was shut. The great +ocean of the life of the mansions had closed smoothly upon her +little episode. She was alone with the shattered organism.</p> +<p>She bent fondly over the bed, and her Paris frock, and the black +scarf which she had not removed, touched its ruinous burden. Her +right hand directed the sponge with ineffable tenderness, and then +the long thin fingers tightened to a frenzied clutch to squeeze it +over the basin. The whole of her being was absorbed in a deep +passion of pity and an intolerable hunger for the doctor.</p> +<p>Through the wall came once more the faint sound of the Hungarian +Rhapsody, astonishingly rapid and brilliant. She set her teeth to +endure its unconscious message of the vast indifference of life to +death.</p> +<p>The organism stirred, and May watched the deathly face for a +sign. The eyes opened and stared at her in agonized bewilderment. +The lips tried to speak, and failed.</p> +<p>'It's all right, darling,' she said softly. 'You're in your own +bed. The doctor will be here directly. Drink this.'</p> +<p>She gave him some brandy-and-water, and <a name='Page220' id= +"Page220"></a><span class='pagenum'>220</span> they looked at each +other. He was no longer Edward Norris, the finely regulated +intelligence, the masterful volition, the conqueror of the world +and of a woman; but merely the embodiment of a frightened, +despairing, flickering, hysterical will-to-live, which glanced in +terror at the corners of the room as though it saw fate there. And +beneath her intense solicitude was the instinctive feeling, which +hurt her, but which she could not dismiss, of her measureless, +dominating superiority. With what glad relief would she have +changed places with him!</p> +<p>'I'm dying, May,' he murmured at length, with a sigh. 'Why +doesn't the doctor come?'</p> +<p>'He is coming,' she replied soothingly. 'You'll be better +soon.'</p> +<p>But his effort in speaking obliged her to use the sponge again, +and he saw it, and drew another sigh, more mortal than the +first.</p> +<p>'Oh! I'm dying,' he repeated.</p> +<p>'Not you, Ted!' And her smile cost her an awful pang.</p> +<p>'I am. I know it.' This time he spoke with sad resignation. 'You +must face it. And—listen.'</p> +<p><a name='Page221' id="Page221"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>221</span> 'What, dear?'</p> +<p>A physical sensation of sickness came over her. She could not +disguise from herself the fact that he was dying. The warped and +pallid face, the panic-struck eyes, the sweat, the wound in the +neck, the damp hands nervously pulling the hem of the +sheet—these indications were not to be gainsaid. The truth +was too horrible to grasp; she wanted to put it away from her. +'This calamity cannot happen to me!' she thought urgently, and all +the while she knew that it was happening to her.</p> +<p>He collected the feeble remnant of his powers by an immense +effort, and began to speak, slowly and fragmentarily, and with such +weakness that she could only catch his words by putting her ear to +his mouth. The restless hands dropped the sheet and took the end of +the black scarf.</p> +<p>'You'll be comfortable—for money,' he said. 'Will made.... +It's not that. It's ... I must tell you. It's——'</p> +<p>'Yes?' she encouraged him. 'Tell me. I can hear.'</p> +<p>'It's about your father. I didn't treat him <a name='Page222' id="Page222"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>222</span> quite right ... +once.... Week after I first met you, May.... No, not quite right. +He was holding Hull and Barnsley shares ... you know, railway ... +great gambling stock, then, Hull and Barn—Barnsley. Holding +them on cover; for the rise.... They dropped too much—dropped +to 23.... He couldn't hold any longer ... wired to me to sell and +cut the loss. Understand?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she said, trembling. 'I quite understand.'</p> +<p>'Well ... I wired back, "Sold at 23." ... But some mistake. +Shares not sold. Clerk's mistake.... Clerk didn't sell.... Next day +rise began.... I didn't wire him shares not sold. Somehow, I +couldn't.... Put it off.... Rise went on.... I took over shares +myself ... you see—myself.... Made nearly five thousand +clear.... I wanted money then.... I think I would have told him, +perhaps, later ... made it right ... but he died ... sudden ... I +wasn't going to let his creditors have that five thou.... No, he'd +meant to sell ... and, look here, May, if those shares had dropped +lower ... 'stead of rising ... I should have had <a name='Page223' id="Page223"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>223</span> to stand the +racket ... with your father, for my clerk's mistake.... See?... +He'd meant to sell.... Hard lines on him, but he'd meant to +sell.... He'd meant——'</p> +<p>'Don't say any more, dear.'</p> +<p>'Must explain this, May. Why didn't I give the money to you ... +when he was dead?... Because I knew you'd only ... give it ... to +creditors.... I knew you.... That's straight.... I've told you +now.'</p> +<p>He lost consciousness again, but for an instant May did not +notice it. She was crying, and her tears fell on his face.</p> +<p>Then came a doctor, a little dark man, who explained with calm +politeness that he had been out when the messenger first arrived. +He took off his coat, hung it up, opened his bag, and proceeded to +a minute examination of the patient. His movements were so +methodical, and he gave orders to May in a tone so quiet, casual, +and ordinary, that she almost lost her sense of the reality of the +scene.</p> +<p>'Yes, yes,' he said, from time to time, as if to himself; +nothing else; not a single enlightening word to May.</p> +<p><a name='Page224' id="Page224"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>224</span> 'I'm dying,' moaned Edward, opening his +eyes.</p> +<p>The doctor glanced round at May and winked. That wink, +deliberate and humorous, was like an electric shock to her. She +could actually feel her heart leap in her breast. If she had not +been afraid of the doctor, she would have fainted.</p> +<p>'You all think you're dying,' the doctor remarked in a low, +amused tone to the ceiling, as he wiped a pair of scissors, 'when +you've been knocked silly, especially if there's a lot of blood +about.'</p> +<p>The door opened.</p> +<p>'Here's John, ma'am,' said the cook, 'with two more doctors. +What am I to do?'</p> +<p>May involuntarily turned towards the door.</p> +<p>'Don't you go, Mrs. Norris,' the little dark man commanded. 'I +want you.' Then he carelessly scrutinized the elderly servant. +'Tell 'em they're too late,' he said. 'It's generally like that +when there's an accident,' he continued after the housekeeper had +gone. 'First you can't get a doctor anywhere, and then in half an +hour or so we come in crowds. I've known seven doctors turn up one +after another. <a name='Page225' id="Page225"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>225</span> But in that affair the man happened to have +been killed outright.'</p> +<p>He smiled grimly. In a little while he was snapping his bag.</p> +<p>'I'll come in the morning, of course,' he said, as he wrote on a +piece of paper. 'Have this made up, and give it him in the night if +he is wakeful. Keep him warm. You might put a couple of hot-water +bags, one on either side of him. You've got beef-tea made, you say? +That's right. Let him have as much as he wants. Mr. Norris, you'll +sleep like a top.'</p> +<p>'But, doctor,' May inquired the next morning in the hall, after +Edward had smiled at a joke, and been informed that he must run +down to Bournemouth in a week, 'have we nothing to fear?'</p> +<p>'I think not,' was the measured answer. 'These affairs nearly +always seem much worse than they are. Of course, the immediate +upset is tremendous—the disorganization, and all that sort of +thing. But Nature's pretty wonderful. You'll find your husband will +soon get over it. I should say he had a good constitution.'</p> +<p>'And there will be no permanent effects?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' said the doctor, with genial cynicism. <a name='Page226' id="Page226"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>226</span> 'There'll be one +permanent effect. Nobody will ever persuade him to ride in a hansom +again. If he can't find a four-wheeler, he'll walk in future.'</p> +<p>She returned to the bedroom. The man on the bed was Edward +Norris once more, in control of himself, risen out of his +humiliation. A feeling of thankfulness overwhelmed her for a +moment, and she sat down.</p> +<p>'Well, May?' he murmured.</p> +<p>'Well, dear.'</p> +<p>They both realized that what they had been through was a common, +daily street accident. The smile of each was self-conscious, +apprehensive, insincere.</p> +<p>'Quite a concert going on next door,' he said with an +affectation of lightness.</p> +<p>It was the Hungarian Rhapsody, impetuous and brilliant as ever. +How she hated it now—this symbol of the hurried, unheeding, +relentless, hollow gaiety of the world! Yet she longed for the +magic fingers of the player, that she, too, might smother grief in +such glittering veils!</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page227' id="Page227"></a><span class='pagenum'>227</span></p> +<h4> +IV</h4> +<p>The marriage which had begun so dramatically fell into placid +routine. Edward fulfilled the prophecy of the doctor. In a week +they were able to go to Bournemouth for a few days, and in less +than a fortnight he was at the office—the strong man again, +confident and ambitious.</p> +<p>After days devoted to finance, he came home in the evenings +high-spirited and determined to enjoy himself. His voice was firm +and his eye steady when he spoke to his wife; there was no trace of +self-consciousness in his demeanour. She admired the masculinity of +the brain that could forget by an effort of will. She felt that he +trusted her to forget also; that he relied on her common-sense, her +characteristic sagacity, to extinguish for ever the memory of an +awkward incident. He loved her. He was intensely proud of her. He +treated her with every sort of generosity. And in return he +expected her to behave like a man.</p> +<p>She loved him. She esteemed him as a wife should. She made a +profession of wifehood. <a name='Page228' id= +"Page228"></a><span class='pagenum'>228</span> He gave his days to +finance and his nights to diversion; but her vocation was always +with her—she was never off duty. She aimed to please him to +the uttermost in everything, to be in all respects the ideal +helpmate of a husband who was at once strenuous, fastidious, and +wealthy. Elegance and suavity were a religion with her. She was the +delight of the eye and of the ear, the soother of groans, the +refuge of distress, the uplifter of the heart.</p> +<p>She made new acquaintances for him, and cemented old +friendships. Her manner towards his old friends enchanted him; but +when they were gone she had a way of making him feel that she was +only his. She thought that she was succeeding in her aim. She +thought that all these sweet, endless labours—of traffic with +dressmakers, milliners, coiffeurs, maids, cooks, and furnishers; of +paying and receiving calls; of delicious surprise journeys to the +City to bring home the breadwinner; of giving and accepting +dinners; of sitting alert and appreciative in theatres and +music-halls; of supping in golden restaurants; of being serious, +cautionary, submissive, and seductive; of smiles, laughter, +<a name='Page229' id="Page229"></a><span class='pagenum'>229</span> +and kisses; and of continuous sympathetic responsiveness—she +thought that all these labours had attained their object: Edward's +complete serenity and satisfaction. She imagined that love and duty +had combined successfully to deceive him on one solitary point. She +was sure that he was deceived. But she was wrong.</p> +<p>One evening they were at the theatre alone together. It was a +musical comedy, and they had a large stage-box. May sat a little +behind. After having been darkened for a scenic conjuring trick, +the stage was very suddenly thrown into brilliant light. Edward +turned with equal suddenness to share his appreciation of the +effect with his wife, and the light and his eye caught her +unawares. She smiled instantly, but too late; he had seen the +expression of her features. For a second she felt as if the whole +fabric which she had been building for the last six months had +crumbled; but this disturbing idea passed as she recovered +herself.</p> +<p>'Let's go home, eh?' he said, at the end of the first act.</p> +<p>'Yes,' she agreed. 'It would be nice to be in early, wouldn't +it?'</p> +<p><a name='Page230' id="Page230"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>230</span> In the brougham they exchanged the amiable +banalities of people who are thoroughly intimate. When they reached +the flat, she poured out his whisky-and-potass, and sat on the arm +of his particular arm-chair while he sipped it; then she whispered +that she was going to bed.</p> +<p>'Wait a bit,' he said; 'I want to talk to you seriously.'</p> +<p>'Dear thing!' she murmured, stroking his coat.</p> +<p>She had not the slightest notion of his purpose.</p> +<p>'You've tried your best, May,' he said bluntly, 'but you've +failed. I've suspected it for a long time.'</p> +<p>She flushed, and retired to a sofa, away from the orange +electric lamp.</p> +<p>'What do you mean, Edward?' she asked.</p> +<p>'You know very well what I mean, my dear,' he replied. 'What I +told you—that night! You've tried to forget it. You've tried +to look at me as though you had forgotten it. But you can't do it. +It's on your mind. I've noticed it again and again. I noticed it at +the theatre to-night. So I said <a name='Page231' id= +"Page231"></a><span class='pagenum'>231</span> to myself, "I'll +have it out with her." And I'm having it out.'</p> +<p>'My dear Ted, I assure you——'</p> +<p>'No, you don't,' he stopped her. 'I wish you did. Now you must +just listen. I know exactly what sort of an idiot I was that night +as well as you do. But I couldn't help it. I was a fool to tell +you. Still, I thought I was dying. I simply had a babbling fit. +People are like that. You thought I was dying, too, didn't +you?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she said quietly, 'for a minute or two.'</p> +<p>'Ah! It was that minute or two that did it. Well, I let it out, +the rotten little secret. I admit it wasn't on the square, that bit +of business. But, on the other hand, it wasn't anything really +bad—like cruelty to animals or ruining a girl. Of course, the +chap was your father, but, but——. Look here, May, you +ought to be able to see that I was exactly the same man after I +told you as I was before. You ought to be able to see that. My +character wasn't wrecked because I happened to split on myself, +like an ass, about that affair. Mind you, I don't blame you. You +can't help your feelings. But do you suppose there's a single +<a name='Page232' id="Page232"></a><span class='pagenum'>232</span> +man on this blessed earth without a secret? I'm not going to grovel +before gods or men. I'm not going to pretend I'm so frightfully +sorry. I'm sorry in a way. But can't you see——'</p> +<p>'Don't say any more, Ted,' she begged him, fingering her sash. +'I know all that. I know it all, and everything else you can say. +Oh, my darling boy! do you think I would look down on you ever so +little because of—what you told me? Who am I? I wouldn't care +twopence even if——'</p> +<p>'But it's between us all the same,' he broke in. 'You can't get +over it.'</p> +<p>'Get over it!' she repeated lamely.</p> +<p>'Can you? Have you?' He pinned her to a direct answer.</p> +<p>She did not flinch.</p> +<p>'No,' she said.</p> +<p>'I thought you would have done,' he remarked, half to himself. +'I thought you would. I thought you were enough a woman of the +world for that, May. It isn't as if the confounded thing had made +any real difference to your father. The old man died, +and——'</p> +<p><a name='Page233' id="Page233"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>233</span> 'Ted!' she exclaimed, 'I shall have to tell +you, after all. It killed him.'</p> +<p>'What killed him? He died of gastritis.'</p> +<p>'He was ill with gastritis, but he died of suicide. It's easy +for a gastritis patient to commit suicide. And father did.'</p> +<p>'Why?'</p> +<p>'Oh, ruin, despair! He'd been in difficulties for a long time. +He said that selling those shares just one day too soon was the end +of it. When he saw them going up day after day, it got on his mind. +He said he knew he would never, never have any luck. And then +...'</p> +<p>'You kept it quiet.' He was walking about the room.</p> +<p>'Yes, that was pretty easy.'</p> +<p>'And did your mother know?'</p> +<p>He turned and looked at her.</p> +<p>'Yes, mother knew. It finished her. Oh, Ted!' she burst out, 'if +you'd only telegraphed to him the next morning that the shares +weren't sold, things might have been quite different.'</p> +<p>'You mean I killed your father—and your mother.'</p> +<p><a name='Page234' id="Page234"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>234</span> 'No, I don't,' she cried passionately. 'I tell +you I don't. You didn't know. But I think of it all, sometimes. And +that's why—that's why——'</p> +<p>She sat down again.</p> +<p>'By God, May,' he swore, 'I'm frightfully sorry!'</p> +<p>'I never meant to tell you,' she said, composing herself. 'But, +there! things slip out. Good-night.'</p> +<p>She was gone, but in passing him she had timidly caressed his +shoulder.</p> +<p>'It's all up,' he said to himself. 'This will always be between +us. No one could expect her to forget it.'</p> +<h4>V</h4> +<p>Gradually her characteristic habits deserted her; she seemed to +lose energy and a part of her interest in those things which had +occupied her most. She changed her dress less frequently, ignoring +dressmakers, and she showed no longer the ravishing elegance of the +bride. She often lay in bed till noon, she who had always entered +the dining-room at <a name='Page235' id="Page235"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>235</span> nine o'clock precisely to dispense his coffee +and listen to his remarks on the contents of the newspaper. She +said 'As you please' to the cook, and the meals began to lose their +piquancy. She paid no calls, but some of her women friends +continued, nevertheless, to visit her. Lastly, she took to sewing. +The little dark doctor, who had become an acquaintance, smiled at +her and told her to do no more than she felt disposed to do. She +reclined on sofas in shaded rooms, and appeared to meditate. She +was not depressed, but thoughtful. It was as though she had much to +settle in her own mind. At intervals the faint sound of the +Hungarian Rhapsody mingled with her reveries.</p> +<p>As for Edward, his behaviour was immaculate. During the day he +made money furiously. In the evening he sat with his wife. They did +not talk much, and he never questioned her. She developed a certain +curious whimsicality now and then; but for him she could do no +wrong.</p> +<p>The past was not mentioned. They both looked apprehensively +towards the future, towards a crisis which they knew was inexorably +<a name='Page236' id="Page236"></a><span class='pagenum'>236</span> +approaching. They were afraid, while pretending to have no +fear.</p> +<p>And one afternoon, precipitately, surprisingly, the crisis +came.</p> +<p>'You are the father of a son—a very noisy son,' said the +doctor, coming into the drawing-room where Edward had sat in +torture for three hours.</p> +<p>'And May?'</p> +<p>'Oh, never fear: she's doing excellently.'</p> +<p>'Can I go and see her?' he asked, like a humble petitioner.</p> +<p>'Well—yes,' said the doctor, 'for one minute; not +more.'</p> +<p>So he went into the bedroom as into a church, feeling a fool. +The nurse, miraculously white and starched, stood like a sentinel +at the foot of the bed of mystery.</p> +<p>'All serene, May?' he questioned. If he had attempted to say +another word he would have cried.</p> +<p>The pale mother nodded with a fatigued smile, and by a scarcely +perceptible gesture drew his attention to a bundle. From the next +flat came a faint, familiar sound, insolently joyous.</p> +<p><a name='Page237' id="Page237"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>237</span> 'Yes,' he thought, 'but if they had both been +lying dead here that tune would have been the same.'</p> +<p>Two months later he left the office early, telling his secretary +that he had a headache. It was a mere fibbing excuse. He suffered +from sudden fits of anxiety about his wife and child. When he +reached the flat, he found no one at home but the cook.</p> +<p>'Where's your mistress?' he demanded.</p> +<p>'She's out in the park with baby and nurse, sir.'</p> +<p>'But it's going to rain,' he cried angrily. 'It is raining. +They'll get wet through.'</p> +<p>He rushed into the corridor, and met the procession—May, +the perambulator, and the nursemaid.</p> +<p>'Only fancy, Ted!' May exclaimed, 'the perambulator will go into +the lift, after all. Aren't you glad?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' he said. 'But you're wet, surely?'</p> +<p>'Not a drop. We just got in in time.'</p> +<p>'Sure?'</p> +<p>'Quite.'</p> +<p>The tableau of May, elegant as ever, but her eyes brighter and +her body more leniently <a name='Page238' id= +"Page238"></a><span class='pagenum'>238</span> curved, of the +hooded perambulator, and of the fluffy-white nursemaid +behind—it was too much for him. Touching clumsily the apron +of the perambulator, the stockbroker turned into his doorway. Just +then the girl from the next flat came out into the corridor, +dressed for social rites of the afternoon. The perambulator was her +excuse for stopping.</p> +<p>'What a pretty boy!' she exclaimed in ecstasy, trying to squeeze +her picture hat under the hood of the perambulator.</p> +<p>'Do you really think so?' said the mother, enchanted.</p> +<p>'Of course! The darling! How I envy you!'</p> +<p>May wanted to reciprocate this politeness.</p> +<p>'I can't tell you,' she said, 'how I envy you your +piano-playing. There's one piece——'</p> +<p>'Envy me! Why! It's only a pianola we've got!'</p> +<p>'Isn't he the picture of his granddad?' said May to Edward when +they bent over the cot that night before retiring.</p> +<p>And as she said it there was such candour in her voice, such +content in her smiling and <a name='Page239' id= +"Page239"></a><span class='pagenum'>239</span> courageous eyes, +that Edward could not fail to comprehend her message to him. Down +in some very secret part of his soul he felt for the first time the +real force of the great explanatory truth that one generation +succeeds another.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page243' id="Page243"></a><span class='pagenum'>243</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_SISTERS_QITA' id="THE_SISTERS_QITA"></a> +THE SISTERS QITA</h3> +</div> +<p>The manuscript ran thus:</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>When I had finished my daily personal examination of the ropes +and trapezes, I hesitated a moment, and then climbed up again, to +the roof, where the red and the blue long ropes were fastened. I +took my sharp scissors from my chatelaine, and gently fretted the +blue rope with one blade of the scissors until only a single strand +was left intact. I gazed down at the vast floor a hundred feet +below. The afternoon varieties were over, and a phrenologist was +talking to a small crowd of gapers in a corner. The rest of the +floor was pretty empty save for the chairs and the fancy stalls, +and the fatigued stall-girls in their black dresses. I too, had +once almost been a stall-girl at the Aquarium! I descended. Few +observed me <a name='Page244' id="Page244"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>244</span> in my severe street dress. Our secretary, +Charles, attended me on the stage.</p> +<p>'Everything right, Miss Paquita?' he said, handing me my hat and +gloves, which I had given him, to hold.</p> +<p>I nodded. I could see that he thought I was in one of my stern, +far-away moods.</p> +<p>'Miss Mariquita is waiting for you in the carriage,' he +said.</p> +<p>We drove away in silence—I with my inborn melancholy too +sad, Sally (Mariquita) too happy to speak. This daily afternoon +drive was really part of our 'turn'! A team of four mules driven by +a negro will make a sensation even in Regent Street. All London +looked at us, and contrasted our impassive beauty—mine mature +(too mature!) and dark, Sally's so blonde and youthful, our simple +costumes, and the fact that we stayed at an exclusive Mayfair +hotel, with the stupendous flourish of our turnout. The renowned +Sisters Qita—Paquita and Mariquita Qita—and the +renowned mules of the Sisters Qita! Two hundred pounds a week at +the Aquarium! Twenty-five thousand francs for one month at the +Casino de Paris! Twelve thousand five hundred dollars for a tour of +fifty <a name='Page245' id="Page245"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>245</span> performances in the States! Fifteen hundred +pesos a night and a special train <i>de luxe</i> in Argentina and +Brazil! I could see the loungers and the drivers talking and +pointing as usual. The gilded loungers in Verrey's café got +up and watched us through the windows as we passed. This was fame. +For nearly twenty years I had been intimate with fame, and with the +envy of women and the foolish homage of men.</p> +<p>We saw dozens of omnibuses bearing the legend 'Qita.' Then we +met one which said: 'Empire Theatre. Valdès, the matchless +juggler,' and Sally smiled with pleasure.</p> +<p>'He's coming to see our turn to-night, after his,' she remarked, +blushing.</p> +<p>'Valdès? Why?' I asked, without turning my head.</p> +<p>'He wants us to sup with him, to celebrate our engagement.'</p> +<p>'When do you mean to get married?' I asked her shortly. I felt +quite calm.</p> +<p>'I guess you're a Tartar to-day,' said the pretty thing, with a +touch of her American sauciness. 'We haven't studied it out yet. It +was only yesterday afternoon he kissed me for the first time.' Then +she bent towards me <a name='Page246' id="Page246"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>246</span> with her characteristic plaintive, wistful +appeal. 'Say! You aren't vexed, Selina, are you, because of this? +Of course, he wants me to tour with him after we're married, and do +a double act. He's got lots of dandy ideas for a double act. But I +won't, I won't, Selina, unless you say the word. Now, don't you go +and be cross, Selina.'</p> +<p>I let myself expand generously.</p> +<p>'My darling girl!' I said, glancing at her kindly. 'You ought to +know me better. Of course I'm not cross. And of course you must +tour with Valdès. I shall be all right. How do you suppose I +managed before I invented you?' I smiled like an indulgent +mother.</p> +<p>'Oh! I didn't mean that,' she said. 'I know you're frightfully +clever. I'm nothing——'</p> +<p>'I hope you'll be awfully happy,' I whispered, squeezing her +hand. 'And don't forget that I introduced him to you—I knew +him years before you did. I'm the cause of this +bliss——Do you remember that cold morning in +Berlin?'</p> +<p>'Oh! well, I should say!' she exclaimed in ecstasy.</p> +<p>When we reached our rooms in the hotel I <a name='Page247' id= +"Page247"></a><span class='pagenum'>247</span> kissed her warmly. +Women do that sort of thing.</p> +<p>Then a card was brought to me. 'George Capey,' it said; and in +pencil, 'Of the Five Towns.'</p> +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. Sally had gone to scribble a note to +her Valdès. 'Show Mr. Capey in,' I said, and a natty young +man entered, half nervousness, half audacity.</p> +<p>'How did you know I come from the Five Towns?' I questioned +him.</p> +<p>'I am on the <i>Evening Mail</i>,' he said, 'where they know +everything, madam.'</p> +<p>I was annoyed. 'Then they know, on the <i>Evening Mail</i> that +Paquita Qita has never been interviewed, and never will be,' I +said.</p> +<p>'Besides,' he went on, 'I come from the Five Towns myself.'</p> +<p>'Bursley?' I asked mechanically.</p> +<p>'Bursley,' he ejaculated; then added, 'you haven't been near old +Bosley since——'</p> +<p>It was true.</p> +<p>'No,' I said hastily. 'It is many years since I have been in +England, even. Do they know down there who Qita is?'</p> +<p>'Not they!' he replied.</p> +<p><a name='Page248' id="Page248"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>248</span> I grew reflective. Stars such as I have no +place of origin. We shoot up out of a void, and sink back into a +void. I had forgotten Bursley and Bursley folk. Recollections +rushed in upon me.... I felt beautifully sad. I drew off my gloves, +and flung my hat on a chair with a movement that would have +bewitched a man of the world, but Mr. George Capey was unimpressed. +I laughed.</p> +<p>'What's the joke?' he inquired. I adored him for his +Bursliness.</p> +<p>'I was just thinking, of fat Mrs. Cartledge, who used to keep +that fishmonger's shop in Oldcastle Street, opposite Bates's. I +wonder if she's still there?'</p> +<p>'She is,' he said. 'And fatter than ever! She's getting on in +years now.'</p> +<p>I broke the rule of a lifetime, and let him interview me.</p> +<p>'Tell them I'm thirty-seven,' I said. 'Yes, I mean it. Tell +them.'</p> +<p>And then for another tit-bit I explained to him how I had +discovered Sally at Koster and Bial's, in New York, five years ago, +and made her my sister for stage purposes because I was lonely, and +liked her American simplicity and <a name='Page249' id= +"Page249"></a><span class='pagenum'>249</span> twang. He departed +full of tea and satisfaction.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>It was our last night at the Aquarium. The place was crammed. +The houses where I performed were always crammed. Our turn was in +three parts, and lasted half an hour. The first part was a skirt +dance in full afternoon dress (<i>danse de modernité</i>, I +called it); the second was a double horizontal bar act; the third +was the famous act of the red and the blue ropes, in full evening +dress. It was 10.45 when we climbed the silk ladders for the third +part. High up in the roof, separated from each other by nearly the +length of the great hall, Sally and I stood on two little +platforms. I held the ends of the red and the blue ropes. I had to +let the blue rope swing across the hall to her. She would seize it, +and, clutching it, swoop like the ball of an enormous pendulum from +her platform to mine. (But would she?) I should then swing on the +red rope to the platform she had left.</p> +<p>Then the band would stop for the thrilling moment, and the +lights would be lowered. Each lighting and holding a powerful +electric <a name='Page250' id="Page250"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>250</span> hand-light—one red, one blue—we +should signal the drummer and plunge simultaneously into space, +flash past each other in mid-flight, exchanging lights as we passed +(this was the trick), and soar to opposite platforms again, amid +frenzied applause. There were no nets.</p> +<p>That was what ought to occur.</p> +<p>I stood bowing to the floor of tiny upturned heads, and jerking +the ropes a little. Then I let Sally's rope go with a push, and it +dropped away from me, and in a few seconds she had it safe in her +strong hand. She was taller than me, with a fuller figure, yet she +looked quite small on her distant platform. All the evening I had +been thinking of fat old Mrs. Cartledge messing and slopping among +cod and halibut on white tiles. I could not get Bursley and my +silly infancy out of my head. I followed my feverish career from +the age of fifteen, when that strange Something in me, which makes +an artist, had first driven me forth to conquer two continents. I +thought of all the golden loves I had scorned, and my own love, +which had been ignored, unnoticed, but which still obstinately +burned. I glanced downwards and descried Valdès precisely +where Sally had <a name='Page251' id="Page251"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>251</span> said he would be. Valdès, what a fool +you were! And I hated a fool. I am one of those who can love and +hate, who can love and despise, who can love and loathe the same +object in the same moment. Then I signalled to Sally to plunge, and +my eyes filled with tears. For, you see, somehow, in some senseless +sentimental way, the thought of fat Mrs. Cartledge and my silly +infancy had forced me to send Sally the red rope, not the blue one. +We exchanged ropes on alternate nights, but this was her night for +the blue one.</p> +<p>She swung over, alighting accurately at my side with that +exquisite outward curve of the spine which had originally attracted +me to her.</p> +<p>'You sent me the red one,' she said to me, after she had +acknowledged the applause.</p> +<p>'Yes,' I said. 'Never mind; stick to it now you've got it. +Here's the red light. Have you seen Valdès?'</p> +<p>She nodded.</p> +<p>I took the blue light and clutched the blue rope. Instead of +murder—suicide, since it must be one or the other. And why +not? Indeed, I censured myself in that second for having <a name= +'Page252' id="Page252"></a><span class='pagenum'>252</span> meant +to kill Sally. Not because I was ashamed of the sin, but because +the revenge would have been so pitiful and weak. If Valdès +the matchless was capable of passing me over and kneeling to the +pretty thing——</p> +<p>I stood ready. The world was to lose that fineness, that +distinction, that originality, that disturbing subtlety, which +constituted Paquita Qita. I plunged.</p> +<p>... I was on the other platform. The rope had held, then: I +remembered nothing of the flight except that I had passed near the +upturned, pleasant face of Valdès.</p> +<p>The band stopped. The lights of the hall were lowered. All was +dark. I switched on my dazzling blue light; Sally switched on her +red one. I stood ready. The rope could not possibly endure a second +strain. I waved to Sally and signalled to the conductor. The world +was to lose Paquita. The drum began its formidable roll. Whirrr! I +plunged, and saw the red star rushing towards me. I snatched it and +soared upwards. The blue rope seemed to tremble. As I came near the +platform at decreasing speed, it seemed to stretch like elastic. It +broke! The platform <a name='Page253' id="Page253"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>253</span> jumped up suddenly over my head, but I caught +at the silk ladder. I was saved! There was a fearful silence, and +then the appalling shock of hysterical applause from seven thousand +throats. I slid down the ladder, ran across the stage into my +dressing-room for a cloak, out again into the street. In two days I +was in Buda-Pesth.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page257' id="Page257"></a><span class='pagenum'>257</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='NOCTURNE_AT_THE_MAJESTIC' id= +"NOCTURNE_AT_THE_MAJESTIC"></a> +NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC</h3> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>In the daily strenuous life of a great hotel there are periods +during which its bewildering activities slacken, and the vast +organism seems to be under the influence of an opiate. Such a +period recurs after dinner when the guests are preoccupied by the +mysterious processes of digestion in the drawing-rooms or +smoking-rooms or in the stalls of a theatre. On the evening of this +nocturne the well-known circular entrance-hall of the Majestic, +with its tessellated pavement, its malachite pillars, its Persian +rugs, its lounges, and its renowned stuffed bears at the foot of +the grand stairway, was for the moment deserted, save by the head +hall-porter and the head night-porter and the girl in the bureau. +It was a quarter to nine, and the head hall-porter was abdicating +his <a name='Page258' id="Page258"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>258</span> pagoda to the head night-porter, and telling +him the necessary secrets of the day. These two lords, before whom +the motley panorama of human existence was continually being +enrolled, held a portentous confabulation night and morning. They +had no illusions; they knew life. Shakespeare himself might have +listened to them with advantage.</p> +<p>The girl in the bureau, like a beautiful and languishing animal +in its cage, leaned against her window, and looked between two +pillars at the magnificent lords. She was too far off to catch +their talk, and, indeed, she watched them absently in a reverie +induced by the sweet melancholy of the summer twilight, by the +torpidity of the hour, and by the prospect of the next day, which +was her day off. The liveried functionaries ignored her, probably +scorned her as a mere pretty little morsel. Nevertheless, she was +the centre of energy, not they. If money were payable, she was the +person to receive it; if a customer wanted a room, she would choose +it; and the lords had to call her 'miss.' The immense and splendid +hotel pulsed round this simple heart hidden under a white blouse. +Especially in summer, <a name='Page259' id= +"Page259"></a><span class='pagenum'>259</span> her presence and the +presence of her companions in the bureau (but to-night she was +alone) ministered to the satisfaction of male guests, whose cruel +but profoundly human instincts found pleasure in the fact that, no +matter when they came in from their wanderings, the pretty captives +were always there in the bureau, smiling welcome, puzzling stupid +little brains and puckering pale brows over enormous ledgers, +twittering borrowed facetiousness from rosy mouths, and smoothing +out seductive toilettes with long thin hands that were made for +ring and bracelet and rudder-lines, and not a bit for the pen and +the ruler.</p> +<p>The pretty little thing despised of the functionaries +corresponded almost exactly in appearance to the typical bureau +girl. She was moderately tall; she had a good slim figure, all +pleasant curves, flaxen hair and plenty of it, and a dainty, rather +expressionless face; the ears and mouth were very small, the eyes +large and blue, the nose so-so, the cheeks and forehead of an equal +ivory pallor, the chin trifling, with a crease under the lower lip +and a rich convexity springing out from below the crease. The +extremities of the full lips were <a name='Page260' id= +"Page260"></a><span class='pagenum'>260</span> nearly always drawn +up in a smile, mechanical, but infallibly attractive. The hair was +of an orthodox frizziness. You would have said she was a nice, +kind, good-natured girl, flirtatious but correct, well adapted to +adorn a dogcart on Sundays.</p> +<p>This was Nina, foolish Nina, aged twenty-one. In her reverie the +entire Hôtel Majestic weighed on her; she had a more than +adequate sense of her own solitary importance in the bureau, and +stirring obscurely beneath that consciousness were the deep +ineradicable longings of a poor pretty girl for heaps of money, +endless luxury of finery and chocolates, and sentimental silken +dalliance.</p> +<p>Suddenly a stranger entered the hall. His advent seemed to wake +the place out of the trance into which it had fallen. The nocturne +had begun. Nina straightened herself and intensified her eternal +smile. The two porters became military, and smiled with a special +and peculiar urbanity. Several lesser but still lordly +functionaries appeared among the pillars; a page-boy emerged by +magic from the region of the chimney-piece like Mephistopheles in +Faust's study; and some guests of both sexes <a name='Page261' id= +"Page261"></a><span class='pagenum'>261</span> strolled chattering +across the tessellated pavement as they passed from one wing of the +hotel to the other.</p> +<p>'How do, Tom?' said the stranger, grasping the hand of the head +hall-porter, and nodding to the head night-porter.</p> +<p>His voice showed that he was an American, and his demeanour that +he was one of those experienced, wealthy, and kindly travellers who +know the Christian names of all the hall-porters in the world, and +have the trick of securing their intimacy and fealty. He wore a +blue suit and a light gray wideawake, and his fine moustache was +grizzled. In his left hand he carried a brown bag.</p> +<p>'Nicely, thank you, sir,' Tom replied. 'How are you, sir?'</p> +<p>'Oh, about six and six.'</p> +<p>Whereupon both porters laughed heartily.</p> +<p>Tom escorted him to the bureau, and tried to relieve him of his +bag. Inferior lords escorted Tom.</p> +<p>'I guess I'll keep the grip,' said the stranger. 'Mr. Pank will +be around with some more baggage pretty soon. We've expressed the +rest on to the steamer. Well, my dear,' he went <a name='Page262' id="Page262"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>262</span> on, turning to +Nina, 'you're a fresh face here.'</p> +<p>He looked her steadily in the eyes.</p> +<p>'Yes, I am,' she said, conquered instantly.</p> +<p>Radiant and triumphant, the man brought good-humour into every +face, like some wonderful combination of the sun and the +sea-breeze.</p> +<p>'Give me two bedrooms and a parlour, please,' he commanded.</p> +<p>'First floor?' asked Nina prettily.</p> +<p>'First floor! Well—I should say! <i>And</i> on the Strand, +my dear.'</p> +<p>She bent over her ledgers, blushing.</p> +<p>'Send someone to the 'phone, Tom, and let 'em put me on to the +Regency, will you?' said the stranger.</p> +<p>'Yes, sir. Samuels, go and ring up the Regency +Theatre—quick!'</p> +<p>Swift departure of a lord.</p> +<p>'And ask Alphonse to come up to my bedroom in ten minutes from +now,' the stranger proceeded to Tom. 'I shall want a dandy supper +for fourteen at a quarter after eleven.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir. No dinner, sir?'</p> +<p><a name='Page263' id="Page263"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>263</span> 'No; we dined on the Pullman. Well, my dear, +figured it out yet?'</p> +<p>'Numbers 102, 120, and 107,' said Nina.</p> +<p>'Keys 102, 120, and 107,' said Tom.</p> +<p>Swift departure of another lord to the pagoda.</p> +<p>'How much?' demanded the stranger.</p> +<p>'The bedrooms are twenty-five shillings, and the sitting-room +two guineas.'</p> +<p>'I guess Mr. Pank won't mind that. Hullo, Pank, you're here! I'm +through. Your number's 102 or 120, which you fancy. Just going to +the 'phone a minute, and then I'll join you upstairs.'</p> +<p>Mr. Pank was a younger man, possessing a thin, astute, +intellectual face. He walked into the hall with noticeable +deliberation. His travelling costume was faultless, but from +beneath his straw hat his black hair sprouted in a somewhat +peculiar fashion over his broad forehead. He smiled lazily and +shrewdly, and without a word disappeared into a lift. Two large +portmanteaus accompanied him.</p> +<p>Presently the elder stranger could be heard battling with the +obstinate idiosyncrasies of a London telephone.</p> +<p><a name='Page264' id="Page264"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>264</span> 'You haven't registered,' Nina called to him +in her tremulous, delicate, captivating voice, as he came out of +the telephone-box.</p> +<p>He advanced to sign, and, taking a pen and leaning on the front +of the bureau, wrote in the visitor's book, in a careful, legible +hand: 'Lionel Belmont, New York.' Having thus written, and still +resting on the right elbow, he raised his right hand a little and +waved the pen like a delicious menace at Nina.</p> +<p>'Mr. Pank hasn't registered, either,' he said slowly, with a +charming affectation of solemnity, as though accusing Mr. Pank of +some appalling crime.</p> +<p>Nina laughed timidly as she pushed his room-ticket across the +page of the big book. She thought that Mr. Lionel Belmont was +perfectly delightful.</p> +<p>'No,' he hasn't,' she said, trying also to be arch; 'but he +must.'</p> +<p>At that moment she happened to glance at the right hand of Mr. +Belmont. In the brilliance of the electric light she could see the +fair skin of the wrist and forearm within the whiteness of his +shirt-sleeve. She stared at what she saw, every muscle tense.</p> +<p><a name='Page265' id="Page265"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>265</span> 'I guess you can round up Mr. Pank yourself, +my dear, later on,' said Lionel Belmont, and turned quickly away, +intent on the next thing.</p> +<p>He did not notice that her large eyes had grown larger and her +pale face paler. In another moment the hall was deserted again. Mr. +Belmont had ascended in the lift, Tom had gone to his rest, and the +head night-porter was concealed in the pagoda. Nina sank down +limply on her stool, her nostrils twitching; she feared she was +about to faint, but this final calamity did not occur. She had, +nevertheless, experienced the greatest shock of her brief life, and +the way of it was thus.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>Nina Malpas was born amid the embers of one of those fiery +conjugal dramas which occur with romantic frequency in the +provincial towns of the northern Midlands, where industrial +conditions are such as to foster an independent spirit among women +of the lower class generally, and where by long tradition +'character' is allowed to exploit itself more <a name='Page266' id= +"Page266"></a><span class='pagenum'>266</span> freely than in the +southern parts of our island. Lemuel Malpas was a dashing young +commercial traveller, with what is known as 'an agreeable address,' +in Bursley, one of the Five Towns, Staffordshire. On the strength +of his dash he wooed and married the daughter of an hotel-keeper in +the neighbouring town of Hanbridge. Six months after the +wedding—in other words, at the most dangerous period of the +connubial career—Mrs. Malpas's father died, and Mrs. Malpas +became the absolute mistress of eight thousand pounds. +Lemuel<a name='FNanchor_1_1' id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href= +'#Footnote_1_1'><sup>[1]</sup></a> had carefully foreseen this +windfall, and wished to use the money in enterprises of the +earthenware trade. Mrs. Malpas, pretty and vivacious, with a +self-conceit hardened by the adulation of saloon-bars, very +decidedly thought otherwise. Her motto was, 'What's yours is mine, +but what's mine's my own.' The difference was accentuated. Long +mutual resistances were followed by reconciliations, which grew +more and more transitory, and at length both recognised that the +union, not founded on genuine affection, had been a mistake.</p> +<div class='footnote'> +<p><a name='Footnote_1_1' id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href= +'#FNanchor_1_1'>[1]</a> This name is pronounced with the accent on +the first syllable in the Five Towns.</p> +</div> + +<p><a name='Page267' id="Page267"></a><span class='pagenum'>267</span> +'Keep your d——d brass!' Lemuel exclaimed one +morning, and he went off on a journey and forgot to come back. A +curious letter dated from Liverpool wished his wife happiness, and +informed her that, since she was well provided for, he had no +scruples about leaving her. Mrs. Malpas was startled at first, but +she soon perceived that what Lemuel had done was exactly what the +brilliant and enterprising Lemuel might have been expected to do. +She jerked up her doll's head, and ejaculated, 'So much the +better!'</p> +<p>A few weeks later she sold the furniture and took rooms in +Scarborough, where, amid pleasurable surroundings, she determined +to lead the joyous life of a grass-widow, free of all cares. Then, +to her astonishment and disgust, Nina was born. She had not +bargained for Nina. She found herself in the tiresome position of a +mother whose explanations of her child lack plausibility. One +lodging-housekeeper to whom she hazarded the statement that Lemuel +was in Australia had saucily replied: 'I thought maybe it was the +North Pole he was gone to!'</p> +<p>This decided Mrs. Malpas. She returned <a name='Page268' id= +"Page268"></a><span class='pagenum'>268</span> suddenly to the Five +Towns, where at least her reputation was secure. Only a week +previously Lemuel had learnt indirectly that she had left their +native district. He determined thenceforward to forget her +completely. Mrs. Malpas's prettiness was of the fleeting sort. +After Nina's birth she began to get stout and coarse, and the +nostalgia of the saloon-bar, the coffee-room, and the sanded +portico overtook her. The Tiger at Bursley was for sale, a +respectable commercial hotel, the best in the town. She purchased +it, wines, omnibus connection, and all, and developed into the +typical landlady in black silk and gold rings.</p> +<p>In the Tiger Nina was brought up. She was a pretty child from +her earliest years, and received the caresses of all as a matter of +course. She went to a good school, studied the piano, and learnt +dancing, and at sixteen did her hair up. She did as she was told +without fuss, being apparently of a lethargic temperament; she had +all the money and all the clothes that her heart could desire; she +was happy, and in a quiet way she deemed herself a rather +considerable item in the world. When she was eighteen her mother +died miserably of cancer, <a name='Page269' id= +"Page269"></a><span class='pagenum'>269</span> and it was +discovered that the liabilities of Mrs. Malpas's estate exceeded +its assets—and the Tiger mortgaged up to its value! The +creditors were not angry; they attributed the state of affairs to +illness and the absence of male control, and good-humouredly +accepted what they could get. None the less, Nina, the child of +luxury and sloth, had to start life with several hundreds of pounds +less than nothing. Of her father all trace had been long since +lost. A place was found for her, and for over two years she saw the +world from the office of a famous hotel in Doncaster. Her lethargy, +and an invaluable gift of adapting herself to circumstances, saved +her from any acute unhappiness in the Yorkshire town. Instinctively +she ceased to remember the Tiger and past splendours. (Equally, if +she had married a Duke instead of becoming a book-keeper, she would +have ceased to remember the Tiger and past humility.) Then by good +or ill fortune she had the offer of a situation at the Hôtel +Majestic, Strand, London. The Majestic and the sights thereof woke +up the sleeping soul.</p> +<p>Before her death Mrs. Malpas had told Nina many things about the +vanished Lemuel; <a name='Page270' id="Page270"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>270</span> among others, the curious detail that he had +two small moles—one hairless, the other hirsute—close +together on the under side of his right wrist. Nina had seen +precisely such marks of identification on the right wrist of Mr. +Lionel Belmont.</p> +<p>She was convinced that Lionel Belmont was her father. There +could not be two men in the world so stamped by nature. She +perceived that in changing his name he had chosen Lionel because of +its similarity to Lemuel. She felt certain, too, that she had +noticed vestiges of the Five Towns accent beneath his Americanisms. +But apart from these reasons, she knew by a superrational instinct +that Lionel Belmont was her father; it was not the call of blood, +but the positiveness of a woman asserting that a thing is so +because she is sure it is so.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>Nina was not of an imaginative disposition. The romance of this +extraordinary encounter made no appeal to her. She was the sort of +girl that constantly reads novelettes, and yet always, with +fatigued scorn, refers to them as <a name='Page271' id= +"Page271"></a><span class='pagenum'>271</span> 'silly.' Stupid +little Nina was intensely practical at heart, and it was the +practical side of her father's reappearance that engaged her +birdlike mind. She did not stop to reflect that truth is stranger +than fiction. Her tiny heart was not agitated by any ecstatic +ponderings upon the wonder and mystery of fate. She did not feel +strangely drawn towards Lionel Belmont, nor did she feel that he +supplied a something which had always been wanting to her.</p> +<p>On the other hand, her pride—and Nina was very +proud—found much satisfaction in the fact that her father, +having turned up, was so fine, handsome, dashing, good-humoured, +and wealthy. It was well, and excellently well, and delicious, to +have a father like that. The possession of such a father opened up +vistas of a future so enticing and glorious that her present career +became instantly loathsome to her.</p> +<p>It suddenly seemed impossible that she could have tolerated the +existence of a hotel clerk for a single week. Her eyes were opened, +and she saw, as many women have seen, that luxury was an absolute +necessity to her. All her ideas soared with the magic swiftness of +the bean-stalk. <a name='Page272' id="Page272"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>272</span> And at the same time she was terribly afraid, +unaccountably afraid, to confront Mr. Belmont and tell him that she +was his Nina; he was entirely unaware that he had a Nina.</p> +<p>'I'm your daughter! I know by your moles!'</p> +<p>She whispered the words in her tiny heart, and felt sure that +she could never find courage to say them aloud to that great and +important man. The announcement would be too monstrous, incredible, +and absurd. People would laugh. He would laugh. And Nina could +stand anything better than being laughed at. Even supposing she +proved to him his paternity—she thought of the horridness of +going to lawyers' offices—he might decline to recognise her. +Or he might throw her fifty pounds a year, as one throws sixpence +to an importunate crossing-sweeper, to be rid of her. The United +States existed in her mind chiefly as a country of +highly-remarkable divorce laws, and she thought that Mr. Belmont +might have married again. A fashionable and arrogant Mrs. Belmont, +and a dazzling Miss Belmont, aged possibly eighteen, might arrive, +both of them <a name='Page273' id="Page273"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>273</span> steeped in all conceivable luxury, at any +moment. Where would Nina be then, with her +two-and-eleven-pence-halfpenny blouse from Glave's?...</p> +<p>Mr. Belmont, accompanied by Alphonse, the head-waiter in the +<i>salle à manger</i>, descended in the lift and crossed the +hall to the portico, where he stood talking for a few seconds. Mr. +Belmont turned, and, as he conversed with Alphonse, gazed absently +in the direction of the bureau. He looked straight through the +pretty captive. After all, despite his superficial heartiness, she +could be nothing to him—so rich, assertive, and truly +important. A hansom was called for him, and he departed; she +observed that he was in evening dress now.</p> +<p>No! Her cause was just; but it was too startling—that was +what was the matter with it.</p> +<p>Then she told herself she would write to Lionel Belmont. She +would write a letter that night.</p> +<p>At nine-thirty she was off duty. She went upstairs to her perch +in the roof, and sat on her bed for over two hours. Then she came +<a name='Page274' id="Page274"></a><span class='pagenum'>274</span> +down again to the bureau with some bluish note-paper and envelopes +in her hand, and, in response to the surprised question of the +pink-frocked colleague who had taken her place, she explained that +she wanted to write a letter.</p> +<p>'You do look that bad, Miss Malpas,' said the other girl, who +made a speciality of compassion.</p> +<p>'Do I?' said Nina.</p> +<p>'Yes, you do. What have you got <i>on</i>, <i>now</i>, my poor +dear?'</p> +<p>'What's that to you? I'll thank you to mind your own business, +Miss Bella Perkins.'</p> +<p>Usually Nina was not soon ruffled; but that night all her nerves +were exasperated and exceedingly sensitive.</p> +<p>'Oh!' said the girl. 'What price the Duchess of Doncaster? And I +was just going to wish you a nice day to-morrow for your holiday, +too.'</p> +<p>Nina seated herself at the table to write the letter. An +electric light burned directly over her frizzy head. She wrote a +weak but legible and regular back-hand. She hated writing letters, +partly because she was dubious about <a name='Page275' id= +"Page275"></a><span class='pagenum'>275</span> her spelling, and +partly because of an obscure but irrepressible suspicion that her +letters were of necessity silly. She pondered for a long time, and +then wrote: 'Dear Mr. Belmont,—I venture——' She +made a new start: 'Dear Sir,—I hope you will not think +me——' And a third attempt: 'My dear +Father——' No! it was preposterous. It could no more be +written than it could be said.</p> +<p>The situation was too much for simple Nina.</p> +<p>Suddenly the grand circular hall of the Majestic was filled with +a clamour at once charming and fantastic. There was chattering of +musical, gay American voices, pattering of elegant feet on the +tessellated pavement, the unique incomparable sound of the +<i>frou-frou</i> of many frocks; and above all this the rich tones +of Mr. Lionel Belmont. Nina looked up and saw her radiant father +the centre of a group of girls all young, all beautiful, all +stylish, all with picture hats, all self-possessed, all sparkling, +doubtless the recipients of the dandy supper.</p> +<p>Oh, how insignificant and homicidal Nina felt!</p> +<p>'Thirteen of you!' exclaimed Lionel Belmont, <a name='Page276' id="Page276"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>276</span> pulling his +superb moustache. 'Two to a hansom. I guess I'll want six and a +half hansoms, boy.'</p> +<p>There was an explosion of delicious laughter, and the page-boy +grinned, ran off, and began whistling in the portico like a vexed +locomotive. The thirteen fair, shepherded by Lionel Belmont, passed +out into the murmurous summer night of the Strand. Cab after cab +drove up, and Nina saw that her father, after filling each cab, +paid each cabman. In three minutes the dream-like scene was over. +Mr. Belmont re-entered the hotel, winked humorously at the occupant +of the pagoda, ignored the bureau, and departed to his rooms.</p> +<p>Nina ripped her inchoate letters into small pieces, and, with a +tart good-night to Miss Bella Perkins, who was closing her ledgers, +the hour being close upon twelve-thirty, she passed sedately, +stiffly, as though in performance of some vestal's ritual, up the +grand staircase. Turning to the right at the first landing, she +traversed a long corridor which was no part of the route to her +cubicle on the ninth floor. This corridor was lighted by glowing +sparks, which hung on yellow cords from the central <a name= +'Page277' id="Page277"></a><span class='pagenum'>277</span> line of +the ceiling; underfoot was a heavy but narrow crimson patterned +carpet with a strip of polished oak parquet on either side of it. +Exactly along the central line of the carpet Nina tripped, +languorously, like an automaton, and exactly over her head +glittered the line of electric sparks. The corridor and the journey +seemed to be interminable, and Nina on some inscrutable and mystic +errand. At length she moved aside from the religious line, went +into a service cabinet, and emerged with a small bunch of +pass-keys. No. 107 was Lionel Belmont's sitting-room; No. 102, his +bedroom, was opposite to 107. No. 108, another sitting-room, was, +as Nina knew, unoccupied. She noiselessly let herself into No. 108, +closed the door, and stood still. After a minute she switched on +the light. These two rooms, Nos. 108 and 107, had once +communicated, but, as space grew precious with the growing success +of the Majestic, they had been finally separated, and the door +between them locked and masked by furniture. By reason of the door, +Nina could hear Lionel Belmont moving to and fro in No. 107. She +listened a long time. Then, involuntarily, she yawned with +fatigue.</p> +<p><a name='Page278' id="Page278"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>278</span> 'How silly of me to be here!' she thought. +'What good will this do me?'</p> +<p>She extinguished the light and opened the door to leave. At the +same instant the door of No. 107, three feet off, opened. She drew +back with a start of horror. Suppose she had collided with her +father on the landing! Timorously she peeped out, and saw Lionel +Belmont, in his shirt-sleeves, disappear round the corner.</p> +<p>'He is going to talk with his friend Mr. Pank,' Nina thought, +knowing that No. 120 lay at some little distance round that +corner.</p> +<p>Mr. Belmont had left the door of No. 107 slightly ajar. An +unseen and terrifying force compelled Nina to venture into the +corridor, and then to push the door of No. 107 wide open. The same +force, not at all herself, quite beyond herself, seemed to impel +her by the shoulders into the room. As she stood unmistakably +within her father's private sitting-room, scared, breathing +rapidly, inquisitive, she said to herself:</p> +<p>'I shall hear him coming back, and I can run out before he turns +the corner of the corridor.' And she kept her little pink ears +alert.</p> +<p><a name='Page279' id="Page279"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>279</span> She looked about the softly brilliant room, +such an extravagant triumph of luxurious comfort as twenty years +ago would have aroused comment even in Mayfair; but there were +scores of similar rooms in the Majestic. No one thought twice of +them. Her father's dress-coat was thrown arrogantly over a Louis +Quatorze chair, and this careless flinging of the expensive shining +coat across the gilded chair somehow gave Nina a more intimate +appreciation of her father's grandeur and of the great and glorious +life he led. She longed to recline indolently in a priceless +tea-gown on the couch by the fireplace and issue orders.... She +approached the writing-table, littered with papers, documents, in +scores and hundreds. To the left was the brown bag. It was locked, +and very heavy, she thought. To the right was a pile of telegrams. +She picked up one, and read:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'<i>Pank, Grand Hotel, Birmingham. Why not burgle hotel? +Simplest most effective plan and solves all +difficulties.</i>—BELMONT.'</p> +</div> +<p>She read it twice, crunched it in her left hand, and picked up +another one:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p><a name='Page280' id="Page280"></a><span class='pagenum'>280</span> +'<i>Pank, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. Your objection absurd. See +safe in bureau at Majestic. Quite easy. Scene with girl second +evening</i>.—BELMONT.'</p> +</div> +<p>The thing flashed blindingly upon her. Her father and Mr. Pank +belonged to the swell mob of which she had heard and seen so much +at Doncaster. She at once became the excessively knowing and +suspicious hotel employé, to whom every stranger is a rogue +until he has proved the contrary. Had she lived through three St. +Leger weeks for nothing? At the hotel at Doncaster, what they +didn't know about thieves and sharpers was not knowledge. The +landlord kept a loaded revolver in his desk there during the week. +And she herself had been provided with a whistle which she was to +blow at the slightest sign of a row; she had blown it once, and +seven policemen had appeared within thirty seconds. The landlord +used to tell tales of masterly and huge scoundrelism that would +make Charles Peace turn in his grave. And the landlord had ever +insisted that no one, no one at all, could always distinguish with +certainty between a real gent and a swell-mobsman.</p> +<p><a name='Page281' id="Page281"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>281</span> So her father and Mr. Pank had deceived +everyone in the hotel except herself, and they meant to rob the +safe in the bureau to-morrow night. Of course Mr. Lionel Belmont +was a villain, or he would not have deserted her poor dear mother; +it was annoying, but indubitable.... Even now he was maturing his +plans round the corner with that Mr. Pank.... Burglars always went +about in shirt-sleeves.... The brown bag contained the +tools....</p> +<p>The shock was frightful, disastrous, tragic; but it had solved +the situation by destroying it. Practically, Nina no longer had a +father. He had existed for about four hours as a magnificent +reality, full of possibilities; he now ceased to be +recognisable.</p> +<p>She was about to pick up a third telegram when a slight noise +caused her to turn swiftly; she had forgotten to keep her little +pink ears alert. Her father stood in the doorway. He was certainly +the victim of some extraordinary emotion; his face worked; he +seemed at a loss what to do or say; he seemed pained, confused, +even astounded. Simple, foolish Nina had upset the balance of his +equations.</p> +<p>Then he resumed his self-control and came <a name='Page282' id= +"Page282"></a><span class='pagenum'>282</span> forward into the +room with a smile intended to be airy. Meanwhile Nina had not +moved. One is inclined to pity the artless and defenceless girl in +this midnight duel of wits with a shrewd, resourceful, and +unscrupulous man of the world. But one's pity should not be +lavished on an undeserving object. Though Nina trembled, she was +mistress of herself. She knew just where she was, and just how to +behave. She was as impregnable as Gibraltar.</p> +<p>'Well,' said Mr. Lionel Belmont, genially gazing at her pose, +'you do put snap into it, any way.'</p> +<p>'Into what?' she was about to inquire, but prudently she held +her tongue. Drawing, herself up with the gesture of an offended and +unapproachable queen, the little thing sailed past him, close past +her own father, and so out of the room.</p> +<p>'Say!' she heard him remark: 'let's straighten this thing out, +eh?'</p> +<p>But she heroically ignored him, thinking the while that, with +all his sins, he was attractive enough. She still held the first +telegram in her long, thin fingers.</p> +<p>So ended the nocturne.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page283' id="Page283"></a><span class='pagenum'>283</span></p> +<h4> +IV</h4> +<p>At five o'clock the next morning Nina's trifling nose was +pressed against the windowpane of her cubicle. In the enormous +slate roof of the Majestic are three rows of round windows, like +port-holes. Out of the highest one, at the extremity of the left +wing, Nina looked. From thence she could see five other vast +hotels, and the yard of Charing Cross Station, with three +night-cabs drawn up to the kerb, and a red van of W.H. Smith and +Son disappearing into the station. The Strand was quite empty. It +was a strange world of sleep and grayness and disillusion. Within a +couple of hundred yards or so of her thousands of people lay +asleep, and they would all soon wake into the disillusion, and the +Strand would wake, and the first omnibus of all the omnibuses would +come along....</p> +<p>Never had simple Nina felt so sad and weary. She was determined +to give up her father. She was bound to tell the manager of her +discovery, for Nina was an honest servant, and she was piqued in +her honesty. No one should know that Lionel Belmont was her +father.... <a name='Page284' id="Page284"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>284</span> She saw before her the task of forgetting him +and forgetting the rich dreams of which he had been the origin. She +was once more a book-keeper with no prospects.</p> +<p>At eight she saw the manager in the managerial room. Mr. Reuben +was a young Jew, aged about thirty-four, with a cold but +indestructibly polite manner. He was a great man, and knew it; he +had almost invented the Majestic.</p> +<p>She told him her news; it was impossible for foolish Nina to +conceal her righteousness and her sense of her importance.</p> +<p>'Whom did you say, Miss Malpas?' asked Mr. Reuben.</p> +<p>'Mr. Lionel Belmont—at least, that's what he calls +himself.'</p> +<p>'Calls himself, Miss Malpas?'</p> +<p>'Here's one of the telegrams.'</p> +<p>Mr. Reuben read it, looked at little Nina, and smiled; he never +laughed.</p> +<p>'Is it possible, Miss Malpas,' said he, 'that you don't know who +Mr. Belmont and Mr. Pank are?' And then, as she shook her head, he +continued in his impassive, precise way: 'Mr. Belmont is one of the +principal theatrical <a name='Page285' id= +"Page285"></a><span class='pagenum'>285</span> managers in the +United States. Mr. Pank is one of the principal playwrights in the +United States. Mr. Pank's melodrama 'Nebraska' is now being played +at the Regency by Mr. Belmont's own American company. Another of +Mr. Belmont's companies starts shortly for a tour in the provinces +with the musical comedy 'The Dolmenico Doll.' I believe that Mr. +Pank and Mr. Belmont are now writing a new melodrama, and as they +have both been travelling, but not together, I expect that these +telegrams relate to that melodrama. Did you suppose that +safe-burglars wire their plans to each other like this?' He waved +the telegram with a gesture of fatigue.</p> +<p>Silly, ruined Nina made no answer.</p> +<p>'Do you ever read the papers—the <i>Telegraph</i> or the +<i>Mail</i>, Miss Malpas?'</p> +<p>'N-no, sir.'</p> +<p>'You ought to, then you wouldn't be so ignorant and silly. A +hotel-clerk can't know too much. And, by-the-way, what were you +doing in Mr. Belmont's room last night, when you found these +wonderful telegrams?'</p> +<p>'I went there—I went there—to——'</p> +<p>'Don't cry, please, it won't help you. You <a name='Page286' id= +"Page286"></a><span class='pagenum'>286</span> must leave here +to-day. You've been here three weeks, I think. I'll tell Mr. Smith +to pay you your month's wages. You don't know enough for the +Majestic, Miss Malpas. Or perhaps you know too much. I'm sorry. I +had thought you would suit us. Keep straight, that's all I have to +say to you. Go back to Doncaster, or wherever it is you came from. +Leave before five o'clock. That will do.'</p> +<p>With a godlike air, Mr. Reuben swung round his office-chair and +faced his desk. He tried not to perceive that there was a +mysterious quality about this case which he had not quite +understood. Nina tripped piteously out.</p> +<p>In the whole of London Nina had one acquaintance, and an hour or +so later, after drinking some tea, she set forth to visit this +acquaintance. The weight of her own foolishness, fatuity, +silliness, and ignorance was heavy upon her. And, moreover, she had +been told that Mr. Lionel Belmont had already departed back to +America, his luggage being marked for the American Transport +Line.</p> +<p>She was primly walking, the superlative of the miserable, past +the façade of the hotel, <a name='Page287' id= +"Page287"></a><span class='pagenum'>287</span> when someone sprang +out of a cab and spoke to her. And it was Mr. Lionel Belmont.</p> +<p>'Get right into this hansom, Miss Malpas,' he said kindly, 'and +I guess we'll talk it out.'</p> +<p>'Talk what out?' she thought.</p> +<p>But she got in.</p> +<p>'Marble Arch, and go up Regent Street, and don't hurry,' said +Mr. Belmont to the cabman.</p> +<p>'How did he know my name?' she asked herself.</p> +<p>'A hansom's the most private place in London,' he said after a +pause.</p> +<p>It certainly did seem to her very cosy and private, and her +nearness to one of the principal theatrical managers in America was +almost startling. Her white frock, with the black velvet +decorations, touched his gray suit.</p> +<p>'Now,' he said, 'I do wish you'd tell me why you were in my +parlour last night. Honest.'</p> +<p>'What for?' she parried, to gain time.</p> +<p>Should she begin to disclose her identity?</p> +<p>'Because—well, because—oh, look here, <a name= +'Page288' id="Page288"></a><span class='pagenum'>288</span> my +girl, I want to be on very peculiar terms with you. I want to +straighten out everything. You'll be sort of struck, but I'll be +bound to tell you I'm your father. Now, don't faint or +anything.'</p> +<p>'Oh, I knew that!' she gasped. 'I saw the moles on your wrist +when your were registering—mother told me about them. Oh, if +I had only known you knew!'</p> +<p>They looked at one another.</p> +<p>'It was only the day before yesterday I found out I possessed +such a thing as a daughter. I had a kind of fancy to go around to +the old spot. This notion of me having a daughter struck me +considerable, and I concluded to trace her and size her up at +once.' Nina was bound to smile. 'So your poor mother's been dead +three years?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' said Nina.</p> +<p>'Ah! don't let us talk about that. I feel I can't say just the +right thing.... And so you knew me by those pips.' He pulled up his +right sleeve. 'Was that why you came up to my parlour?'</p> +<p>Nina nodded, and Lionel Belmont sighed with relief.</p> +<p><a name='Page289' id="Page289"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>289</span> 'Why didn't you tell me at once, my dear, who +you where?'</p> +<p>'I didn't dare,' she smiled; 'I was afraid. I thought you +wouldn't——'</p> +<p>'Listen,' he said; 'I've wanted someone like you for years, +years, and years. I've got no one to look after——'</p> +<p>'Then why didn't <i>you</i> tell <i>me</i> at once who you +were?' she questioned with adorable pertness.</p> +<p>'Oh!' he laughed; 'how could I—plump like that? When I saw +you first, in the bureau, the stricken image of your mother at your +age, I was nearly down. But I came up all right, didn't I, my dear? +I acted it out well, didn't I?'</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>The hansom was rolling through Hyde Park, and the sunshiny hour +was eleven in June. Nina looked forth on the gay and brilliant +scene: rhododendrons, duchesses, horses, dandies—the +incomparable wealth and splendour of the capital. She took a long +breath, and began to be happy for the rest of her life. She felt +that, despite her plain <a name='Page290' id= +"Page290"></a><span class='pagenum'>290</span> frock, she was in +this picture. Her father had told her that his income was rising on +a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and he would thank her +to spend it. Her father had told her, when she had confessed the +scene with Mr. Reuben and what led to it, that she had grit, and +that the mistake was excusable, and that a girl as pretty as she +was didn't want to be as fly as Mr. Reuben had said. Her father had +told her that he was proud of her, and he had not been so rude as +to laugh at her blunder.</p> +<p>She felt that she was about to enter upon the true and only +vocation of a dainty little morsel—namely, to spend money +earned by other people. She thought less homicidally now of the +thirteen chorus-girls of the previous night.</p> +<p>'Say,' said her father, 'I sail this afternoon for New York, +Nina.'</p> +<p>'They said you'd gone, at the hotel.'</p> +<p>'Only my baggage. The <i>Minnehaha</i> clears at five. I guess I +want you to come along too. On the voyage we'll get acquainted, and +tell each other things.'</p> +<p>'Suppose I say I won't?'</p> +<p><a name='Page291' id="Page291"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>291</span> She spoke despotically, as the pampered +darling should.</p> +<p>'Then I'll wait for the next boat. But it'll be awkward.'</p> +<p>'Then I'll come. But I've got no things.'</p> +<p>He pushed up the trap-door.</p> +<p>'Driver, Bond Street. And get on to yourself, for goodness' sake! +Hurry!'</p> +<p>'You told me not to hurry,' grumbled the cabby.</p> +<p>'And now I tell you to hustle. See?'</p> +<p>'Shall you want me to call myself Belmont?' Nina asked.</p> +<p>'I chose it because it was a fine ten-horse-power name twenty +years ago,' said her father; and she murmured that she liked the +name very much.</p> +<p>As Lionel Belmont the Magnificent paid the cabman, and Nina +walked across the pavement into one of the most famous repositories +of expensive frippery in the world, she thrilled with the +profoundest pleasure her tiny soul was capable of. Foolish, simple +Nina had achieved the <i>nec plus ultra</i> of her languorous +dreams.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page295' id="Page295"></a><span class='pagenum'>295</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='CLARICE_OF_THE_AUTUMN_CONCERTS' id= +"CLARICE_OF_THE_AUTUMN_CONCERTS"></a> +CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS</h3> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>'What did you say your name was?' asked Otto, the famous concert +manager.</p> +<p>'Clara Toft.'</p> +<p>'That won't do,' he said roughly.</p> +<p>'My real proper name is Clarice,' she added, blushing. +'But——'</p> +<p>'That's better, that's better.' His large, dark face smiled +carelessly. 'Clarice—and stick an "e" on to +Toft—Clarice Tofte. Looks like either French or German then. +I'll send you the date. It'll be the second week in September. And +you can come round to the theatre and try the +piano—Bechstein.'</p> +<p>'And what do you think I had better play, Mr. Otto?'</p> +<p>'You must play what you have just played, <a name='Page296' id= +"Page296"></a><span class='pagenum'>296</span> of course. +Tschaikowsky's all the rage just now. Your left hand's very weak, +especially in the last movement. You've got to make more +noise—at my concerts. And see here, Miss Toft, don't you go +and make a fool of me. I believe you have a great future, and I'm +backing my opinion. Don't you go and make a fool of me.'</p> +<p>'I shall play my very best,' she smiled nervously. 'I'm awfully +obliged to you, Mr. Otto.'</p> +<p>'Well,' he said, 'you ought to be.'</p> +<p>At the age of fifteen her father, an earthenware manufacturer, +and the flamboyant Alderman of Turnhill, in the Five Towns, had let +her depart to London to the Royal College of Music. Thence, at +nineteen, she had proceeded to the Conservatoire of Liége. +At twenty-two she could play the great concert pieces—Liszt's +'Rhapsodies Hongroises,' Chopin's Ballade, Op. 47, Beethoven's Op. +111, etc.—in concert style, and she was the wonder of the +Five Towns when she visited Turnhill. But in London she had +obtained neither engagements nor pupils: she had never believed in +herself. She knew of dozens of <a name='Page297' id= +"Page297"></a><span class='pagenum'>297</span> pianists whom she +deemed more brilliant than little, pretty, modest Clara Toft; and +after her father's death and the not surprising revelation of his +true financial condition, she settled with her faded, captious +mother in Turnhill as a teacher of the pianoforte, and did +nicely.</p> +<p>Then, when she was twenty-six, and content in provincialism, she +had met during an August holiday at Llandudno her old fellow pupil, +Albert Barbellion, who was conducting the Pier concerts. Barbellion +had asked her to play at a 'soirée musicale' which he gave +one night in the ball-room of his hotel, and she had performed +Tschaikowsky's immense and lurid Slavonic Sonata; and the +unparalleled Otto, renowned throughout the British Empire for +Otto's Bohemian Autumn Nightly Concerts at Covent Garden Theatre, +had happened to hear her and that seldom played sonata for the +first time. It was a wondrous chance. Otto's large, picturesque, +extempore way of inviting her to appear at his promenade concerts +reminded her of her father.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page298' id="Page298"></a><span class='pagenum'>298</span></p> +<h4> +II</h4> +<p>In the bleak three-cornered artists'-room she could faintly hear +the descending impetuous velocities of the Ride of the Walkyries. +She was waiting in her new yellow dress, waiting painfully. Otto +rushed in, a glass in his hand.</p> +<p>'You all right?' he questioned sharply.</p> +<p>'Oh, yes,' she said, getting up from the cane-chair.</p> +<p>'Let me see you stand on one leg,' he said; and then, because +she hesitated: 'Go on, quick! Stand on one leg. It's a good test.' +So she stood on one leg, foolishly smiling. 'Here, drink this,' he +ordered, and she had to drink brandy-and-soda out of the glass. +'You're better now,' he remarked; and decidedly, though her throat +tingled and she coughed, she felt equal to anything at that +moment.</p> +<p>A stout, middle-aged woman, in a rather shabby opera cloak, +entered the room.</p> +<p>'Ah, Cornelia!' exclaimed Otto grandly.</p> +<p>'My dear Otto!' the woman responded, wrinkling her wonderfully +enamelled cheeks.</p> +<p>'Miss Toft, let me introduce you to <a name='Page299' id= +"Page299"></a><span class='pagenum'>299</span> Madame Lopez.' He +turned to the newcomer. 'Keep her calm for me, bright star, will +you?'</p> +<p>Then Otto went, and Clarice was left alone with the world-famous +operatic soprano, who was advertised to sing that night the Shadow +Song from 'Dinorah.'</p> +<p>'Where did he pick you up, my dear?' the decayed diva inquired +maternally.</p> +<p>Clarice briefly explained.</p> +<p>'You aren't paying him anything, are you?'</p> +<p>'Oh, no!' said Clarice, shocked. 'But I get no fee this +time——'</p> +<p>'Of course not, my dear,' the Lopez cut her short. 'It's all +right so long as you aren't paying him anything to let you go on. +Now run along.'</p> +<p>Clarice's heart stopped. The call-boy, with his cockney twang, +had pronounced her name.</p> +<p>She moved forward, and, by dint of following the call-boy, at +length reached the stage. Applause—good-natured +applause—seemed to roll towards her from the uttermost parts +of the vast auditorium. She realized with a start that this +applause was exclusively for her. She sat down to the piano, and +there ensued a <a name='Page300' id="Page300"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>300</span> death-like silence—a silence broken only +by the striking of matches and the tinkle of the embowered fountain +in front of the stage. She had a consciousness, rather than a +vision, of a floor of thousands of upturned faces below her, and +tier upon tier of faces rising above her and receding to the +illimitable dark distances of the gallery. She heard a door bang, +and perceived that some members of the orchestra were creeping +quietly out at the back. Then she plunged, dizzy, into the sonata, +as into a heaving and profound sea. The huge concert piano +resounded under the onslaught of her broad hands. When she had +played ten bars she knew with an absolute conviction that she would +do justice to her talent. She could see, as it were, the entire +sonata stretched out in detail before her like a road over which +she had to travel....</p> +<p>At the end of the first movement the clapping enheartened her; +she smiled confidently at the conductor, who, unemployed during her +number, sat on a chair under his desk. Before recommencing she +gazed boldly at the house, and certain placards—'Smoking +permitted,' 'Emergency exit,' 'Ices,' and 'Fancy Dress <a name= +'Page301' id="Page301"></a><span class='pagenum'>301</span> +Balls'—were fixed for ever on the retina of her eye. At the +end of the second movement there was more applause, and the +conductor tapped appreciation with his stick against the pillar of +his desk; the leader of the listless orchestra also tapped with his +fiddle-bow and nodded. It seemed to her now that she more and more +dominated the piano, and that she rendered the great finale with +masterful and fierce assurance....</p> +<p>She was pleased with herself as she banged the last massive +chord. And the applause, the clapping, the hammering of sticks, +astounded her, staggered her. She might have died of happiness +while she bowed and bowed again. She ran off the stage triumphant, +and the applause seemed to assail her little figure from all +quarters and overwhelm it. As she stood waiting, concealed behind a +group of palms, it suddenly occurred to her that, after all, she +had underestimated herself. She saw her rosy future as the spoiled +darling of continental capitals. The hail of clapping persisted, +and the apparition of Otto violently waved her to return to the +stage. She returned, bowed her passionate exultation with burning +face and <a name='Page302' id="Page302"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>302</span> trembling knees, and retired. The clapping +continued. Yes, she would be compelled to grant an encore—to +<i>grant</i> one. She would grant it like a honeyed but imperious +queen.</p> +<p>Suddenly she heard the warning tap of the conductor's baton; the +applause was hushed as though by a charm, and the orchestra broke +into the overture to 'Zampa.' She could not understand, she could +not think. As she tripped tragically to the artists'-room in her +new yellow dress she said to herself that the conductor must have +made some mistake, and that——</p> +<p>'Very nice, my dear,' said the Lopez kindly to her. 'You got +quite a call—quite a call.'</p> +<p>She waited for Otto to come and talk to her.</p> +<p>At length the Lopez was summoned, and Clarice followed to listen +to her. And when the Lopez had soared with strong practised flight +through the brilliant intricacy of the Shadow Song, Clarice became +aware what real applause sounded like from the stage. It shook the +stage as the old favourite of two generations, wearing her set +smile, waddled back to the debutante. Scores of voices <a name= +'Page303' id="Page303"></a><span class='pagenum'>303</span> +hoarsely shouted 'Encore!' and 'Last Rose of Summer,' and with a +proud sigh the Lopez went on again, bowing.</p> +<p>Clarice saw nothing more of Otto, who doubtless had other birds +to snare. The next day only three daily papers mentioned the +concert at all. In fact, Otto expected press notices but once a +week. All three papers praised the matchless Lopez in her Shadow +Song. One referred to Clarice as talented; another called her +well-intentioned; the third merely said that she had played. The +short dream of artistic ascendancy lay in fragments around her. She +was a sensible girl, and stamped those iridescent fragments into +dust.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>The <i>Staffordshire Signal</i> contained the following +advertisement: 'Miss Clara Toft, solo pianist, of the Otto Autumn +Concerts, London, will resume lessons on the 1st proximo at Liszt +House, Turnhill. Terms on application.' At thirty Clarice married +James Sillitoe, the pianoforte dealer in Market Square, Turnhill, +and captious old Mrs. Toft formed part of the new <a name='Page304' id="Page304"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>304</span> household. At +thirty-four Clarice possessed a little girl and two little boys, +twins. Sillitoe was a money-maker, and she no longer gave +lessons.</p> +<p>Happy? Perhaps not unhappy.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page307' id="Page307"></a><span class='pagenum'>307</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='A_LETTER_HOME' id="A_LETTER_HOME"></a> +A LETTER HOME<a name='FNanchor_2_2' id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href='#Footnote_2_2'><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</h3> +</div> + +<div class='footnote'> +<p><a name='Footnote_2_2' id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href= +'#FNanchor_2_2'>[2]</a> Written in 1893.</p> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>Rain was falling—it had fallen steadily through the +night—but the sky showed promise of fairer weather. As the +first streaks of dawn appeared, the wind died away, and the young +leaves on the trees were almost silent. The birds were insistently +clamorous, vociferating times without number that it was a healthy +spring morning and good to be alive.</p> +<p>A little, bedraggled crowd stood before the park gates, awaiting +the hour named on the notice board when they would be admitted to +such lodging and shelter as iron seats and overspreading branches +might afford. A weary, patient-eyed, dogged crowd—a dozen +men, a boy of thirteen, and a couple of women, both past middle +age—which had been gathering <a name='Page308' id= +"Page308"></a><span class='pagenum'>308</span> slowly since five +o'clock. The boy appeared to be the least uncomfortable. His feet +were bare, but he had slept well in an area in Grosvenor Place, and +was not very damp yet. The women had nodded on many doorsteps, and +were soaked. They stood apart from the men, who seemed unconscious +of their existence. The men were exactly such as one would have +expected to find there—beery and restless as to the eyes, +quaintly shod, and with nondescript greenish clothes which for the +most part bore traces of the yoke of the sandwich board. Only one +amongst them was different.</p> +<p>He was young, and his cap, and manner of wearing it, gave sign +of the sea. His face showed the rough outlines of his history. Yet +it was a transparently honest face, very pale, but still boyish and +fresh enough to make one wonder by what rapid descent he had +reached his present level. Perhaps the receding chin, the heavy, +pouting lower lip, and the ceaselessly twitching mouth offered a +key to the problem.</p> +<p>'Say, Darkey!' he said.</p> +<p>'Well?'</p> +<p>'How much longer?'</p> +<p><a name='Page309' id="Page309"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>309</span> 'Can't ye see the clock? It's staring ye in +the face.'</p> +<p>'No. Something queer's come over my eyes.'</p> +<p>Darkey was a short, sturdy man, who kept his head down and his +hands deep in his pockets. The raindrops clinging to the rim of an +ancient hat fell every now and then into his gray beard, which +presented a drowned appearance. He was a person of long and varied +experiences; he knew that queer feeling in the eyes, and his heart +softened.</p> +<p>'Come, lean against the pillar,' he said, 'if you don't want to +tumble. Three of brandy's what you want. There's four minutes to +wait yet.'</p> +<p>With body flattened to the masonry, legs apart, and head thrown +back, Darkey's companion felt more secure, and his mercurial +spirits began to revive. He took off his cap, and brushing back his +light brown curly hair with the hand which held it, he looked down +at Darkey through half-closed eyes, the play of his features +divided between a smile and a yawn.</p> +<p>He had a lively sense of humour, and the <a name='Page310' id= +"Page310"></a><span class='pagenum'>310</span> irony of his +situation was not lost on him. He took a grim, ferocious delight in +calling up the might-have-beens and the 'fatuous ineffectual +yesterdays' of life. There is a certain sardonic satisfaction to be +gleaned from a frank recognition of the fact that you are the +architect of your own misfortune. He felt that satisfaction, and +laughed at Darkey, who was one of those who moan about 'ill-luck' +and 'victims of circumstance.'</p> +<p>'No doubt,' he would say, 'you're a very deserving fellow, +Darkey, who's been treated badly. I'm not.'</p> +<p>To have attained such wisdom at twenty-five is not to have lived +altogether in vain.</p> +<p>A park-keeper presently arrived to unlock the gates, and the +band of outcasts straggled indolently towards the nearest sheltered +seats. Some went to sleep at once, in a sitting posture. Darkey +produced a clay pipe, and, charging it with a few shreds of tobacco +laboriously gathered from his waistcoat pocket, began to smoke. He +was accustomed to this sort of thing, and with a pipe in his mouth +could contrive to be moderately philosophical upon occasion. He +looked curiously at his companion, <a name='Page311' id= +"Page311"></a><span class='pagenum'>311</span> who lay stretched at +full length on another bench.</p> +<p>'I say, pal,' he remarked, 'I've known ye two days; ye've never +told me yer name, and I don't ask ye to. But I see ye've not slep' +in a park before.'</p> +<p>'You hit it, Darkey; but how?'</p> +<p>'Well, if the keeper catches ye lying down, he'll be on to ye. +Lying down's not allowed.'</p> +<p>The man raised himself on his elbow.</p> +<p>'Really now,' he said; 'that's interesting. But I think I'll +give the keeper the opportunity of moving me. Why, it's quite fine, +the sun's coming out, and the sparrows are hopping +round—cheeky little devils! I'm not sure that I don't feel +jolly.'</p> +<p>'I wish I'd got the price of a pint about me,' sighed Darkey, +and the other man dropped his head and appeared to sleep. Then +Darkey dozed a little, and heard in his waking sleep the heavy, +crunching tread of an approaching park-keeper; he started up to +warn his companion, but thought better of it, and closed his eyes +again.</p> +<p>'Now then, there,' the park-keeper shouted to the man with the +sailor's cap, 'get up! <a name='Page312' id= +"Page312"></a><span class='pagenum'>312</span> This ain't a +fourpenny doss, you know. No lying down.'</p> +<p>A rough shake accompanied the words, and the man sat up.</p> +<p>'All right, my friend.'</p> +<p>The keeper, who was a good-humoured man, passed on without +further objurgation.</p> +<p>The face of the younger man had grown whiter.</p> +<p>'Look here, Darkey,' he said, 'I believe I'm done for.'</p> +<p>'Never say die.'</p> +<p>'No, just die without speaking.'</p> +<p>His head fell forward and his eyes closed.</p> +<p>'At any rate, this is better than some deaths I've seen,' he +began again with a strange accession of liveliness. 'Darkey, did I +tell you the story of the five Japanese girls?'</p> +<p>'What, in Suez Bay?' said Darkey, who had heard many sea-stories +during the last two days, and recollected them but hazily.</p> +<p>'No, man. This was at Nagasaki. We were taking in a cargo of +coal for Hong Kong. Hundreds of little Jap girls pass the coal from +hand to hand over the ship's side in tiny baskets that hold about a +plateful. In that way you <a name='Page313' id= +"Page313"></a><span class='pagenum'>313</span> can get three +thousand tons aboard in two days.'</p> +<p>'Talking of platefuls reminds me of sausage and mash,' said +Darkey.</p> +<p>'Don't interrupt. Well, five of these gay little dolls wanted to +go to Hong Kong, and they arranged with the Chinese sailors to stow +away; I believe their friends paid those cold-blooded fiends +something to pass them down food on the voyage, and give them an +airing at nights. We had a particularly lively trip, battened +everything down tight, and scarcely uncovered till we got into +port. Then I and another man found those five girls among the +coal.'</p> +<p>'Dead, eh?'</p> +<p>'They'd simply torn themselves to pieces. Their bits of frock +things were in strips, and they were scratched deep from top to +toe. The Chinese had never troubled their heads about them at all, +although they must have known it meant death. You may bet there was +a row. The Japanese authorities make you search ship before +sailing, now.'</p> +<p>'Well?'</p> +<p>'Well, I shan't die like that. That's all.'</p> +<p><a name='Page314' id="Page314"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>314</span> He stretched himself out once more, and for +ten minutes neither spoke. The park-keeper strolled up again.</p> +<p>'Get up, there!' he said shortly and gruffly.</p> +<p>'Up ye get, mate,' added Darkey, but the man on the bench did +not stir. One look at his face sufficed to startle the keeper, and +presently two policemen were wheeling an ambulance cart to the +hospital. Darkey followed, gave such information as he could, and +then went his own ways.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>In the afternoon the patient regained full consciousness. His +eyes wandered vacantly about the illimitable ward, with its rows of +beds stretching away on either side of him. A woman with a white +cap, a white apron, and white wristbands bent over him, and he felt +something gratefully warm passing down his throat. For just one +second he was happy. Then his memory returned, and the nurse saw +that he was crying. When he caught the nurse's eye he ceased, and +looked steadily at the distant ceiling.</p> +<p><a name='Page315' id="Page315"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>315</span> 'You're better?'</p> +<p>'Yes.'</p> +<p>He tried to speak boldly, decisively, nonchalantly. He was +filled with a sense of physical shame, the shame which bodily +helplessness always experiences in the presence of arrogant, +patronizing health. He would have got up and walked briskly away if +he could. He hated to be waited on, to be humoured, to be examined +and theorized about. This woman would be wanting to feel his pulse. +She should not; he would turn cantankerous. No doubt they had been +saying to each other, 'And so young, too! How sad!' Confound +them!</p> +<p>'Have you any friends that you would like to send for?'</p> +<p>'No, none.'</p> +<p>The girl—she was only a girl—looked at him, and +there was that in her eye which overcame him.</p> +<p>'None at all?'</p> +<p>'Not that I want to see.'</p> +<p>'Are your parents alive?'</p> +<p>'My mother is, but she lives away in the Five Towns.'</p> +<p><a name='Page316' id="Page316"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>316</span> 'You've not seen her lately, perhaps?'</p> +<p>He did not reply, and the nurse spoke again, but her voice +sounded indistinct and far off.</p> +<p>When he awoke it was night. At the other end of the ward was a +long table covered with a white cloth, and on this table a +lamp.</p> +<p>In the ring of light under the lamp was an open book, an +inkstand and a pen. A nurse—not <i>his</i> nurse—was +standing by the table, her fingers idly drumming the cloth, and +near her a man in evening dress. Perhaps a doctor. They were +conversing in low tones. In the middle of the ward was an open +stove, and the restless flames were reflected in all the brass +knobs of the bedsteads and in some shining metal balls which hung +from an unlighted chandelier. His part of the ward was almost in +darkness. A confused, subdued murmur of little coughs, breathings, +rustlings, was continually audible, and sometimes it rose above the +conversation at the table. He noticed all these things. He became +conscious, too, of a strangely familiar smell. What was it? Ah, +yes! Acetic acid; his mother used it for her rheumatics.</p> +<p><a name='Page317' id="Page317"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>317</span> Suddenly, magically, a great longing came over +him. He must see his mother, or his brothers, or his little +sister—someone who knew him, someone who <i>belonged</i> to +him. He could have cried out in his desire. This one thought +consumed all his faculties. If his mother could but walk in just +now through that doorway! If only old Spot even could amble up to +him, tongue out and tail furiously wagging! He tried to sit up, and +he could not move! Then despair settled on him, and weighed him +down. He closed his eyes.</p> +<p>The doctor and the nurse came slowly up the ward, pausing here +and there. They stopped before his bed, and he held his breath.</p> +<p>'Not roused up again, I suppose?'</p> +<p>'No.'</p> +<p>'H'm! He may flicker on for forty-eight hours. Not more.'</p> +<p>They went on, and with a sigh of relief he opened his eyes +again. The doctor shook hands with the nurse, who returned to the +table and sat down.</p> +<p>Death! The end of all this! Yes, it was coming. He felt it. His +had been one of <a name='Page318' id="Page318"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>318</span> those wasted lives of which he used to read in +books. How strange! Almost amusing! He was one of those sons who +bring sorrow and shame into a family. Again, how strange! What a +coincidence that he—just <i>he</i> and not the man in the +next bed—should be one of those rare, legendary +good-for-nothings who go recklessly to ruin. And yet, he was sure +that he was not such a bad fellow after all. Only somehow he had +been careless. Yes, careless; that was the word ... nothing +worse.... As to death, he was indifferent. Remembering his father's +death, he reflected that it was probably less disturbing to die +one's self than to watch another pass.</p> +<p>He smelt the acetic acid once more, and his thoughts reverted to +his mother. Poor mother! No, great mother! The grandeur of her +life's struggle filled him with a sense of awe. Strange that until +that moment he had never seen the heroic side of her humdrum, +commonplace existence! He must write to her, now, at once, before +it was too late. His letter would trouble her, add another wrinkle +to her face, but he must write; she must know that he had been +thinking of her.</p> +<p><a name='Page319' id="Page319"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>319</span> 'Nurse!' he cried out, in a thin, weak +voice.</p> +<p>'Ssh!'</p> +<p>She was by his side directly, but not before he had lost +consciousness again.</p> +<p>The following morning he managed with infinite labour to scrawl +a few lines:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'DEAR MAMMA,</p> +<p>'You will be surprised but not glad to get this letter. I'm done +for, and you will never see me again. I'm sorry for what I've done, +and how I've treated you, but it's no use saying anything now. If +Pater had only lived he might have kept me in order. But you were +too kind, you know. You've had a hard struggle these last six +years, and I hope Arthur and Dick will stand by you better than I +did, now they are growing up. Give them my love, and kiss little +Fannie for me.</p> +<p>'WILLIE.</p> +<p>'<i>Mrs. Hancock</i>——'</p> +</div> +<p>He got no further with the address.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page320' id="Page320"></a><span class='pagenum'>320</span></p> +<h4> +III</h4> +<p>By some turn of the wheel, Darkey gathered several shillings +during the next day or two, and, feeling both elated and +benevolent, he called one afternoon at the hospital, 'just to +inquire like.' They told him the man was dead.</p> +<p>'By the way, he left a letter without an address. Mrs. +Hancock—here it is.'</p> +<p>'That'll be his mother; he did tell me about her—lived at +Knype, Staffordshire, he said. I'll see to it.'</p> +<p>They gave Darkey the letter.</p> +<p>'So his name's Hancock,' he soliloquized, when he got into the +street. 'I knew a girl of that name—once. I'll go and have a +pint of four-half.'</p> +<p>At nine o'clock that night Darkey was still consuming four-half, +and relating certain adventures by sea which, he averred, had +happened to himself. He was very drunk.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he said, 'and them five lil' gals was lying there without +a stitch on 'em, dead as meat; 's 'true as I'm 'ere. I've seen a +thing or two in my time, I can tell ye.'</p> +<p><a name='Page321' id="Page321"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>321</span> 'Talking about these Anarchists—' said a +man who appeared anxious to change the subject.</p> +<p>'An—kists,' Darkey interrupted. 'I tell ye what I'd do +with that muck.'</p> +<p>He stopped to light his pipe, looked in vain for a match, felt +in his pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper—the +letter.</p> +<p>'I tell you what I'd do. I'd—'</p> +<p>He slowly and meditatively tore the letter in two, dropped one +piece on the floor, thrust the other into a convenient gas-jet, and +applied it to the tobacco.</p> +<p>'I'd get 'em 'gether in a heap, and I'd—Damn this +pipe!'</p> +<p>He picked up the other half of the letter, and relighted the +pipe.</p> +<p>'After you, mate,' said a man sitting near, who was just biting +the end from a cigar.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + +<h2> +<a name='THE_END' id="THE_END"></a> +THE END.</h2> + + + + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13293 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7af2035 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13293 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13293) diff --git a/old/13293-0.txt b/old/13293-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ec1da2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13293-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6609 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of the Five Towns, +by Arnold Bennett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Tales of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13293] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 with BOM + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +TALES + +OF THE FIVE TOWNS + +By + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + * * * * * + +First published January 1905 + + * * * * * + +TO + +MARCEL SCHWOB + +MY LITERARY GODFATHER IN FRANCE + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + THE DOG + A FEUD + PHANTOM + TIDDY-FOL-LOL + THE IDIOT + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + THE SISTERS QITA + NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + A LETTER HOME + + * * * * * + + + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + + * * * * * + + + + +HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + + +I + +It was an amiable but deceitful afternoon in the third week of December. +Snow fell heavily in the windows of confectioners' shops, and Father +Christmas smiled in Keats's Bazaar the fawning smile of a myth who knows +himself to be exploded; but beyond these and similar efforts to remedy +the forgetfulness of a careless climate, there was no sign anywhere in +the Five Towns, and especially in Bursley, of the immediate approach of +the season of peace, goodwill, and gluttony on earth. + +At the Tiger, next door to Keats's in the market-place, Mr. Josiah +Topham Curtenty had put down his glass (the port was kept specially for +him), and told his boon companion, Mr. Gordon, that he must be going. +These two men had one powerful sentiment in common: they loved the same +woman. Mr. Curtenty, aged twenty-six in heart, thirty-six in mind, and +forty-six in looks, was fifty-six only in years. He was a rich man; he +had made money as an earthenware manufacturer in the good old times +before Satan was ingenious enough to invent German competition, American +tariffs, and the price of coal; he was still making money with the aid +of his son Harry, who now managed the works, but he never admitted that +he was making it. No one has yet succeeded, and no one ever will +succeed, in catching an earthenware manufacturer in the act of making +money; he may confess with a sigh that he has performed the feat in the +past, he may give utterance to a vague, preposterous hope that he will +perform it again in the remote future, but as for surprising him in the +very act, you would as easily surprise a hen laying an egg. Nowadays Mr. +Curtenty, commercially secure, spent most of his energy in helping to +shape and control the high destinies of the town. He was Deputy-Mayor, +and Chairman of the General Purposes Committee of the Town Council; he +was also a Guardian of the Poor, a Justice of the Peace, President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons, a sidesman, an Oddfellow, and +several other things that meant dining, shrewdness, and good-nature. He +was a short, stiff, stout, red-faced man, jolly with the jollity that +springs from a kind heart, a humorous disposition, a perfect digestion, +and the respectful deference of one's bank-manager. Without being a +member of the Browning Society, he held firmly to the belief that all's +right with the world. + +Mr. Gordon, who has but a sorry part in the drama, was a younger, +quieter, less forceful person, rather shy; a municipal mediocrity, +perhaps a little inflated that day by reason of his having been elected +to the Chairmanship of the Gas and Lighting Committee. + +Both men had sat on their committees at the Town Hall across the way +that deceitful afternoon, and we see them now, after refreshment well +earned and consumed, about to separate and sink into private life. But +as they came out into the portico of the Tiger, the famous Calypso-like +barmaid of the Tiger a hovering enchantment in the background, it +occurred that a flock of geese were meditating, as geese will, in the +middle of the road. The gooseherd, a shabby middle-aged man, looked as +though he had recently lost the Battle of Marathon, and was asking +himself whether the path of his retreat might not lie through the +bar-parlour of the Tiger. + +'Business pretty good?' Mr. Curtenty inquired of him cheerfully. + +In the Five Towns business takes the place of weather as a topic of +salutation. + +'Business!' echoed the gooseherd. + +In that one unassisted noun, scorning the aid of verb, adjective, or +adverb, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound and subtle emphasis, +contrived to express the fact that he existed in a world of dead +illusions, that he had become a convert to Schopenhauer, and that Mr. +Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a final grievance to him. + +'There ain't no business!' he added. + +'Ah!' returned Mr. Curtenty, thoughtful: such an assertion of the entire +absence of business was a reflection upon the town. + +'Sithee!' said the gooseherd in ruthless accents, 'I druv these 'ere +geese into this 'ere town this morning.' (Here he exaggerated the +number of miles traversed.) 'Twelve geese and two gander--a Brent and a +Barnacle. And how many is there now? How many?' + +'Fourteen,' said Mr. Gordon, having counted; and Mr. Curtenty gazed at +him in reproach, for that he, a Town Councillor, had thus mathematically +demonstrated the commercial decadence of Bursley. + +'Market overstocked, eh?' Mr. Curtenty suggested, throwing a side-glance +at Callear the poulterer's close by, which was crammed with everything +that flew, swam, or waddled. + +'Call this a market?' said the gooseherd. 'I'st tak' my lot over to +Hanbridge, wheer there _is_ a bit doing, by all accounts.' + +Now, Mr. Curtenty had not the least intention of buying those geese, but +nothing could be better calculated to straighten the back of a Bursley +man than a reference to the mercantile activity of Hanbridge, that +Chicago of the Five Towns. + +'How much for the lot?' he inquired. + +In that moment he reflected upon his reputation; he knew that he was a +cure, a card, a character; he knew that everyone would think it just +like Jos Curtenty, the renowned Deputy-Mayor of Bursley, to stand on +the steps of the Tiger and pretend to chaffer with a gooseherd for a +flock of geese. His imagination caught the sound of an oft-repeated +inquiry, 'Did ye hear about old Jos's latest--trying to buy them there +geese?' and the appreciative laughter that would follow. + +The gooseherd faced him in silence. + +'Well,' said Mr. Curtenty again, his eyes twinkling, 'how much for the +lot?' + +The gooseherd gloomily and suspiciously named a sum. + +Mr. Curtenty named a sum startlingly less, ending in sixpence. + +'I'll tak' it,' said the gooseherd, in a tone that closed on the bargain +like a vice. + +The Deputy-Mayor perceived himself the owner of twelve geese and two +ganders--one Brent, one Barnacle. It was a shock, but he sustained it. +Involuntarily he looked at Mr. Gordon. + +'How are you going to get 'em home, Curtenty?' asked Gordon, with coarse +sarcasm; 'drive 'em?' + +Nettled, Mr. Curtenty retorted: + +'Now, then, Gas Gordon!' + +The barmaid laughed aloud at this sobriquet, which that same evening +was all over the town, and which has stuck ever since to the Chairman of +the Gas and Lighting Committee. Mr. Gordon wished, and has never ceased +to wish, either that he had been elected to some other committee, or +that his name had begun with some other letter. + +The gooseherd received the purchase-money like an affront, but when Mr. +Curtenty, full of private mirth, said, 'Chuck us your stick in,' he give +him the stick, and smiled under reservation. Jos Curtenty had no use for +the geese; he could conceive no purpose which they might be made to +serve, no smallest corner for them in his universe. Nevertheless, since +he had rashly stumbled into a ditch, he determined to emerge from it +grandly, impressively, magnificently. He instantaneously formed a plan +by which he would snatch victory out of defeat. He would take Gordon's +suggestion, and himself drive the geese up to his residence in Hillport, +that lofty and aristocratic suburb. It would be an immense, an +unparalleled farce; a wonder, a topic for years, the crown of his +reputation as a card. + +He announced his intention with that misleading sobriety and +ordinariness of tone which it has been the foible of many great +humorists to assume. Mr. Gordon lifted his head several times very +quickly, as if to say, 'What next?' and then actually departed, which +was a clear proof that the man had no imagination and no soul. + +The gooseherd winked. + +'You be rightly called "Curtenty," mester,' said he, and passed into the +Tiger. + +'That's the best joke I ever heard,' Jos said to himself 'I wonder +whether he saw it.' + +Then the procession of the geese and the Deputy-Mayor commenced. Now, it +is not to be assumed that Mr. Curtenty was necessarily bound to look +foolish in the driving of geese. He was no nincompoop. On the contrary, +he was one of those men who, bringing common-sense and presence of mind +to every action of their lives, do nothing badly, and always escape the +ridiculous. He marshalled his geese with notable gumption, adopted +towards them exactly the correct stress of persuasion, and presently he +smiled to see them preceding him in the direction of Hillport. He +looked neither to right nor left, but simply at his geese, and thus the +quidnuncs of the market-place and the supporters of shop-fronts were +unable to catch his eye. He tried to feel like a gooseherd; and such was +his histrionic quality, his instinct for the dramatic, he _was_ a +gooseherd, despite his blue Melton overcoat, his hard felt hat with the +flattened top, and that opulent-curving collar which was the secret +despair of the young dandies of Hillport. He had the most natural air in +the world. The geese were the victims of this imaginative effort of Mr. +Curtenty's. They took him seriously as a gooseherd. These fourteen +intelligences, each with an object in life, each bent on +self-aggrandisement and the satisfaction of desires, began to follow the +line of least resistance in regard to the superior intelligence unseen +but felt behind them, feigning, as geese will, that it suited them so to +submit, and that in reality they were still quite independent. But in +the peculiar eye of the Barnacle gander, who was leading, an observer +with sufficient fancy might have deciphered a mild revolt against this +triumph of the absurd, the accidental, and the futile; a passive yet +Promethean spiritual defiance of the supreme powers. + +Mr. Curtenty got his fourteen intelligences safely across the top of St. +Luke's Square, and gently urged them into the steep defile of Oldcastle +Street. By this time rumour had passed in front of him and run off down +side-streets like water let into an irrigation system. At every corner +was a knot of people, at most windows a face. And the Deputy-Mayor never +spoke nor smiled. The farce was enormous; the memory of it would survive +revolutions and religions. + +Halfway down Oldcastle Street the first disaster happened. Electric +tramways had not then knitted the Five Towns in a network of steel; but +the last word of civilization and refinement was about to be uttered, +and a gang of men were making patterns with wires on the skyscape of +Oldcastle Street. One of the wires, slipping from its temporary gripper, +swirled with an extraordinary sound into the roadway, and writhed there +in spirals. Several of Mr. Curtenty's geese were knocked down, and rose +obviously annoyed; but the Barnacle gander fell with a clinging circle +of wire round his muscular, glossy neck, and did not rise again. It was +a violent, mysterious, agonizing, and sudden death for him, and must +have confirmed his theories about the arbitrariness of things. The +thirteen passed pitilessly on. Mr. Curtenty freed the gander from the +coiling wire, and picked it up, but, finding it far too heavy to carry, +he handed it to a Corporation road-sweeper. + +'I'll send for it,' he said; 'wait here.' + +These were the only words uttered by him during a memorable journey. + +The second disaster was that the deceitful afternoon turned to +rain--cold, cruel rain, persistent rain, full of sinister significance. +Mr. Curtenty ruefully raised the velvet of his Melton. As he did so a +brougham rolled into Oldcastle Street, a little in front of him, from +the direction of St. Peter's Church, and vanished towards Hillport. He +knew the carriage; he had bought it and paid for it. Deep, far down, in +his mind stirred the thought: + +'I'm just the least bit glad she didn't see me.' + +He had the suspicion, which recurs even to optimists, that happiness is +after all a chimera. + +The third disaster was that the sun set and darkness descended. Mr. +Curtenty had, unfortunately, not reckoned with this diurnal phenomenon; +he had not thought upon the undesirability of being under compulsion to +drive geese by the sole illumination of gas-lamps lighted by Corporation +gas. + +After this disasters multiplied. Dark and the rain had transformed the +farce into something else. It was five-thirty when at last he reached +The Firs, and the garden of The Firs was filled with lamentable +complainings of a remnant of geese. His man Pond met him with a +stable-lantern. + +'Damp, sir,' said Pond. + +'Oh, nowt to speak of,' said Mr. Curtenty, and, taking off his hat, he +shot the fluid contents of the brim into Pond's face. It was his way of +dotting the 'i' of irony. 'Missis come in?' + +'Yes, sir; I have but just rubbed the horse down.' + +So far no reference to the surrounding geese, all forlorn in the heavy +winter rain. + +'I've gotten a two-three geese and one gander here for Christmas,' said +Mr. Curtenty after a pause. To inferiors he always used the dialect. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Turn 'em into th' orchard, as you call it.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'They aren't all here. Thou mun put th' horse in the trap and fetch the +rest thysen.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'One's dead. A roadman's takkin' care on it in Oldcastle Street. He'll +wait for thee. Give him sixpence.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another got into th' cut [canal].' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another strayed on the railway-line--happen it's run over by +this.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'And one's making the best of her way to Oldcastle. I couldna coax her +in here.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Collect 'em.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +Mr. Curtenty walked away towards the house. + +'Mester!' Pond called after him, flashing the lantern. + +'Well, lad?' + +'There's no gander i' this lot.' + +'Hast forgotten to count thysen?' Mr. Curtenty answered blithely from +the shelter of the side-door. + +But within himself he was a little crest-fallen to think that the +surviving gander should have escaped his vigilance, even in the +darkness. He had set out to drive the geese home, and he had driven them +home, most of them. He had kept his temper, his dignity, his +cheerfulness. He had got a bargain in geese. So much was indisputable +ground for satisfaction. And yet the feeling of an anticlimax would not +be dismissed. Upon the whole, his transit lacked glory. It had begun in +splendour, but it had ended in discomfort and almost ignominy. +Nevertheless, Mr. Curtenty's unconquerable soul asserted itself in a +quite genuine and tuneful whistle as he entered the house. + +The fate of the Brent gander was never ascertained. + + +II + +The dining-room of The Firs was a spacious and inviting refectory, which +owed nothing of its charm to William Morris, Regent Street, or the Arts +and Crafts Society. Its triple aim, was richness, solidity, and comfort, +but especially comfort; and this aim was achieved in new oak furniture +of immovable firmness, in a Turkey carpet which swallowed up the feet +like a feather bed, and in large oil-paintings, whose darkly-glinting +frames were a guarantee of their excellence. On a winter's night, as +now, the room was at its richest, solidest, most comfortable. The blue +plush curtains were drawn on their stout brass rods across door and +French window. Finest selected silkstone fizzed and flamed in a patent +grate which had the extraordinary gift of radiating heat into the +apartment instead of up the chimney. The shaded Welsbach lights of the +chandelier cast a dazzling luminance on the tea-table of snow and +silver, while leaving the pictures in a gloom so discreet that not +Ruskin himself could have decided whether these were by Whistler or +Peter Paul Rubens. On either side of the marble mantelpiece were two +easy-chairs of an immense, incredible capacity, chairs of crimson plush +for Titans, chairs softer than moss, more pliant than a loving heart, +more enveloping than a caress. In one of these chairs, that to the left +of the fireplace, Mr. Curtenty was accustomed to snore every Saturday +and Sunday afternoon, and almost every evening. The other was usually +empty, but to-night it was occupied by Mrs. Curtenty, the jewel of the +casket. In the presence of her husband she always used a small +rocking-chair of ebonized cane. + +To glance at this short, slight, yet plump little creature as she +reclined crosswise in the vast chair, leaving great spaces of the seat +unfilled, was to think rapturously to one's self: _This is a woman_. Her +fluffy head was such a dot against the back of the chair, the curve of +her chubby ringed hand above the head was so adorable, her black eyes +were so provocative, her slippered feet so wee--yes, and there was +something so mysteriously thrilling about the fall of her skirt that you +knew instantly her name was Clara, her temper both fiery and obstinate, +and her personality distracting. You knew that she was one of those +women of frail physique who can endure fatigues that would destroy a +camel; one of those dæmonic women capable of doing without sleep for ten +nights in order to nurse you; capable of dying and seeing you die +rather than give way about the tint of a necktie; capable of laughter +and tears simultaneously; capable of never being in the wrong except for +the idle whim of so being. She had a big mouth and very wide nostrils, +and her years were thirty-five. It was no matter; it would have been no +matter had she been a hundred and thirty-five. In short.... + +Clara Curtenty wore tight-fitting black silk, with a long gold chain +that descended from her neck nearly to her waist, and was looped up in +the middle to an old-fashioned gold brooch. She was in mourning for a +distant relative. Black pre-eminently suited her. Consequently her +distant relatives died at frequent intervals. + +The basalt clock on the mantelpiece trembled and burst into the song of +six. Clara Curtenty rose swiftly from the easy-chair, and took her seat +in front of the tea-tray. Almost at the same moment a neat +black-and-white parlourmaid brought in teapot, copper kettle, and a +silver-covered dish containing hot pikelets; then departed. Clara was +alone again; not the same Clara now, but a personage demure, prim, +precise, frightfully upright of back--a sort of impregnable +stronghold--without doubt a Deputy-Mayoress. + +At five past six Josiah Curtenty entered the room, radiant from a hot +bath, and happy in dry clothes--a fine, if mature, figure of a man. His +presence filled the whole room. + +'Well, my chuck!' he said, and kissed her on the cheek. + +She gazed at him with a look that might mean anything. Did she raise her +cheek to his greeting, or was it fancy that she had endured, rather than +accepted, his kiss? He was scarcely sure. And if she had endured instead +of accepting the kiss, was her mood to be attributed to his lateness for +tea, or to the fact that she was aware of the episode of the geese? He +could not divine. + +'Pikelets! Good!' he exclaimed, taking the cover off the dish. + +This strong, successful, and dominant man adored his wife, and went in +fear of her. She was his first love, but his second spouse. They had +been married ten years. In those ten years they had quarrelled only five +times, and she had changed the very colour of his life. Till his second +marriage he had boasted that he belonged to the people and retained the +habits of the people. Clara, though she also belonged to the people, +very soon altered all that. Clara had a passion for the genteel. Like +many warm-hearted, honest, clever, and otherwise sensible persons, Clara +was a snob, but a charming little snob. She ordered him to forget that +he belonged to the people. She refused to listen when he talked in the +dialect. She made him dress with opulence, and even with tidiness; she +made him buy a fashionable house and fill it with fine furniture; she +made him buy a brougham in which her gentility could pay calls and do +shopping (she shopped in Oldcastle, where a decrepit aristocracy of +tradesmen sneered at Hanbridge's lack of style); she had her 'day'; she +taught the servants to enter the reception-rooms without knocking; she +took tea in bed in the morning, and tea in the afternoon in the +drawing-room. She would have instituted dinner at seven, but she was a +wise woman, and realized that too much tyranny often means revolution +and the crumbling of-thrones; therefore the ancient plebeian custom of +high tea at six was allowed to persist and continue. + +She it was who had compelled Josiah (or bewitched, beguiled, coaxed and +wheedled him), after a public refusal, to accept the unusual post of +Deputy-Mayor. In two years' time he might count on being Mayor. Why, +then, should Clara have been so anxious for this secondary dignity? +Because, in that year of royal festival, Bursley, in common with many +other boroughs, had had a fancy to choose a Mayor out of the House of +Lords. The Earl of Chell, a magnate of the county, had consented to wear +the mayoral chain and dispense the mayoral hospitalities on condition +that he was provided with a deputy for daily use. + +It was the idea of herself being deputy to the lovely, meddlesome, and +arrogant Countess of Chell that had appealed to Clara. + +The deputy of a Countess at length spoke. + +'Will Harry be late at the works again to-night?' she asked in her +colder, small-talk manner, which committed her to nothing, as Josiah +well knew. + +Her way of saying that word 'Harry' was inimitably significant. She gave +it an air. She liked Harry, and she liked Harry's name, because it had a +Kensingtonian sound. Harry, so accomplished in business, was also a +dandy, and he was a dog. 'My stepson'--she loved to introduce him, so +tall, manly, distinguished, and dandiacal. Harry, enriched by his own +mother, belonged to a London club; he ran down to Llandudno for +week-ends; and it was reported that he had been behind the scenes at the +Alhambra. Clara felt for the word 'Harry' the unreasoning affection +which most women lavish on 'George.' + +'Like as not,' said Josiah. 'I haven't been to the works this +afternoon.' + +Another silence fell, and then Josiah, feeling himself unable to bear +any further suspense as to his wife's real mood and temper, suddenly +determined to tell her all about the geese, and know the worst. And +precisely at the instant that he opened his mouth, the maid opened the +door and announced: + +'Mr. Duncalf wishes to see you at once, sir. He won't keep you a +minute.' + +'Ask him in here, Mary,' said the Deputy-Mayoress sweetly; 'and bring +another cup and saucer.' + +Mr. Duncalf was the Town Clerk of Bursley: legal, portly, dry, and a +little shy. + +'I won't stop, Curtenty. How d'ye do, Mrs. Curtenty? No, thanks, +really----' But she, smiling, exquisitely gracious, flattered and +smoothed him into a chair. + +'Any interesting news, Mr. Duncalf?' she said, and added: 'But we're +glad that _anything_ should have brought you in.' + +'Well,' said Duncalf, 'I've just had a letter by the afternoon post from +Lord Chell.' + +'Oh, the Earl! Indeed; how very interesting.' + +'What's he after?' inquired Josiah cautiously. + +'He says he's just been appointed Governor of East +Australia--announcement 'll be in to-morrow's papers--and so he must +regretfully resign the mayoralty. Says he'll pay the fine, but of course +we shall have to remit that by special resolution of the Council.' + +'Well, I'm damned!' Josiah exclaimed. + +'Topham!' Mrs. Curtenty remonstrated, but with a delightful acquitting +dimple. She never would call him Josiah, much less Jos. Topham came more +easily to her lips, and sometimes Top. + +'Your husband,' said Mr. Duncalf impressively to Clara, 'will, of +course, have to step into the Mayor's shoes, and you'll have to fill +the place of the Countess.' He paused, and added: 'And very well you'll +do it, too--very well. Nobody better.' + +The Town Clerk frankly admired Clara. + +'Mr. Duncalf--Mr. Duncalf!' She raised a finger at him. 'You are the +most shameless flatterer in the town.' + +The flatterer was flattered. Having delivered the weighty news, he had +leisure to savour his own importance as the bearer of it. He drank a cup +of tea. Josiah was thoughtful, but Clara brimmed over with a fascinating +loquacity. Then Mr. Duncalf said that he must really be going, and, +having arranged with the Mayor-elect to call a special meeting of the +Council at once, he did go, all the while wishing he had the enterprise +to stay. + +Josiah accompanied him to the front-door. The sky had now cleared. + +'Thank ye for calling,' said the host. + +'Oh, that's all right. Good-night, Curtenty. Got that goose out of the +canal?' + +So the story was all abroad! + +Josiah returned to the dining-room, imperceptibly smiling. At the door +the sight of his wife halted him. The face of that precious and +adorable woman flamed out lightning and all menace and offence. Her +louring eyes showed what a triumph of dissimulation she must have +achieved in the presence of Mr. Duncalf, but now she could speak her +mind. + +'Yes, Topham!' she exploded, as though finishing an harangue. 'And on +this day of all days you choose to drive geese in the public road behind +my carriage!' + +Jos was stupefied, annihilated. + +'Did you see me, then, Clarry?' + +He vainly tried to carry it off. + +'Did I see you? Of course I saw you!' + +She withered him up with the hot wind of scorn. + +'Well,' he said foolishly, 'how was I to know that the Earl would resign +just to-day?' + +'How were you to----?' + +Harry came in for his tea. He glanced from one to the other, discreet, +silent. On the way home he had heard the tale of the geese in seven +different forms. The Deputy-Mayor, so soon to be Mayor, walked out of +the room. + +'Pond has just come back, father,' said Harry; 'I drove up the hill +with him.' + +And as Josiah hesitated a moment in the hall, he heard Clara exclaim, +'Oh, Harry!' + +'Damn!' he murmured. + + +III + +The _Signal_ of the following day contained the announcement which Mr. +Duncalf had forecast; it also stated, on authority, that Mr. Josiah +Curtenty would wear the mayoral chain of Bursley immediately, and added +as its own private opinion that, in default of the Right Honourable the +Earl of Chell and his Countess, no better 'civic heads' could have been +found than Mr. Curtenty and his charming wife. So far the tone of the +_Signal_ was unimpeachable. But underneath all this was a sub-title, +'Amusing Exploit of the Mayor-elect,' followed by an amusing description +of the procession of the geese, a description which concluded by +referring to Mr. Curtenty as His Worship the Goosedriver. + +Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, and Turnhill laughed heartily, and perhaps a +little viciously, at this paragraph, but Bursley was annoyed by it. In +print the affair did not look at all well. Bursley prided itself on +possessing a unique dignity as the 'Mother of the Five Towns,' and to be +presided over by a goosedriver, however humorous and hospitable he might +be, did not consort with that dignity. A certain Mayor of Longshaw, +years before, had driven a sow to market, and derived a tremendous +advertisement therefrom, but Bursley had no wish to rival Longshaw in +any particular. Bursley regarded Longshaw as the Inferno of the Five +Towns. In Bursley you were bidden to go to Longshaw as you were bidden +to go to ... Certain acute people in Hillport saw nothing but a +paralyzing insult in the opinion of the _Signal_ (first and foremost a +Hanbridge organ), that Bursley could find no better civic head than +Josiah Curtenty. At least three Aldermen and seven Councillors +privately, and in the Tiger, disagreed with any such view of Bursley's +capacity to find heads. + +And underneath all this brooding dissatisfaction lurked the thought, as +the alligator lurks in a muddy river, that 'the Earl wouldn't like +it'--meaning the geese episode. It was generally felt that the Earl had +been badly treated by Jos Curtenty. The town could not explain its +sentiments--could not argue about them. They were not, in fact, capable +of logical justification; but they were there, they violently existed. +It would have been useless to point out that if the inimitable Jos had +not been called to the mayoralty the episode of the geese would have +passed as a gorgeous joke; that everyone had been vastly amused by it +until that desolating issue of the _Signal_ announced the Earl's +retirement; that Jos Curtenty could not possibly have foreseen what was +about to happen; and that, anyhow, goosedriving was less a crime than a +social solecism, and less a social solecism than a brilliant +eccentricity. Bursley was hurt, and logic is no balm for wounds. + +Some may ask: If Bursley was offended, why did it not mark its sense of +Josiah's failure to read the future by electing another Mayor? The +answer is, that while all were agreed that his antic was inexcusable, +all were equally agreed to pretend that it was a mere trifle of no +importance; you cannot deprive a man of his prescriptive right for a +mere trifle of no importance. Besides, nobody could be so foolish as to +imagine that goosedriving, though reprehensible in a Mayor about to +succeed an Earl, is an act of which official notice can be taken. + +The most curious thing in the whole imbroglio is that Josiah Curtenty +secretly agreed with his wife and the town. He was ashamed, overset. His +procession of geese appeared to him in an entirely new light, and he had +the strength of mind to admit to himself, 'I've made a fool of myself.' + +Harry went to London for a week, and Josiah, under plea of his son's +absence, spent eight hours a day at the works. The brougham remained in +the coach-house. + +The Town Council duly met in special conclave, and Josiah Topham +Curtenty became Mayor of Bursley. + +Shortly after Christmas it was announced that the Mayor and Mayoress had +decided to give a New Year's treat to four hundred poor old people in +the St. Luke's covered market. It was also spread about that this treat +would eclipse and extinguish all previous treats of a similar nature, +and that it might be accepted as some slight foretaste of the +hospitality which the Mayor and Mayoress would dispense in that +memorable year of royal festival. The treat was to occur on January 9, +the Mayoress's birthday. + +On January 7 Josiah happened to go home early. He was proceeding into +the drawing-room without enthusiasm to greet his wife, when he heard +voices within; and one voice was the voice of Gas Gordon. + +Jos stood still. It has been mentioned that Gordon and the Mayor were in +love with the same woman. The Mayor had easily captured her under the +very guns of his not formidable rival, and he had always thereafter felt +a kind of benevolent, good-humoured, contemptuous pity for +Gordon--Gordon, whose life was a tragic blank; Gordon, who lived, a +melancholy and defeated bachelor, with his mother and two unmarried +sisters older than himself. That Gordon still worshipped at the shrine +did not disturb him; on the contrary, it pleased him. Poor Gordon! + +'But, really, Mrs. Curtenty,' Gordon was saying--'really, you know +I--that--is--really--' + +'To please me!' Mrs. Curtenty entreated, with a seductive charm that +Jos felt even outside the door. + +Then there was a pause. + +'Very well,' said Gordon. + +Mr. Curtenty tiptoed away and back into the street. He walked in the +dark nearly to Oldcastle, and returned about six o'clock. But Clara said +no word of Gordon's visit. She had scarcely spoken to Topham for three +weeks. + +The next morning, as Harry was departing to the works, Mrs. Curtenty +followed the handsome youth into the hall. + +'Harry,' she whispered, 'bring me two ten-pound notes this afternoon, +will you, and say nothing to your father.' + + +IV + +Gas Gordon was to be on the platform at the poor people's treat. As he +walked down Trafalgar Road his eye caught a still-exposed fragment of a +decayed bill on a hoarding. It referred to a meeting of the local branch +of the Anti-Gambling League a year ago in the lecture-hall of the +Wesleyan Chapel, and it said that Councillor Gordon would occupy the +chair on that occasion. Mechanically Councillor Gordon stopped and tore +the fragment away from the hoarding. + +The treat, which took the form of a dinner, was an unqualified success; +it surpassed all expectations. Even the diners themselves were +satisfied--a rare thing at such affairs. Goose was a prominent item in +the menu. After the repast the replete guests were entertained from the +platform, the Mayor being, of course, in the chair. Harry sang 'In Old +Madrid,' accompanied by his stepmother, with faultless expression. Mr. +Duncalf astonished everybody with the famous North-Country recitation, +'The Patent Hair-brushing Mashane.' There were also a banjo solo, a +skirt dance of discretion, and a campanological turn. At last, towards +ten o'clock, Mr. Gordon, who had hitherto done nothing, rose in his +place, amid good-natured cries of 'Gas!' + +'I feel sure you will all agree with me,' he began, 'that this evening +would not be complete without a vote of thanks--a very hearty vote of +thanks--to our excellent host and chairman.' + +Ear-splitting applause. + +'I've got a little story to tell you,' he continued--'a story that up +to this moment has been a close secret between his Worship the Mayor and +myself.' His Worship looked up sharply at the speaker. 'You've heard +about some geese, I reckon. (_Laughter_.) Well, you've not heard all, +but I'm going to tell you. I can't keep it to myself any longer. You +think his Worship drove those geese--I hope they're digesting well +(_loud laughter_)--just for fun. He didn't. I was with him when he +bought them, and I happened to say that goosedriving was a very +difficult accomplishment.' + +'Depends on the geese!' shouted a voice. + +'Yes, it does,' Mr. Gordon admitted. 'Well, his Worship contradicted me, +and we had a bit of an argument. I don't bet, as you know--at least, not +often--but I don't mind confessing that I offered to bet him a sovereign +he couldn't drive his geese half a mile. "Look here, Gordon," he said to +me: "there's a lot of distress in the town just now--trade bad, and so +on, and so on. I'll lay you a level ten pounds I drive these geese to +Hillport myself, the loser to give the money to charity." "Done," I +said. "Don't say anything about it," he says. "I won't," I says--but I +am doing. (_Applause_.) I feel it my duty to say something about it. +(_More applause_.) Well, I lost, as you all know. He drove 'em to +Hillport. ('_Good old Jos!_') That's not all. The Mayor insisted on +putting his own ten pounds to mine and making it twenty. Here are the +two identical notes, his and mine.' Mr. Gordon waved the identical notes +amid an uproar. 'We've decided that everyone who has dined here to-night +shall receive a brand-new shilling. I see Mr. Septimus Lovatt from the +bank there with a bag. He will attend to you as you go out. (_Wild +outbreak and tumult of rapturous applause_.) And now three cheers for +your Mayor--and Mayoress!' + +It was colossal, the enthusiasm. + +'_And_ for Gas Gordon!' called several voices. + +The cheers rose again in surging waves. + +Everyone remarked that the Mayor, usually so imperturbable, was quite +overcome--seemed as if he didn't know where to look. + +Afterwards, as the occupants of the platform descended, Mr. Gordon +glanced into the eyes of Mrs. Curtenty, and found there his exceeding +reward. The mediocrity had blossomed out that evening into something new +and strange. Liar, deliberate liar and self-accused gambler as he was, +he felt that he had lived during that speech; he felt that it was the +supreme moment of his life. + +'What a perfectly wonderful man your husband is!' said Mrs. Duncalf to +Mrs. Curtenty. + +Clara turned to her husband with a sublime gesture of satisfaction. In +the brougham, going home, she bewitched him with wifely endearments. She +could afford to do so. The stigma of the geese episode was erased. + +But the barmaid of the Tiger, as she let down her bright hair that night +in the attic of the Tiger, said to herself, 'Well, of all the----' Just +that. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + + +It was Monday afternoon of Bursley Wakes--not our modern rectified +festival, but the wild and naïve orgy of seventy years ago, the days of +bear-baiting and of bull-baiting, from which latter phrase, they say, +the town derives its name. In those times there was a town-bull, a sort +of civic beast; and a certain notorious character kept a bear in his +pantry. The 'beating' (baiting) occurred usually on Sunday mornings at +six o'clock, with formidable hungry dogs; and little boys used to look +forward eagerly to the day when they would be old enough to be permitted +to attend. On Sunday afternoons colliers and potters, gathered round the +jawbone of a whale which then stood as a natural curiosity on the waste +space near the corn-mill, would discuss the fray, and make bets for next +Sunday, while the exhausted dogs licked their wounds, or died. During +the Wakes week bull and bear were baited at frequent intervals, +according to popular demand, for thousands of sportsmen from +neighbouring villages seized the opportunity of the fair to witness the +fine beatings for which Bursley was famous throughout the country of the +Five Towns. In that week the Wakes took possession of the town, which +yielded itself with savage abandonment to all the frenzies of license. +The public-houses remained continuously open night and day, and the +barmen and barmaids never went to bed; every inn engaged special +'talent' in order to attract custom, and for a hundred hours the whole +thronged town drank, drank, until the supply of coin of George IV., +converging gradually into the coffers of a few persons, ceased to +circulate. Towards the end of the Wakes, by way of a last ecstasy, the +cockfighters would carry their birds, which had already fought and been +called off, perhaps, half a dozen times, to the town-field (where the +discreet 40 per cent. brewery now stands), and there match them to a +finish. It was a spacious age. + +On this Monday afternoon in June the less fervid activities of the +Wakes were proceeding as usual in the market-place, overshadowed by the +Town Hall--not the present stone structure with its gold angel, but a +brick edifice built on an ashlar basement. Hobby-horses and revolving +swing-boats, propelled, with admirable economy to the proprietors, by +privileged boys who took their pay in an occasional ride, competed +successfully with the skeleton man, the fat or bearded woman, and Aunt +Sally. The long toy-tents, artfully roofed with a tinted cloth which +permitted only a soft, mellow light to illuminate the wares displayed, +were crowded with jostling youth and full of the sound of whistles, +'squarkers,' and various pipes; and multitudes surrounded the +gingerbread, nut, and savoury stalls which lined both sides of the +roadway as far as Duck Bank. In front of the numerous boxing-booths +experts of the 'fancy,' obviously out of condition, offered to fight all +comers, and were not seldom well thrashed by impetuous champions of +local fame. There were no photographic studios and no cocoanut-shies, +for these things had not been thought of; and to us moderns the fair, +despite its uncontrolled exuberance of revelry, would have seemed +strangely quiet, since neither steam-organ nor hooter nor hurdy-gurdy +was there to overwhelm the ear with crashing waves of gigantic sound. +But if the special phenomena of a later day were missing from the +carnival, others, as astonishing to us as the steam-organ would have +been to those uncouth roisterers, were certainly present. Chief, +perhaps, among these was the man who retailed the elixir of youth, the +veritable _eau de jouvence_, to credulous drinkers at sixpence a bottle. +This magician, whose dark mysterious face and glittering eyes indicated +a strain of Romany blood, and whose accent proved that he had at any +rate lived much in Yorkshire, had a small booth opposite the watch-house +under the Town Hall. On a banner suspended in front of it was painted +the legend: + + THE INCA OF PERU'S + ELIXER OF YOUTH + SOLD HERE. + ETERNAL YOUTH FOR ALL. + DRINK THIS AND YOU WILL NEVER GROW OLD + AS SUPPLIED TO THE NOBILITY & GENTRY + SIXPENCE PER BOT. + WALK IN, WALK IN, & + CONSULT THE INCA OF PERU. + +The Inca of Peru, dressed in black velveteens, with a brilliant scarf +round his neck, stood at the door of his tent, holding an empty glass in +one jewelled hand, and with the other twirling a long and silken +moustache. Handsome, graceful, and thoroughly inured to the public gaze, +he fronted a small circle of gapers like an actor adroit to make the +best of himself, and his tongue wagged fast enough to wag a man's leg +off. At a casual glance he might have been taken for thirty, but his age +was fifty and more--if you could catch him in the morning before he had +put the paint on. + +'Ladies and gentlemen of Bursley, this enlightened and beautiful town +which I am now visiting for the first time,' he began in a hard, +metallic voice, employing again with the glib accuracy of a machine the +exact phrases which he had been using all day, 'look at me--look well at +me. How old do you think I am? How old do I seem? Twenty, my dear, do +you say?' and he turned with practised insolence to a pot-girl in a red +shawl who could not have uttered an audible word to save her soul, but +who blushed and giggled with pleasure at this mark of attention. 'Ah! +you flatter, fair maiden! I look more than twenty, but I think I may +say that I do not look thirty. Does any lady or gentleman think I look +thirty? No! As a matter of fact, I was twenty-nine years of age when, in +South America, while exploring the ruins of the most ancient +civilization of the world--of the world, ladies and gentlemen--I made my +wonderful discovery, the Elixir of Youth!' + +'What art blethering at, Licksy?' a drunken man called from the back of +the crowd, and the nickname stuck to the great discoverer during the +rest of the Wakes. + +'That, ladies and gentlemen,' the Inca of Peru continued unperturbed, +'was--seventy-two years ago. I am now a hundred and one years old +precisely, and as fresh as a kitten, all along of my marvellous elixir. +Far older, for instance, than this good dame here.' + +He pointed to an aged and wrinkled woman, in blue cotton and a white +mutch, who was placidly smoking a short cutty. This creature, bowed and +satiate with monotonous years, took the pipe from her indrawn lips, and +asked in a weary, trembling falsetto: + +'How many wives hast had?' + +'Seventane,' the Inca retorted quickly, dropping at once into broad +dialect, 'and now lone and lookin' to wed again. Wilt have me?' + +'Nay,' replied the crone. 'I've buried four mysen, and no man o' mine +shall bury me.' + +There was a burst of laughter, amid which the Inca, taking the crowd +archly into his confidence, remarked: + +'I've never administered my elixir to any of my wives, ladies and +gentlemen. You may blame me, but I freely confess the fact;' and he +winked. + +'Licksy! Licksy!' the drunken man idiotically chanted. + +'And now,' the Inca proceeded, coming at length to the practical part of +his ovation, 'see here!' With the rapidity of a conjurer he whipped from +his pocket a small bottle, and held it up before the increasing +audience. It contained a reddish fluid, which shone bright and rich in +the sunlight. 'See here!' he cried magnificently, but he was destined to +interruption. + +A sudden cry arose of 'Black Jack! Black Jack! 'Tis him! He's caught!' +And the Inca's crowd, together with all the other crowds filling the +market-place, surged off eastward in a dense, struggling mass. + +The cynosure of every eye was a springless clay-cart, which was being +slowly driven past the newly-erected 'big house' of Enoch Wood, Esquire, +towards the Town Hall. In this, cart were two constables, with their +painted staves drawn, and between the constables sat a man securely +chained--Black Jack of Moorthorne, the mining village which lies over +the ridge a mile or so east of Bursley. The captive was a ferocious and +splendid young Hercules, tall, with enormous limbs and hands and heavy +black brows. He was dressed in his soiled working attire of a collier, +the trousers strapped under the knees, and his feet shod in vast clogs. +With open throat, small head, great jaws, and bold beady eyes, he looked +what he was, the superb brute--the brute reckless of all save the +instant satisfaction of his desires. He came of a family of colliers, +the most debased class in a lawless district. Jack's father had been a +colliery-serf, legally enslaved to his colliery, legally liable to be +sold with the colliery as a chattel, and legally bound to bring up all +his sons as colliers, until the Act of George III. put an end to this +incredible survival from the customs of the Dark Ages. Black Jack was +now a hero to the crowd, and knew it, for those vast clogs had kicked a +woman to death on the previous day. She was a Moorthorne woman, not his +wife, but his sweetheart, older than he; people said that she nagged +him, and that he was tired of her. The murderer had hidden for a night, +and then, defiantly, surrendered to the watch, and the watch were taking +him to the watch-house in the ashlar basement of the Town Hall. The +feeble horse between the shafts of the cart moved with difficulty +through the press, and often the coloured staves of the constables came +down thwack on the heads of heedless youth. At length the cart reached +the space between the watch-house and the tent of the Inca of Peru, +where it stopped while the constables unlocked a massive door; the +prisoner remained proudly in the cart, accepting, with obvious delight, +the tribute of cheers and jeers, hoots and shouts, from five thousand +mouths. + +The Inca of Peru stood at the door of his tent and surveyed Black Jack, +who was not more than a few feet away from him. + +'Have a glass of my elixir,' he said to the death-dealer; 'no one in +this town needs it more than thee, by all accounts. Have a glass, and +live for ever. Only sixpence.' + +The man in the cart laughed aloud. + +'I've nowt on me--not a farden,' he answered, in a strong grating voice. + +At that moment a girl, half hidden by the cart, sprang forward, offering +something in her outstretched palm to the Inca; but he, misunderstanding +her intention, merely glanced with passing interest at her face, and +returned his gaze to the prisoner. + +'I'll give thee a glass, lad,' he said quickly, 'and then thou canst +defy Jack Ketch.' + +The crowd yelled with excitement, and the murderer held forth his great +hand for the potion. Using every art to enhance the effect of this +dramatic advertisement, the Inca of Peru raised his bottle on high, and +said in a loud, impressive tone: + +'This precious liquid has the property, possessed by no other liquid on +earth, of frothing twice. I shall pour it into the glass, and it will +froth. Black Jack will drink it, and after he has drunk it will froth +again. Observe!' + +He uncorked the bottle and filled the glass with the reddish fluid, +which after a few seconds duly effervesced, to the vague wonder of the +populace. The Inca held the glass till the froth had subsided, and then +solemnly gave it to Black Jack. + +'Drink!' commanded the Inca. + +Black Jack took the draught at a gulp, and instantly flung the glass at +the Inca's face. It missed him, however. There were signs of a fracas, +but the door of the watch-house swung opportunely open, and Jack was +dragged from the cart and hustled within. The crowd, with a crowd's +fickleness, turned to other affairs. + +That evening the ingenious Inca of Peru did good trade for several +hours, but towards eleven o'clock the attraction of the public-houses +and of a grand special combined bull and bear beating by moonlight in +the large yard of the Cock Inn drew away the circle of his customers +until there was none left. He retired inside the tent with several +pounds in his pocket and a god's consciousness of having made immortal +many of the sons and daughters of Adam. + +As he was counting out his gains on the tub of eternal youth by the +flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and stealthily +entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, which was +sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the young girl who +had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black Jack his priceless +boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing interest several times +during the evening as she loitered restless near the door of the +watch-house. + +'What do you want?' he asked her, with the ingratiating affability of +the rake who foresees everything. + +'Give me a drink.' + +'A drink of what, my dear?' + +'Licksy.' + +He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a kind of +face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out of ten, but +which will haunt the tenth: a child's face with a passionate woman's +eyes burning and dying in it--black hair, black eyes, thin pale cheeks, +equine nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin +conceivable. He smiled at her, pleased. + +'Can you pay for it?' he said pleasantly. + +The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, uncovered +head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of hardship and +neglect. + +'I've a silver groat,' she answered, and closed her small fist tighter. + +'A silver groat!' he exclaimed, rather astonished. 'Where did you get +that from?' + +'He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.' + +'Who?' + +'Him yonder'--she jerked her head back to indicate the +watch-house--'Black Jack.' + +'What for?' + +'He kissed me,' she said boldly; 'I'm his sweetheart.' + +'Eh!' The Inca paused a moment, startled. 'But he killed his sweetheart +yesterday.' + +'What! Meg!' the girl exclaimed with deep scorn. 'Her weren't his true +sweetheart. Her druv him to it. Serve her well right! Owd Meg!' + +'How old are you, my dear?' + +'Don't know. But feyther said last Wakes I was fourtane. I mun keep +young for Jack. He wunna have me if I'm owd.' + +'But he'll be hanged, they say.' + +She gave a short, satisfied laugh. + +'Not now he's drunk Licksy--hangman won't get him. I heard a man say +Jack 'd get off wi' twenty year for manslaughter, most like.' + +'And you'll wait twenty years for him?' + +'Yes,' she said; 'I'll meet him at prison gates. But I mun be young. +Give me a drink o' Licksy.' + +He drew the red draught in silence, and after it had effervesced offered +it to her. + +''Tis raight?' she questioned, taking the glass. + +The Inca nodded, and, lifting the vessel, she opened her eager lips and +became immortal. It was the first time in her life that she had drunk +out of a glass, and it would be the last. + +Struck dumb by the trusting joy in those profound eyes, the Inca took +the empty glass from her trembling hand. Frail organism and prey of +love! Passion had surprised her too young. Noon had come before the +flower could open. She went out of the tent. + +'Wench!' the Inca called after her, 'thy groat!' + +She paid him and stood aimless for a second, and then started to cross +the roadway. Simultaneously there was a rush and a roar from the Cock +yard close by. The raging bull, dragging its ropes, and followed by a +crowd of alarmed pursuers, dashed out. The girl was plain in the +moonlight. Many others were abroad, but the bull seemed to see nothing +but her, and, lowering his huge head, he charged with shut eyes and +flung her over the Inca's booth. + +'Thou's gotten thy wish: thou'rt young for ever!' the Inca of Peru, made +a poet for an instant by this disaster, murmured to himself as he bent +with the curious crowd over the corpse. + +Black Jack was hanged. + +Many years after all this Bursley built itself a new Town Hall (with a +spire, and a gold angel on the top in the act of crowning the bailiwick +with a gold crown), and began to think about getting up in the world. + + * * * * * + + + + +MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + + +In the front-bedroom of Edward Beechinor's small house in Trafalgar Road +the two primary social forces of action and reaction--those forces which +under a thousand names and disguises have alternately ruled the world +since the invention of politics--were pitted against each other in a +struggle rendered futile by the equality of the combatants. Edward +Beechinor had his money, his superior age, and the possible advantage of +being a dying man; Mark Beechinor had his youth and his devotion to an +ideal. Near the window, aloof and apart, stood the strange, silent girl +whose aroused individuality was to intervene with such effectiveness on +behalf of one of the antagonists. It was early dusk on an autumn day. + +'Tell me what it is you want, Edward,' said Mark quietly. 'Let us come +to the point.' + +'Ay,' said the sufferer, lifting his pale hand from the counterpane, +'I'll tell thee.' + +He moistened his lips as if in preparation, and pushed back a tuft of +sparse gray hair, damp with sweat. + +The physical and moral contrast between these two brothers was complete. +Edward was forty-nine, a small, thin, stunted man, with a look of narrow +cunning, of petty shrewdness working without imagination. He had been +clerk to Lawyer Ford for thirty-five years, and had also furtively +practised for himself. During this period his mode of life had never +varied, save once, and that only a year ago. At the age of fourteen he +sat in a grimy room with an old man on one side of him, a copying-press +on the other, and a law-stationer's almanac in front, and he earned half +a crown a week. At the age of forty-eight he still sat in the same grimy +room (of which the ceiling had meanwhile been whitened three times), +with the same copying-press and the almanac of the same law-stationers, +and he earned thirty shillings a week. But now he, Edward Beechinor, was +the old man, and the indispensable lad of fourteen, who had once been +himself, was another lad, perhaps thirtieth of the dynasty of +office-boys. Throughout this interminable and sterile desert of time he +had drawn the same deeds, issued the same writs, written the same +letters, kept the same accounts, lied the same lies, and thought the +same thoughts. He had learnt nothing except craft, and forgotten nothing +except happiness. He had never married, never loved, never been a rake, +nor deviated from respectability. He was a success because he had +conceived an object, and by sheer persistence attained it. In the eyes +of Bursley people he was a very decent fellow, a steady fellow, a +confirmed bachelor, a close un, a knowing customer, a curmudgeon, an +excellent clerk, a narrow-minded ass, a good Wesleyan, a thrifty +individual, and an intelligent burgess--according to the point of view. +The lifelong operation of rigorous habit had sunk him into a groove as +deep as the canon of some American river. His ideas on every subject +were eternally and immutably fixed, and, without being altogether aware +of it, he was part of the solid foundation of England's greatness. In +1892, when the whole of the Five Towns was agitated by the great probate +case of Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, in which Mr. Ford acted for the +defendants, Beechinor, then aged forty-eight, was torn from his stool +and sent out to Rio de Janeiro as part of a commission to take the +evidence of an important witness who had declined all offers to come +home. + +The old clerk was full of pride and self-importance at being thus +selected, but secretly he shrank from the journey, the mere idea of +which filled him with vague apprehension and alarm. His nature had lost +all its adaptability; he trembled like a young girl at the prospect of +new experiences. On the return voyage the vessel was quarantined at +Liverpool for a fortnight, and Beechinor had an attack of low fever. +Eight months afterwards he was ill again. Beechinor went to bed for the +last time, cursing Providence, Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, and Rio. + +Mark Beechinor was thirty, just nineteen years younger than his brother. +Tall, uncouth, big-boned, he had a rather ferocious and forbidding +aspect; yet all women seemed to like him, despite the fact that he +seldom could open his mouth to them. There must have been something in +his wild and liquid dark eyes which mutely appealed for their protective +sympathy, something about him of shy and wistful romance that atoned for +the huge awkwardness of this taciturn elephant. Mark was at present the +manager of a small china manufactory at Longshaw, the farthest of the +Five Towns in Staffordshire, and five miles from Bursley. He was an +exceptionally clever potter, but he never made money. He had the dreamy +temperament of the inventor. He was a man of ideas, the kind of man who +is capable of forgetting that he has not had his dinner, and who can +live apparently content amid the grossest domestic neglect. He had once +spoilt a hundred and fifty pounds' worth of ware by firing it in a new +kiln of his own contrivance; it cost him three years of atrocious +parsimony to pay for the ware and the building of the kiln. He was +impulsively and recklessly charitable, and his Saturday afternoons and +Sundays were chiefly devoted to the passionate propagandism of the +theories of liberty, equality, and fraternity. + +'Is it true as thou'rt for marrying Sammy Mellor's daughter over at +Hanbridge?' Edward Beechinor asked, in the feeble, tremulous voice of +one agonized by continual pain. + +Among relatives and acquaintances he commonly spoke the Five Towns +dialect, reserving the other English for official use. + +Mark stood at the foot of the bed, leaning with his elbows on the brass +rail. Like most men, he always felt extremely nervous and foolish in a +sick-room, and the delicacy of this question, so bluntly put, added to +his embarrassment. He looked round timidly in the direction of the girl +at the window; her back was towards him. + +'It's possible,' he replied. 'I haven't asked her yet.' + +'Her'll have no money?' + +'No.' + +'Thou'lt want some brass to set up with. Look thee here, Mark: I made my +will seven years ago i' thy favour.' + +'Thank ye,' said Mark gratefully. + +'But that,' the dying man continued with a frown--'that was afore +thou'dst taken up with these socialistic doctrines o' thine. I've heard +as thou'rt going to be th' secretary o' the Hanbridge Labour Church, as +they call it.' + +Hanbridge is the metropolis of the Five Towns, and its Labour Church is +the most audacious and influential of all the local activities, half +secret, but relentlessly determined, whose aim is to establish the new +democratic heaven and the new democratic earth by means of a gradual and +bloodless revolution. Edward Beechinor uttered its abhorred name with a +bitter and scornful hatred characteristic of the Toryism of a man who, +having climbed high up out of the crowd, fiercely resents any widening +or smoothing of the difficult path which he himself has conquered. + +'They've asked me to take the post,' Mark answered. + +'What's the wages?' the older man asked, with exasperated sarcasm. + +'Nothing.' + +'Mark, lad,' the other said, softening, 'I'm worth seven hundred pounds +and this freehold house. What dost think o' that?' + +Even in that moment, with the world and its riches slipping away from +his dying grasp, the contemplation of this great achievement of thrift +filled Edward Beechinor with a sublime satisfaction. That sum of seven +hundred pounds, which many men would dissipate in a single night, and +forget the next morning that they had done so, seemed vast and almost +incredible to him. + +'I know you've always been very careful,' said Mark politely. + +'Give up this old Labour Church'--again old Beechinor laid a withering +emphasis on the phrase--'give up this Labour Church, and its all +thine--house and all.' + +Mark shook his head. + +'Think twice,' the sick man ordered angrily. 'I tell thee thou'rt +standing to lose every shilling.' + +'I must manage without it, then.' + +A silence fell. + +Each brother was absolutely immovable in his decision, and the other +knew it. Edward might have said: 'I am a dying man: give up this thing +to oblige me.' And Mark could have pleaded: 'At such a moment I would do +anything to oblige you--except this, and this I really can't do. Forgive +me.' Such amenities would possibly have eased the cord which was about +to snap; but the idea of regarding Edward's condition as a factor in +the case did not suggest itself favourably to the grim Beechinor stock, +so stern, harsh, and rude. The sick man wiped from his sunken features +the sweat which continually gathered there. Then he turned upon his side +with a grunt. + +'Thou must fetch th' lawyer,' he said at length, 'for I'll cut thee +off.' + +It was a strange request--like ordering a condemned man to go out and +search for his executioner; but Mark answered with perfect naturalness: + +'Yes. Mr. Ford, I suppose?' + +'Ford? No! Dost think I want _him_ meddling i' my affairs? Go to young +Baines up th' road. Tell him to come at once. He's sure to be at home, +as it's Saturday night.' + +'Very well.' + +Mark turned to leave the room. + +'And, young un, I've done with thee. Never pass my door again till thou +know'st I'm i' my coffin. Understand?' + +Mark hesitated a moment, and then went out, quietly closing the door. No +sooner had he done so than the girl, hitherto so passive at the window, +flew after him. + +There are some women whose calm, enigmatic faces seem always to suggest +the infinite. It is given to few to know them, so rare as they are, and +their lives usually so withdrawn; but sometimes they pass in the street, +or sit like sphinxes in the church or the theatre, and then the memory +of their features, persistently recurring, troubles us for days. They +are peculiar to no class, these women: you may find them in a print gown +or in diamonds. Often they have thin, rather long lips and deep rounded +chins; but it is the fine upward curve of the nostrils and the fall of +the eyelids which most surely mark them. Their glances and their faint +smiles are beneficent, yet with a subtle shade of half-malicious +superiority. When they look at you from under those apparently fatigued +eyelids, you feel that they have an inward and concealed existence far +beyond the ordinary--that they are aware of many things which you can +never know. It is as though their souls, during former incarnations, had +trafficked with the secret forces of nature, and so acquired a +mysterious and nameless quality above all the transient attributes of +beauty, wit, and talent. They exist: that is enough; that is their +genius. Whether they control, or are at the mercy of, those secret +forces; whether they have in fact learnt, but may not speak, the true +answer to the eternal Why; whether they are not perhaps a riddle even to +their own simple selves: these are points which can never be decided. + +Everyone who knew Mary Beechinor, in her cousin's home, or at chapel, or +on Titus Price's earthenware manufactory, where she worked, said or +thought that 'there was something about her ...' and left the phrase +unachieved. She was twenty-five, and she had lived under the same roof +with Edward Beechinor for seven years, since the sudden death of her +parents. The arrangement then made was that Edward should keep her, +while she conducted his household. She had insisted on permission to +follow her own occupation, and in order that she might be at liberty to +do so she personally paid eighteenpence a week to a little girl who came +in to perform sundry necessary duties every day at noon. Mary Beechinor +was a paintress by trade. As a class the paintresses of the Five Towns +are somewhat similar to the more famous mill-girls of Lancashire and +Yorkshire--fiercely independent by reason of good wages earned, loving +finery and brilliant colours, loud-tongued and aggressive, perhaps, and +for the rest neither more nor less kindly, passionate, faithful, than +any other Saxon women anywhere. The paintresses, however, have some +slight advantage over the mill-girls in the outward reticences of +demeanour, due no doubt to the fact that their ancient craft demands a +higher skill, and is pursued under more humane and tranquil conditions. +Mary Beechinor worked in the 'band-and-line' department of the +painting-shop at Price's. You may have observed the geometrical +exactitude of the broad and thin coloured lines round the edges of a +common cup and saucer, and speculated upon the means by which it was +arrived at. A girl drew those lines, a girl with a hand as sure as +Giotto's, and no better tools than a couple of brushes and a small +revolving table called a whirler. Forty-eight hours a week Mary +Beechinor sat before her whirler. Actuating the treadle, she placed a +piece of ware on the flying disc, and with a single unerring flip of the +finger pushed it precisely to the centre; then she held the full brush +firmly against the ware, and in three seconds the band encircled it +truly; another brush taken up, and the line below the band also stood +complete. And this process was repeated, with miraculous swiftness, hour +after hour, week after week, year after year. Mary could decorate over +thirty dozen cups and saucers in a day, at three halfpence the dozen. +'Doesn't she ever do anything else?' some visitor might curiously +inquire, whom Titus Price was showing over his ramshackle manufactory. +'No, always the same thing,' Titus would answer, made proud for the +moment of this phenomenon of stupendous monotony. 'I wonder how she can +stand it--she has a refined face,' the visitor might remark; and Mary +Beechinor was left alone again. The idea that her work was monotonous +probably never occurred to the girl. It was her work--as natural as +sleep, or the knitting which she always did in the dinner-hour. The calm +and silent regularity of it had become part of her, deepening her +original quiescence, and setting its seal upon her inmost spirit. She +was not in the fellowship of the other girls in the painting-shop. She +seldom joined their more boisterous diversions, nor talked their talk, +and she never manoeuvred for their men. But they liked her, and their +attitude showed a certain respect, forced from them by they knew not +what. The powers in the office spoke of Mary Beechinor as 'a very +superior girl.' + +She ran downstairs after Mark, and he waited in the narrow hall, where +there was scarcely room for two people to pass. Mark looked at her +inquiringly. Rather thin, and by no means tall, she seemed the merest +morsel by his side. She was wearing her second-best crimson merino +frock, partly to receive the doctor and partly because it was Saturday +night; over this a plain bibless apron. Her cold gray eyes faintly +sparkled in anger above the cheeks white with watching, and the dropped +corners of her mouth showed a contemptuous indignation. Mary Beechinor +was ominously roused from the accustomed calm of years. Yet Mark at +first had no suspicion that she was disturbed. To him that pale and +inviolate face, even while it cast a spell over him, gave no sign of the +fires within. + +She took him by the coat-sleeve and silently directed him into the +gloomy little parlour crowded with mahogany and horsehair furniture, +white antimacassars, wax flowers under glass, and ponderous +gilt-clasped Bibles. + +'It's a cruel shame!' she whispered, as though afraid of being overheard +by the dying man upstairs. + +'Do you think I ought to have given way?' he questioned, reddening. + +'You mistake me,' she said quickly; and with a sudden movement she went +up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The caress, so innocent, +unpremeditated, and instinctive, ran through him like a voltaic shock. +These two were almost strangers; they had scarcely met till within the +past week, Mark being seldom in Bursley. 'You mistake me--it is a shame +of _him_! I'm fearfully angry.' + +'Angry?' he repeated, astonished. + +'Yes, angry.' She walked to the window, and, twitching at the +blind-cord, gazed into the dim street. It was beginning to grow dark. +'Shall you fetch the lawyer? I shouldn't if I were you. I won't.' + +'I must fetch him,' Mark said. + +She turned round and admired him. 'What _will_ he do with his precious +money?' she murmured. + +'Leave it to you, probably.' + +'Not he. I wouldn't touch it--not now; it's yours by rights. Perhaps you +don't know that when I came here it was distinctly understood I wasn't +to expect anything under his will. Besides, I have my own money ... Oh +dear! If he wasn't in such pain, wouldn't I talk to him--for the first +and last time in my life!' + +'You must please not say a word to him. I don't really want the money.' + +'But you ought to have it. If he takes it away from you he's _unjust_.' + +'What did the doctor say this afternoon?' asked Mark, wishing to change +the subject. + +'He said the crisis would come on Monday, and when it did Edward would +be dead all in a minute. He said it would be just like taking prussic +acid.' + +'Not earlier than Monday?' + +'He said he thought Monday.' + +'Of course I shall take no notice of what Edward said to me--I shall +call to-morrow morning--and stay. Perhaps he won't mind seeing me. And +then you can tell me what happens to-night.' + +'I'm sure I shall send that lawyer man about his business,' she +threatened. + +'Look here,' said Mark timorously as he was leaving the house, 'I've +told you I don't want the money--I would give it away to some charity; +but do you think I ought to pretend to yield, just to humour him, and +let him die quiet and peaceful? I shouldn't like him to die hating----' + +'Never--never!' she exclaimed. + + * * * * * + +'What have you and Mark been talking about?' asked Edward Beechinor +apprehensively as Mary re-entered the bedroom. + +'Nothing,' she replied with a grave and soothing kindliness of tone. + +'Because, miss, if you think----' + +'You must have your medicine now, Edward.' + +But before giving the patient his medicine she peeped through the +curtain and watched Mark's figure till it disappeared up the hill +towards Bleakridge. He, on his part, walked with her image always in +front of him. He thought hers was the strongest, most righteous soul he +had ever encountered; it seemed as if she had a perfect passion for +truth and justice. And a week ago he had deemed her a capable girl, +certainly--but lackadaisical! + + * * * * * + +The clock had struck ten before Mr. Baines, the solicitor, knocked at +the door. Mary hesitated, and then took him upstairs in silence while he +suavely explained to her why he had been unable to come earlier. This +lawyer was a young Scotsman who had descended upon the town from +nowhere, bought a small decayed practice, and within two years had +transformed it into a large and flourishing business by one of those +feats of energy, audacity, and tact, combined, of which some Scotsmen +seem to possess the secret. + +'Here is Mr. Baines, Edward,' Mary said quietly; and then, having +rearranged the sick man's pillow, she vanished out of the room and went +into the kitchen. + +The gas-jet there showed only a point of blue, but she did not turn it +up. Dragging an old oak rush-seated rocking-chair near to the range, +where a scrap of fire still glowed, she rocked herself gently in the +darkness. + +After about half an hour Mr. Baines's voice sounded at the head of the +stairs: + +'Miss Beechinor, will ye kindly step up? We shall want some +asseestance.' + +She obeyed, but not instantly. + +In the bedroom Mr. Baines, a fountain-pen between his fine white teeth, +was putting some coal on the fire. He stood up as she entered. + +'Mr. Beechinor is about to make a new will,' he said, without removing +the pen from his mouth, 'and ye will kindly witness it.' + +The small room appeared to be full of Baines--he was so large and fleshy +and assertive. The furniture, even the chest of drawers, was dwarfed +into toy-furniture, and Beechinor, slight and shrunken-up, seemed like a +cadaverous manikin in the bed. + +'Now, Mr. Beechinor.' Dusting his hands, the lawyer took a newly-written +document from the dressing-table, and, spreading it on the lid of a +cardboard box, held it before the dying man. 'Here's the pen. There! +I'll help ye to hold it.' + +Beechinor clutched the pen. His wrinkled and yellow face, flushed in +irregular patches as though the cheeks had been badly rouged, was +covered with perspiration, and each difficult movement, even to the +slightest lifting of the head, showed extreme exhaustion. He cast at +Mary a long sinister glance of mistrust and apprehension. + +'What is there in this will?' + +Mr. Baines looked sharply up at the girl, who now stood at the side of +the bed opposite him. Mechanically she smoothed the tumbled bed-clothes. + +'That's nowt to do wi' thee, lass,' said Beechinor resentfully. + +'It isn't necessary that a witness to a will should be aware of its +contents,' said Baines. 'In fact, it's quite unusual.' + +'I sign nothing in the dark,' she said, smiling. Through their +half-closed lids her eyes glimmered at Baines. + +'Ha! Legal caution acquired from your cousin, I presume.' Baines smiled +at her. 'But let me assure ye, Miss Beechinor, this is a mere matter of +form. A will must be signed in the presence of two witnesses, both +present at the same time; and there's only yeself and me for it.' + +Mary looked at the dying man, whose features were writhed in pain, and +shook her head. + +'Tell her,' he murmured with bitter despair, and sank down into the +pillows, dropping the fountain-pen, which had left a stain of ink on the +sheet before Baines could pick it up. + +'Well, then, Miss Beechinor, if ye must know,' Baines began with +sarcasm, 'the will is as follows: The testator--that's Mr. +Beechinor--leaves twenty guineas to his brother Mark to show that he +bears him no ill-will and forgives him. The rest of his estate is to be +realized, and the proceeds given to the North Staffordshire Infirmary, +to found a bed, which is to be called the Beechinor bed. If there is any +surplus, it is to go to the Law Clerks' Provident Society. That is all.' + +'I shall have nothing to do with it,' Mary said coldly. + +'Young lady, we don't want ye to have anything to do with it. We only +desire ye to witness the signature.' + +'I won't witness the signature, and I won't see it signed.' + +'Damn thee, Mary! thou'rt a wicked wench,' Beechinor whispered in +hoarse, feeble tones. He saw himself robbed of the legitimate fruit of +all those interminable years of toilsome thrift. This girl by a trick +would prevent him from disposing of his own. He, Edward Beechinor, +shrewd and wealthy, was being treated like a child. He was too weak to +rave, but from his aggrieved and furious heart he piled silent curses on +her. 'Go, fetch another witness,' he added to the lawyer. + +'Wait a moment,' said Baines. 'Miss Beechinor, do ye mean to say that ye +will cross the solemn wish of a dying man?' + +'I mean to say I won't help a dying man to commit a crime.' + +'A crime?' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'a crime. Seven years ago Mr. Beechinor willed +everything to his brother Mark, and Mark ought to have everything. Mark +is his only brother--his only relation except me. And Edward knows it +isn't me wants any of his money. North Staffordshire Infirmary indeed! +It's a crime!... What business have _you_,' she went on to Edward +Beechinor, 'to punish Mark just because his politics aren't----' + +'That's beside the point,' the lawyer interrupted. 'A testator has a +perfect right to leave his property as he chooses, without giving +reasons. Now, Miss Beechinor, I must ask ye to be judeecious.' + +Mary shut her lips. + +'Her'll never do it. I tell thee, fetch another witness.' + +The old man sprang up in a sort of frenzy as he uttered the words, and +then fell back in a brief swoon. + +Mary wiped his brow, and pushed away the wet and matted hair. Presently +he opened his eyes, moaning. Mr. Baines folded up the will, put it in +his pocket, and left the room with quick steps. Mary heard him open the +front-door and then return to the foot of the stairs. + +'Miss Beechinor,' he called, 'I'll speak with ye a moment.' + +She went down. + +'Do you mind coming into the kitchen?' she said, preceding him and +turning up the gas; 'there's no light in the front-room.' + +He leaned up against the high mantelpiece; his frock-coat hung to the +level of the oven-knob. She had one hand on the white deal table. +Between them a tortoiseshell cat purred on the red-tiled floor. + +'Ye're doing a verra serious thing, Miss Beechinor. As Mr. Beechinor's +solicitor, I should just like to be acquaint with the real reasons for +this conduct.' + +'I've told you.' She had a slightly quizzical look. + +'Now, as to Mark,' the lawyer continued blandly, 'Mr. Beechinor +explained the whole circumstances to me. Mark as good as defied his +brother.' + +'That's nothing to do with it.' + +'By the way, it appears that Mark is practically engaged to be married. +May I ask if the lady is yeself?' + +She hesitated. + +'If so,' he proceeded, 'I may tell ye informally that I admire the pluck +of ye. But, nevertheless, that will has got to be executed.' + +'The young lady is a Miss Mellor of Hanbridge.' + +'I'm going to fetch my clerk,' he said shortly. 'I can see ye're an +obstinate and unfathomable woman. I'll be back in half an hour.' + +When he had departed she bolted the front-door top and bottom, and went +upstairs to the dying man. + +Nearly an hour elapsed before she heard a knock. Mr. Baines had had to +arouse his clerk from sleep. Instead of going down to the front-door, +Mary threw up the bedroom window and looked out. It was a mild but +starless night. Trafalgar Road was silent save for the steam-car, which, +with its load of revellers returning from Hanbridge--that centre of +gaiety--slipped rumbling down the hill towards Bursley. + +'What do you want--disturbing a respectable house at this time of +night?' she called in a loud whisper when the car had passed. 'The +door's bolted, and I can't come down. You must come in the morning.' + +'Miss Beechinor, ye will let us in--I charge ye.' + +'It's useless, Mr. Baines.' + +'I'll break the door down. I'm a strong man, and a determined. Ye are +carrying things too far.' + +In another moment the two men heard the creak of the bolts. Mary stood +before them, vaguely discernible, but a forbidding figure. + +'If you must--come upstairs,' she said coldly. + +'Stay here in the passage, Arthur,' said Mr. Baines; 'I'll call ye when +I want ye;' and he followed Mary up the stairs. + +Edward Beechinor lay on his back, and his sunken eyes stared glassily at +the ceiling. The skin of his emaciated face, stretched tightly over the +protruding bones, had lost all its crimson, and was green, white, +yellow. The mouth was wide open. His drawn features wore a terribly +sardonic look--a purely physical effect of the disease; but it seemed to +the two spectators that this mean and disappointed slave of a miserly +habit had by one superb imaginative effort realized the full vanity of +all human wishes and pretensions. + +'Ye can go; I shan't want ye,' said Mr. Baines, returning to the clerk. + +The lawyer never spoke of that night's business. Why should he? To what +end? Mark Beechinor, under the old will, inherited the seven hundred +pounds and the house. Miss Mellor of Hanbridge is still Miss Mellor, her +hand not having been formally sought. But Mark, secretary of the Labour +Church, is married. Miss Mellor, with a quite pardonable air of tolerant +superiority, refers to his wife as 'a strange, timid little +creature--she couldn't say Bo to a goose.' + + * * * * * + + + + +THE DOG + + +This is a scandalous story. It scandalized the best people in Bursley; +some of them would wish it forgotten. But since I have begun to tell it +I may as well finish. Moreover, like most tales whispered behind fans +and across club-tables, it carries a high and valuable moral. The +moral--I will let you have it at once--is that those who love in glass +houses should pull down the blinds. + + +I + +He had got his collar on safely; it bore his name--Ellis Carter. Strange +name for a dog, perhaps; and perhaps it was even more strange that his +collar should be white. But such dogs are not common dogs. He tied his +necktie exquisitely; caressed his hair again with two brushes; curved +his young moustache, and then assumed his waistcoat and his coat; the +trousers had naturally preceded the collar. He beheld the suit in the +glass, and saw that it was good. And it was not built in London, either. +There are tailors in Bursley. And in particular there is the dog's +tailor. Ask the dog's tailor, as the dog once did, whether he can really +do as well as London, and he will smile on you with gentle pity; he will +not stoop to utter the obvious Yes. He may casually inform you that, if +he is not in London himself, the explanation is that he has reasons for +preferring Bursley. He is the social equal of all his clients. He +belongs to the dogs' club. He knows, and everybody knows, that he is a +first-class tailor with a first-class connection, and no dog would dare +to condescend to him. He is a great creative artist; the dogs who wear +his clothes may be said to interpret his creations. Now, Ellis was a +great interpretative artist, and the tailor recognised the fact. When +the tailor met Ellis on Duck Bank greatly wearing a new suit, the scene +was impressive. It was as though Elgar had stopped to hear Paderewski +play 'Pomp and Circumstance' on the piano. + +Ellis descended from his bedroom into the hall, took his straw hat, +chose a stick, and went out into the portico of the new large house on +the Hawkins, near Oldcastle. In the neighbourhood of the Five Towns no +road is more august, more correct, more detached, more umbrageous, than +the Hawkins. M.P.'s live there. It is the link between the aristocratic +and antique aloofness of Oldcastle and the solid commercial prosperity +of the Five Towns. Ellis adorned the portico. Young (a bare twenty-two), +fair, handsome, smiling, graceful, well-built, perfectly groomed, he was +an admirable and a characteristic specimen of the race of dogs which, +with the modern growth of luxury and the Luxurious Spirit, has become so +marked a phenomenon in the social development of the once barbarous Five +Towns. + +When old Jack Carter (reputed to be the best turner that Bursley ever +produced) started a little potbank near St. Peter's Church in 1861--he +was then forty, and had saved two hundred pounds--he little dreamt that +the supreme and final result after forty years would be the dog. But so +it was. Old Jack Carter had a son John Carter, who married at +twenty-five and lived at first on twenty-five shillings a week, and +enthusiastically continued the erection of the fortune which old Jack +had begun. At thirty-three, after old Jack's death, John became a Town +Councillor. At thirty-six he became Mayor and the father of Ellis, and +the recipient of a silver cradle. Ellis was his wife's maiden name. At +forty-two he built the finest earthenware manufactory in Bursley, down +by the canal-side at Shawport. At fifty-two he had been everything that +a man can be in the Five Towns--from County Councillor to President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons. Then Ellis left school and +came to the works to carry on the tradition, and his father suddenly +discovered him. The truth was that John Carter had been so laudably busy +with the affairs of his town and county that he had nearly forgotten his +family. Ellis, in the process of achieving doghood, soon taught his +father a thing or two. And John learnt. John could manage a public +meeting, but he could not manage Ellis. Besides, there was plenty of +money; and Ellis was so ingratiating, and had curly hair that somehow +won sympathy. And, after all, Ellis was not such a duffer as all that at +the works. John knew other people's sons who were worse. And Ellis could +keep order in the paintresses' 'shops' as order had never been kept +there before. + +John sometimes wondered what old Jack would have said about Ellis and +his friends, those handsome dogs, those fine dandies, who taught to the +Five Towns the virtue of grace and of style and of dash, who went up to +London--some of them even went to Paris--and brought back civilization +to the Five Towns, who removed from the Five Towns the reproach of being +uncouth and behind the times. Was the outcome of two generations of +unremitting toil merely Ellis? (Ellis had several pretty sisters, but +they did not count.) John could only guess at what old Jack's attitude +might have been towards Ellis--Ellis, who had his shirts made to +measure. He knew exactly what was Ellis's attitude towards the ideals of +old Jack, old Jack the class-leader, who wore clogs till he was thirty, +and dined in his shirt-sleeves at one o'clock to the end of his life. + +Ellis quitted the portico, ran down the winding garden-path, and jumped +neatly and fearlessly on to an electric tramcar as it passed at the rate +of fifteen miles an hour. The car was going to Hanbridge, and it was +crowded with the joy of life; Ellis had to stand on the step. This was +the Saturday before the first Monday in August, and therefore the formal +opening of Knype Wakes, the most carnivalesque of all the carnivals +which enliven the four seasons in the Five Towns. It is still called +Knype Wakes, because once Knype overshadowed Hanbridge in importance; +but its headquarters are now quite properly at Hanbridge, the hub, the +centre, the Paris of the Five Towns--Hanbridge, the county borough of +sixty odd thousand inhabitants. It is the festival of the masses that +old Jack sprang from, and every genteel person who can leaves the Five +Towns for the seaside at the end of July. Nevertheless, the district is +never more crammed than at Knype Wakes. And, of course, genteel persons, +whom circumstances have forced to remain in the Five Towns, sally out in +the evening to 'do' the Wakes in a spirit of tolerant condescension. +Ellis was in this case. His parents and sisters were at Llandudno, and +he had been left in charge of the works and of the new house. He was +always free; he could always pity the bondage of his sisters; but now he +was more free than ever--he was absolutely free. Imagine the delicious +feeling that surged in his heart as he prepared to plunge himself +doggishly into the wild ocean of the Wakes. By the way, in that heart +was the image of a girl. + + +II + +He stepped off the car on the outskirts of Hanbridge, and strolled +gently and spectacularly into the joyous town. The streets became more +and more crowded and noisy as he approached the market-place, and in +Crown Square tramcars from the four quarters of the earth discharged +tramloads of humanity at the rate of two a minute, and then glided off +again empty in search of more humanity. The lower portion of Crown +Square was devoted to tramlines; in the upper portion the Wakes began, +and spread into the market-place, and thence by many tentacles into all +manner of streets. + +No Wakes is better than Knype Wakes; that is to say, no Wakes is more +ear-splitting, more terrific, more dizzying, or more impassable. When +you go to Knype Wakes you get stuck in the midst of an enormous crowd, +and you see roundabouts, swings, switchbacks, myrioramas, atrocity +booths, quack dentists, shooting-galleries, cocoanut-shies, and bazaars, +all around you. Every establishment is jewelled, gilded, and +electrically lighted; every establishment has an orchestra, most often +played by steam and conducted by a stoker; every establishment has a +steam--whistle, which shrieks at the beginning and at the end of each +round or performance. You stand fixed in the multitude listening to a +thousand orchestras and whistles, with the roar of machinery and the +merry din of car-bells, and the popping of rifles for a background of +noise. Your eyes are charmed by the whirling of a million lights and the +mad whirling of millions of beautiful girls and happy youths under the +lights. For the roundabouts rule the scene; the roundabouts take the +money. The supreme desire of the revellers is to describe circles, +either on horseback or in yachts, either simple circles or complex +circles, either up and down or straight along, but always circles. And +it is as though inventors had sat up at nights puzzling their brains how +best to make revellers seasick while keeping them equidistant from a +steam-orchestra.... Then the crowd solidly lurches, and you find +yourself up against a dentist, or a firm of wrestlers, or a roundabout, +or an ice-cream refectory, and you take what comes. You have begun to +'do' the Wakes. The splendid insanity seizes you. The lights, the +colours, the explosions, the shrieks, the feathered hats, the pretty +faces as they fly past, the gilding, the statuary, the August night, and +the mingling of a thousand melodies in a counterpoint beyond the dreams +of Wagner--these things have stirred the sap of life in you, have shown +you how fine it is to be alive, and, careless and free, have caught up +your spirit into a heaven from which you scornfully survey the year of +daily toil between one Wakes and another as the eagle scornfully surveys +the potato-field. Your nostrils dilate--nay, matters reach such a pass +that, even if you are genteel, you forget to condescend. + + +III + +After Ellis had had the correct drink in the private bar up the passage +at the Turk's Head, and after he had plunged into the crowd and got lost +in it, and submitted good-humouredly to the frequent ordeal of the penny +squirt as administered by adorable creatures in bright skirts, he found +himself cast up by the human ocean on the macadam shore near a +shooting-gallery. This was no ordinary shooting-gallery. It was one of +Jenkins's affairs (Jenkins of Manchester), and on either side of it +Jenkins's Venetian gondalas and Jenkins's Mexican mustangs were whizzing +round two of Jenkins's orchestras at twopence a time, and taking +thirty-two pounds an hour. This gallery was very different from the old +galleries, in which you leaned against a brass bar and shot up a kind of +a drain. This gallery was a large and brilliant room, with the +front-wall taken out. It was hung with mirrors and cretonnes, it was +richly carpeted, and, of course, it was lighted by electricity. Carved +and gilded tables bore a whole armoury of weapons. You shot at +tobacco-pipes, twisting and stationary, at balls poised on jets of +water, and at proper targets. In the corners of the saloon, near the +open, were large crimson plush lounges, on which you lounged after the +fatigue of shooting. + +A pink-clad girl, young and radiant, had the concern in charge. + +She was speeding a party of bankrupt shooters, when she caught sight of +Ellis. Ellis answered her smile, and strolled up to the booth with a +countenance that might have meant anything. You can never tell what a +dog is thinking. + +''Ello!' said the girl prettily (or, rather, she shouted prettily, +having to compete with the two orchestras). 'You here again?' + +The truth was that Ellis had been there on the previous night, when the +Wakes was only half opened, and he had come again to-night expressly in +order to see her; but he would not have admitted, even to himself, that +he had come expressly in order to see her; in his mind it was just a +chance that he might see her. She was a jolly girl. (We are gradually +approaching the scandalous part.) + +'What a jolly frock!' he said, when he had shot five celluloid balls in +succession off a jet of water. + +Smiling, she mechanically took a ball out of the basket and let it roll +down the conduit to the fountain. + +'Do you think so?' she replied, smoothing the fluffy muslin apron with +her small hands, black from contact with the guns. 'That one I wore last +night was my second-best. I only wear this on Saturdays and Mondays.' + +He nodded like a connoisseur. The sixth ball had sprung up to the top of +the jet. He removed it with the certainty of a King's Prize winner, and +she complimented him. + +'Ah!' he said, 'you should have seen me before I took to smoking and +drinking!' + +She laughed freely. She was always showing her fine teeth. And she had +such a frank, jolly countenance, not exactly pretty--better than pretty. +She was a little short and a little plump, and she wore a necklace round +her neck, a ring on her dainty, dirty finger, and a watch-bracelet on +her wrist. + +'Why!' she exclaimed. 'How old are you?' + +'How old are _you_?' he retorted. + +Dogs do not give things away like that. + +'I'm nineteen,' she said submissively. 'At least, I shall be come +Martinmas.' + +And she yawned. + +'Well,' he said, 'a little girl like you ought to be in bed.' + +'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed. + +'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in Paris +you'd have to work Sundays too.' + +'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to Paris?' + +'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he told me. +He came back only last week, and he says they keep open Sundays, and all +night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over there.' + +'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police wouldn't +allow it. I know what the police are.' + +More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; he sank +into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and watched her serve +the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, and so jolly--with him. +He noticed with satisfaction that with the other marksmen she showed a +certain high reserve. + +They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across to the +lounge and gazed at him provocatively. + +'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!' + +The thought ran through him like lightning. + +'Well?' she said. + +'What do you do with yourself Sundays?' he asked her. + +'Oh, sleep.' + +'All day?' + +'All morning.' + +'What do you do in the afternoon?' + +'Oh, nothing.' + +She laughed gaily. + +'Come out with me, eh?' + +'To-morrow? Oh, I should LOVE TO!' she cried. + +Her voice expanded into large capitals because by a singular chance both +the neighbouring orchestras stopped momentarily together, and thus gave +her shout a fair field. The effect was startling. It startled Ellis. He +had not for an instant expected that she would consent. Never, dog +though he was, had he armed a girl out on any afternoon, to say nothing +of Sunday afternoon, and Knype's Wakes Sunday at that! He had talked +about girls at the club. He understood the theory. But the practice---- + +The foundation of England's greatness is that Englishmen hate to look +fools. The fear of being taken for a ninny will spur an Englishman to +the most surprising deeds of courage. Ellis said 'Good!' with apparent +enthusiasm, and arranged to be waiting for her at half-past two at the +Turk's Head. Then he left the saloon and struck out anew into the ocean. +He wanted to think it over. + +Once, painful to relate, he had thoughts of failing to keep the +appointment. However, she was so jolly and frank. And what a fancy she +must have taken to him! No, he would see it through. + + +IV + +If anybody had prophesied to Ellis that he would be driving out a Wakes +girl in a dogcart that Sunday afternoon he would have laughed at the +prophet; but so it occurred. He arrived at the Turk's Head at two +twenty-five. She was there before him, dressed all in blue, except the +white shoes and stockings, weighing herself on the machine in the yard. +She showed her teeth, told him she weighed nine stone one, and abruptly +asked him if he could drive. He said he could. She clapped her hands and +sprang off the machine. Her father had bought a new mare the day before, +and it was in the Turk's Head stable, and the yardman said it wanted +exercise, and there was a dogcart and harness idling about, and, in +short, Ellis should drive her to Sneyd Park, which she had long desired +to see. + +Ellis wished to ask questions, but the moment did not seem auspicious. + +In a few minutes the new mare, a high and somewhat frisky bay, with big +shoulders, was in the shafts of a high, green dogcart. When asked if he +could drive, Ellis ought to have answered: 'That depends--on the horse.' +Many men can tool a fifteen-year-old screw down a country lane who would +hesitate to get up behind a five-year-old animal (in need of exercise) +for a spin down Broad Street, Hanbridge, on Knype Wakes Sunday. Ellis +could drive; he could just drive. His father had always steadfastly +refused to keep horses, but the fathers of other dogs were more +progressive, and Ellis had had opportunities. He knew how to take the +reins, and get up, and give the office; indeed, he had read a handbook +on the subject. So he rook the reins and got up, and the Wakes girl got +up. + +He chirruped. The mare merely backed. + +'Give 'er 'er mouth,' said the yardman disgustedly. + +'Oh!' said Ellis, and slackened the reins, and the mare pawed forward. + +Then he had to turn her in the yard, and get her and the dogcart down +the passage. He doubted whether he should do it, for the passage seemed +a size too small. However, he did it, or the mare did it, and the entire +organism swerved across a portion of the footpath into Broad Street. + +For quite a quarter of a mile down Broad Street Ellis blushed, and kept +his gaze between the mare's ears. However, the mare went beautifully. +You could have driven her with a silken thread, so it seemed. And then +the dog, growing accustomed to his prominence up there on the dogcart, +began to be a bit doggy. He knew the little thing's age and weight, +but, really, when you take a girl out for a Sunday spin you want more +information about her than that. Her asked her name, and her name was +Jenkins--Ada. She was the great Jenkins's daughter. + +('Oh,' thought Ellis, 'the deuce you are!') + +'Father's gone to Manchester for the day, and aunt's looking after me,' +said Ada. + +'Do they know you've come out--like this?' + +'Not much!' She laughed deliciously. 'How lovely it is!' + +At Knype they drew up before the Five Towns Hotel and descended. The +Five Towns Hotel is the greatest hotel in North Staffordshire. It has +two hundred rooms. It would not entirely disgrace Northumberland Avenue. +In the Five Towns it is august, imposing, and unique. They had a +lemonade there, and proceeded. A clock struck; it was a near thing. No +more refreshments now until they had passed the three-mile limit! + +Yes! Not two hundred yards further on she spied an ice-cream shop in +Fleet Road, and Ellis learnt that she adored ice-cream. The mare waited +patiently outside in the thronged street. + +After that the pilgrimage to Sneyd was punctuated with ice-creams. At +the Stag at Sneyd (where, among ninety-and-nine dogcarts, Ellis's +dogcart was the brightest green of them all) Ada had another lemonade, +and Ellis had something else. They saw the Park, and Ada giggled +charmingly her appreciation of its beauty. The conversation throughout +consisted chiefly of Ada's teeth. Ellis said he would return by a +different route, and he managed to get lost. How anyone driving to +Hanbridge from Sneyd could arrive at the mining village of Silverton is +a mystery. But Ellis arrived there, and he ultimately came out at +Hillport, the aristocratic suburb of Bursley, where he had always lived +till the last year. He feared recognition there, and his fear was +justified. Some silly ass, a schoolmate, cried, 'Go it!' as the machine +bowled along, and the mischief was that the mare, startled, went it. She +went it down the curving hill, and the vehicle after her, like a kettle +tied to a dog's tail. + +Ellis winked stoutly at Ada when they reached the bottom, and gave the +mare a piece of his mind, to which she objected. As they crossed the +railway-bridge a goods-train ran underneath and puffed smoke into the +mare's eyes. She set her ears back. + +'Would you!' cried Ellis authoritatively, and touched her with the whip +(he had forgotten the handbook). + +He scarcely touched her, but you never know where you are with any +horse. That mare, which had been a mirror of all the virtues all the +afternoon, was off like a rocket. She overtook an electric car as if it +had been standing still. Ellis sawed her mouth; he might as well have +sawed the funnel of a locomotive. He had meant to turn off and traverse +Bursley by secluded streets, but he perceived that safety lay solely in +letting her go straight ahead up the very steep slope of Oldcastle +Street into the middle of the town. It would be an amazing mare that +galloped to the top of Oldcastle Street! She galloped nearly to the top, +and then Ellis began to get hold of her a bit. + +'Don't be afraid,' he said masculinely to Ada. + +And, conscious of victory, he jerked the mare to the left to avoid an +approaching car.... + +The next instant they were anchored against the roots of a lamp-post. +When Ellis saw the upper half of the lamp-post bent down at right +angles, and pieces of glass covering the pavement, he could not believe +that he and his dogcart had done that, especially as neither the mare, +nor the dogcart, nor its freight, was damaged. The machine was merely +jammed, and the mare, satisfied, stood quiet, breathing rapidly. + +But Ada Jenkins was crying. + +And the car stopped a moment to observe. And then a number of +chapel-goers on their way to the Sytch Chapel, which the Carter family +still faithfully attended, joined the scene; and then a policeman. + +Ellis sat like a stuck pig in the dogcart. He knew that speech was +demanded of him, but he did not know where to begin. + +The worst thing of all was the lamp-post, bent, moveless, unnatural, +atrociously comic, accusing him. + +The affair was over the town in a minute; the next morning it reached +Llandudno. Ellis Carter had been out on the spree with _a Wakes girl_ in +a dogcart on Sunday afternoon, and had got into such a condition that he +had driven into a lamp-post at the top of Oldcastle Street just as +people were going into chapel. + +The lamp-post remained bent for three days--a fearful warning to all +dogs that doggishness has limits. + +If it had not been a dogcart, and such a high, green dogcart; if it had +been, say, a brougham, or even a cab! If it had not been Sunday! And, +granting Sunday, if it had not been just as people were going into +chapel! If he had not chosen that particular lamp-post, visible both +from the market-place and St. Luke's Square! If he had only contrived to +destroy a less obtrusive lamp-post in some unfrequented street! And if +it had not been a Wakes girl--if the reprobate had only selected for his +guilty amours an actress from one of the touring companies, or even a +star from the Hanbridge Empire--yea, or even a local barmaid! But _a +Wakes girl_! + +Ellis himself saw the enormity of his transgression. He lay awake +astounded by his own doggishness. + +And yet he had seldom felt less doggy than during that trip. It seemed +to him that doggishness was not the glorious thing he had thought. +However, he cut a heroic figure at the dogs' club. Every admiring face +said: 'Well, you _have_ been going the pace! We always knew you were a +hot un, but, really----' + + +V + +On the following Friday evening, when Ellis jumped off the car opposite +his home on the Hawkins, he saw in the road, halted, a train of vast and +queer-shaped waggons in charge of two traction-engines. They were +painted on all sides with the great name of Jenkins. They contained +Jenkins's roundabouts and shooting-saloons, on their way to rouse the +joy of life in other towns. And he perceived in front of the portico the +high, green dogcart and the lamp-post-destroying mare. + +He went in. The family had come home that afternoon. Sundry of his +sisters greeted him with silent horror on their faces in the hall. In +the breakfast-room, which gave off the drawing-room, was his mother in +the attitude of an intent listener. She spoke no word. + +And Ellis listened, too. + +'Yes,' a very powerful and raucous voice was saying in the drawing-room, +'I reckoned I'd call and tell ye myself, Mister Carter, what I thought +on it. My gell, a motherless gell, but brought up respectable; sixth +standard at Whalley Range Board School; and her aunt a strict +God-fearing woman! And here your son comes along and gets hold of the +girl while her aunt's at the special service for Wakes folks in Bethesda +Chapel, and runs off with her in my dogcart with one of my hosses, and +raises a scandal all o'er the Five Towns. God bless my soul, mister! I +tell'n ye I hardly liked to open o' Monday afternoon, I was that +ashamed! And I packed Ada off to Manchester. It seems to me that if the +upper classes, as they call 'em--the immoral classes _I_ call 'em--'ud +look after themselves a bit instead o' looking after other people so +much, things might be a bit better, Mister Carter. I dare say you think +it's nothing as your son should go about ruining the reputation of any +decent, respectable girl as he happens to fancy, Mister Carter; but this +is what I say. I say----' + +Mr. Carter was understood to assert, in his most pacific and pained +public-meeting voice, that he regretted, infinitely regretted---- + +Mrs. Carter, weeping, ran out of the breakfast-room. + +And soon afterwards the traction-engines rumbled off, and the high, +green dogcart followed them. + +Ellis sat spell-bound. + +He heard the parlourmaid go into the drawing-room and announce, 'Tea is +ready, sir!' and then his father's dry cough. + +And then the parlourmaid came into the breakfast-room: 'Tea is ready, +Mr. Ellis!' + +Oh, the meal! + + * * * * * + + + + +A FEUD + + +When Clive Timmis paused at the side-door of Ezra Brunt's great shop in +Machin Street, and the door was opened to him by Ezra Brunt's daughter +before he had had time to pull the bell, not only all Machin Street knew +it within the hour, but also most persons of consequence left in +Hanbridge on a Thursday afternoon--Thursday being early-closing day. For +Hanbridge, though it counts sixty thousand inhabitants, and is the chief +of the Five Towns--that vast, huddled congeries of boroughs devoted to +the manufacture of earthenware--is a place where the art of attending to +other people's business still flourishes in rustic perfection. + +Ezra Brunt's drapery establishment was the foremost retail house, in any +branch of trade, of the Five Towns. It had no rival nearer than +Manchester, thirty-six miles off; and even Manchester could exhibit +nothing conspicuously superior to it. The most acutely critical shoppers +of the Five Towns--women who were in the habit of going to London every +year for the January sales--spoke of Brunt's as a 'right-down good +shop.' And the husbands of these ladies, manufacturers who employed from +two hundred to a thousand men, regarded Ezra Brunt as a commercial +magnate of equal importance with themselves. Brunt, who had served his +apprenticeship at Birmingham, started business in Machin Street in 1862, +when Hanbridge was half its present size and all the best shops of the +district were in Oldcastle, an ancient burg contiguous with, but holding +itself proudly aloof from, the industrial Five Towns. He paid eighty +pounds a year rent, and lived over the shop, and in the summer quarter +his gas bill was always under a sovereign. For ten years success +tarried, but in 1872 his daughter Eva was born and his wife died, and +from that moment the sun of his prosperity climbed higher and higher +into heaven. He had been profoundly attached to his wife, and, having +lost her he abandoned himself to the mercantile struggle with that +morose and terrible ferocity which was the root of his character. Of +rude, gaunt aspect, gruffly taciturn by nature, and variable in temper, +he yet had the precious instinct for soothing customers. To this day he +can surpass his own shop-walkers in the admirable and tender solicitude +with which, forsaking dialect, he drops into a lady's ear his famous +stereotyped phrase: 'Are you receiving proper attention, madam?' From +the first he eschewed the facile trickeries and ostentations which +allure the populace. He sought a high-class trade, and by waiting he +found it. He would never advertise on hoardings; for many years he had +no signboard over his shop-front; and whereas the name of 'Bostocks,' +the huge cheap drapers lower down Machin Street, on the opposite side, +attacks you at every railway-station and in every tramcar, the name of +'E. Brunt' is to be seen only in a modest regular advertisement on the +front page of the _Staffordshire Signal_. Repose, reticence, +respectability--it was these attributes which he decided his shop should +possess, and by means of which he succeeded. To enter Brunt's, with its +silently swinging doors, its broad, easy staircases, its long floors +covered with warm, red linoleum, its partitioned walls, its smooth +mahogany counters, its unobtrusive mirrors, its rows of youths and +virgins in black, and its pervading atmosphere of quietude and +discretion, was like entering a temple before the act of oblation has +commenced. You were conscious of some supreme administrative influence +everywhere imposing itself. That influence was Ezra Brunt. And yet the +man differed utterly from the thing he had created. His was one of those +dark and passionate souls which smoulder in this harsh Midland district +as slag-heaps smoulder on the pit-banks, revealing their strange fires +only in the darkness. + +In 1899 Brunt's establishment occupied four shops, Nos. 52, 56, 58, and +60, in Machin Street. He had bought the freeholds at a price which timid +people regarded as exorbitant, but the solicitors of Hanbridge secretly +applauded his enterprise and shrewdness in anticipating the enormous +rise in ground-values which has now been in rapid, steady progress there +for more than a decade. He had thrown the interiors together and rebuilt +the frontages in handsome freestone. He had also purchased several +shops opposite, and rumour said that it was his intention to offer these +latter to the Town Council at a low figure if the Council would cut a +new street leading from his premises to the Market Square. Such a scheme +would have met with general approval. But there was one serious hiatus +in the plans of Ezra Brunt--to wit, No. 54, Machin Street. No. 54, +separating 52 and 56, was a chemist's shop, shabby but sedate as to +appearance, owned and occupied by George Christopher Timmis, a mild and +venerable citizen, and a local preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist +Connexion. For nearly thirty years Brunt had coveted Mr. Timmis's shop; +more than twenty years have elapsed since he first opened negotiations +for it. Mr. Timmis was by no means eager to sell--indeed, his attitude +was distinctly a repellent one--but a bargain would undoubtedly have +been concluded had not a report reached the ears of Mr. Timmis to the +effect that Ezra Brunt had remarked at the Turk's Head that 'th' old +leech was only sticking out for every brass farthing he could get.' The +report was untrue, but Mr. Timmis believed it, and from that moment Ezra +Brunt's chances of obtaining the chemist's shop vanished completely. +His lawyer expended diplomacy in vain, raising the offer week by week +till the incredible sum of three thousand pounds was reached. Then Ezra +Brunt himself saw Mr. Timmis, and without a word of prelude said: + +'Will ye take three thousand guineas for this bit o' property?' + +'Not thirty thousand guineas,' said Mr. Timmis quietly; the stern pride +of the benevolent old local preacher had been aroused. + +'Then be damned to you!' said Ezra Brunt, who had never been known to +swear before. + +Thenceforth a feud existed, not less bitter because it was a feud in +which nothing was said and nothing done--a silent and implacable mutual +resistance. The sole outward sign of it was the dirty and stumpy +brown-brick shop-front of Mr. Timmis, squeezed in between those massive +luxurious façades of stone which Ezra Brunt soon afterwards erected. The +pharmaceutical business of Mr. Timmis was not a very large one, and, +fiscally, Ezra Brunt could have swallowed him at a meal and suffered no +inconvenience; but in that the aged chemist had lived on just half his +small income for some fifty years past, his position was impregnable. +Hanbridge smiled cynically at this _impasse_ produced by an idle word, +and, recognising the equality of the antagonists, leaned neither to one +side nor to the other. At intervals, however, the legend of the feud was +embroidered with new and effective detail in the mouth of some inventive +gossip, and by degrees it took high place among those piquant social +histories which illustrate the real life of a town, and which parents +recount to their children with such zest in moods of reminiscence. + +When George Christopher Timmis buried his wife, Ezra Brunt, as a near +neighbour, was asked to the funeral. 'The cortège will move at 1.30,' +ran the printed invitation, and at 1.15 Brunt's carriage was decorously +in place behind the hearse and the two mourning-coaches. The demeanour +of the chemist and the draper towards each other was a sublime answer to +the demands of the occasion; some people even said that the breach had +been healed, but these were not of the discerning. + +The most active person at the funeral was the chemist's only nephew, +Clive Timmis, partner in a small but prosperous firm of majolica +manufacturers at Bursley. Clive, who was seldom seen in Hanbridge, made +a favourable impression on everyone by his pleasing, unaffected manner +and his air of discretion and success. He was a bachelor of thirty-two, +and lived in lodgings at Bursley. On the return of the funeral-party +from the cemetery, Clive Timmis found Brunt's daughter Eva in his +uncle's house. Uninvited, she had left her place in the private room at +her father's shop in order to assist Timmis's servant Sarah in the +preparation of that solid and solemn repast which must inevitably follow +every proper interment in the Five Towns. Without false modesty, she +introduced herself to one or two of the men who had surprised her at her +work, and then quietly departed just as they were sitting down to table +and Sarah had brought in the hot tea-cakes. Clive Timmis saw her only +for a moment, but from that moment she was his one thought. During the +evening, which he spent alone with his uncle, he behaved in every +particular as a nephew should, yet he was acting a part; his real self +roved after Ezra Brunt's daughter, wherever she might be. Clive had +never fallen in love, though several times in his life he had tried hard +to do so. He had long wished to marry--wished ardently; he had even got +into the way of regarding every woman he met--and he met many--in the +light of a possible partner. 'Can it be _she_? he had asked himself a +thousand times, and then answered half sadly, 'No.' Not one woman had +touched his imagination, coincided with his dream. It is strange that +after seeing Eva Brunt he forgot thus to interrogate himself. For a +fortnight, while he went his ways as usual, her image occupied his +heart, throwing that once orderly chamber into the wildest confusion; +and he let it remain, dimly aware of some delicious danger. He inspected +the image every night before he slept, and every morning when he awoke, +and made no effort to define its distracting charm; he knew only that +Eva Brunt was absolutely and in every detail unlike all other women. On +the second Sunday he murmured during the sermon: 'But I only saw her for +a minute.' A few days afterwards he took the tram to Hanbridge. + +'Uncle,' he said, 'how should you like me to come and live here with +you? I've been thinking things out a bit, and I thought perhaps you'd +like it. I expect you must feel rather lonely now.' + +The neat, fragrant shop was empty, and the two men stood behind the big +glass-fronted case of Burroughs and Wellcome's preparations. Clive's +venerable uncle happened to be looking into a drawer marked 'Gentianæ +Rad. Pulv.' He closed the drawer with slow hesitation, and then, +stroking his long white beard, replied in that deliberate voice which +seemed always to tremble with religious fervour: + +'The hand of the Lord is in this thing, Clive. I have wished that you +might come to live here with me. But I was afraid it would be too far +from the works.' + +'Pooh! that's nothing,' said Clive. + +As he lingered at the shop door for the Bursley car to pass the end of +Machin Street, Eva Brunt went by. He raised his hat with diffidence, and +she smiled. It was a marvellous chance. His heart leapt into a throb +which was half agony and half delight. + +'I am in love,' he said gravely. + +He had just discovered the fact, and the discovery filled him with +exquisite apprehension. + +If he had waited till the age of thirty-two for that springtime of the +soul which we call love, Clive had not waited for nothing. Eva was a +woman to enravish the heart of a man whose imagination could pierce the +agitating secrets immured in that calm and silent bosom. Slender and +scarcely tall, she belonged to the order of spare, slight-made women, +who hide within their slim frames an endowment of profound passion far +exceeding that of their more voluptuously-formed sisters, who never +coarsen into stoutness, and who at forty are as disturbing as at twenty. +At this date Eva was twenty-six. She had a rather small, white face, +which was a mask to the casual observer, and the very mirror of her +feelings to anyone with eyes to read its signs. + +'I tell you what you are like,' said Clive to her once: 'you are like a +fine racehorse, always on the quiver.' + +Yet many people considered her cold and impassive. Her walk and bearing +showed a sensitive independence, and when she spoke it was usually in +tones of command. The girls in the shop, where she was a power second +only to Ezra Brunt, were a little afraid of her, chiefly because she +poured terrible scorn on their small affectations, jealousies, and +vendettas. But they liked her because, in their own phrase, 'there was +no nonsense about' this redoubtable woman. She hated shams and +make-believes with a bitter and ruthless hatred. She was the heiress to +at least five thousand a year, and knew it well, but she never +encouraged her father to complicate their simple mode of life with the +pomps of wealth. They lived in a house with a large garden at Pireford, +which is on the summit of the steep ridge between the Five Towns and +Oldcastle, and they kept two servants and a coachman, who was also +gardener. Eva paid the servants good wages, and took care to get good +value therefor. + +'It's not often I have any bother with my servants,' she would say, 'for +they know that if there is any trouble I would just as soon clear them +out and put on an apron and do the work myself.' + +She was an accomplished house-mistress, and could bake her own bread: in +towns not one woman in a thousand can bake. With the coachman she had +little to do, for she could not rid herself of a sentimental objection +to the carriage--it savoured of 'airs'; when she used it she used it as +she might use a tramcar. It was her custom, every day except Saturday, +to walk to the shop about eleven o'clock, after her house had been set +in order. She had been thoroughly trained in the business, and had spent +a year at a first-rate shop in High Street, Kensington. Millinery was +her speciality, and she still watched over that department with a +particular attention; but for some time past she had risen beyond the +limitations of departments, and assisted her father in the general +management of the vast concern. In commercial aptitude she resembled the +typical Frenchwoman. + +Although he was her father, Ezra Brunt had the wit to recognise her +talents, and he always listened to her suggestions, which, however, +sometimes startled him. One of them was that he should import into the +Five Towns a modiste from Paris, offering a salary of two hundred a +year. The old provincial stood aghast. He had the idea that all Parisian +women were stage-dancers. And to pay four pounds a week to a female! + +Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Bertot--styled in the shop 'Madame'--now +presides over Ezra Brunt's dressmakers, draws her four pounds a week (of +which she saves two), and by mere nationality has given a unique +distinction and success to her branch of the business. + +Eva occupied a small room opening off the principal showroom, and during +hours of work she issued thence but seldom. Only customers of the +highest importance might speak with her. She was a power felt rather +than seen. Employés who knocked at her door always did so with a certain +awe of what awaited them on the other side, and a consciousness that the +moment was unsuitable for levity. 'If you please, Miss Eva----'. Here +she gave audience to the 'buyers' and window-dressers, listened to +complaints and excuses, and occasionally had a secret orgy of afternoon +tea with one or two of her friends. None but these few girls--mostly +younger than herself, and remarkable only in that their dislike of the +snobbery of the Five Towns, though less fiercely displayed, agreed with +her own--really knew Eva. To them alone did she unveil herself, and by +them she was idolized. + +'She is simply splendid when you know her--such a jolly girl!' they +would say to other people; but other people, especially other women, +could not believe it. They fearfully respected her because she was very +well dressed and had quantities of money. But they called her 'a curious +creature'; it was inconceivable to them that she should choose to work +in a shop; and her tongue had a causticity which was sometimes +exceedingly disconcerting and mortifying. As for men, she was shy of +them, and, moreover, she loathed the elaborate and insincere ritual of +deference which the average man practises towards women unrelated to +him, particularly when they are young and rich. Her father she adored, +without knowing it; for he often angered her, and humiliated her in +private. As for the rest, she was, after all, only six-and-twenty. + +'If you don't mind, I should like to walk along with you,' Clive Timmis +said to her one Sunday evening in the porch of the Bethesda Chapel. + +'I shall be glad,' she answered at once; 'father isn't here, and I'm all +alone.' + +Ezra Brunt was indeed seldom there, counting in the matter of +attendance at chapel among what were called 'the weaker brethren.' + +'I am going over to Oldcastle,' Clive explained calmly. + +So began the formal courtship--more than a month after Clive had settled +in Machin Street, for he was far too discreet to engender by +precipitancy any suspicion in the haunts of scandal that his true reason +for establishing himself in his uncle's household was a certain rich +young woman who was to be found every day next door. Guided as much by +instinct as by tact, Clive approached Eva with an almost savage +simplicity and naturalness of manner, ignoring not only her father's +wealth, but all the feigned punctilio of a wooer. His face said: 'Let +there be no beating about the bush--I like you.' Hers answered: 'Good! +we will see.' + +From the first he pleased her, and not least in treating her exactly as +she would have wished to be treated--namely, as a quite plain person of +that part of the middle class which is neither upper nor lower. Few men +in the Five Towns would have been capable of forgetting Ezra Brunt's +income in talking to Ezra Brunt's daughter. Fortunately, Timmis had a +proud, confident spirit--the spirit of one who, unaided, has wrested +success from the world's deathlike clutch. Had Eva the reversion of +fifty thousand a year instead of five, he, Clive, was still a prosperous +plain man, well able to support a wife in the position to which God had +called him. + +Their walks together grew more and more frequent, and they became +intimate, exchanging ideas and rejoicing openly at the similarity of +those ideas. Although there was no concealment in these encounters, +still, there was a circumspection which resembled the clandestine. By a +silent understanding Clive did not enter the house at Pireford; to have +done so would have excited remark, for this house, unlike some, had +never been the rendezvous of young men; much less, therefore, did he +invade the shop. No! The chief part of their love-making (for such it +was, though the term would have roused Eva's contemptuous anger) +occurred in the streets; in this they did but follow the traditions of +their class. Thus, the idyll, so matter-of-fact upon the surface, but +within which glowed secret and adorable fires, progressed towards its +culmination. Eva, the artless fool--oh, how simple are the wisest at +times!--thought that the affair was hid from the shop. But was it +possible? Was it possible that in those tiny bedrooms on the third +floor, where the heavy evening hours were ever lightened with breathless +interminable recitals of what some 'he' had said and some 'she' had +replied, such an enthralling episode should escape discovery? The +dormitories knew of Eva's 'attachment' before Eva herself. Yet none knew +how it was known. The whisper arose like Venus from a sea of trivial +gossip, miraculously, exquisitely. On the night when the first rumour of +it traversed the passages there was scarcely any sleep at Brunt's, while +Eva up at Pireford slumbered as a young girl. + +On the Thursday afternoon with which we began, Brunt's was deserted save +for the housekeeper and Eva, who was writing letters in her room. + +'I saw you from my window, coming up the street,' she said to Clive, +'and so I ran down to open the door. Will you come into father's room? +He is in Manchester for the day, buying. + +'I knew that,' said Timmis. + +'How did you know?' She observed that his manner was somewhat nervous +and constrained. + +'You yourself told me last night--don't you remember?' + +'So I did.' + +'That's why I sent the note round this morning to say I'd call this +afternoon. You got it, I suppose?' + +She nodded thoughtfully. + +'Well, what is this business you want to talk about?' + +It was spoken with a brave carelessness, but he caught the tremor in her +voice, and saw her little hand shake as it lay on the table amid her +father's papers. Without knowing why he should do so, he stepped hastily +forward and seized that hand. Her emotion unmanned him. He thought he +was going to cry; he could not account for himself. + +'Eva,' he said thickly, 'you know what the business is; you know, don't +you?' + +She smiled. That smile, the softness of her hand, the sparkle in her +eye, the heave of her small bosom ... it was the divinest miracle! +Clive, manufacturer of majolica, went hot and then cold, and then his +wits were suddenly his own again. + +'That's all right,' he murmured, and sighed, and placed on Eva's lips +the first kiss that had ever lain there. + +'Dear boy,' she said later, 'you should have come up to Pireford, not +here, and when father was there.' + +'Should I?' he answered happily. 'It just occurred to me all of a sudden +this morning that you would be here, and that I couldn't wait.' + +'You will come up to-night and see father?' + +'I had meant to.' + +'You had better go home now.' + +'Had I?' + +She nodded, putting her lips tightly together--a trick of hers. + +'Come up about half-past eight.' + +'Good! I will let myself out.' + +He left her, and she gazed dreamily at the window, which looked on to a +whitewashed yard. The next moment someone else entered the room with +heavy footsteps. She turned round a little startled. + +It was her father. + +'Why! You _are_ back early, father! How----' She stopped. Something in +the old man's glance gave her a premonition of disaster. To this day she +does not know what accident brought him from Manchester two hours sooner +than usual, and to Machin Street instead of Pireford. + +'Has young Timmis been here?' he inquired curtly. + +'Yes.' + +'Ha!' with subdued, sinister satisfaction, 'I saw him going out. He +didna see me.' Ezra Brunt deposited his hat and sat down. + +Intimate with all her father's various moods, she saw instantly and with +terrible certainty that a series of chances had fatally combined +themselves against her. If only she had not happened to tell Clive that +her father would be at Manchester this day! If only her father had +adhered to his customary hour of return! If only Clive had had the sense +to make his proposal openly at Pireford some evening! If only he had +left a little earlier! If only her father had not caught him going out +by the side-door on a Thursday afternoon when the place was empty! +Here, she guessed, was the suggestion of furtiveness which had raised +her father's unreasoning anger, often fierce, and always incalculable. + +'Clive Timmis has asked me to marry him, father.' + +'Has he!' + +'Surely you must have known, father, that he and I were seeing each +other a great deal.' + +'Not from your lips, my girl.' + +'Well, father----' Again she stopped, this strong and capable woman, +gifted with a fine brain to organize and a powerful will to command. She +quailed, robbed of speech, before the causeless, vindictive, and +infantile wrath of an old man who happened to be in a bad temper. She +actually felt like a naughty schoolgirl before him. Such is the +tremendous influence of lifelong habit, the irresistible power of the +_patria potestas_ when it has never been relaxed. Ezra Brunt saw in +front of him only a cowering child. 'Clive is coming up to see you +to-night,' she went on timidly, clearing her throat. + +'Humph! Is he?' + +The rosy and tender dream of five minutes ago lay in fragments at Eva's +feet. She brooded with stricken apprehension upon the forms of +obstruction which his despotism might choose. + + * * * * * + +The next morning Clive and his uncle breakfasted together as usual in +the parlour behind, the chemist's shop. + +'Uncle,' said Clive brusquely, when the meal was nearly finished, 'I'd +better tell you that I've proposed to Eva Brunt.' + +Old George Timmis lowered the _Manchester Guardian_ and gazed at Clive +over his steel-rimmed spectacles. + +'She is a good girl,' he remarked; 'she will make you a good wife. Have +you spoken to her father?' + +'That's the point. I saw him last night, and I'll tell you what he said. +These were his words: "You can marry my daughter, Mr. Timmis, when your +uncle agrees to part with his shop!"' + +'That I shall never do, nephew,' said the aged patriarch quietly and +deliberately. + +'Of course you won't, uncle. I shouldn't think of suggesting it. I'm +merely telling you what he said.' Clive laughed harshly. 'Why,' he +added, 'the man must be mad!' + +'What did the young woman say to that?' his uncle inquired. + +Clive frowned. + +'I didn't see her last night,' he said. 'I didn't ask to see her. I was +too angry.' + +Just then the post arrived, and there was a letter for Clive, which he +read and put carefully in his waistcoat pocket. + +'Eva writes asking me to go to Pireford to-night,' he said, after a +pause. 'I'll soon settle it, depend on that. If Ezra Brunt refuses his +consent, so much the worse for him. I wonder whether he actually +imagines that a grown man and a grown woman are to be.... Ah well, I +can't talk about it! It's too silly. I'll be off to the works.' + +When Clive reached Pireford that night, Eva herself opened the door to +him. She was wearing a gray frock, and over it a large white apron, +perfectly plain. + +'My girls are both out to-night,' she said, 'and I was making some puffs +for the sewing-meeting tea. Come into the breakfast-room.... This way,' +she added, guiding him. He had entered the house on the previous night +for the first time. She spoke hurriedly, and, instead of stopping in +the breakfast-room, wandered uncertainly through it into the greenhouse, +to which it gave access by means of a French window. In the dark, +confined space, amid the close-packed blossoms, they stood together. She +bent down to smell at a musk-plant. He took her hand and drew her soft +and yielding form towards him and kissed her warm face. + +'Oh, Clive!' she said. 'Whatever are we to do?' + +'Do?' he replied, enchanted by her instinctive feminine surrender and +reliance upon him, which seemed the more precious in that creature so +proud and reserved to all others. 'Do! Where is your father?' + +'Reading the _Signal_ in the dining-room.' + +Every business man in the Five Towns reads the _Staffordshire Signal_ +from beginning to end every night. + +'I will see him. Of course he is your father; but I will just tell +him--as decently as I can--that neither you nor I will stand this +nonsense.' + +'You mustn't--you mustn't see him.' + +'Why not?' + +'It will only lead to unpleasantness.' + +'That can't be helped.' + +'He never, never changes when once he has _said_ a thing. I know him.' + +Clive was arrested by something in her tone, something new to him, that +in its poignant finality seemed to have caught up and expressed in a +single instant that bitterness of a lifetime's renunciation which falls +to the lot of most women. + +'Will you come outside?' he asked in a different voice. + +Without replying, she led the way down the long garden, which ended in +an ivy-grown brick wall and a panorama of the immense valley of +industries below. It was a warm, cloudy evening. The last silver tinge +of an August twilight lay on the shoulder of the hill to the left. There +was no moon, but the splendid watch-fires of labour flamed from ore-heap +and furnace across the whole expanse, performing their nightly miracle +of beauty. Trains crept with noiseless mystery along the middle +distance, under their canopies of yellow steam. Further off the +far-extending streets of Hanbridge made a map of starry lines on the +blackness. To the south-east stared the cold, blue electric lights of +Knype railway-station. All was silent, save for a distant thunderous +roar, the giant breathing of the forge at Cauldon Bar Ironworks. + +Eva leaned both elbows on the wall and looked forth. + +'Do you mean to say,' said Clive, 'that Mr. Brunt will actually stick by +what he has said?' + +'Like grim death,' said Eva. + +'But what's his idea?' + +'Oh! how can I tell you?' she burst out passionately. + +'Perhaps I did wrong. Perhaps I ought to have warned him earlier--said +to him, "Father, Clive Timmis is courting me!" Ugh! He cannot bear to be +surprised about anything. But yet he must have known.... It was all an +accident, Clive--all an accident. He saw you leaving the shop yesterday. +He would say he _caught_ you leaving the shop--_sneaking_ off like----' + +'But, Eva----' + +'I know--I know! Don't tell me! But it was that, I am sure. He would +resent the mere look of things, and then he would think and think, and +the notion of your uncle's shop would occur to him again, after all +these years. I can see his thoughts as plain ... My dear, if he had not +seen you at Machin Street yesterday, or if you had seen him and spoken +to him, all might have gone right. He would have objected, but he would +have given way in a day or two. Now he will never give way! I asked you +just now what was to be done, but I knew all the time that there was +nothing.' + +'There is one thing to be done, Eva, and the sooner the better.' + +'Do you mean that old Mr. Timmis must give up his shop to my father? +Never! never!' + +'I mean,' said Clive quietly, 'that we must marry without your father's +consent.' + +She shook her head slowly and sadly, relapsing into calmness. + +'You shake your head, Eva, but it must be so.' + +'I can't, my dear.' + +'Do you mean to say that you will allow your father's childish whim--for +it's nothing else; he can't find any objection to me as a husband for +you, and he knows it--that you will allow his childish whim to spoil +your life and mine? Remember, you are twenty-six and I am thirty-two.' + +'I can't do it! I daren't! I'm mad with myself for feeling like this, +but I daren't! And even if I dared I wouldn't. Clive, you don't know! +You can't tell how it is!' + +Her sorrowful, pathetic firmness daunted him. She was now composed, +mistress again of herself, and her moral force dominated him. + +'Then, you and I are to be unhappy all our lives, Eva?' + +The soft influences of the night seemed to direct her voice as, after a +long pause, she uttered the words: 'No one is ever quite unhappy in all +this world.' There was another pause, as she gazed steadily down into +the wonderful valley. 'We must wait.' + +'Wait!' echoed Clive with angry grimness. 'He will live for twenty +years!' + +'No one is ever quite unhappy in all this world,' she repeated dreamily, +as one might turn over a treasure in order to examine it. + +Now for the epilogue to the feud. Two years passed, and it happened +that there was to be a Revival at the Bethesda Chapel. One morning the +superintendent minister and the revivalist called on Ezra Brunt at his +shop. When informed of their presence, the great draper had an impulse +of anger, for, like many stouter chapel-goers than himself, he would +scarcely tolerate the intrusion of religion into commerce. However, the +visit had an air of ceremony, and he could not decline to see these +ambassadors of heaven in his private room. The revivalist, a cheery, +shrewd man, whose powers of organization were obvious, and who seemed to +put organization before everything else, pleased Ezra Brunt at once. + +'We want a specially good congregation at the opening meeting to-night,' +said the revivalist. 'Now, the basis of a good congregation must +necessarily be the regular pillars of the church, and therefore we are +making a few calls this morning to insure the presence of our chief +men--the men of influence and position. You will come, Mr. Brunt, and +you will let it be known among your employés that they will please you +by coming too?' + +Ezra Brunt was by no means a regular pillar of the Bethesda, but he had +a vague sensation of flattery, and he consented; indeed, there was no +alternative. + +The first hymn was being sung when he reached the chapel. To his +surprise, he found the place crowded in every part. A man whom he did +not know led him to a wooden form which had been put in the space +between the front pews and the Communion-rail. He felt strange there, +and uneasy, apprehensive. + +The usual discreet somnolence of the chapel had been disturbed as by +some indecorous but formidable awakener; the air was electric; anything +might occur. Ezra was astounded by the mere volume of the singing; never +had he heard such singing. At the end of the hymn the congregation sat +down, hiding their faces in expectation. The revivalist stood erect and +terrible in the pulpit, no longer a shrewd, cheery man of the world, but +the very mouthpiece of the wrath and mercy of God. Ezra's +self-importance dwindled before that gaze, till, from a renowned magnate +of the Five Towns, he became an item in the multitude of suppliants. He +profoundly wished he had never come. + +'Remember the hymn,' said the revivalist, with austere emphasis: + + '"My richest gain I count but loss, + And pour contempt on all my pride."' + +The admirable histrionic art with which he intensified the consonants in +the last line produced a tremendous effect. Not for nothing was this man +cerebrated throughout Methodism as a saver of souls. When, after a +pause, he raised his hand and ejaculated, 'Let us pray,' sobs could be +heard throughout the chapel. The Revival had begun. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour Ezra Brunt would have given fifty +pounds to be outside, but he could not stir; he was magnetized. Soon the +revivalist came down from the pulpit and stood within the +Communion-rail, whence he addressed the nearmost part of the people in +low, soothing tones of persuasion. Apparently he ignored Ezra Brunt, but +the man was convicted of sin, and felt himself melting like an icicle in +front of a fire. He recalled the days of his youth, the piety of his +father and mother, and the long traditions of a stern Dissenting +family. He had backslidden, slackened in the use of the means of grace, +run after the things of this world. It is true that none of his chiefest +iniquities presented themselves to him; he was quite unconscious of them +even then; but the lesser ones were more than sufficient to overwhelm +him. Class-leaders were now reasoning with stricken sinners, and Ezra, +who could not take his eyes off the revivalist, heard the footsteps of +those who were going to the 'inquiry-room' for more private counsel. In +vain he argued that he was about to be ridiculous; that the idea of him, +Ezra Brunt, a professed Wesleyan for half a century, being publicly +'saved' at the age of fifty-seven was not to be entertained; that the +town would talk; that his business might suffer if for any reason he +should be morally bound to apply to it too strictly the principles of +the New Testament. He was under the spell. The tears coursed down his +long cheeks, and he forgot to care, but sat entranced by the +revivalist's marvellous voice. Suddenly, with an awful sob, he bent and +hid his face in his hands. The spectacle of the old, proud man helpless +in the grasp of profound emotion was a sight to rend the heart-strings. + +'Brother, be of good cheer,' said a tremulous and benign voice above +him. 'The love of God compasseth all things. Only believe.' + +He looked up and saw the venerable face and long white beard of George +Christopher Timmis. + +Ezra Brunt shrank away, embittered and ashamed. + +'I cannot,' he murmured with difficulty. + +'The love of God is all-powerful.' + +'Will it make you part with that bit o' property, think you?' said Ezra +Brunt, with a kind of despairing ferocity. + +'Brother,' replied the aged servant of God, unmoved, 'if my shop is in +truth a stumbling-block in this solemn hour, you shall have it.' + +Ezra Brunt was staggered. + +'I believe! I believe!' he cried. + +'Praise God!' said the chemist, with majestic joy. + + * * * * * + +Three months afterwards Eva Brunt and Clive Timmis were married. It is +characteristic of the fine sentimentality which underlies the surface +harshness of the inhabitants of the Five Towns that, though No. 54 +Machin Street was duly transferred to Ezra Brunt, the chemist retiring +from business, he has never rebuilt it to accord with the rest of his +premises. In all its shabbiness it stands between the other big dazzling +shops as a reminding monument. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHANTOM + + +I + +The heart of the Five Towns--that undulating patch of England covered +with mean streets, and dominated by tall smoking chimneys, whence are +derived your cups and saucers and plates, some of your coal, and a +portion of your iron--is Hanbridge, a borough larger and busier than its +four sisters, and even more grimy and commonplace than they. And the +heart of Hanbridge is probably the offices of the Five Towns Banking +Company, where the last trace of magic and romance is beaten out of +human existence, and the meaning of life is expressed in balances, +deposits, percentages, and overdrafts--especially overdrafts. In a fine +suite of rooms on the first floor of the bank building resides Mr. +Lionel Woolley, the manager, with his wife May and their children. Mrs. +Woolley is compelled to change her white window-curtains once a week +because of the smuts. Mr. Woolley, forty-five, rather bald, frigidly +suave, positive, egotistic, and pontifical, is a specimen of the man of +business who is nothing else but a man of business. His career has been +a calculation from which sentiment is entirely omitted; he has no +instinct for the things which cannot be defined and assessed. Scarcely a +manufacturer in Hanbridge but who inimically and fearfully regards Mr. +Woolley as an amazing instance of a creature without a soul; and the +absence of soul in a fellow-man must be very marked indeed before a +Hanbridge manufacturer notices it. There are some sixty thousand +immortal souls in Hanbridge, but they seldom attract attention. + +Yet Mr. Woolley was once brought into contact with the things which +cannot be defined and assessed; once he stood face to face with some +strange visible resultant of those secret forces that lie beyond the +human ken. And, moreover, the adventure affected the whole of his +domestic life. The wonder and the pathos of the story lie in the fact +that Nature, prodigal though she is known to be, should have wasted the +rare and beautiful visitation on just Mr. Woolley. Mr. Woolley was +bathed in romance of the most singular kind, and the precious fluid ran +off him like water off a duck's back. + + +II + +Ten years ago on a Thursday afternoon in July, Lionel Woolley, as he +walked up through the new park at Bursley to his celibate rooms in Park +Terrace, was making addition sums out of various items connected with +the institution of marriage. Bursley is next door to Hanbridge, and +Lionel happened then to be cashier of the Bursley branch of the bank. He +had in mind two possible wives, each of whom possessed advantages which +appealed to him, and he was unable to decide between them by any +mathematical process. Suddenly, from a glazed shelter near the empty +bandstand, there emerged in front of him one of the delectable creatures +who had excited his fancy. May Lawton was twenty-eight, an orphan, and a +schoolmistress. She, too, had celibate rooms in Park Terrace, and it +was owing to this coincidence that Lionel had made her acquaintance six +months previously. She was not pretty, but she was tall, straight, well +dressed, well educated, and not lacking in experience; and she had a +little money of her own. + +'Well, Mr. Woolley,' she said easily, stopping for him as she raised her +sunshade, 'how satisfied you look!' + +'It's the sight of you,' he replied, without a moment's hesitation. + +He had a fine assured way with women (he need not have envied a curate +accustomed to sewing meetings), and May Lawton belonged to the type of +girl whose demeanour always challenges the masculine in a man. Gazing at +her, Lionel was swiftly conscious of several things: the piquancy of her +snub nose, the brightness of her smile, at once defiant and wistful, the +lingering softness of her gloved hand, and the extraordinary charm of +her sunshade, which matched her dress and formed a sort of canopy and +frame for that intelligent, tantalizing face. He remembered that of late +he and she had grown very intimate; and it came upon him with a shock, +as though he had just opened a telegram which said so, that May, and not +the other girl, was his destined mate. And he thought of her fortune, +tiny but nevertheless useful, and how clever she was, and how +inexplicably different from the rest of her sex, and how she would adorn +his house, and set him off, and help him in his career. He heard himself +saying negligently to friends: 'My wife speaks French like a native. Of +course, my wife has travelled a great deal. My wife has thoroughly +studied the management of children. Now, my wife does understand the art +of dress. I put my wife's bit of money into so-and-so.' In short, Lionel +was as near being in love as his character permitted. + +And while he walked by May's side past the bowling-greens at the summit +of the hill, she lightly quizzing the raw newness of the park and its +appurtenances, he wondered, he honestly wondered, that he could ever +have hesitated between May Lawton and the other. Her superiority was too +obvious; she was a woman of the world! She.... In a flash he knew that +he would propose to her that very afternoon. And when he had suggested +a stroll towards Moorthorne, and she had deliciously agreed, he was +conscious of a tumultuous uplifting and splendid carelessness of +spirits. 'Imagine me bringing it to a climax to-day,' he reflected, +profoundly pleased with himself. 'Ah well, it will be settled once for +all!' He admired his own decision; he was quite struck by it. 'I shall +call her May before I leave her,' he thought, gazing at her, and +discovering how well the name suited her, with its significances of +alertness, geniality, and half-mocking coyness. + +'So school is closed,' he said, and added humorously: '"Broken up" is +the technical term, I believe.' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'and I had walked out into the park to meditate +seriously upon the question of my holiday.' + +She caught his eye in a net of bright glances, and romance was in the +air. They had crossed a couple of smoke-soiled fields, and struck into +the old Hanbridge road just below the abandoned toll-house with its +broad eaves. + +'And whither do your meditations point?' he demanded playfully. + +'My meditations point to Switzerland,' she said. 'I have friends in +Lausanne.' + +The reference to foreign climes impressed him. + +'Would that I could go to Switzerland too!' he exclaimed; and privately: +'Now for it! I'm about to begin.' + +'Why?' she questioned, with elaborate simplicity. + +At the moment, as they were passing the toll-house, the other girl +appeared surprisingly from round the corner of the toll-house, where the +lane from Toft End joins the highroad. This second creature was smaller +than Miss Lawton, less assertive, less intelligent, perhaps, but much +more beautiful. + +Everyone halted and everyone blushed. + +'May!' the interrupter at length stammered. + +'May!' responded Miss Lawton lamely. + +The other girl was named May too--May Deane, child of the well-known +majolica manufacturer, who lived with his sons and daughter in a +solitary and ancient house at Toft End. + +Lionel Woolley said nothing until they had all shaken hands--his famous +way with women seemed to have deserted him--and then he actually stated +that he had forgotten an appointment, and must depart. He had gone +before the girls could move. + +When they were alone, the two Mays fronted each other, confused, +hostile, almost homicidal. + +'I hope I didn't spoil a _tête-à -tête_,' said May Deane, stiffly and +sharply, in a manner quite foreign to her soft and yielding nature. + +The schoolmistress, abandoning herself to an inexplicable but +overwhelming impulse, took breath for a proud lie. + +'No,' she answered; 'but if you had come three minutes earlier----' + +She smiled calmly. + +'Oh!' murmured May Deane, after a pause. + + +III + +That evening May Deane returned home at half-past nine. She had been +with her two brothers to a lawn-tennis party at Hillport, and she told +her father, who was reading the _Staffordshire Signal_ in his accustomed +solitude, that the boys were staying later for cards, but that she had +declined to stay because she felt tired. She kissed the old widower +good-night, and said that she should go to bed at once. But before +retiring she visited the housekeeper in the kitchen in order to discuss +certain household matters: Jim's early breakfast, the proper method of +washing Herbert's new flannels (Herbert would be very angry if they were +shrunk), and the dog-biscuits for Carlo. These questions settled, she +went to her room, drew the blind, lighted some candles, and sat down +near the window. + +She was twenty-two, and she had about her that strange and charming +nunlike mystery which often comes to a woman who lives alone and +unguessed-at among male relatives. Her room was her bower. No one, save +the servants and herself, ever entered it. Mr. Deane and Jim and Bertie +might glance carelessly through the open door in passing along the +corridor, but had they chanced in idle curiosity to enter, the room +would have struck them as unfamiliar, and they might perhaps have +exclaimed with momentary interest, 'So this is May's room!' And some +hint that May was more than a daughter and sister--a woman, withdrawn, +secret, disturbing, living her own inner life side by side with the +household life--might have penetrated their obtuse paternal and +fraternal masculinity. Her beautiful face (the nose and mouth were +perfect, and at either extremity of the upper lip grew a soft down), her +dark hair, her quiet voice and her gentle acquiescence (diversified by +occasional outbursts of sarcasm), appealed to them and won them; but +they accepted her as something of course, as something which went +without saying. They adored her, and did not know that they adored her. + +May took off her hat, stuck the pins into it again, and threw it on the +bed, whose white and green counterpane hung down nearly to the floor on +either side. Then she lay back in the chair, and, pulling away the +blind, glanced through the window; the moon, rather dim behind the +furnace lights of Red Cow Ironworks, was rising over Moorthorne. May +dropped the blind with a wearied gesture, and turned within the room, +examining its contents as if she had not seen them before: the wardrobe, +the chest of drawers, which was also a dressing-table, the washstand, +the dwarf book-case with its store of Edna Lyalls, Elizabeth Gaskells, +Thackerays, Charlotte Yonges, Charlotte Brontës, a Thomas Hardy or so, +and some old school-books. She looked at the pictures, including a +sampler worked by a deceased aunt, at the loud-ticking Swiss clock on +the mantelpiece, at the higgledy-piggledy photographs there, at the new +Axminster carpet, the piece of linoleum in front of the washstand, and +the bad joining of the wallpaper to the left of the door. She missed +none of the details which she knew so well, with such long monotonous +intimacy, and sighed. + +Then she got up from the chair, and, opening a small drawer in the chest +of drawers, put her hand familiarly to the back and drew forth a +photograph. She carried the photograph to the light of the candles on +the mantelpiece, and gazed at it attentively, puckering her brows. It +was a portrait of Lionel Woolley. Heaven knows by what subterfuge or +lucky accident she had obtained it, for Lionel certainly had not given +it to her. She loved Lionel. She had loved him for five years, with a +love silent, blind, intense, irrational, and too elemental to be +concealed. Everyone knew of May's passion. Many women admired her taste; +a few were shocked and puzzled by it. All the men of her acquaintance +either pitied or despised her for it. Her father said nothing. Her +brothers were less cautious, and summed up their opinion of Lionel in +the curt, scornful assertion that he showed a tendency to cheat at +tennis. But May would never hear ill of him; he was a god to her, and +she could not hide her worship. For more than a year, until lately, she +had been almost sure of him, and then came a faint vague rumour +concerning Lionel and May Lawton, a rumour which she had refused to take +seriously. The encounter of that afternoon, and Miss Lawton's triumphant +remark, had dazed her. For seven hours she had existed in a kind of +semi-conscious delirium, in which she could perceive nothing but the +fatal fact, emerging more clearly every moment from the welter of her +thoughts, that she had lost Lionel. Lionel had proposed to May Lawton, +and been accepted, just before she surprised them together; and Lionel, +with a man's excusable cowardice, had left his betrothed to announce +the engagement. + +She tore up the photograph, put the fragments in the grate, and set a +light to them. + +Her father's step sounded on the stairs; he hesitated, and knocked +sharply at her door. + +'What's burning, May?' + +'It's all right, father,' she answered calmly, 'I'm only burning some +papers in the fire-grate.' + +'Well, see you don't burn the house down.' + +He passed on. + +Then she found a sheet of notepaper, and wrote on it in pencil, using +the mantelpiece for a desk: 'Dear home. Good-night, good-bye.' She +cogitated, and wrote further: 'Forgive me.--MAY.' + +She put the message in an envelope, and wrote on the envelope 'Jim,' and +placed it prominently in front of the clock. But after she had looked at +it for a minute, she wrote 'Father' above Jim, and then 'Herbert' below. + +There were noises in the hall; the boys had returned earlier than she +expected. As they went along the corridor and caught a glimpse of her +light under the door, Jim cried gaily: 'Now then, out with that light! A +little thing like you ought to be asleep hours since.' + +She listened for the bang of their door, and then, very hurriedly, she +removed her pink frock and put on an old black one, which was rather +tight in the waist. And she donned her hat, securing it carefully with +both pins, extinguished the candles, and crept quietly downstairs, and +so by the back-door into the garden. Carlo, the retriever, came halfway +out of his kennel and greeted her in the moonlight with a yawn. She +patted his head and ran stealthily up the garden, through the gate, and +up the waste green land towards the crown of the hill. + + +IV + +The top of Toft End is the highest land in the Five Towns, and from it +may be clearly seen all the lurid evidences of manufacture which sweep +across the borders of the sky on north, east, west, and south. +North-eastwards lie the moorlands, and far off Manifold, the 'metropolis +of the moorlands,' as it is called. On this night the furnaces of Red +Cow Ironworks, in the hollow to the east, were in full blast; their +fluctuating yellow light illuminated queerly the grass of the fields +above Deane's house, and the regular roar of their breathing reached +that solitary spot like the distant rumour of some leviathan beast +angrily fuming. Further away to the south-west the Cauldon Bar Ironworks +reproduced the same phenomena, and round the whole horizon, near and +far, except to the north-east, the lesser fires of labour leapt and +flickered and glinted in their mists of smoke, burning ceaselessly, as +they burned every night and every day at all seasons of all years. The +town of Bursley slept in the deep valley to the west, and vast Hanbridge +in the shallower depression to the south, like two sleepers accustomed +to rest quietly amid great disturbances; the beacons of their Town Halls +and churches kept watch, and the whole scene was dominated by the +placidity of the moon, which had now risen clear of the Red Cow furnace +clouds, and was passing upwards through tracts of stars. + +Into this scene, climbing up from the direction of Manifold, came Lionel +Woolley, nearly at midnight, having walked some eighteen miles in a +vain effort to re-establish his self-satisfaction by a process of +reasoning and ingenious excuses. Lionel felt that in the brief episode +of the afternoon he had scarcely behaved with dignity. In other words, +he was fully and painfully aware that he must have looked a fool, a +coward, an ass, a contemptible and pitiful person, in the eyes of at +least one girl, if not of two. He did not like this--no man would have +liked it; and to Lionel the memory of an undignified act was acute +torture. Why had he bidden the girls adieu and departed? Why had he, in +fact, run away? What precisely would May Lawton think of him? How could +he explain his conduct to her--and to himself? And had that worshipping, +affectionate thing, May Deane, taken note of his confusion--of the +confusion of him who was never confused, who was equal to every occasion +and every emergency? These were some of the questions which harried him +and declined to be settled. He had walked to Manifold, and had tea at +the Roebuck, and walked back, and still the questions were harrying; and +as he came over the hill by the field-path, and descried the lone house +of the Deanes in the light of the Red Cow furnaces and of the moon, the +worship of May Deane seemed suddenly very precious to him, and he could +not bear to think that any stupidity of his should have impaired it. + +Then he saw May Deane walking slowly across the field, close to an +abandoned pit-shaft, whose low protecting circular wall of brick was +crumbling to ruin on the side nearest to him. + +She stopped, appeared to gaze at him intently, turned, and began to +approach him. And he too, moved by a mysterious impulse which he did not +pause to examine, swerved, and quickened his step in order to lessen the +distance between them. He did not at first even feel surprise that she +should be wandering solitary on the hill at that hour. Presently she +stood still, while he continued to move forward. It was as if she drew +him; and soon, in the pale moonlight and the wavering light of the +furnaces, he could decipher all the details of her face, and he saw that +she was smiling fondly, invitingly, admiringly, lustrously, with the old +undiminished worship and affection. And he perceived a dark +discoloration on her right cheek, as though she had suffered a blow, +but this mark did not long occupy his mind. He thought suddenly of the +strong probability that her father would leave a nice little bit of +money to each of his three children; and he thought of her beauty, and +of her timid fragility in the tight black dress, and of her immense and +unquestioning love for him, which would survive all accidents and +mishaps. He seemed to sink luxuriously into this grand passion of hers +(which he deemed quite natural and proper) as into a soft feather-bed. +To live secure in an atmosphere of exhaustless worship; to keep a fount +of balm and admiration for ever in the house, a bubbling spring of +passionate appreciation which would be continually available for the +refreshment of his self-esteem! To be always sure of an obedience blind +and willing, a subservience which no tyranny and no harshness and no +whim would rouse into revolt; to sit on a throne with so much beauty +kneeling at his feet! + +And the possession of her beauty would be a source of legitimate pride +to him. People would often refer to the beautiful Mrs. Woolley. + +He felt that in sending May Deane to interrupt his highly emotional +conversation with May Lawton Providence had watched over him and done +him a good turn. May Lawton had advantages, and striking advantages, but +he could not be sure of her. The suspicion that if she married him she +would marry him for her own ends caused him a secret disquiet, and he +feared that one day, perhaps one morning at breakfast, she might take it +into her intelligent head to mock him, to exercise upon him her gift of +irony, and to intimate to him that if he fancied she was his slave he +was deceived. That she sincerely admired him he never for an instant +doubted. But---- + +And, moreover, the unfortunate episode of the afternoon might have +cooled her ardour to freezing-point. + +He stood now in front of his worshipper, and the notion crossed his mind +that in after-years he could say to his friends: 'I proposed to my wife +at midnight under the moon. Not many men have done that.' + +'Good-evening,' he ventured to the girl; and he added with bravado: +'We've met before to-day, haven't we?' + +She made no reply, but her smile was more affectionate, more inviting, +than ever. + +'I'm glad of this opportunity--very glad,' he proceeded. 'I've been +wanting to ... You must know, my dear girl, how I feel....' + +She gave a gesture, charming in its sweet humility, as if to say: 'Who +am I that I should dare----' + +And then he proposed to her, asked her to share his life, and all that +sort of thing; and when he had finished he thought, 'It's done now, +anyway.' + +Strange to relate, she offered no immediate reply, but she bent a little +towards him with shining, happy eyes. He had an impulse to seize her in +his arms and kiss her, but prudence suggested that he should defer the +rite. She turned and began to walk slowly and meditatively towards the +pit-shaft. He followed almost at her side, but a foot or so behind, +waiting for her to speak. And as he waited, expectant, he looked at her +profile and reflected how well the name May suited her, with its +significances of shyness and dreamy hope, and hidden fire and the +modesty of spring. + +And while he was thus savouring her face, and they were still ten yards +from the pit-shaft, she suddenly disappeared from his vision, as it were +by a conjuring trick. He had a horrible sensation in his spinal column. +He was not the man to mistrust the evidence of his senses, and he knew, +therefore, that he had been proposing to a phantom. + + +V + +The next morning--early, because of Jim's early breakfast--when May +Deane's disappearance became known to the members of the household, Jim +had the idea of utilizing Carlo in the search for her. The retriever +went straight, without a fault, to the pit-shaft, and May was discovered +alive and unscathed, save for a contusion of the face and a sprain in +the wrist. + +Her suicidal plunge had been arrested, at only a few feet from the top +of the shaft, by a cross-stay of timber, upon which she lay prone. There +was no reason why the affair should be made public, and it was not. It +was suppressed into one of those secrets which embed themselves in the +history of families, and after two or three generations blossom into +romantic legends full of appropriate circumstantial detail. + +Lionel Woolley spent a woeful night at his rooms. He did not know what +to do, and on the following day May Lawton encountered him again, and +proved by her demeanour that the episode of the previous afternoon had +caused no estrangement. Lionel vacillated. The sway of the +schoolmistress was almost restored, and it would have been restored +fully had he not been preoccupied by a feverish curiosity--the curiosity +to know whether or not May Deane was dead. He felt that she must indeed +be dead, and he lived through the day expectant of the news of her +sudden decease. Towards night his state of mind was such that he was +obliged to call at the Deanes'. May heard him, and insisted on seeing +him; more, she insisted on seeing him alone in the breakfast-room, where +she reclined, interestingly white, on the sofa. Her father and brothers +objected strongly to the interview, but they yielded, afraid that a +refusal might induce hysteria and worse things. + +And when Lionel Woolley came into the room, May, steeped in felicity, +related to him the story of her impulsive crime. + +'I was so happy,' she said, 'when I knew that Miss Lawton had deceived +me.' And before he could inquire what she meant, she continued rapidly: +'I must have been unconscious, but I felt you were there, and something +of me went out towards you. And oh! the answer to your question--I heard +your question; the real _me_ heard it, but that _something_ could not +speak.' + +'My question?' + +'You asked a question, didn't you?' she faltered, sitting up. + +He hesitated, and then surrendered himself to her immense love and sank +into it, and forgot May Lawton. + +'Yes,' he said. + +'The answer is yes. Oh, you must have known the answer would be yes! You +did know, didn't you?' + +He nodded grandly. + +She sighed with delicious and overwhelming joy. + +In the ecstasy of the achievement of her desire the girl gave little +thought to the psychic aspect of the possibly unique wooing. + +As for Lionel, he refused to dwell on it even in thought. And so that +strange, magic, yearning effluence of a soul into a visible projection +and shape was ignored, slurred over, and, after ten years of domesticity +in the bank premises, is gradually being forgotten. + +He is a man of business, and she, with her fading beauty, her ardent, +continuous worship of the idol, her half-dozen small children, the +eldest of whom is only eight, and the white window-curtains to change +every week because of the smuts--do you suppose she has time or +inclination to ponder upon the theory of the subliminal consciousness +and kindred mysteries? + + * * * * * + + + + +TIDDY-FOL-LOL + + +It was the dinner-hour, and a group of ragged and clay-soiled apprentice +boys were making a great noise in the yard of Henry Mynors and Co.'s +small, compact earthenware manufactory up at Toft End. Toft End caps the +ridge to the east of Bursley; and Bursley, which has been the home of +the potter for ten centuries, is the most ancient of the Five Towns in +Staffordshire. The boys, dressed for the most part in shirt, trousers, +and boots, all equally ragged and insecure, were playing at prison-bars. + +Soon the game ended abruptly in a clamorous dispute upon a point of law, +and it was not recommenced. The dispute dying a natural death, the +tireless energies of the boys needed a fresh outlet. Inspired by a +common instinct, they began at once to bait one of their number, a +slight youngster of twelve years, much better clothed than the rest, who +had adventurously strolled in from a neighbouring manufactory. This +child answered their jibes in an amiable, silly, drawling tone which +seemed to justify the epithet 'Loony,' frequently applied to him. Now +and then he stammered; and then companions laughed loud, and he with +them. It was known that several years ago he had fallen down a flight of +stone steps, alighting on the back of his head, and that ever since he +had been deaf of one ear and under some trifling mental derangement. His +sublime calmness under their jests baffled them until the terrible +figure of Mr. Machin, the engine-man, standing at the door of the +slip-house, caught their attention and suggested a plan full of joyous +possibilities. They gathered round the lad, and, talking in subdued +murmurs, unanimously urged him with many persuasions to a certain course +of action. He declined the scheme, and declined again. Suddenly a boy +shouted: + +'Thee dars' na'!' + +'I dare,' was the drawled, smiling answer. + +'I tell thee thee dars' na'!' + +'I tell thee I dare.' And thereupon he slowly but resolutely set out +for the slip-house door and Mr. Machin. + +Eli Machin was beyond doubt the most considerable employé on Clarke's +'bank' (manufactory). Even Henry Clarke approached him with a +subtly-indicated deference, and whenever Silas Emery, the immensely rich +and miserly sleeping partner in the firm, came up to visit the works, +these two old men chatted as old friends. In a modern earthenware +manufactory the engine-room is the source of all activity, for, owing to +the inventive genius of a famous and venerable son of the Five Towns, +steam now presides at nearly every stage in the long process of turning +earth into ware. It moves the pug-mill, the jollies, and the marvellous +batting machines, dries the unfired clay, heats the printers' stoves, +and warms the offices where the 'jacket-men' dwell. Coal is a tremendous +item in the cost of production, and a competent, economical engine-man +can be sure of good wages and a choice of berths; he is desired like a +good domestic servant. Eli Machin was the prince of engine-men. His +engine never went wrong, his coal bills were never extravagant, and +(supreme virtue!) he was never absent on Mondays. From his post in the +slip-house he watched over the whole works like a father, stern, gruff, +forbidding, but to be trusted absolutely. He was sixty years old, and +had been 'putting by' for nearly half a century. He lived in a tiny +villa-cottage with his bed-ridden, cheerful wife, and lent small sums on +mortgage of approved freeholds at 5 per cent.--no more and no less. +Secure behind this rampart of saved money, he was the equal of the King +on the throne. Not a magnate in all the Five Towns who would dare to be +condescending to Eli Machin. He had been a sidesman at the old church. A +trades-union had once asked him to become a working-man candidate for +the Bursley Town Council, but he had refused because he did not care for +the possibility of losing caste by being concerned in a strike. His +personal respectability was entirely unsullied, and he worshipped this +abstract quality as he worshipped God. + +There was only one blot--but how foul!--on Eli Machin's career, and that +had been dropped by his daughter Miriam, when, defying his authority, +she married a scene-shifter at Hanbridge Theatre. The atrocious idea of +being connected with the theatre had rendered him speechless for a +time. He could but endure it in the most awful silence that ever hid +passionate feeling. Then one day he had burst out, 'The wench is no +better than a tiddy-fol-lol!' Only this solitary phrase--nothing else. + +What a tiddy-fol-lol was no one quite knew; but the word, getting about, +stuck to him, and for some weeks boys used to shout it after him in the +streets, until he caught one of them, and in thirty seconds put an end +to the practice. Thenceforth Miriam, with all hers, was dead to him. +When her husband expired of consumption, Eli Machin saw the avenging arm +of the Lord in action; and when her boy grew to be a source of painful +anxiety to her, he said to himself that the wrath of Heaven was not yet +cooled towards this impious daughter. The passage of fifteen years had +apparently in no way softened his resentment. + +The challenged lad in Mynors' yard slowly approached the slip-house +door, and halted before Eli Machin, grinning. + +'Well, young un,' the old man said absently, 'what dost want?' + +'Tiddy-fol-lol, grandfeyther,' the child drawled in his silly, +irritating voice, and added: 'They said I darena say it to ye.' + +Without and instant's hesitation Eli Machin raised his still powerful +arm, and, catching the boy under the ear, knocked him down. The other +boys yelled with unaffected pleasure and ran away. + +'Get up, and be off wi' ye. Ye dunna belong to this bank,' said Eli +Machin in cold anger to the lad. But the lad did not stir; the lad's +eyes were closed, and he lay white on the stones. + +Eli Machin bent down, and peered through his spectacles at the prone +form upon which the mid-day sun was beating. + +'It's Miriam's boy!' he ejaculated under his breath, and looked round as +if in inquiry--the yard was empty. Then with quick decision he picked up +this limp and inconvenient parcel of humanity and hastened--ran--with it +out of the yard into the road. + +Down the road he ran, turned to the left into Clowes Street, and stopped +before a row of small brown cottages. At the open door of one of these +cottages a woman sat sewing. She was rather stout and full-bosomed, +with a fair, fresh face, full of sense and peace; she looked under +thirty, but was older. + +'Here's thy Tommy, Miriam,' said Eli Machin shortly. 'He give me some of +his sauce, and I doubt I've done him an injury.' + +The woman dropped her sewing. + +'Eh, dear!' she cried, 'is that lad o' mine in mischief again? I do hope +he's no limb brokken.' + +'It in'na that,' said the old man, 'but he's dazed-like. Better lay him +on th' squab.' + +She calmly took Tommy and placed him gently down on the check-covered +sofa under the window. 'Come in, father, do.' + +The man obeyed, astonished at the entire friendliness of this daughter, +whom, though he had frequently seen her, he had never spoken to for more +than ten years. Her manner, at once filial and quite natural, perfectly +ignored the long breach, and disclosed no trace of animosity. + +Father and daughter examined the unconscious child. Pale, pulseless, +cold, he lay on the sofa like a corpse except for the short, faint +breaths which he drew through his blue lips. + +'I doubt I've killed him,' said Eli. + +'Nay, nay, father!' And her face actually smiled. This supremacy of the +soul against years of continued misfortune lifted her high above him, +and he suddenly felt himself an inferior creature. + +'I'll go for th' doctor,' he said. + +'Nay! I shall need ye.' And she put her head out of the window. 'Mrs. +Walley, will ye let your Lucy run quick for th' club doctor? my Tommy's +hurt.' + +The whole street awoke instantly from its nap, and in a few moments +every door was occupied. Miriam closed her own door softly, as though +she might wake the boy, and spoke in whispers to people through the +window, finally telling them to go away. When the doctor came, half an +hour afterwards, she had done all that she knew for Tommy, without the +slightest apparent result. + +'What is it?' asked the doctor curtly, as he lifted the child's thin and +lifeless hand. + +Eli Machin explained that he had boxed the boy's ear. + +'Tommy was impudent to his grandfather,' Miriam added hastily. + +'Which ear?' the doctor inquired. It was the left. He gazed into it, +and then raised the boy's right leg and arm. 'There is no paralysis,' he +said. Then he felt the heart, and then took out his stethoscope and +applied it, listening intently. + +'Canst hear owt?' the old man said. + +'I cannot,' he answered. + +'Don't say that, doctor--don't say that! said Miriam, with an accent of +appeal. + +'In these cases it is almost impossible to tell whether the patient is +alive or dead. We must wait. Mrs. Baddeley, make a mustard plaster for +his feet, and we will put another over the heart.' And so they waited +one hour, while the clock ticked and the mustard plasters gradually +cooled. Then Tommy's lips parted. + +After another half-hour the doctor said: + +'I must go now; I will come again at six. Do nothing but apply fresh +plasters. Be sure to keep his neck free. He is breathing, but I may as +well be plain with you--there is a great risk of your child dying in +this condition.' + +Neighbours were again at the window, and Miriam drew the blind, waving +them away. At six o'clock the doctor reappeared. 'There is no change,' +he remarked. 'I will call in before I go to bed.' + +When he lifted the latch for the third time, at ten o'clock, Eli Machin +and Miriam still sat by the sofa, and Tommy still lay thereon, moveless, +a terrible enigma. But the glass lamp was lighted on the mantelpiece, +and Miriam's sewing, by which she earned a livelihood, had been hidden +out of sight. + +'There is no change,' said the doctor. 'You can do nothing except hope.' + +'And pray,' the calm mother added. + +Eli neither stirred nor spoke. For nine hours he had absolutely +forgotten his engine. He knew the boy would die. + +The clock struck eleven, twelve, one, two, three, each time fretting the +nerves of the old man like a rasp. It was the hour of summer dawn. A +cold gray light fell unkindly across the small figure on the sofa. + +'Open th' door a bit, father,' said Miriam. 'This parlour's gettin' +close; th' lad canna breathe.' + +'Nay, lass,' Eli sighed, as he stumbled obediently to the door. 'The +lad'll breathe no more. I've killed him i' my anger.' He frowned +heavily, as though someone was annoying him. + +'Hist!' she exclaimed, when, after extinguishing the lamp, she returned +to her boy's side. 'He's reddened--he's reddened! Look thee at his +cheeks, father!' She seized the child's inert hands and rubbed them +between her own. The blood was now plain in Tommy's face. His legs +faintly twitched. His breathing was slower. Miriam moved the coverlet +and put her head upon his heart. 'It's beating loud, father,' she cried. +'Bless God!' + +Eli stared at the child with the fixity of a statue. Then Tommy opened +his eyes for an instant. The old man groaned. Tommy looked vacantly +round, closed his eyes again, and was unmistakably asleep. He slept for +one minute, and then waked. Eli involuntarily put a hand on the sofa. +Tommy gazed at him, and, with the most heavenly innocent smile of +recognition, lightly touched his grandfather's hand. Then he turned over +on his right side. In the anguish of sudden joy Eli gave a deep, piteous +sob. That smile burnt into him like a coal of fire. + +'Now for the beef-tea,' said Miriam, crying. + +'Beef-tea?' the boy repeated after her, mildly questioning. + +'Yes, my poppet,' she answered; and then aside, 'Father, he can hear i' +his left ear. Did ye notice it?' + +'It's a miracle--a miracle of God!' said Eli. + +In a few hours Tommy was as well as ever--indeed, better; not only was +his hearing fully restored, but he had ceased to stammer, and the thin, +almost imperceptible cloud upon his intellect was dissipated. The doctor +expressed but little surprise at these phenomena, and, in fact, stated +that similar things had occurred often before, and were duly written +down in the books of medicine. But Eli Machin's firm, instinctive faith +that Providence had intervened will never be shaken. + +Miriam and Tommy now live in the villa-cottage with the old people. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE IDIOT + + +William Froyle, ostler at the Queen's Arms at Moorthorne, took the +letter, and, with a curt nod which stifled the loquacity of the village +postman, went at once from the yard into the coach-house. He had +recognised the hand-writing on the envelope, and the recognition of it +gave form and quick life to all the vague suspicions that had troubled +him some months before, and again during the last few days. He felt +suddenly the near approach of a frightful calamity which had long been +stealing towards him. + +A wire-sheathed lantern, set on a rough oaken table, cast a wavering +light round the coach-house, and dimly showed the inner stable. Within +the latter could just be distinguished the mottled-gray flanks of a fat +cob which dragged its chain occasionally, making the large slow +movements of a horse comfortably lodged in its stall. The pleasant odour +of animals and hay filled the wide spaces of the shed, and through the +half-open door came a fresh thin mist rising from the rain-soaked yard +in the November evening. + +Froyle sat down on the oaken table, his legs dangling, and looked again +at the envelope before opening it. He was a man about thirty years of +age, with a serious and thoughtful, rather heavy countenance. He had a +long light moustache, and his skin was a fresh, rosy salmon colour; his +straw-tinted hair was cut very short, except over the forehead, where it +grew full and bushy. Dressed in his rough stable corduroys, his forearms +bare and white, he had all the appearance of the sturdy Englishman, the +sort of Englishman that crosses the world in order to find vent for his +taciturn energy on virgin soils. From the whole village he commanded and +received respect. He was known for a scholar, and it was his scholarship +which had obtained for him the proud position of secretary to the +provident society styled the Queen's Arms Slate Club. His respectability +and his learning combined had enabled him to win with dignity the hand +of Susie Trimmer, the grocer's daughter, to whom he had been engaged +about a year. The village could not make up its mind concerning that +match; without doubt it was a social victory for Froyle, but everyone +wondered that so sedate and sagacious a man should have seen in Susie a +suitable mate. + +He tore open the envelope with his huge forefinger, and, bending down +towards the lantern, began to read the letter. It ran: + + 'OLDCASTLE STREET, + + 'BURSLEY. + + 'DEAR WILL, + + 'I asked father to tell you, but he would not. He said I must + write. Dear Will, I hope you will never see me again. As you will + see by the above address, I am now at Aunt Penrose's at Bursley. + She is awful angry, but I was obliged to leave the village because + of my shame. I have been a wicked girl. It was in July. You know + the man, because you asked me about him one Sunday night. He is no + good. He is a villain. Please forget all about me. I want to go to + London. So many people know me here, and what with people coming + in from the village, too. Please forgive me. + + 'S. TRIMMER.' + +After reading the letter a second time, Froyle folded it up and put it +in his pocket. Beyond a slight unaccustomed pallor of the red cheeks, he +showed no sign of emotion. Before the arrival of the postman he had been +cleaning his master's bicycle, which stood against the table. To this he +returned. Kneeling down in some fresh straw, he used his dusters slowly +and patiently--rubbing, then stopping to examine the result, and then +rubbing again. When the machine was polished to his satisfaction, he +wheeled it carefully into the stable, where it occupied a stall next to +that of the cob. As he passed back again, the animal leisurely turned +its head and gazed at Froyle with its large liquid eyes. He slapped the +immense flank. Content, the animal returned to its feed, and the +weighted chain ran down with a rattle. + +The fortnightly meeting of the Slate Club was to take place at eight +o'clock that evening. Froyle had employed part of the afternoon in +making ready his books for the event, to him always so solemn and +ceremonious; and the affairs of the club were now prominent in his mind. +He was sorry that it would be impossible for him to attend the meeting; +fortunately, all the usual preliminaries were complete. + +He took a piece of notepaper from a little hanging cupboard, and, +sprawling across the table, began to write under the lantern. The pencil +seemed a tiny toy in his thick roughened fingers: + + '_To Mr. Andrew McCall, Chairman Queen's Arms Slate Club._ + + 'DEAR SIR, + + 'I regret to inform you that I shall not be at the meeting + to-night. You will find the books in order....' + +Here he stopped, biting the end of the pencil in thought. He put down +the pencil and stepped hastily out of the stable, across the yard, and +into the hotel. In the large room, the room where cyclists sometimes +took tea and cold meat during the summer season, the long deal table +and the double line of oaken chairs stood ready for the meeting. A fire +burnt warmly in the big grate, and the hanging lamp had been lighted. On +the wall was a large card containing the rules of the club, which had +been written out in a fair hand by the schoolmaster. It was to this card +that Froyle went. Passing his thumb down the card, he paused at Rule +VII.: + + 'Each member shall, on the death of another member, pay 1s. for + benefit of widow or nominee of deceased, same to be paid within + one month after notice given.' + + 'Or nominee--nominee,' he murmured reflectively, staring at the + card. He mechanically noticed, what he had noticed often before + with disdain, that the chairman had signed the rules without the + use of capitals. + + He went back to the dusk of the coach-house to finish his letter, + still murmuring the word 'nominee,' of whose meaning he was not + quite sure: + + 'I request that the money due to me from the Slate Club on my death + shall be paid to my nominee, Miss Susan Trimmer, now staying with + her aunt, Mrs. Penrose, at Bursley. + + 'Yours respectfully, + + 'WILLIAM FROYLE.' + +After further consideration he added: + + 'P.S.--My annual salary of sixpence per member would be due at the + end of December. If so be the members would pay that, or part of + it, should they consider the same due, to Susan Trimmer as well, I + should be thankful.--Yours resp, W.F.' + +He put the letter in an envelope, and, taking it to the large room, laid +it carefully at the end of the table opposite the chairman's seat. Once +more he returned to the coach-house. From the hanging cupboard he now +produced a piece of rope. Standing on the table he could just reach, by +leaning forward, a hook in the ceiling, that was sometimes used for the +slinging of bicycles. With difficulty he made the rope fast to the hook. +Putting a noose on the other end, he tightened it round his neck. He +looked up at the ceiling and down at the floor in order to judge whether +the rope was short enough. + +'Good-bye, Susan, and everyone,' he whispered, and then stepped off the +table. + +The tense rope swung him by his neck halfway across the coach-house. He +swung twice to and fro, but as he passed under the hook for the fifth +time his toes touched the floor. The rope had stretched. In another +second he was standing firm on the floor, purple and panting, but +ignominiously alive. + +'Good-even to you, Mr. Froyle. Be you committing suicide?' The tones +were drawling, uncertain, mildly astonished. + +He turned round hastily, his hands busy with the rope, and saw in the +doorway the figure of Daft Jimmy, the Moorthorne idiot. + +He hesitated before speaking, but he was not confused. No one could have +been confused before Daft Jimmy. Neither man nor woman in the village +considered his presence more than that of a cat. + +'Yes, I am,' he said. + +The middle-aged idiot regarded him with a vague, interested smile, and +came into the coach-house. + +'You'n gotten the rope too long, Mr. Froyle. Let me help you.' + +Froyle calmly assented. He stood on the table, and the two rearranged +the noose and made it secure. As they did so the idiot gossiped: + +'I was going to Bursley to-night to buy me a pair o' boots, and when I +was at top o' th' hill I remembered as I'd forgotten the measure o' my +feet. So I ran back again for it. Then I saw the light in here, and I +stepped up to bid ye good-evening.' + +Someone had told him the ancient story of the fool and his boots, and, +with the pride of an idiot in his idiocy, he had determined that it +should be related of himself. + +Froyle was silent. + +The idiot laughed with a dry cackle. + +'Now you go,' said Froyle, when the rope was fixed. + +'Let me see ye do it,' the idiot pleaded with pathetic eyes. + +'No; out you get!' + +Protesting, the idiot went forth, and his irregular clumsy footsteps +sounded on the pebble-paved yard. When the noise of them ceased in the +soft roadway, Froyle jumped off the table again. Gradually his body, +like a stopping pendulum, came to rest under the hook, and hung +twitching, with strange disconnected movements. The horse in the stable, +hearing unaccustomed noises, rattled his chain and stamped about in the +straw of his box. + +Furtive steps came down the yard again, and Daft Jimmy peeped into the +coach-house. + +'He done it! he done it!' the idiot cried gleefully. 'Damned if he +hasna'.' He slapped his leg and almost danced. The body still twitched +occasionally. 'He done it!' + +'Done what, Daft Jimmy? You're making a fine noise there! Done what?' + +The idiot ran out of the stable. At the side-entrance to the hotel stood +the barmaid, the outline of her fine figure distinct against the light +from within. + +The idiot continued to laugh. + +'Done what?' the girl repeated, calling out across the dark yard in +clear, pleasant tones of amused inquiry. 'Done what?' + +'What's that to you, Miss Tucker?' + +'Now, none of your sauce, Daft Jimmy! Is Willie Froyle in there?' + +The idiot roared with laughter. + +'Yes, he is, miss.' + +'Well, tell him his master wants him. I don't want to cross this mucky, +messy yard.' + +'Yes, miss.' + +The girl closed the door. + +The idiot went into the coach-house, and, slapping William's body in a +friendly way so that it trembled on the rope, he spluttered out between +his laughs: + +'Master wants ye, Mr. Froyle.' + +Then he walked out into the village street, and stood looking up the +muddy road, still laughing quietly. It was quite dark, but the moon +aloft in the clear sky showed the highway with its shining ruts leading +in a straight line over the hill to Bursley. + +'Them shoes!' the idiot ejaculated suddenly. 'Well, I be an idiot, and +that's true! They can take the measure from my feet, and I never thought +on it till this minute!' + +Laughing again, he set off at a run up the hill. + + * * * * * + + + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + + +I + +After a honeymoon of five weeks in the shining cities of the +Mediterranean and in Paris, they re-entered the British Empire by the +august portals of the Chatham and Dover Railway. They stood impatiently +waiting, part of a well-dressed, querulous crowd, while a few officials +performed their daily task of improvising a Custom-house for registered +luggage on a narrow platform of Victoria Station. John, Mr. Norris's +man, who had met them, attended behind. Suddenly, with a characteristic +movement, the husband lifted his head, and then looked down at his wife. + +'I say, May!' + +'Well?' + +She knew that he was about to propose some swift alteration of their +plans, but she smiled upwards out of her furs at his grave face, and +the tone of her voice granted all requests in advance. + +'I think I'd better go to the office,' he said. + +'Now?' + +She smiled again, inviting him to do exactly what he chose. She was +already familiar with his restiveness under enforced delays and +inaction, and his unfortunate capacity for being actively bored by +trifles which did not interest him aroused in her a sort of maternal +sympathy. + +'Yes,' he answered. 'I can be there and back in an hour or less. You +titivate yourself, and we'll dine at the Savoy, or anywhere you please. +We'll keep the ball rolling to-night. Yes,' he repeated, as if to +convince himself that he was not a deserter, 'I really must call in at +the office. You and John can see to the luggage, can't you?' + +'Of course,' she replied, with calm good-nature, and also with perfect +self-confidence. 'But give me the keys of the trunks, and don't be late, +Ted.' + +'Oh, I shan't be late,' he said. + +Their fingers touched as she took the keys. He went away enraptured +anew by her delightful acquiescences, her unique smile, her +common-sense, her mature charm, and the astonishing elegance of her +person. The honeymoon was over--and with what finished discretion, +combining the innocent girl with the woman of the world, she had lived +through the honeymoon!--another life, more delicious, was commencing. + +'What a wife!' he thought triumphantly. 'She does understand a man! And +fancy leaving any ordinary bride to look after luggage!' + +Nevertheless, once in his offices at Winchester House, he managed to +forget her, and to forget time, for nearly an hour and a half. When at +last he came to himself from the enchantment of affairs, he jumped into +a hansom, and told the driver to drive fast to Knightsbridge. He was +ardent to see her again. In the dark seclusion of the cab he speculated +upon her toilette, the colour of her shoes. He thought of the last five +weeks, of the next five years. Dwelling on their mutual love and esteem, +their health, their self-knowledge and experience and cheerfulness, her +sense and grace, his talent for getting money first and keeping it +afterwards, he foresaw nothing but happiness for them. Children? H'm! +Possibly.... + +At Piccadilly Circus it began to rain--cold, heavy March rain. + +'Window down, sir?' asked the voice of the cabman. + +'Yes,' he ordered sardonically. 'Better be suffocated than drowned.' + +'You're right, sir,' said the voice. + +Soon, through the streaming glass, which made every gas-jet into a +shooting pillar of flame, Norris discerned vaguely the vast bulk of Hyde +Park Mansions. 'Good!' he muttered, and at that very moment he was shot +through the window into the thin, light-reflecting mire of the street. +Enormous and strange beasts menaced him with pitiless hoofs. Millions of +people crowded about him. In response to a question that seemed to float +slowly towards him, he tried to give his address. He realized, by a +considerable feat of intellect, that the horse must have fallen down; +and then, with a dim notion that nothing mattered, he went to sleep. + + +II + +In the boudoir of the magnificent flat on the first floor, shielded from +the noise and the inclemency of the world by four silk-hung walls and a +double window, and surrounded by all the multitudinous and costly luxury +that a stockbroker with brains and taste can obtain for the wife of his +love, May was leisurely finishing her toilette. And every detail in the +long, elaborate process was accomplished with a passionate intention to +bewitch the man at Winchester House. + +These two had first met seven years before, when May, the daughter of a +successful wholesale draper at Hanbridge, in the Five Towns district of +Staffordshire, was aged twenty-two. Mr. Scarratt went to Manchester each +Tuesday to buy, and about once a month he took May with him. One day, +when they were lunching at the Exchange Restaurant, a young man came up +whom her father introduced as Mr. Edward Norris, his stockbroker. Mr. +Norris, whose years were thirty, glanced keenly at May, and accepted Mr. +Scarratt's invitation to join them. Ever afterwards May vividly +remembered the wonderful sensation, joyous yet disconcerting, which she +then experienced--the sensation of having captivated her father's +handsome and correct stockbroker. The three talked horses with a certain +freedom, and since May was accustomed to drive the Scarratt dogcart, so +famous in the Five Towns, she could bring her due share to the +conversation. The meal over, Mr. Norris discussed business matters with +his client, and then sedately departed, but not without the obviously +sincere expression of a desire to meet Miss Scarratt again. The +wholesale draper praised Edward's financial qualities behind his back, +and wondered that a man of such aptitude should remain in Manchester +while London existed. As for May, she decided that she would have a new +frock before she came to Manchester in the following month. + +She had a new frock, but not of the colour intended. By the following +month her father was enclosed in a coffin, and it happened to his +estate, as to the estates of many successful men who employ +stockbrokers, that the liabilities far more than covered the assets. May +and her mother were left without a penny. The mother did the right +thing, and died--it was best. May went direct to Brunt's, the largest +draper in the Five Towns, and asked for a place under 'Madame' in the +dress-making department. Brunt's daughter, who was about to be married, +gave her the place instantly. Three years later, when 'Madame' returned +to Paris, May stepped into the French-woman's shoes. + +On Sundays and on Thursday afternoons, and sometimes (but not too often) +at the theatre, May was the finest walking advertisement that Brunt's +ever had. Old Brunt would have proposed to her, it was rumoured, had he +not been scared by her elegance. Sundry sons of prosperous +manufacturers, unabashed by this elegance, did in fact secretly propose, +but with what result was known only to themselves. + +Later, as May waxed in importance at Brunt's, she was sent to Manchester +to buy. She lunched at the Exchange Restaurant. The world and Manchester +are very small. The first man she set eyes on was Edward Norris. Another +week, Norris said to her with a thrill, and he would have been gone for +ever to London. Chance is not to be flouted. The sequel was inevitable. +They loved. And all the select private bars in Hanbridge tinkled to the +news that May Scarratt had been and hooked a stockbroker! + +When the toilette was done, and the maid gone, she wound a thin black +scarf round her olive neck and shoulders, and sat down negligently on a +Chippendale settee in the attitude of a portrait by Boldini; her little +feet were tucked up sideways on the settee; the perforated lace ends of +the scarf fell over her low corsage to the level of the seat. And she +waited, still the bride. He was late, but she knew he would be late. +Sure in the conviction that he was a strong man, a man of imagination +and of deeds, she could easily excuse this failing in him, as she did +that other habit of impulsive action in trifles. Nay, more, she found +keen pleasure in excusing it. 'Dear thing!' she reflected, 'he forgets +so.' Therefore she waited, content in enjoying the image in the glass of +her dark face, her small plump person, and her Paris gown--that dream! +She thought with assuaged grief of her father's tragedy; she would have +liked him to see her now, the jewel in the case--her father and she had +understood each other. + +All around, and above and below, she felt, without hearing it, the +activity of the opulent, complex life of the mansions. Her mind dwelt +with satisfaction on long carpeted corridors noiselessly paraded by +flunkeys, mahogany lifts continually ascending and descending like the +angels of the ladder, the great entrance hall with its fire always +burning and its doors always swinging, the _salle à manger_ sown with +rose-shaded candles, and all the splendid privacies rising stage upon +stage to the attics, where the flunkeys philosophized together. She +confessed the beauty and distinction achieved by this extravagant +organization for gratifying earthly desires. Often, in the pinching days +of her servitude, she had murmured against the injustice of things, and +had called wealth a crime while poverty starved. But now she perceived +that society was what it was inevitably, and could not be altered. She +accepted it in profound peace of mind, gaily fraternal towards the +fortunate, compassionate towards those in adversity. + +In the next flat someone began to play very brilliantly a Hungarian +Rhapsody of Liszt's. And even the faint sound of that riotous torrent of +melody, so arrogantly gorgeous, intoxicated her soul. She shivered under +the sudden vision of the splendid joy of being alive. And how she envied +the player! French she had learned from 'Madame,' but she had no skill +on the piano; it was her one regret. + +She touched the bell. + +'Has your master come in yet?' she inquired of the maid. + +'No, madam, not yet.' + +She knew he had not come in, but she could not resist the impulse to +ask. + +Ten minutes later, when the piano had ceased, she jumped up, and, +creeping to the front-door of the flat, gazed foolishly across the +corridor at the grille of the lift. She heard the lift in travail. It +appeared and passed out of sight above. No, he had not come! Glancing +aside, she saw the tall slender figure of a girl in a green tea-gown--a +mere girl: it was the player of the Hungarian Rhapsody. And this girl, +too, she thought, was expectant and disappointed! They shut their doors +simultaneously, she and May, who also had her girlish moments. Then the +rhapsody recommenced. + +'Oh, madam!' screamed the maid, almost tumbling into the boudoir. + +'What is it?' May demanded with false calm. + +The maid lifted the corner of her black apron to her eyes, as though she +had been a stage soubrette in trouble. + +'The master, madam! He's fell out of his cab--just in front of the +mansions--and they're bringing him in--such blood I never did see!' + +The maid finished with hysterics. + + +III + +'And them just off their honeymoon!' + +The inconsolable tones of the lady's-maid came from the kitchen to the +open door of the bedroom, where May was giving instructions to the +elderly cook. + +'Send that girl out of the flat this moment!' May said. + +'Yes, ma'am.' + +'Make the beef-tea in case it's wanted, and let me have some more warm +water. There's John and the doctor!' + +She started at a knock. + +'No, it's only the postman, ma'am.' + +Some letters danced on the hall floor and on her nerves. + +'Oh dear!' May whispered. 'I thought it was the doctor at last.' + +'John's bound to be back with one in a minute, ma'am. Do bear up,' urged +the cook, hurrying to the kitchen. + +She could have destroyed the woman for those last words. + +With the proud certainty of being equal to the dreadful crisis, she +turned abruptly into the bedroom, where her husband lay insensible on +one of the new beds. Assisted by the policemen and the cook, she had +done everything that could be done: cut away the coats and the +waistcoat, removed the boots, straightened the limbs, washed the face +and neck--especially the neck--which had to be sponged continually, and +scattered messengers, including John, over the vicinity in search of +medical aid. And now the policemen had gone, the general emotion on the +staircase had subsided, the front-door of the flat was shut. The great +ocean of the life of the mansions had closed smoothly upon her little +episode. She was alone with the shattered organism. + +She bent fondly over the bed, and her Paris frock, and the black scarf +which she had not removed, touched its ruinous burden. Her right hand +directed the sponge with ineffable tenderness, and then the long thin +fingers tightened to a frenzied clutch to squeeze it over the basin. The +whole of her being was absorbed in a deep passion of pity and an +intolerable hunger for the doctor. + +Through the wall came once more the faint sound of the Hungarian +Rhapsody, astonishingly rapid and brilliant. She set her teeth to endure +its unconscious message of the vast indifference of life to death. + +The organism stirred, and May watched the deathly face for a sign. The +eyes opened and stared at her in agonized bewilderment. The lips tried +to speak, and failed. + +'It's all right, darling,' she said softly. 'You're in your own bed. The +doctor will be here directly. Drink this.' + +She gave him some brandy-and-water, and they looked at each other. He +was no longer Edward Norris, the finely regulated intelligence, the +masterful volition, the conqueror of the world and of a woman; but +merely the embodiment of a frightened, despairing, flickering, +hysterical will-to-live, which glanced in terror at the corners of the +room as though it saw fate there. And beneath her intense solicitude was +the instinctive feeling, which hurt her, but which she could not +dismiss, of her measureless, dominating superiority. With what glad +relief would she have changed places with him! + +'I'm dying, May,' he murmured at length, with a sigh. 'Why doesn't the +doctor come?' + +'He is coming,' she replied soothingly. 'You'll be better soon.' + +But his effort in speaking obliged her to use the sponge again, and he +saw it, and drew another sigh, more mortal than the first. + +'Oh! I'm dying,' he repeated. + +'Not you, Ted!' And her smile cost her an awful pang. + +'I am. I know it.' This time he spoke with sad resignation. 'You must +face it. And--listen.' + +'What, dear?' + +A physical sensation of sickness came over her. She could not disguise +from herself the fact that he was dying. The warped and pallid face, the +panic-struck eyes, the sweat, the wound in the neck, the damp hands +nervously pulling the hem of the sheet--these indications were not to be +gainsaid. The truth was too horrible to grasp; she wanted to put it away +from her. 'This calamity cannot happen to me!' she thought urgently, and +all the while she knew that it was happening to her. + +He collected the feeble remnant of his powers by an immense effort, and +began to speak, slowly and fragmentarily, and with such weakness that +she could only catch his words by putting her ear to his mouth. The +restless hands dropped the sheet and took the end of the black scarf. + +'You'll be comfortable--for money,' he said. 'Will made.... It's not +that. It's ... I must tell you. It's----' + +'Yes?' she encouraged him. 'Tell me. I can hear.' + +'It's about your father. I didn't treat him quite right ... once.... +Week after I first met you, May.... No, not quite right. He was holding +Hull and Barnsley shares ... you know, railway ... great gambling stock, +then, Hull and Barn--Barnsley. Holding them on cover; for the rise.... +They dropped too much--dropped to 23.... He couldn't hold any longer ... +wired to me to sell and cut the loss. Understand?' + +'Yes,' she said, trembling. 'I quite understand.' + +'Well ... I wired back, "Sold at 23." ... But some mistake. Shares not +sold. Clerk's mistake.... Clerk didn't sell.... Next day rise began.... +I didn't wire him shares not sold. Somehow, I couldn't.... Put it +off.... Rise went on.... I took over shares myself ... you +see--myself.... Made nearly five thousand clear.... I wanted money +then.... I think I would have told him, perhaps, later ... made it +right ... but he died ... sudden ... I wasn't going to let his creditors +have that five thou.... No, he'd meant to sell ... and, look here, May, +if those shares had dropped lower ... 'stead of rising ... I should have +had to stand the racket ... with your father, for my clerk's +mistake.... See?... He'd meant to sell.... Hard lines on him, but he'd +meant to sell.... He'd meant----' + +'Don't say any more, dear.' + +'Must explain this, May. Why didn't I give the money to you ... when he +was dead?... Because I knew you'd only ... give it ... to creditors.... +I knew you.... That's straight.... I've told you now.' + +He lost consciousness again, but for an instant May did not notice it. +She was crying, and her tears fell on his face. + +Then came a doctor, a little dark man, who explained with calm +politeness that he had been out when the messenger first arrived. He +took off his coat, hung it up, opened his bag, and proceeded to a minute +examination of the patient. His movements were so methodical, and he +gave orders to May in a tone so quiet, casual, and ordinary, that she +almost lost her sense of the reality of the scene. + +'Yes, yes,' he said, from time to time, as if to himself; nothing else; +not a single enlightening word to May. + +'I'm dying,' moaned Edward, opening his eyes. + +The doctor glanced round at May and winked. That wink, deliberate and +humorous, was like an electric shock to her. She could actually feel her +heart leap in her breast. If she had not been afraid of the doctor, she +would have fainted. + +'You all think you're dying,' the doctor remarked in a low, amused tone +to the ceiling, as he wiped a pair of scissors, 'when you've been +knocked silly, especially if there's a lot of blood about.' + +The door opened. + +'Here's John, ma'am,' said the cook, 'with two more doctors. What am I +to do?' + +May involuntarily turned towards the door. + +'Don't you go, Mrs. Norris,' the little dark man commanded. 'I want +you.' Then he carelessly scrutinized the elderly servant. 'Tell 'em +they're too late,' he said. 'It's generally like that when there's an +accident,' he continued after the housekeeper had gone. 'First you can't +get a doctor anywhere, and then in half an hour or so we come in crowds. +I've known seven doctors turn up one after another. But in that affair +the man happened to have been killed outright.' + +He smiled grimly. In a little while he was snapping his bag. + +'I'll come in the morning, of course,' he said, as he wrote on a piece +of paper. 'Have this made up, and give it him in the night if he is +wakeful. Keep him warm. You might put a couple of hot-water bags, one on +either side of him. You've got beef-tea made, you say? That's right. Let +him have as much as he wants. Mr. Norris, you'll sleep like a top.' + +'But, doctor,' May inquired the next morning in the hall, after Edward +had smiled at a joke, and been informed that he must run down to +Bournemouth in a week, 'have we nothing to fear?' + +'I think not,' was the measured answer. 'These affairs nearly always +seem much worse than they are. Of course, the immediate upset is +tremendous--the disorganization, and all that sort of thing. But +Nature's pretty wonderful. You'll find your husband will soon get over +it. I should say he had a good constitution.' + +'And there will be no permanent effects?' + +'Yes,' said the doctor, with genial cynicism. 'There'll be one +permanent effect. Nobody will ever persuade him to ride in a hansom +again. If he can't find a four-wheeler, he'll walk in future.' + +She returned to the bedroom. The man on the bed was Edward Norris once +more, in control of himself, risen out of his humiliation. A feeling of +thankfulness overwhelmed her for a moment, and she sat down. + +'Well, May?' he murmured. + +'Well, dear.' + +They both realized that what they had been through was a common, daily +street accident. The smile of each was self-conscious, apprehensive, +insincere. + +'Quite a concert going on next door,' he said with an affectation of +lightness. + +It was the Hungarian Rhapsody, impetuous and brilliant as ever. How she +hated it now--this symbol of the hurried, unheeding, relentless, hollow +gaiety of the world! Yet she longed for the magic fingers of the player, +that she, too, might smother grief in such glittering veils! + + +IV + +The marriage which had begun so dramatically fell into placid routine. +Edward fulfilled the prophecy of the doctor. In a week they were able to +go to Bournemouth for a few days, and in less than a fortnight he was at +the office--the strong man again, confident and ambitious. + +After days devoted to finance, he came home in the evenings +high-spirited and determined to enjoy himself. His voice was firm and +his eye steady when he spoke to his wife; there was no trace of +self-consciousness in his demeanour. She admired the masculinity of the +brain that could forget by an effort of will. She felt that he trusted +her to forget also; that he relied on her common-sense, her +characteristic sagacity, to extinguish for ever the memory of an awkward +incident. He loved her. He was intensely proud of her. He treated her +with every sort of generosity. And in return he expected her to behave +like a man. + +She loved him. She esteemed him as a wife should. She made a profession +of wifehood. He gave his days to finance and his nights to diversion; +but her vocation was always with her--she was never off duty. She aimed +to please him to the uttermost in everything, to be in all respects the +ideal helpmate of a husband who was at once strenuous, fastidious, and +wealthy. Elegance and suavity were a religion with her. She was the +delight of the eye and of the ear, the soother of groans, the refuge of +distress, the uplifter of the heart. + +She made new acquaintances for him, and cemented old friendships. Her +manner towards his old friends enchanted him; but when they were gone +she had a way of making him feel that she was only his. She thought that +she was succeeding in her aim. She thought that all these sweet, endless +labours--of traffic with dressmakers, milliners, coiffeurs, maids, +cooks, and furnishers; of paying and receiving calls; of delicious +surprise journeys to the City to bring home the breadwinner; of giving +and accepting dinners; of sitting alert and appreciative in theatres and +music-halls; of supping in golden restaurants; of being serious, +cautionary, submissive, and seductive; of smiles, laughter, and kisses; +and of continuous sympathetic responsiveness--she thought that all these +labours had attained their object: Edward's complete serenity and +satisfaction. She imagined that love and duty had combined successfully +to deceive him on one solitary point. She was sure that he was deceived. +But she was wrong. + +One evening they were at the theatre alone together. It was a musical +comedy, and they had a large stage-box. May sat a little behind. After +having been darkened for a scenic conjuring trick, the stage was very +suddenly thrown into brilliant light. Edward turned with equal +suddenness to share his appreciation of the effect with his wife, and +the light and his eye caught her unawares. She smiled instantly, but too +late; he had seen the expression of her features. For a second she felt +as if the whole fabric which she had been building for the last six +months had crumbled; but this disturbing idea passed as she recovered +herself. + +'Let's go home, eh?' he said, at the end of the first act. + +'Yes,' she agreed. 'It would be nice to be in early, wouldn't it?' + +In the brougham they exchanged the amiable banalities of people who are +thoroughly intimate. When they reached the flat, she poured out his +whisky-and-potass, and sat on the arm of his particular arm-chair while +he sipped it; then she whispered that she was going to bed. + +'Wait a bit,' he said; 'I want to talk to you seriously.' + +'Dear thing!' she murmured, stroking his coat. + +She had not the slightest notion of his purpose. + +'You've tried your best, May,' he said bluntly, 'but you've failed. I've +suspected it for a long time.' + +She flushed, and retired to a sofa, away from the orange electric lamp. + +'What do you mean, Edward?' she asked. + +'You know very well what I mean, my dear,' he replied. 'What I told +you--that night! You've tried to forget it. You've tried to look at me +as though you had forgotten it. But you can't do it. It's on your mind. +I've noticed it again and again. I noticed it at the theatre to-night. +So I said to myself, "I'll have it out with her." And I'm having it +out.' + +'My dear Ted, I assure you----' + +'No, you don't,' he stopped her. 'I wish you did. Now you must just +listen. I know exactly what sort of an idiot I was that night as well as +you do. But I couldn't help it. I was a fool to tell you. Still, I +thought I was dying. I simply had a babbling fit. People are like that. +You thought I was dying, too, didn't you?' + +'Yes,' she said quietly, 'for a minute or two.' + +'Ah! It was that minute or two that did it. Well, I let it out, the +rotten little secret. I admit it wasn't on the square, that bit of +business. But, on the other hand, it wasn't anything really bad--like +cruelty to animals or ruining a girl. Of course, the chap was your +father, but, but----. Look here, May, you ought to be able to see that I +was exactly the same man after I told you as I was before. You ought to +be able to see that. My character wasn't wrecked because I happened to +split on myself, like an ass, about that affair. Mind you, I don't blame +you. You can't help your feelings. But do you suppose there's a single +man on this blessed earth without a secret? I'm not going to grovel +before gods or men. I'm not going to pretend I'm so frightfully sorry. +I'm sorry in a way. But can't you see----' + +'Don't say any more, Ted,' she begged him, fingering her sash. 'I know +all that. I know it all, and everything else you can say. Oh, my darling +boy! do you think I would look down on you ever so little because +of--what you told me? Who am I? I wouldn't care twopence even if----' + +'But it's between us all the same,' he broke in. 'You can't get over +it.' + +'Get over it!' she repeated lamely. + +'Can you? Have you?' He pinned her to a direct answer. + +She did not flinch. + +'No,' she said. + +'I thought you would have done,' he remarked, half to himself. 'I +thought you would. I thought you were enough a woman of the world for +that, May. It isn't as if the confounded thing had made any real +difference to your father. The old man died, and----' + +'Ted!' she exclaimed, 'I shall have to tell you, after all. It killed +him.' + +'What killed him? He died of gastritis.' + +'He was ill with gastritis, but he died of suicide. It's easy for a +gastritis patient to commit suicide. And father did.' + +'Why?' + +'Oh, ruin, despair! He'd been in difficulties for a long time. He said +that selling those shares just one day too soon was the end of it. When +he saw them going up day after day, it got on his mind. He said he knew +he would never, never have any luck. And then ...' + +'You kept it quiet.' He was walking about the room. + +'Yes, that was pretty easy.' + +'And did your mother know?' + +He turned and looked at her. + +'Yes, mother knew. It finished her. Oh, Ted!' she burst out, 'if you'd +only telegraphed to him the next morning that the shares weren't sold, +things might have been quite different.' + +'You mean I killed your father--and your mother.' + +'No, I don't,' she cried passionately. 'I tell you I don't. You didn't +know. But I think of it all, sometimes. And that's why--that's why----' + +She sat down again. + +'By God, May,' he swore, 'I'm frightfully sorry!' + +'I never meant to tell you,' she said, composing herself. 'But, there! +things slip out. Good-night.' + +She was gone, but in passing him she had timidly caressed his shoulder. + +'It's all up,' he said to himself. 'This will always be between us. No +one could expect her to forget it.' + + +V + +Gradually her characteristic habits deserted her; she seemed to lose +energy and a part of her interest in those things which had occupied her +most. She changed her dress less frequently, ignoring dressmakers, and +she showed no longer the ravishing elegance of the bride. She often lay +in bed till noon, she who had always entered the dining-room at nine +o'clock precisely to dispense his coffee and listen to his remarks on +the contents of the newspaper. She said 'As you please' to the cook, and +the meals began to lose their piquancy. She paid no calls, but some of +her women friends continued, nevertheless, to visit her. Lastly, she +took to sewing. The little dark doctor, who had become an acquaintance, +smiled at her and told her to do no more than she felt disposed to do. +She reclined on sofas in shaded rooms, and appeared to meditate. She was +not depressed, but thoughtful. It was as though she had much to settle +in her own mind. At intervals the faint sound of the Hungarian Rhapsody +mingled with her reveries. + +As for Edward, his behaviour was immaculate. During the day he made +money furiously. In the evening he sat with his wife. They did not talk +much, and he never questioned her. She developed a certain curious +whimsicality now and then; but for him she could do no wrong. + +The past was not mentioned. They both looked apprehensively towards the +future, towards a crisis which they knew was inexorably approaching. +They were afraid, while pretending to have no fear. + +And one afternoon, precipitately, surprisingly, the crisis came. + +'You are the father of a son--a very noisy son,' said the doctor, coming +into the drawing-room where Edward had sat in torture for three hours. + +'And May?' + +'Oh, never fear: she's doing excellently.' + +'Can I go and see her?' he asked, like a humble petitioner. + +'Well--yes,' said the doctor, 'for one minute; not more.' + +So he went into the bedroom as into a church, feeling a fool. The nurse, +miraculously white and starched, stood like a sentinel at the foot of +the bed of mystery. + +'All serene, May?' he questioned. If he had attempted to say another +word he would have cried. + +The pale mother nodded with a fatigued smile, and by a scarcely +perceptible gesture drew his attention to a bundle. From the next flat +came a faint, familiar sound, insolently joyous. + +'Yes,' he thought, 'but if they had both been lying dead here that tune +would have been the same.' + +Two months later he left the office early, telling his secretary that he +had a headache. It was a mere fibbing excuse. He suffered from sudden +fits of anxiety about his wife and child. When he reached the flat, he +found no one at home but the cook. + +'Where's your mistress?' he demanded. + +'She's out in the park with baby and nurse, sir.' + +'But it's going to rain,' he cried angrily. 'It is raining. They'll get +wet through.' + +He rushed into the corridor, and met the procession--May, the +perambulator, and the nursemaid. + +'Only fancy, Ted!' May exclaimed, 'the perambulator will go into the +lift, after all. Aren't you glad?' + +'Yes,' he said. 'But you're wet, surely?' + +'Not a drop. We just got in in time.' + +'Sure?' + +'Quite.' + +The tableau of May, elegant as ever, but her eyes brighter and her body +more leniently curved, of the hooded perambulator, and of the +fluffy-white nursemaid behind--it was too much for him. Touching +clumsily the apron of the perambulator, the stockbroker turned into his +doorway. Just then the girl from the next flat came out into the +corridor, dressed for social rites of the afternoon. The perambulator +was her excuse for stopping. + +'What a pretty boy!' she exclaimed in ecstasy, trying to squeeze her +picture hat under the hood of the perambulator. + +'Do you really think so?' said the mother, enchanted. + +'Of course! The darling! How I envy you!' + +May wanted to reciprocate this politeness. + +'I can't tell you,' she said, 'how I envy you your piano-playing. +There's one piece----' + +'Envy me! Why! It's only a pianola we've got!' + +'Isn't he the picture of his granddad?' said May to Edward when they +bent over the cot that night before retiring. + +And as she said it there was such candour in her voice, such content in +her smiling and courageous eyes, that Edward could not fail to +comprehend her message to him. Down in some very secret part of his soul +he felt for the first time the real force of the great explanatory truth +that one generation succeeds another. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SISTERS QITA + +The manuscript ran thus: + + * * * * * + +When I had finished my daily personal examination of the ropes +and trapezes, I hesitated a moment, and then climbed up again, to the +roof, where the red and the blue long ropes were fastened. I took my +sharp scissors from my chatelaine, and gently fretted the blue rope with +one blade of the scissors until only a single strand was left intact. I +gazed down at the vast floor a hundred feet below. The afternoon +varieties were over, and a phrenologist was talking to a small crowd of +gapers in a corner. The rest of the floor was pretty empty save for the +chairs and the fancy stalls, and the fatigued stall-girls in their black +dresses. I too, had once almost been a stall-girl at the Aquarium! I +descended. Few observed me in my severe street dress. Our secretary, +Charles, attended me on the stage. + +'Everything right, Miss Paquita?' he said, handing me my hat and gloves, +which I had given him, to hold. + +I nodded. I could see that he thought I was in one of my stern, far-away +moods. + +'Miss Mariquita is waiting for you in the carriage,' he said. + +We drove away in silence--I with my inborn melancholy too sad, Sally +(Mariquita) too happy to speak. This daily afternoon drive was really +part of our 'turn'! A team of four mules driven by a negro will make a +sensation even in Regent Street. All London looked at us, and contrasted +our impassive beauty--mine mature (too mature!) and dark, Sally's so +blonde and youthful, our simple costumes, and the fact that we stayed at +an exclusive Mayfair hotel, with the stupendous flourish of our turnout. +The renowned Sisters Qita--Paquita and Mariquita Qita--and the renowned +mules of the Sisters Qita! Two hundred pounds a week at the Aquarium! +Twenty-five thousand francs for one month at the Casino de Paris! Twelve +thousand five hundred dollars for a tour of fifty performances in the +States! Fifteen hundred pesos a night and a special train _de luxe_ in +Argentina and Brazil! I could see the loungers and the drivers talking +and pointing as usual. The gilded loungers in Verrey's café got up and +watched us through the windows as we passed. This was fame. For nearly +twenty years I had been intimate with fame, and with the envy of women +and the foolish homage of men. + +We saw dozens of omnibuses bearing the legend 'Qita.' Then we met one +which said: 'Empire Theatre. Valdès, the matchless juggler,' and Sally +smiled with pleasure. + +'He's coming to see our turn to-night, after his,' she remarked, +blushing. + +'Valdès? Why?' I asked, without turning my head. + +'He wants us to sup with him, to celebrate our engagement.' + +'When do you mean to get married?' I asked her shortly. I felt quite +calm. + +'I guess you're a Tartar to-day,' said the pretty thing, with a touch of +her American sauciness. 'We haven't studied it out yet. It was only +yesterday afternoon he kissed me for the first time.' Then she bent +towards me with her characteristic plaintive, wistful appeal. 'Say! You +aren't vexed, Selina, are you, because of this? Of course, he wants me +to tour with him after we're married, and do a double act. He's got lots +of dandy ideas for a double act. But I won't, I won't, Selina, unless +you say the word. Now, don't you go and be cross, Selina.' + +I let myself expand generously. + +'My darling girl!' I said, glancing at her kindly. 'You ought to know me +better. Of course I'm not cross. And of course you must tour with +Valdès. I shall be all right. How do you suppose I managed before I +invented you?' I smiled like an indulgent mother. + +'Oh! I didn't mean that,' she said. 'I know you're frightfully clever. +I'm nothing----' + +'I hope you'll be awfully happy,' I whispered, squeezing her hand. 'And +don't forget that I introduced him to you--I knew him years before you +did. I'm the cause of this bliss----Do you remember that cold morning in +Berlin?' + +'Oh! well, I should say!' she exclaimed in ecstasy. + +When we reached our rooms in the hotel I kissed her warmly. Women do +that sort of thing. + +Then a card was brought to me. 'George Capey,' it said; and in pencil, +'Of the Five Towns.' + +I shrugged my shoulders. Sally had gone to scribble a note to her +Valdès. 'Show Mr. Capey in,' I said, and a natty young man entered, half +nervousness, half audacity. + +'How did you know I come from the Five Towns?' I questioned him. + +'I am on the _Evening Mail_,' he said, 'where they know everything, +madam.' + +I was annoyed. 'Then they know, on the _Evening Mail_ that Paquita Qita +has never been interviewed, and never will be,' I said. + +'Besides,' he went on, 'I come from the Five Towns myself.' + +'Bursley?' I asked mechanically. + +'Bursley,' he ejaculated; then added, 'you haven't been near old Bosley +since----' + +It was true. + +'No,' I said hastily. 'It is many years since I have been in England, +even. Do they know down there who Qita is?' + +'Not they!' he replied. + +I grew reflective. Stars such as I have no place of origin. We shoot up +out of a void, and sink back into a void. I had forgotten Bursley and +Bursley folk. Recollections rushed in upon me.... I felt beautifully +sad. I drew off my gloves, and flung my hat on a chair with a movement +that would have bewitched a man of the world, but Mr. George Capey was +unimpressed. I laughed. + +'What's the joke?' he inquired. I adored him for his Bursliness. + +'I was just thinking, of fat Mrs. Cartledge, who used to keep that +fishmonger's shop in Oldcastle Street, opposite Bates's. I wonder if +she's still there?' + +'She is,' he said. 'And fatter than ever! She's getting on in years +now.' + +I broke the rule of a lifetime, and let him interview me. + +'Tell them I'm thirty-seven,' I said. 'Yes, I mean it. Tell them.' + +And then for another tit-bit I explained to him how I had discovered +Sally at Koster and Bial's, in New York, five years ago, and made her my +sister for stage purposes because I was lonely, and liked her American +simplicity and twang. He departed full of tea and satisfaction. + + * * * * * + +It was our last night at the Aquarium. The place was crammed. The houses +where I performed were always crammed. Our turn was in three parts, and +lasted half an hour. The first part was a skirt dance in full afternoon +dress (_danse de modernité_, I called it); the second was a double +horizontal bar act; the third was the famous act of the red and the blue +ropes, in full evening dress. It was 10.45 when we climbed the silk +ladders for the third part. High up in the roof, separated from each +other by nearly the length of the great hall, Sally and I stood on two +little platforms. I held the ends of the red and the blue ropes. I had +to let the blue rope swing across the hall to her. She would seize it, +and, clutching it, swoop like the ball of an enormous pendulum from her +platform to mine. (But would she?) I should then swing on the red rope +to the platform she had left. + +Then the band would stop for the thrilling moment, and the lights would +be lowered. Each lighting and holding a powerful electric +hand-light--one red, one blue--we should signal the drummer and plunge +simultaneously into space, flash past each other in mid-flight, +exchanging lights as we passed (this was the trick), and soar to +opposite platforms again, amid frenzied applause. There were no nets. + +That was what ought to occur. + +I stood bowing to the floor of tiny upturned heads, and jerking the +ropes a little. Then I let Sally's rope go with a push, and it dropped +away from me, and in a few seconds she had it safe in her strong hand. +She was taller than me, with a fuller figure, yet she looked quite small +on her distant platform. All the evening I had been thinking of fat old +Mrs. Cartledge messing and slopping among cod and halibut on white +tiles. I could not get Bursley and my silly infancy out of my head. I +followed my feverish career from the age of fifteen, when that strange +Something in me, which makes an artist, had first driven me forth to +conquer two continents. I thought of all the golden loves I had scorned, +and my own love, which had been ignored, unnoticed, but which still +obstinately burned. I glanced downwards and descried Valdès precisely +where Sally had said he would be. Valdès, what a fool you were! And I +hated a fool. I am one of those who can love and hate, who can love and +despise, who can love and loathe the same object in the same moment. +Then I signalled to Sally to plunge, and my eyes filled with tears. For, +you see, somehow, in some senseless sentimental way, the thought of fat +Mrs. Cartledge and my silly infancy had forced me to send Sally the red +rope, not the blue one. We exchanged ropes on alternate nights, but this +was her night for the blue one. + +She swung over, alighting accurately at my side with that exquisite +outward curve of the spine which had originally attracted me to her. + +'You sent me the red one,' she said to me, after she had acknowledged +the applause. + +'Yes,' I said. 'Never mind; stick to it now you've got it. Here's the +red light. Have you seen Valdès?' + +She nodded. + +I took the blue light and clutched the blue rope. Instead of +murder--suicide, since it must be one or the other. And why not? Indeed, +I censured myself in that second for having meant to kill Sally. Not +because I was ashamed of the sin, but because the revenge would have +been so pitiful and weak. If Valdès the matchless was capable of passing +me over and kneeling to the pretty thing---- + +I stood ready. The world was to lose that fineness, that distinction, +that originality, that disturbing subtlety, which constituted Paquita +Qita. I plunged. + +... I was on the other platform. The rope had held, then: I remembered +nothing of the flight except that I had passed near the upturned, +pleasant face of Valdès. + +The band stopped. The lights of the hall were lowered. All was dark. I +switched on my dazzling blue light; Sally switched on her red one. I +stood ready. The rope could not possibly endure a second strain. I waved +to Sally and signalled to the conductor. The world was to lose Paquita. +The drum began its formidable roll. Whirrr! I plunged, and saw the red +star rushing towards me. I snatched it and soared upwards. The blue rope +seemed to tremble. As I came near the platform at decreasing speed, it +seemed to stretch like elastic. It broke! The platform jumped up +suddenly over my head, but I caught at the silk ladder. I was saved! +There was a fearful silence, and then the appalling shock of hysterical +applause from seven thousand throats. I slid down the ladder, ran across +the stage into my dressing-room for a cloak, out again into the street. +In two days I was in Buda-Pesth. + + * * * * * + + + + +NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + + +I + +In the daily strenuous life of a great hotel there are periods during +which its bewildering activities slacken, and the vast organism seems to +be under the influence of an opiate. Such a period recurs after dinner +when the guests are preoccupied by the mysterious processes of digestion +in the drawing-rooms or smoking-rooms or in the stalls of a theatre. On +the evening of this nocturne the well-known circular entrance-hall of +the Majestic, with its tessellated pavement, its malachite pillars, its +Persian rugs, its lounges, and its renowned stuffed bears at the foot of +the grand stairway, was for the moment deserted, save by the head +hall-porter and the head night-porter and the girl in the bureau. It was +a quarter to nine, and the head hall-porter was abdicating his pagoda +to the head night-porter, and telling him the necessary secrets of the +day. These two lords, before whom the motley panorama of human existence +was continually being enrolled, held a portentous confabulation night +and morning. They had no illusions; they knew life. Shakespeare himself +might have listened to them with advantage. + +The girl in the bureau, like a beautiful and languishing animal in its +cage, leaned against her window, and looked between two pillars at the +magnificent lords. She was too far off to catch their talk, and, indeed, +she watched them absently in a reverie induced by the sweet melancholy +of the summer twilight, by the torpidity of the hour, and by the +prospect of the next day, which was her day off. The liveried +functionaries ignored her, probably scorned her as a mere pretty little +morsel. Nevertheless, she was the centre of energy, not they. If money +were payable, she was the person to receive it; if a customer wanted a +room, she would choose it; and the lords had to call her 'miss.' The +immense and splendid hotel pulsed round this simple heart hidden under a +white blouse. Especially in summer, her presence and the presence of +her companions in the bureau (but to-night she was alone) ministered to +the satisfaction of male guests, whose cruel but profoundly human +instincts found pleasure in the fact that, no matter when they came in +from their wanderings, the pretty captives were always there in the +bureau, smiling welcome, puzzling stupid little brains and puckering +pale brows over enormous ledgers, twittering borrowed facetiousness from +rosy mouths, and smoothing out seductive toilettes with long thin hands +that were made for ring and bracelet and rudder-lines, and not a bit for +the pen and the ruler. + +The pretty little thing despised of the functionaries corresponded +almost exactly in appearance to the typical bureau girl. She was +moderately tall; she had a good slim figure, all pleasant curves, flaxen +hair and plenty of it, and a dainty, rather expressionless face; the +ears and mouth were very small, the eyes large and blue, the nose so-so, +the cheeks and forehead of an equal ivory pallor, the chin trifling, +with a crease under the lower lip and a rich convexity springing out +from below the crease. The extremities of the full lips were nearly +always drawn up in a smile, mechanical, but infallibly attractive. The +hair was of an orthodox frizziness. You would have said she was a nice, +kind, good-natured girl, flirtatious but correct, well adapted to adorn +a dogcart on Sundays. + +This was Nina, foolish Nina, aged twenty-one. In her reverie the entire +Hôtel Majestic weighed on her; she had a more than adequate sense of her +own solitary importance in the bureau, and stirring obscurely beneath +that consciousness were the deep ineradicable longings of a poor pretty +girl for heaps of money, endless luxury of finery and chocolates, and +sentimental silken dalliance. + +Suddenly a stranger entered the hall. His advent seemed to wake the +place out of the trance into which it had fallen. The nocturne had +begun. Nina straightened herself and intensified her eternal smile. The +two porters became military, and smiled with a special and peculiar +urbanity. Several lesser but still lordly functionaries appeared among +the pillars; a page-boy emerged by magic from the region of the +chimney-piece like Mephistopheles in Faust's study; and some guests of +both sexes strolled chattering across the tessellated pavement as they +passed from one wing of the hotel to the other. + +'How do, Tom?' said the stranger, grasping the hand of the head +hall-porter, and nodding to the head night-porter. + +His voice showed that he was an American, and his demeanour that he was +one of those experienced, wealthy, and kindly travellers who know the +Christian names of all the hall-porters in the world, and have the trick +of securing their intimacy and fealty. He wore a blue suit and a light +gray wideawake, and his fine moustache was grizzled. In his left hand he +carried a brown bag. + +'Nicely, thank you, sir,' Tom replied. 'How are you, sir?' + +'Oh, about six and six.' + +Whereupon both porters laughed heartily. + +Tom escorted him to the bureau, and tried to relieve him of his bag. +Inferior lords escorted Tom. + +'I guess I'll keep the grip,' said the stranger. 'Mr. Pank will be +around with some more baggage pretty soon. We've expressed the rest on +to the steamer. Well, my dear,' he went on, turning to Nina, 'you're a +fresh face here.' + +He looked her steadily in the eyes. + +'Yes, I am,' she said, conquered instantly. + +Radiant and triumphant, the man brought good-humour into every face, +like some wonderful combination of the sun and the sea-breeze. + +'Give me two bedrooms and a parlour, please,' he commanded. + +'First floor?' asked Nina prettily. + +'First floor! Well--I should say! _And_ on the Strand, my dear.' + +She bent over her ledgers, blushing. + +'Send someone to the 'phone, Tom, and let 'em put me on to the Regency, +will you?' said the stranger. + +'Yes, sir. Samuels, go and ring up the Regency Theatre--quick!' + +Swift departure of a lord. + +'And ask Alphonse to come up to my bedroom in ten minutes from now,' the +stranger proceeded to Tom. 'I shall want a dandy supper for fourteen at +a quarter after eleven.' + +'Yes, sir. No dinner, sir?' + +'No; we dined on the Pullman. Well, my dear, figured it out yet?' + +'Numbers 102, 120, and 107,' said Nina. + +'Keys 102, 120, and 107,' said Tom. + +Swift departure of another lord to the pagoda. + +'How much?' demanded the stranger. + +'The bedrooms are twenty-five shillings, and the sitting-room two +guineas.' + +'I guess Mr. Pank won't mind that. Hullo, Pank, you're here! I'm +through. Your number's 102 or 120, which you fancy. Just going to the +'phone a minute, and then I'll join you upstairs.' + +Mr. Pank was a younger man, possessing a thin, astute, intellectual +face. He walked into the hall with noticeable deliberation. His +travelling costume was faultless, but from beneath his straw hat his +black hair sprouted in a somewhat peculiar fashion over his broad +forehead. He smiled lazily and shrewdly, and without a word disappeared +into a lift. Two large portmanteaus accompanied him. + +Presently the elder stranger could be heard battling with the obstinate +idiosyncrasies of a London telephone. + +'You haven't registered,' Nina called to him in her tremulous, +delicate, captivating voice, as he came out of the telephone-box. + +He advanced to sign, and, taking a pen and leaning on the front of the +bureau, wrote in the visitor's book, in a careful, legible hand: 'Lionel +Belmont, New York.' Having thus written, and still resting on the right +elbow, he raised his right hand a little and waved the pen like a +delicious menace at Nina. + +'Mr. Pank hasn't registered, either,' he said slowly, with a charming +affectation of solemnity, as though accusing Mr. Pank of some appalling +crime. + +Nina laughed timidly as she pushed his room-ticket across the page of +the big book. She thought that Mr. Lionel Belmont was perfectly +delightful. + +'No,' he hasn't,' she said, trying also to be arch; 'but he must.' + +At that moment she happened to glance at the right hand of Mr. Belmont. +In the brilliance of the electric light she could see the fair skin of +the wrist and forearm within the whiteness of his shirt-sleeve. She +stared at what she saw, every muscle tense. + +'I guess you can round up Mr. Pank yourself, my dear, later on,' said +Lionel Belmont, and turned quickly away, intent on the next thing. + +He did not notice that her large eyes had grown larger and her pale face +paler. In another moment the hall was deserted again. Mr. Belmont had +ascended in the lift, Tom had gone to his rest, and the head +night-porter was concealed in the pagoda. Nina sank down limply on her +stool, her nostrils twitching; she feared she was about to faint, but +this final calamity did not occur. She had, nevertheless, experienced +the greatest shock of her brief life, and the way of it was thus. + + +II + +Nina Malpas was born amid the embers of one of those fiery conjugal +dramas which occur with romantic frequency in the provincial towns of +the northern Midlands, where industrial conditions are such as to foster +an independent spirit among women of the lower class generally, and +where by long tradition 'character' is allowed to exploit itself more +freely than in the southern parts of our island. Lemuel Malpas was a +dashing young commercial traveller, with what is known as 'an agreeable +address,' in Bursley, one of the Five Towns, Staffordshire. On the +strength of his dash he wooed and married the daughter of an +hotel-keeper in the neighbouring town of Hanbridge. Six months after the +wedding--in other words, at the most dangerous period of the connubial +career--Mrs. Malpas's father died, and Mrs. Malpas became the absolute +mistress of eight thousand pounds. Lemuel[1] had carefully foreseen this +windfall, and wished to use the money in enterprises of the earthenware +trade. Mrs. Malpas, pretty and vivacious, with a self-conceit hardened +by the adulation of saloon-bars, very decidedly thought otherwise. Her +motto was, 'What's yours is mine, but what's mine's my own.' The +difference was accentuated. Long mutual resistances were followed by +reconciliations, which grew more and more transitory, and at length both +recognised that the union, not founded on genuine affection, had been a +mistake. + + [1] This name is pronounced with the accent on the first syllable in + the Five Towns. + +'Keep your d----d brass!' Lemuel exclaimed one morning, and he went off +on a journey and forgot to come back. A curious letter dated from +Liverpool wished his wife happiness, and informed her that, since she +was well provided for, he had no scruples about leaving her. Mrs. Malpas +was startled at first, but she soon perceived that what Lemuel had done +was exactly what the brilliant and enterprising Lemuel might have been +expected to do. She jerked up her doll's head, and ejaculated, 'So much +the better!' + +A few weeks later she sold the furniture and took rooms in Scarborough, +where, amid pleasurable surroundings, she determined to lead the joyous +life of a grass-widow, free of all cares. Then, to her astonishment and +disgust, Nina was born. She had not bargained for Nina. She found +herself in the tiresome position of a mother whose explanations of her +child lack plausibility. One lodging-housekeeper to whom she hazarded +the statement that Lemuel was in Australia had saucily replied: 'I +thought maybe it was the North Pole he was gone to!' + +This decided Mrs. Malpas. She returned suddenly to the Five Towns, +where at least her reputation was secure. Only a week previously Lemuel +had learnt indirectly that she had left their native district. He +determined thenceforward to forget her completely. Mrs. Malpas's +prettiness was of the fleeting sort. After Nina's birth she began to get +stout and coarse, and the nostalgia of the saloon-bar, the coffee-room, +and the sanded portico overtook her. The Tiger at Bursley was for sale, +a respectable commercial hotel, the best in the town. She purchased it, +wines, omnibus connection, and all, and developed into the typical +landlady in black silk and gold rings. + +In the Tiger Nina was brought up. She was a pretty child from her +earliest years, and received the caresses of all as a matter of course. +She went to a good school, studied the piano, and learnt dancing, and at +sixteen did her hair up. She did as she was told without fuss, being +apparently of a lethargic temperament; she had all the money and all the +clothes that her heart could desire; she was happy, and in a quiet way +she deemed herself a rather considerable item in the world. When she was +eighteen her mother died miserably of cancer, and it was discovered +that the liabilities of Mrs. Malpas's estate exceeded its assets--and +the Tiger mortgaged up to its value! The creditors were not angry; they +attributed the state of affairs to illness and the absence of male +control, and good-humouredly accepted what they could get. None the +less, Nina, the child of luxury and sloth, had to start life with +several hundreds of pounds less than nothing. Of her father all trace +had been long since lost. A place was found for her, and for over two +years she saw the world from the office of a famous hotel in Doncaster. +Her lethargy, and an invaluable gift of adapting herself to +circumstances, saved her from any acute unhappiness in the Yorkshire +town. Instinctively she ceased to remember the Tiger and past +splendours. (Equally, if she had married a Duke instead of becoming a +book-keeper, she would have ceased to remember the Tiger and past +humility.) Then by good or ill fortune she had the offer of a situation +at the Hôtel Majestic, Strand, London. The Majestic and the sights +thereof woke up the sleeping soul. + +Before her death Mrs. Malpas had told Nina many things about the +vanished Lemuel; among others, the curious detail that he had two small +moles--one hairless, the other hirsute--close together on the under side +of his right wrist. Nina had seen precisely such marks of identification +on the right wrist of Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +She was convinced that Lionel Belmont was her father. There could not be +two men in the world so stamped by nature. She perceived that in +changing his name he had chosen Lionel because of its similarity to +Lemuel. She felt certain, too, that she had noticed vestiges of the Five +Towns accent beneath his Americanisms. But apart from these reasons, she +knew by a superrational instinct that Lionel Belmont was her father; it +was not the call of blood, but the positiveness of a woman asserting +that a thing is so because she is sure it is so. + + +III + +Nina was not of an imaginative disposition. The romance of this +extraordinary encounter made no appeal to her. She was the sort of girl +that constantly reads novelettes, and yet always, with fatigued scorn, +refers to them as 'silly.' Stupid little Nina was intensely practical +at heart, and it was the practical side of her father's reappearance +that engaged her birdlike mind. She did not stop to reflect that truth +is stranger than fiction. Her tiny heart was not agitated by any +ecstatic ponderings upon the wonder and mystery of fate. She did not +feel strangely drawn towards Lionel Belmont, nor did she feel that he +supplied a something which had always been wanting to her. + +On the other hand, her pride--and Nina was very proud--found much +satisfaction in the fact that her father, having turned up, was so fine, +handsome, dashing, good-humoured, and wealthy. It was well, and +excellently well, and delicious, to have a father like that. The +possession of such a father opened up vistas of a future so enticing and +glorious that her present career became instantly loathsome to her. + +It suddenly seemed impossible that she could have tolerated the +existence of a hotel clerk for a single week. Her eyes were opened, and +she saw, as many women have seen, that luxury was an absolute necessity +to her. All her ideas soared with the magic swiftness of the +bean-stalk. And at the same time she was terribly afraid, unaccountably +afraid, to confront Mr. Belmont and tell him that she was his Nina; he +was entirely unaware that he had a Nina. + +'I'm your daughter! I know by your moles!' + +She whispered the words in her tiny heart, and felt sure that she could +never find courage to say them aloud to that great and important man. +The announcement would be too monstrous, incredible, and absurd. People +would laugh. He would laugh. And Nina could stand anything better than +being laughed at. Even supposing she proved to him his paternity--she +thought of the horridness of going to lawyers' offices--he might decline +to recognise her. Or he might throw her fifty pounds a year, as one +throws sixpence to an importunate crossing-sweeper, to be rid of her. +The United States existed in her mind chiefly as a country of +highly-remarkable divorce laws, and she thought that Mr. Belmont might +have married again. A fashionable and arrogant Mrs. Belmont, and a +dazzling Miss Belmont, aged possibly eighteen, might arrive, both of +them steeped in all conceivable luxury, at any moment. Where would Nina +be then, with her two-and-eleven-pence-halfpenny blouse from Glave's?... + +Mr. Belmont, accompanied by Alphonse, the head-waiter in the _salle à +manger_, descended in the lift and crossed the hall to the portico, +where he stood talking for a few seconds. Mr. Belmont turned, and, as he +conversed with Alphonse, gazed absently in the direction of the bureau. +He looked straight through the pretty captive. After all, despite his +superficial heartiness, she could be nothing to him--so rich, assertive, +and truly important. A hansom was called for him, and he departed; she +observed that he was in evening dress now. + +No! Her cause was just; but it was too startling--that was what was the +matter with it. + +Then she told herself she would write to Lionel Belmont. She would write +a letter that night. + +At nine-thirty she was off duty. She went upstairs to her perch in the +roof, and sat on her bed for over two hours. Then she came down again +to the bureau with some bluish note-paper and envelopes in her hand, +and, in response to the surprised question of the pink-frocked colleague +who had taken her place, she explained that she wanted to write a +letter. + +'You do look that bad, Miss Malpas,' said the other girl, who made a +speciality of compassion. + +'Do I?' said Nina. + +'Yes, you do. What have you got _on_, _now_, my poor dear?' + +'What's that to you? I'll thank you to mind your own business, Miss +Bella Perkins.' + +Usually Nina was not soon ruffled; but that night all her nerves were +exasperated and exceedingly sensitive. + +'Oh!' said the girl. 'What price the Duchess of Doncaster? And I was +just going to wish you a nice day to-morrow for your holiday, too.' + +Nina seated herself at the table to write the letter. An electric light +burned directly over her frizzy head. She wrote a weak but legible and +regular back-hand. She hated writing letters, partly because she was +dubious about her spelling, and partly because of an obscure but +irrepressible suspicion that her letters were of necessity silly. She +pondered for a long time, and then wrote: 'Dear Mr. Belmont,--I +venture----' She made a new start: 'Dear Sir,--I hope you will not think +me----' And a third attempt: 'My dear Father----' No! it was +preposterous. It could no more be written than it could be said. + +The situation was too much for simple Nina. + +Suddenly the grand circular hall of the Majestic was filled with a +clamour at once charming and fantastic. There was chattering of musical, +gay American voices, pattering of elegant feet on the tessellated +pavement, the unique incomparable sound of the _frou-frou_ of many +frocks; and above all this the rich tones of Mr. Lionel Belmont. Nina +looked up and saw her radiant father the centre of a group of girls all +young, all beautiful, all stylish, all with picture hats, all +self-possessed, all sparkling, doubtless the recipients of the dandy +supper. + +Oh, how insignificant and homicidal Nina felt! + +'Thirteen of you!' exclaimed Lionel Belmont, pulling his superb +moustache. 'Two to a hansom. I guess I'll want six and a half hansoms, +boy.' + +There was an explosion of delicious laughter, and the page-boy grinned, +ran off, and began whistling in the portico like a vexed locomotive. The +thirteen fair, shepherded by Lionel Belmont, passed out into the +murmurous summer night of the Strand. Cab after cab drove up, and Nina +saw that her father, after filling each cab, paid each cabman. In three +minutes the dream-like scene was over. Mr. Belmont re-entered the hotel, +winked humorously at the occupant of the pagoda, ignored the bureau, and +departed to his rooms. + +Nina ripped her inchoate letters into small pieces, and, with a tart +good-night to Miss Bella Perkins, who was closing her ledgers, the hour +being close upon twelve-thirty, she passed sedately, stiffly, as though +in performance of some vestal's ritual, up the grand staircase. Turning +to the right at the first landing, she traversed a long corridor which +was no part of the route to her cubicle on the ninth floor. This +corridor was lighted by glowing sparks, which hung on yellow cords from +the central line of the ceiling; underfoot was a heavy but narrow +crimson patterned carpet with a strip of polished oak parquet on either +side of it. Exactly along the central line of the carpet Nina tripped, +languorously, like an automaton, and exactly over her head glittered the +line of electric sparks. The corridor and the journey seemed to be +interminable, and Nina on some inscrutable and mystic errand. At length +she moved aside from the religious line, went into a service cabinet, +and emerged with a small bunch of pass-keys. No. 107 was Lionel +Belmont's sitting-room; No. 102, his bedroom, was opposite to 107. No. +108, another sitting-room, was, as Nina knew, unoccupied. She +noiselessly let herself into No. 108, closed the door, and stood still. +After a minute she switched on the light. These two rooms, Nos. 108 and +107, had once communicated, but, as space grew precious with the growing +success of the Majestic, they had been finally separated, and the door +between them locked and masked by furniture. By reason of the door, Nina +could hear Lionel Belmont moving to and fro in No. 107. She listened a +long time. Then, involuntarily, she yawned with fatigue. + +'How silly of me to be here!' she thought. 'What good will this do me?' + +She extinguished the light and opened the door to leave. At the same +instant the door of No. 107, three feet off, opened. She drew back with +a start of horror. Suppose she had collided with her father on the +landing! Timorously she peeped out, and saw Lionel Belmont, in his +shirt-sleeves, disappear round the corner. + +'He is going to talk with his friend Mr. Pank,' Nina thought, knowing +that No. 120 lay at some little distance round that corner. + +Mr. Belmont had left the door of No. 107 slightly ajar. An unseen and +terrifying force compelled Nina to venture into the corridor, and then +to push the door of No. 107 wide open. The same force, not at all +herself, quite beyond herself, seemed to impel her by the shoulders into +the room. As she stood unmistakably within her father's private +sitting-room, scared, breathing rapidly, inquisitive, she said to +herself: + +'I shall hear him coming back, and I can run out before he turns the +corner of the corridor.' And she kept her little pink ears alert. + +She looked about the softly brilliant room, such an extravagant triumph +of luxurious comfort as twenty years ago would have aroused comment even +in Mayfair; but there were scores of similar rooms in the Majestic. No +one thought twice of them. Her father's dress-coat was thrown arrogantly +over a Louis Quatorze chair, and this careless flinging of the expensive +shining coat across the gilded chair somehow gave Nina a more intimate +appreciation of her father's grandeur and of the great and glorious life +he led. She longed to recline indolently in a priceless tea-gown on the +couch by the fireplace and issue orders.... She approached the +writing-table, littered with papers, documents, in scores and hundreds. +To the left was the brown bag. It was locked, and very heavy, she +thought. To the right was a pile of telegrams. She picked up one, and +read: + + '_Pank, Grand Hotel, Birmingham. Why not burgle hotel? Simplest + most effective plan and solves all difficulties._--BELMONT.' + +She read it twice, crunched it in her left hand, and picked up another +one: + + '_Pank, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. Your objection absurd. See safe + in bureau at Majestic. Quite easy. Scene with girl second + evening_.--BELMONT.' + +The thing flashed blindingly upon her. Her father and Mr. Pank belonged +to the swell mob of which she had heard and seen so much at Doncaster. +She at once became the excessively knowing and suspicious hotel employé, +to whom every stranger is a rogue until he has proved the contrary. Had +she lived through three St. Leger weeks for nothing? At the hotel at +Doncaster, what they didn't know about thieves and sharpers was not +knowledge. The landlord kept a loaded revolver in his desk there during +the week. And she herself had been provided with a whistle which she was +to blow at the slightest sign of a row; she had blown it once, and seven +policemen had appeared within thirty seconds. The landlord used to tell +tales of masterly and huge scoundrelism that would make Charles Peace +turn in his grave. And the landlord had ever insisted that no one, no +one at all, could always distinguish with certainty between a real gent +and a swell-mobsman. + +So her father and Mr. Pank had deceived everyone in the hotel except +herself, and they meant to rob the safe in the bureau to-morrow night. +Of course Mr. Lionel Belmont was a villain, or he would not have +deserted her poor dear mother; it was annoying, but indubitable.... Even +now he was maturing his plans round the corner with that Mr. Pank.... +Burglars always went about in shirt-sleeves.... The brown bag contained +the tools.... + +The shock was frightful, disastrous, tragic; but it had solved the +situation by destroying it. Practically, Nina no longer had a father. He +had existed for about four hours as a magnificent reality, full of +possibilities; he now ceased to be recognisable. + +She was about to pick up a third telegram when a slight noise caused her +to turn swiftly; she had forgotten to keep her little pink ears alert. +Her father stood in the doorway. He was certainly the victim of some +extraordinary emotion; his face worked; he seemed at a loss what to do +or say; he seemed pained, confused, even astounded. Simple, foolish Nina +had upset the balance of his equations. + +Then he resumed his self-control and came forward into the room with a +smile intended to be airy. Meanwhile Nina had not moved. One is inclined +to pity the artless and defenceless girl in this midnight duel of wits +with a shrewd, resourceful, and unscrupulous man of the world. But one's +pity should not be lavished on an undeserving object. Though Nina +trembled, she was mistress of herself. She knew just where she was, and +just how to behave. She was as impregnable as Gibraltar. + +'Well,' said Mr. Lionel Belmont, genially gazing at her pose, 'you do +put snap into it, any way.' + +'Into what?' she was about to inquire, but prudently she held her +tongue. Drawing, herself up with the gesture of an offended and +unapproachable queen, the little thing sailed past him, close past her +own father, and so out of the room. + +'Say!' she heard him remark: 'let's straighten this thing out, eh?' + +But she heroically ignored him, thinking the while that, with all his +sins, he was attractive enough. She still held the first telegram in her +long, thin fingers. + +So ended the nocturne. + + +IV + +At five o'clock the next morning Nina's trifling nose was pressed +against the windowpane of her cubicle. In the enormous slate roof of the +Majestic are three rows of round windows, like port-holes. Out of the +highest one, at the extremity of the left wing, Nina looked. From thence +she could see five other vast hotels, and the yard of Charing Cross +Station, with three night-cabs drawn up to the kerb, and a red van of +W.H. Smith and Son disappearing into the station. The Strand was quite +empty. It was a strange world of sleep and grayness and disillusion. +Within a couple of hundred yards or so of her thousands of people lay +asleep, and they would all soon wake into the disillusion, and the +Strand would wake, and the first omnibus of all the omnibuses would come +along.... + +Never had simple Nina felt so sad and weary. She was determined to give +up her father. She was bound to tell the manager of her discovery, for +Nina was an honest servant, and she was piqued in her honesty. No one +should know that Lionel Belmont was her father.... She saw before her +the task of forgetting him and forgetting the rich dreams of which he +had been the origin. She was once more a book-keeper with no prospects. + +At eight she saw the manager in the managerial room. Mr. Reuben was a +young Jew, aged about thirty-four, with a cold but indestructibly polite +manner. He was a great man, and knew it; he had almost invented the +Majestic. + +She told him her news; it was impossible for foolish Nina to conceal her +righteousness and her sense of her importance. + +'Whom did you say, Miss Malpas?' asked Mr. Reuben. + +'Mr. Lionel Belmont--at least, that's what he calls himself.' + +'Calls himself, Miss Malpas?' + +'Here's one of the telegrams.' + +Mr. Reuben read it, looked at little Nina, and smiled; he never laughed. + +'Is it possible, Miss Malpas,' said he, 'that you don't know who Mr. +Belmont and Mr. Pank are?' And then, as she shook her head, he continued +in his impassive, precise way: 'Mr. Belmont is one of the principal +theatrical managers in the United States. Mr. Pank is one of the +principal playwrights in the United States. Mr. Pank's melodrama +'Nebraska' is now being played at the Regency by Mr. Belmont's own +American company. Another of Mr. Belmont's companies starts shortly for +a tour in the provinces with the musical comedy 'The Dolmenico Doll.' I +believe that Mr. Pank and Mr. Belmont are now writing a new melodrama, +and as they have both been travelling, but not together, I expect that +these telegrams relate to that melodrama. Did you suppose that +safe-burglars wire their plans to each other like this?' He waved the +telegram with a gesture of fatigue. + +Silly, ruined Nina made no answer. + +'Do you ever read the papers--the _Telegraph_ or the _Mail_, Miss +Malpas?' + +'N-no, sir.' + +'You ought to, then you wouldn't be so ignorant and silly. A hotel-clerk +can't know too much. And, by-the-way, what were you doing in Mr. +Belmont's room last night, when you found these wonderful telegrams?' + +'I went there--I went there--to----' + +'Don't cry, please, it won't help you. You must leave here to-day. +You've been here three weeks, I think. I'll tell Mr. Smith to pay you +your month's wages. You don't know enough for the Majestic, Miss Malpas. +Or perhaps you know too much. I'm sorry. I had thought you would suit +us. Keep straight, that's all I have to say to you. Go back to +Doncaster, or wherever it is you came from. Leave before five o'clock. +That will do.' + +With a godlike air, Mr. Reuben swung round his office-chair and faced +his desk. He tried not to perceive that there was a mysterious quality +about this case which he had not quite understood. Nina tripped +piteously out. + +In the whole of London Nina had one acquaintance, and an hour or so +later, after drinking some tea, she set forth to visit this +acquaintance. The weight of her own foolishness, fatuity, silliness, and +ignorance was heavy upon her. And, moreover, she had been told that Mr. +Lionel Belmont had already departed back to America, his luggage being +marked for the American Transport Line. + +She was primly walking, the superlative of the miserable, past the +façade of the hotel, when someone sprang out of a cab and spoke to her. +And it was Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +'Get right into this hansom, Miss Malpas,' he said kindly, 'and I guess +we'll talk it out.' + +'Talk what out?' she thought. + +But she got in. + +'Marble Arch, and go up Regent Street, and don't hurry,' said Mr. +Belmont to the cabman. + +'How did he know my name?' she asked herself. + +'A hansom's the most private place in London,' he said after a pause. + +It certainly did seem to her very cosy and private, and her nearness to +one of the principal theatrical managers in America was almost +startling. Her white frock, with the black velvet decorations, touched +his gray suit. + +'Now,' he said, 'I do wish you'd tell me why you were in my parlour last +night. Honest.' + +'What for?' she parried, to gain time. + +Should she begin to disclose her identity? + +'Because--well, because--oh, look here, my girl, I want to be on very +peculiar terms with you. I want to straighten out everything. You'll be +sort of struck, but I'll be bound to tell you I'm your father. Now, +don't faint or anything.' + +'Oh, I knew that!' she gasped. 'I saw the moles on your wrist when your +were registering--mother told me about them. Oh, if I had only known you +knew!' + +They looked at one another. + +'It was only the day before yesterday I found out I possessed such a +thing as a daughter. I had a kind of fancy to go around to the old spot. +This notion of me having a daughter struck me considerable, and I +concluded to trace her and size her up at once.' Nina was bound to +smile. 'So your poor mother's been dead three years?' + +'Yes,' said Nina. + +'Ah! don't let us talk about that. I feel I can't say just the right +thing.... And so you knew me by those pips.' He pulled up his right +sleeve. 'Was that why you came up to my parlour?' + +Nina nodded, and Lionel Belmont sighed with relief. + +'Why didn't you tell me at once, my dear, who you where?' + +'I didn't dare,' she smiled; 'I was afraid. I thought you wouldn't----' + +'Listen,' he said; 'I've wanted someone like you for years, years, and +years. I've got no one to look after----' + +'Then why didn't _you_ tell _me_ at once who you were?' she questioned +with adorable pertness. + +'Oh!' he laughed; 'how could I--plump like that? When I saw you first, +in the bureau, the stricken image of your mother at your age, I was +nearly down. But I came up all right, didn't I, my dear? I acted it out +well, didn't I?' + + * * * * * + +The hansom was rolling through Hyde Park, and the sunshiny hour was +eleven in June. Nina looked forth on the gay and brilliant scene: +rhododendrons, duchesses, horses, dandies--the incomparable wealth and +splendour of the capital. She took a long breath, and began to be happy +for the rest of her life. She felt that, despite her plain frock, she +was in this picture. Her father had told her that his income was rising +on a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and he would thank her +to spend it. Her father had told her, when she had confessed the scene +with Mr. Reuben and what led to it, that she had grit, and that the +mistake was excusable, and that a girl as pretty as she was didn't want +to be as fly as Mr. Reuben had said. Her father had told her that he was +proud of her, and he had not been so rude as to laugh at her blunder. + +She felt that she was about to enter upon the true and only vocation of +a dainty little morsel--namely, to spend money earned by other people. +She thought less homicidally now of the thirteen chorus-girls of the +previous night. + +'Say,' said her father, 'I sail this afternoon for New York, Nina.' + +'They said you'd gone, at the hotel.' + +'Only my baggage. The _Minnehaha_ clears at five. I guess I want you to +come along too. On the voyage we'll get acquainted, and tell each other +things.' + +'Suppose I say I won't?' + +She spoke despotically, as the pampered darling should. + +'Then I'll wait for the next boat. But it'll be awkward.' + +'Then I'll come. But I've got no things.' + +He pushed up the trap-door. + +'Driver, Bond Street. And get on to yourself, for goodness' sake! +Hurry!' + +'You told me not to hurry,' grumbled the cabby. + +'And now I tell you to hustle. See?' + +'Shall you want me to call myself Belmont?' Nina asked. + +'I chose it because it was a fine ten-horse-power name twenty years +ago,' said her father; and she murmured that she liked the name very +much. + +As Lionel Belmont the Magnificent paid the cabman, and Nina walked +across the pavement into one of the most famous repositories of +expensive frippery in the world, she thrilled with the profoundest +pleasure her tiny soul was capable of. Foolish, simple Nina had achieved +the _nec plus ultra_ of her languorous dreams. + + * * * * * + + + + +CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + + +I + +'What did you say your name was?' asked Otto, the famous concert +manager. + +'Clara Toft.' + +'That won't do,' he said roughly. + +'My real proper name is Clarice,' she added, blushing. 'But----' + +'That's better, that's better.' His large, dark face smiled carelessly. +'Clarice--and stick an "e" on to Toft--Clarice Tofte. Looks like either +French or German then. I'll send you the date. It'll be the second week +in September. And you can come round to the theatre and try the +piano--Bechstein.' + +'And what do you think I had better play, Mr. Otto?' + +'You must play what you have just played, of course. Tschaikowsky's all +the rage just now. Your left hand's very weak, especially in the last +movement. You've got to make more noise--at my concerts. And see here, +Miss Toft, don't you go and make a fool of me. I believe you have a +great future, and I'm backing my opinion. Don't you go and make a fool +of me.' + +'I shall play my very best,' she smiled nervously. 'I'm awfully obliged +to you, Mr. Otto.' + +'Well,' he said, 'you ought to be.' + +At the age of fifteen her father, an earthenware manufacturer, and the +flamboyant Alderman of Turnhill, in the Five Towns, had let her depart +to London to the Royal College of Music. Thence, at nineteen, she had +proceeded to the Conservatoire of Liége. At twenty-two she could play +the great concert pieces--Liszt's 'Rhapsodies Hongroises,' Chopin's +Ballade, Op. 47, Beethoven's Op. 111, etc.--in concert style, and she +was the wonder of the Five Towns when she visited Turnhill. But in +London she had obtained neither engagements nor pupils: she had never +believed in herself. She knew of dozens of pianists whom she deemed +more brilliant than little, pretty, modest Clara Toft; and after her +father's death and the not surprising revelation of his true financial +condition, she settled with her faded, captious mother in Turnhill as a +teacher of the pianoforte, and did nicely. + +Then, when she was twenty-six, and content in provincialism, she had met +during an August holiday at Llandudno her old fellow pupil, Albert +Barbellion, who was conducting the Pier concerts. Barbellion had asked +her to play at a 'soirée musicale' which he gave one night in the +ball-room of his hotel, and she had performed Tschaikowsky's immense and +lurid Slavonic Sonata; and the unparalleled Otto, renowned throughout +the British Empire for Otto's Bohemian Autumn Nightly Concerts at Covent +Garden Theatre, had happened to hear her and that seldom played sonata +for the first time. It was a wondrous chance. Otto's large, picturesque, +extempore way of inviting her to appear at his promenade concerts +reminded her of her father. + + +II + +In the bleak three-cornered artists'-room she could faintly hear the +descending impetuous velocities of the Ride of the Walkyries. She was +waiting in her new yellow dress, waiting painfully. Otto rushed in, a +glass in his hand. + +'You all right?' he questioned sharply. + +'Oh, yes,' she said, getting up from the cane-chair. + +'Let me see you stand on one leg,' he said; and then, because she +hesitated: 'Go on, quick! Stand on one leg. It's a good test.' So she +stood on one leg, foolishly smiling. 'Here, drink this,' he ordered, and +she had to drink brandy-and-soda out of the glass. 'You're better now,' +he remarked; and decidedly, though her throat tingled and she coughed, +she felt equal to anything at that moment. + +A stout, middle-aged woman, in a rather shabby opera cloak, entered the +room. + +'Ah, Cornelia!' exclaimed Otto grandly. + +'My dear Otto!' the woman responded, wrinkling her wonderfully enamelled +cheeks. + +'Miss Toft, let me introduce you to Madame Lopez.' He turned to the +newcomer. 'Keep her calm for me, bright star, will you?' + +Then Otto went, and Clarice was left alone with the world-famous +operatic soprano, who was advertised to sing that night the Shadow Song +from 'Dinorah.' + +'Where did he pick you up, my dear?' the decayed diva inquired +maternally. + +Clarice briefly explained. + +'You aren't paying him anything, are you?' + +'Oh, no!' said Clarice, shocked. 'But I get no fee this time----' + +'Of course not, my dear,' the Lopez cut her short. 'It's all right so +long as you aren't paying him anything to let you go on. Now run along.' + +Clarice's heart stopped. The call-boy, with his cockney twang, had +pronounced her name. + +She moved forward, and, by dint of following the call-boy, at length +reached the stage. Applause--good-natured applause--seemed to roll +towards her from the uttermost parts of the vast auditorium. She +realized with a start that this applause was exclusively for her. She +sat down to the piano, and there ensued a death-like silence--a silence +broken only by the striking of matches and the tinkle of the embowered +fountain in front of the stage. She had a consciousness, rather than a +vision, of a floor of thousands of upturned faces below her, and tier +upon tier of faces rising above her and receding to the illimitable dark +distances of the gallery. She heard a door bang, and perceived that some +members of the orchestra were creeping quietly out at the back. Then she +plunged, dizzy, into the sonata, as into a heaving and profound sea. The +huge concert piano resounded under the onslaught of her broad hands. +When she had played ten bars she knew with an absolute conviction that +she would do justice to her talent. She could see, as it were, the +entire sonata stretched out in detail before her like a road over which +she had to travel.... + +At the end of the first movement the clapping enheartened her; she +smiled confidently at the conductor, who, unemployed during her number, +sat on a chair under his desk. Before recommencing she gazed boldly at +the house, and certain placards--'Smoking permitted,' 'Emergency exit,' +'Ices,' and 'Fancy Dress Balls'--were fixed for ever on the retina of +her eye. At the end of the second movement there was more applause, and +the conductor tapped appreciation with his stick against the pillar of +his desk; the leader of the listless orchestra also tapped with his +fiddle-bow and nodded. It seemed to her now that she more and more +dominated the piano, and that she rendered the great finale with +masterful and fierce assurance.... + +She was pleased with herself as she banged the last massive chord. And +the applause, the clapping, the hammering of sticks, astounded her, +staggered her. She might have died of happiness while she bowed and +bowed again. She ran off the stage triumphant, and the applause seemed +to assail her little figure from all quarters and overwhelm it. As she +stood waiting, concealed behind a group of palms, it suddenly occurred +to her that, after all, she had underestimated herself. She saw her rosy +future as the spoiled darling of continental capitals. The hail of +clapping persisted, and the apparition of Otto violently waved her to +return to the stage. She returned, bowed her passionate exultation with +burning face and trembling knees, and retired. The clapping continued. +Yes, she would be compelled to grant an encore--to _grant_ one. She +would grant it like a honeyed but imperious queen. + +Suddenly she heard the warning tap of the conductor's baton; the +applause was hushed as though by a charm, and the orchestra broke into +the overture to 'Zampa.' She could not understand, she could not think. +As she tripped tragically to the artists'-room in her new yellow dress +she said to herself that the conductor must have made some mistake, and +that---- + +'Very nice, my dear,' said the Lopez kindly to her. 'You got quite a +call--quite a call.' + +She waited for Otto to come and talk to her. + +At length the Lopez was summoned, and Clarice followed to listen to her. +And when the Lopez had soared with strong practised flight through the +brilliant intricacy of the Shadow Song, Clarice became aware what real +applause sounded like from the stage. It shook the stage as the old +favourite of two generations, wearing her set smile, waddled back to the +debutante. Scores of voices hoarsely shouted 'Encore!' and 'Last Rose +of Summer,' and with a proud sigh the Lopez went on again, bowing. + +Clarice saw nothing more of Otto, who doubtless had other birds to +snare. The next day only three daily papers mentioned the concert at +all. In fact, Otto expected press notices but once a week. All three +papers praised the matchless Lopez in her Shadow Song. One referred to +Clarice as talented; another called her well-intentioned; the third +merely said that she had played. The short dream of artistic ascendancy +lay in fragments around her. She was a sensible girl, and stamped those +iridescent fragments into dust. + + +III + +The _Staffordshire Signal_ contained the following advertisement: 'Miss +Clara Toft, solo pianist, of the Otto Autumn Concerts, London, will +resume lessons on the 1st proximo at Liszt House, Turnhill. Terms on +application.' At thirty Clarice married James Sillitoe, the pianoforte +dealer in Market Square, Turnhill, and captious old Mrs. Toft formed +part of the new household. At thirty-four Clarice possessed a little +girl and two little boys, twins. Sillitoe was a money-maker, and she no +longer gave lessons. + +Happy? Perhaps not unhappy. + + * * * * * + + + + +A LETTER HOME[2] + + [2] Written in 1893. + + +I + +Rain was falling--it had fallen steadily through the night--but the sky +showed promise of fairer weather. As the first streaks of dawn appeared, +the wind died away, and the young leaves on the trees were almost +silent. The birds were insistently clamorous, vociferating times without +number that it was a healthy spring morning and good to be alive. + +A little, bedraggled crowd stood before the park gates, awaiting the +hour named on the notice board when they would be admitted to such +lodging and shelter as iron seats and overspreading branches might +afford. A weary, patient-eyed, dogged crowd--a dozen men, a boy of +thirteen, and a couple of women, both past middle age--which had been +gathering slowly since five o'clock. The boy appeared to be the least +uncomfortable. His feet were bare, but he had slept well in an area in +Grosvenor Place, and was not very damp yet. The women had nodded on many +doorsteps, and were soaked. They stood apart from the men, who seemed +unconscious of their existence. The men were exactly such as one would +have expected to find there--beery and restless as to the eyes, quaintly +shod, and with nondescript greenish clothes which for the most part bore +traces of the yoke of the sandwich board. Only one amongst them was +different. + +He was young, and his cap, and manner of wearing it, gave sign of the +sea. His face showed the rough outlines of his history. Yet it was a +transparently honest face, very pale, but still boyish and fresh enough +to make one wonder by what rapid descent he had reached his present +level. Perhaps the receding chin, the heavy, pouting lower lip, and the +ceaselessly twitching mouth offered a key to the problem. + +'Say, Darkey!' he said. + +'Well?' + +'How much longer?' + +'Can't ye see the clock? It's staring ye in the face.' + +'No. Something queer's come over my eyes.' + +Darkey was a short, sturdy man, who kept his head down and his hands +deep in his pockets. The raindrops clinging to the rim of an ancient hat +fell every now and then into his gray beard, which presented a drowned +appearance. He was a person of long and varied experiences; he knew that +queer feeling in the eyes, and his heart softened. + +'Come, lean against the pillar,' he said, 'if you don't want to tumble. +Three of brandy's what you want. There's four minutes to wait yet.' + +With body flattened to the masonry, legs apart, and head thrown back, +Darkey's companion felt more secure, and his mercurial spirits began to +revive. He took off his cap, and brushing back his light brown curly +hair with the hand which held it, he looked down at Darkey through +half-closed eyes, the play of his features divided between a smile and a +yawn. + +He had a lively sense of humour, and the irony of his situation was not +lost on him. He took a grim, ferocious delight in calling up the +might-have-beens and the 'fatuous ineffectual yesterdays' of life. There +is a certain sardonic satisfaction to be gleaned from a frank +recognition of the fact that you are the architect of your own +misfortune. He felt that satisfaction, and laughed at Darkey, who was +one of those who moan about 'ill-luck' and 'victims of circumstance.' + +'No doubt,' he would say, 'you're a very deserving fellow, Darkey, who's +been treated badly. I'm not.' + +To have attained such wisdom at twenty-five is not to have lived +altogether in vain. + +A park-keeper presently arrived to unlock the gates, and the band of +outcasts straggled indolently towards the nearest sheltered seats. Some +went to sleep at once, in a sitting posture. Darkey produced a clay +pipe, and, charging it with a few shreds of tobacco laboriously gathered +from his waistcoat pocket, began to smoke. He was accustomed to this +sort of thing, and with a pipe in his mouth could contrive to be +moderately philosophical upon occasion. He looked curiously at his +companion, who lay stretched at full length on another bench. + +'I say, pal,' he remarked, 'I've known ye two days; ye've never told me +yer name, and I don't ask ye to. But I see ye've not slep' in a park +before.' + +'You hit it, Darkey; but how?' + +'Well, if the keeper catches ye lying down, he'll be on to ye. Lying +down's not allowed.' + +The man raised himself on his elbow. + +'Really now,' he said; 'that's interesting. But I think I'll give the +keeper the opportunity of moving me. Why, it's quite fine, the sun's +coming out, and the sparrows are hopping round--cheeky little devils! +I'm not sure that I don't feel jolly.' + +'I wish I'd got the price of a pint about me,' sighed Darkey, and the +other man dropped his head and appeared to sleep. Then Darkey dozed a +little, and heard in his waking sleep the heavy, crunching tread of an +approaching park-keeper; he started up to warn his companion, but +thought better of it, and closed his eyes again. + +'Now then, there,' the park-keeper shouted to the man with the sailor's +cap, 'get up! This ain't a fourpenny doss, you know. No lying down.' + +A rough shake accompanied the words, and the man sat up. + +'All right, my friend.' + +The keeper, who was a good-humoured man, passed on without further +objurgation. + +The face of the younger man had grown whiter. + +'Look here, Darkey,' he said, 'I believe I'm done for.' + +'Never say die.' + +'No, just die without speaking.' + +His head fell forward and his eyes closed. + +'At any rate, this is better than some deaths I've seen,' he began again +with a strange accession of liveliness. 'Darkey, did I tell you the +story of the five Japanese girls?' + +'What, in Suez Bay?' said Darkey, who had heard many sea-stories during +the last two days, and recollected them but hazily. + +'No, man. This was at Nagasaki. We were taking in a cargo of coal for +Hong Kong. Hundreds of little Jap girls pass the coal from hand to hand +over the ship's side in tiny baskets that hold about a plateful. In that +way you can get three thousand tons aboard in two days.' + +'Talking of platefuls reminds me of sausage and mash,' said Darkey. + +'Don't interrupt. Well, five of these gay little dolls wanted to go to +Hong Kong, and they arranged with the Chinese sailors to stow away; I +believe their friends paid those cold-blooded fiends something to pass +them down food on the voyage, and give them an airing at nights. We had +a particularly lively trip, battened everything down tight, and scarcely +uncovered till we got into port. Then I and another man found those five +girls among the coal.' + +'Dead, eh?' + +'They'd simply torn themselves to pieces. Their bits of frock things +were in strips, and they were scratched deep from top to toe. The +Chinese had never troubled their heads about them at all, although they +must have known it meant death. You may bet there was a row. The +Japanese authorities make you search ship before sailing, now.' + +'Well?' + +'Well, I shan't die like that. That's all.' + +He stretched himself out once more, and for ten minutes neither spoke. +The park-keeper strolled up again. + +'Get up, there!' he said shortly and gruffly. + +'Up ye get, mate,' added Darkey, but the man on the bench did not stir. +One look at his face sufficed to startle the keeper, and presently two +policemen were wheeling an ambulance cart to the hospital. Darkey +followed, gave such information as he could, and then went his own ways. + + +II + +In the afternoon the patient regained full consciousness. His eyes +wandered vacantly about the illimitable ward, with its rows of beds +stretching away on either side of him. A woman with a white cap, a white +apron, and white wristbands bent over him, and he felt something +gratefully warm passing down his throat. For just one second he was +happy. Then his memory returned, and the nurse saw that he was crying. +When he caught the nurse's eye he ceased, and looked steadily at the +distant ceiling. + +'You're better?' + +'Yes.' + +He tried to speak boldly, decisively, nonchalantly. He was filled with a +sense of physical shame, the shame which bodily helplessness always +experiences in the presence of arrogant, patronizing health. He would +have got up and walked briskly away if he could. He hated to be waited +on, to be humoured, to be examined and theorized about. This woman would +be wanting to feel his pulse. She should not; he would turn +cantankerous. No doubt they had been saying to each other, 'And so +young, too! How sad!' Confound them! + +'Have you any friends that you would like to send for?' + +'No, none.' + +The girl--she was only a girl--looked at him, and there was that in her +eye which overcame him. + +'None at all?' + +'Not that I want to see.' + +'Are your parents alive?' + +'My mother is, but she lives away in the Five Towns.' + +'You've not seen her lately, perhaps?' + +He did not reply, and the nurse spoke again, but her voice sounded +indistinct and far off. + +When he awoke it was night. At the other end of the ward was a long +table covered with a white cloth, and on this table a lamp. + +In the ring of light under the lamp was an open book, an inkstand and a +pen. A nurse--not _his_ nurse--was standing by the table, her fingers +idly drumming the cloth, and near her a man in evening dress. Perhaps a +doctor. They were conversing in low tones. In the middle of the ward was +an open stove, and the restless flames were reflected in all the brass +knobs of the bedsteads and in some shining metal balls which hung from +an unlighted chandelier. His part of the ward was almost in darkness. A +confused, subdued murmur of little coughs, breathings, rustlings, was +continually audible, and sometimes it rose above the conversation at the +table. He noticed all these things. He became conscious, too, of a +strangely familiar smell. What was it? Ah, yes! Acetic acid; his mother +used it for her rheumatics. + +Suddenly, magically, a great longing came over him. He must see his +mother, or his brothers, or his little sister--someone who knew him, +someone who _belonged_ to him. He could have cried out in his desire. +This one thought consumed all his faculties. If his mother could but +walk in just now through that doorway! If only old Spot even could amble +up to him, tongue out and tail furiously wagging! He tried to sit up, +and he could not move! Then despair settled on him, and weighed him +down. He closed his eyes. + +The doctor and the nurse came slowly up the ward, pausing here and +there. They stopped before his bed, and he held his breath. + +'Not roused up again, I suppose?' + +'No.' + +'H'm! He may flicker on for forty-eight hours. Not more.' + +They went on, and with a sigh of relief he opened his eyes again. The +doctor shook hands with the nurse, who returned to the table and sat +down. + +Death! The end of all this! Yes, it was coming. He felt it. His had been +one of those wasted lives of which he used to read in books. How +strange! Almost amusing! He was one of those sons who bring sorrow and +shame into a family. Again, how strange! What a coincidence that +he--just _he_ and not the man in the next bed--should be one of those +rare, legendary good-for-nothings who go recklessly to ruin. And yet, he +was sure that he was not such a bad fellow after all. Only somehow he +had been careless. Yes, careless; that was the word ... nothing +worse.... As to death, he was indifferent. Remembering his father's +death, he reflected that it was probably less disturbing to die one's +self than to watch another pass. + +He smelt the acetic acid once more, and his thoughts reverted to his +mother. Poor mother! No, great mother! The grandeur of her life's +struggle filled him with a sense of awe. Strange that until that moment +he had never seen the heroic side of her humdrum, commonplace existence! +He must write to her, now, at once, before it was too late. His letter +would trouble her, add another wrinkle to her face, but he must write; +she must know that he had been thinking of her. + +'Nurse!' he cried out, in a thin, weak voice. + +'Ssh!' + +She was by his side directly, but not before he had lost consciousness +again. + +The following morning he managed with infinite labour to scrawl a few +lines: + + 'DEAR MAMMA, + + 'You will be surprised but not glad to get this letter. I'm done + for, and you will never see me again. I'm sorry for what I've done, + and how I've treated you, but it's no use saying anything now. If + Pater had only lived he might have kept me in order. But you were + too kind, you know. You've had a hard struggle these last six + years, and I hope Arthur and Dick will stand by you better than I + did, now they are growing up. Give them my love, and kiss little + Fannie for me. + + 'WILLIE. + + '_Mrs. Hancock_----' + +He got no further with the address. + + +III + +By some turn of the wheel, Darkey gathered several shillings during the +next day or two, and, feeling both elated and benevolent, he called one +afternoon at the hospital, 'just to inquire like.' They told him the man +was dead. + +'By the way, he left a letter without an address. Mrs. Hancock--here it +is.' + +'That'll be his mother; he did tell me about her--lived at Knype, +Staffordshire, he said. I'll see to it.' + +They gave Darkey the letter. + +'So his name's Hancock,' he soliloquized, when he got into the street. +'I knew a girl of that name--once. I'll go and have a pint of +four-half.' + +At nine o'clock that night Darkey was still consuming four-half, and +relating certain adventures by sea which, he averred, had happened to +himself. He was very drunk. + +'Yes,' he said, 'and them five lil' gals was lying there without a +stitch on 'em, dead as meat; 's 'true as I'm 'ere. I've seen a thing or +two in my time, I can tell ye.' + +'Talking about these Anarchists--' said a man who appeared anxious to +change the subject. + +'An--kists,' Darkey interrupted. 'I tell ye what I'd do with that muck.' + +He stopped to light his pipe, looked in vain for a match, felt in his +pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper--the letter. + +'I tell you what I'd do. I'd--' + +He slowly and meditatively tore the letter in two, dropped one piece on +the floor, thrust the other into a convenient gas-jet, and applied it to +the tobacco. + +'I'd get 'em 'gether in a heap, and I'd--Damn this pipe!' + +He picked up the other half of the letter, and relighted the pipe. + +'After you, mate,' said a man sitting near, who was just biting the end +from a cigar. + + + + +THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and + most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the + United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where + you are located before using this eBook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that: + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without +widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + diff --git a/old/13293-0.zip b/old/13293-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3329c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13293-0.zip diff --git a/old/13293-h.zip b/old/13293-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..84a284b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13293-h.zip diff --git a/old/13293-h/13293-h.htm b/old/13293-h/13293-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..38139a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13293-h/13293-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6374 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st June 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +h1 { + margin-top: 4em; + text-align: center; +} + +h2, h3, h4 { + margin-top: 2em; + text-align: center; +} + +hr { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +hr.long { + width: 70%; + margin-bottom: 2em; +} + +hr.short { + width: 50%; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +/* Font sizes */ + .fs150 { font-size: 150%; font-weight: bold; } + .fs125 { font-size: 125%; font-weight: bold; } + .fs110 { font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold; } + +/* page numbers float in the margin */ +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: 50%; + text-align: right; +} + +.footnote { + font-size: 90%; +} + +.blockquote { + margin-left: 2em; + margin-right: 2em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +div.contents .chapter { + font-size: 110%; + font-weight: bold; +} + +div.contents .section { + margin-left: 2em; + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; +} + +/* poems */ + +.poem { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br { + display: none; +} + +.poem .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poem span { + display: block; + margin: 0; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem p { + margin: 0; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Tales of the Five Towns</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Arnold Bennett</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 25, 2004 [eBook #13293]<br /> +[Most recently updated: March 9, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS ***</div> + + + + +<hr class='long' /> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page000' id="Page000"></a><span class='pagenum'>000</span></p> +<h1> +TALES<br /> +OF THE FIVE TOWNS</h1> +</div> +<p class="fs125 center">By</p> +<p class="fs150 center">ARNOLD BENNETT</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p class="fs110 center">First published January 1905</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p class="fs125 center">TO<br /> +MARCEL SCHWOB<br /> +MY LITERARY GODFATHER IN FRANCE</p> +<hr class='long' /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class='contents'> +<p class='chapter'>PART I<br /> +AT HOME</p> +<p class='section'><a href='#HIS_WORSHIP_THE_GOOSEDRIVER'>HIS +WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_ELIXIR_OF_YOUTH'>THE ELIXIR OF +YOUTH</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#MARY_WITH_THE_HIGH_HAND'>MARY WITH THE +HIGH HAND</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_DOG'>THE DOG</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#A_FEUD'>A FEUD</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#PHANTOM'>PHANTOM</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#TIDDY_FOL_LOL'>TIDDY-FOL-LOL</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_IDIOT'>THE IDIOT</a></p> +<p class='chapter'>PART II<br /> +ABROAD</p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_HUNGARIAN_RHAPSODY'>THE HUNGARIAN +RHAPSODY</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#THE_SISTERS_QITA'>THE SISTERS +QITA</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#NOCTURNE_AT_THE_MAJESTIC'>NOCTURNE AT +THE MAJESTIC</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href= +'#CLARICE_OF_THE_AUTUMN_CONCERTS'>CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN +CONCERTS</a></p> +<p class='section'><a href='#A_LETTER_HOME'>A LETTER HOME</a></p> +</div> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><a name='Page001' id="Page001"></a><span class='pagenum'>001</span></p> +<h2><a name='PART_I' id="PART_I"></a> + +PART I<br /> +AT HOME</h2> +</div> +<hr class='long' /> + +<p><a name='Page003' id="Page003"></a><span class='pagenum'>003</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='HIS_WORSHIP_THE_GOOSEDRIVER' id= +"HIS_WORSHIP_THE_GOOSEDRIVER"></a> +HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER</h3> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>It was an amiable but deceitful afternoon in the third week of +December. Snow fell heavily in the windows of confectioners' shops, +and Father Christmas smiled in Keats's Bazaar the fawning smile of +a myth who knows himself to be exploded; but beyond these and +similar efforts to remedy the forgetfulness of a careless climate, +there was no sign anywhere in the Five Towns, and especially in +Bursley, of the immediate approach of the season of peace, +goodwill, and gluttony on earth.</p> +<p>At the Tiger, next door to Keats's in the market-place, Mr. +Josiah Topham Curtenty had put down his glass (the port was kept +specially for him), and told his boon companion, Mr. Gordon, that +he must be going. These two men had one powerful sentiment <a name= +'Page004' id="Page004"></a><span class='pagenum'>004</span> in +common: they loved the same woman. Mr. Curtenty, aged twenty-six in +heart, thirty-six in mind, and forty-six in looks, was fifty-six +only in years. He was a rich man; he had made money as an +earthenware manufacturer in the good old times before Satan was +ingenious enough to invent German competition, American tariffs, +and the price of coal; he was still making money with the aid of +his son Harry, who now managed the works, but he never admitted +that he was making it. No one has yet succeeded, and no one ever +will succeed, in catching an earthenware manufacturer in the act of +making money; he may confess with a sigh that he has performed the +feat in the past, he may give utterance to a vague, preposterous +hope that he will perform it again in the remote future, but as for +surprising him in the very act, you would as easily surprise a hen +laying an egg. Nowadays Mr. Curtenty, commercially secure, spent +most of his energy in helping to shape and control the high +destinies of the town. He was Deputy-Mayor, and Chairman of the +General Purposes Committee of the Town Council; he was also a +Guardian of the Poor, <a name='Page005' id= +"Page005"></a><span class='pagenum'>005</span> a Justice of the +Peace, President of the Society for the Prosecution of Felons, a +sidesman, an Oddfellow, and several other things that meant dining, +shrewdness, and good-nature. He was a short, stiff, stout, +red-faced man, jolly with the jollity that springs from a kind +heart, a humorous disposition, a perfect digestion, and the +respectful deference of one's bank-manager. Without being a member +of the Browning Society, he held firmly to the belief that all's +right with the world.</p> +<p>Mr. Gordon, who has but a sorry part in the drama, was a +younger, quieter, less forceful person, rather shy; a municipal +mediocrity, perhaps a little inflated that day by reason of his +having been elected to the Chairmanship of the Gas and Lighting +Committee.</p> +<p>Both men had sat on their committees at the Town Hall across the +way that deceitful afternoon, and we see them now, after +refreshment well earned and consumed, about to separate and sink +into private life. But as they came out into the portico of the +Tiger, the famous Calypso-like barmaid of the Tiger a hovering +enchantment in the background, it occurred that a flock of geese +were meditating, <a name='Page006' id="Page006"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>006</span> as geese will, in the middle of the road. The +gooseherd, a shabby middle-aged man, looked as though he had +recently lost the Battle of Marathon, and was asking himself +whether the path of his retreat might not lie through the +bar-parlour of the Tiger.</p> +<p>'Business pretty good?' Mr. Curtenty inquired of him +cheerfully.</p> +<p>In the Five Towns business takes the place of weather as a topic +of salutation.</p> +<p>'Business!' echoed the gooseherd.</p> +<p>In that one unassisted noun, scorning the aid of verb, +adjective, or adverb, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound +and subtle emphasis, contrived to express the fact that he existed +in a world of dead illusions, that he had become a convert to +Schopenhauer, and that Mr. Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a +final grievance to him.</p> +<p>'There ain't no business!' he added.</p> +<p>'Ah!' returned Mr. Curtenty, thoughtful: such an assertion of +the entire absence of business was a reflection upon the town.</p> +<p>'Sithee!' said the gooseherd in ruthless accents, 'I druv these +'ere geese into this 'ere town this morning.' (Here he exaggerated +<a name='Page007' id="Page007"></a><span class='pagenum'>007</span> +the number of miles traversed.) 'Twelve geese and two +gander—a Brent and a Barnacle. And how many is there now? How +many?'</p> +<p>'Fourteen,' said Mr. Gordon, having counted; and Mr. Curtenty +gazed at him in reproach, for that he, a Town Councillor, had thus +mathematically demonstrated the commercial decadence of +Bursley.</p> +<p>'Market overstocked, eh?' Mr. Curtenty suggested, throwing a +side-glance at Callear the poulterer's close by, which was crammed +with everything that flew, swam, or waddled.</p> +<p>'Call this a market?' said the gooseherd. 'I'st tak' my lot over +to Hanbridge, wheer there <i>is</i> a bit doing, by all +accounts.'</p> +<p>Now, Mr. Curtenty had not the least intention of buying those +geese, but nothing could be better calculated to straighten the +back of a Bursley man than a reference to the mercantile activity +of Hanbridge, that Chicago of the Five Towns.</p> +<p>'How much for the lot?' he inquired.</p> +<p>In that moment he reflected upon his reputation; he knew that he +was a cure, a card, a character; he knew that everyone would think +it just like Jos Curtenty, the renowned <a name='Page008' id= +"Page008"></a><span class='pagenum'>008</span> Deputy-Mayor of +Bursley, to stand on the steps of the Tiger and pretend to chaffer +with a gooseherd for a flock of geese. His imagination caught the +sound of an oft-repeated inquiry, 'Did ye hear about old Jos's +latest—trying to buy them there geese?' and the appreciative +laughter that would follow.</p> +<p>The gooseherd faced him in silence.</p> +<p>'Well,' said Mr. Curtenty again, his eyes twinkling, 'how much +for the lot?'</p> +<p>The gooseherd gloomily and suspiciously named a sum.</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty named a sum startlingly less, ending in +sixpence.</p> +<p>'I'll tak' it,' said the gooseherd, in a tone that closed on the +bargain like a vice.</p> +<p>The Deputy-Mayor perceived himself the owner of twelve geese and +two ganders—one Brent, one Barnacle. It was a shock, but he +sustained it. Involuntarily he looked at Mr. Gordon.</p> +<p>'How are you going to get 'em home, Curtenty?' asked Gordon, +with coarse sarcasm; 'drive 'em?'</p> +<p>Nettled, Mr. Curtenty retorted:</p> +<p>'Now, then, Gas Gordon!'</p> +<p><a name='Page009' id="Page009"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>009</span> The barmaid laughed aloud at this sobriquet, +which that same evening was all over the town, and which has stuck +ever since to the Chairman of the Gas and Lighting Committee. Mr. +Gordon wished, and has never ceased to wish, either that he had +been elected to some other committee, or that his name had begun +with some other letter.</p> +<p>The gooseherd received the purchase-money like an affront, but +when Mr. Curtenty, full of private mirth, said, 'Chuck us your +stick in,' he give him the stick, and smiled under reservation. Jos +Curtenty had no use for the geese; he could conceive no purpose +which they might be made to serve, no smallest corner for them in +his universe. Nevertheless, since he had rashly stumbled into a +ditch, he determined to emerge from it grandly, impressively, +magnificently. He instantaneously formed a plan by which he would +snatch victory out of defeat. He would take Gordon's suggestion, +and himself drive the geese up to his residence in Hillport, that +lofty and aristocratic suburb. It would be an immense, an +unparalleled farce; a wonder, a topic for years, the crown of his +reputation as a card.</p> +<p><a name='Page010' id="Page010"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>010</span> He announced his intention with that +misleading sobriety and ordinariness of tone which it has been the +foible of many great humorists to assume. Mr. Gordon lifted his +head several times very quickly, as if to say, 'What next?' and +then actually departed, which was a clear proof that the man had no +imagination and no soul.</p> +<p>The gooseherd winked.</p> +<p>'You be rightly called "Curtenty," mester,' said he, and passed +into the Tiger.</p> +<p>'That's the best joke I ever heard,' Jos said to himself 'I +wonder whether he saw it.'</p> +<p>Then the procession of the geese and the Deputy-Mayor commenced. +Now, it is not to be assumed that Mr. Curtenty was necessarily +bound to look foolish in the driving of geese. He was no +nincompoop. On the contrary, he was one of those men who, bringing +common-sense and presence of mind to every action of their lives, +do nothing badly, and always escape the ridiculous. He marshalled +his geese with notable gumption, adopted towards them exactly the +correct stress of persuasion, and presently he smiled to see them +preceding him in the direction <a name='Page011' id= +"Page011"></a><span class='pagenum'>011</span> of Hillport. He +looked neither to right nor left, but simply at his geese, and thus +the quidnuncs of the market-place and the supporters of shop-fronts +were unable to catch his eye. He tried to feel like a gooseherd; +and such was his histrionic quality, his instinct for the dramatic, +he <i>was</i> a gooseherd, despite his blue Melton overcoat, his +hard felt hat with the flattened top, and that opulent-curving +collar which was the secret despair of the young dandies of +Hillport. He had the most natural air in the world. The geese were +the victims of this imaginative effort of Mr. Curtenty's. They took +him seriously as a gooseherd. These fourteen intelligences, each +with an object in life, each bent on self-aggrandisement and the +satisfaction of desires, began to follow the line of least +resistance in regard to the superior intelligence unseen but felt +behind them, feigning, as geese will, that it suited them so to +submit, and that in reality they were still quite independent. But +in the peculiar eye of the Barnacle gander, who was leading, an +observer with sufficient fancy might have deciphered a mild revolt +against this triumph of the absurd, the accidental, and <a name= +'Page012' id="Page012"></a><span class='pagenum'>012</span> the +futile; a passive yet Promethean spiritual defiance of the supreme +powers.</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty got his fourteen intelligences safely across the +top of St. Luke's Square, and gently urged them into the steep +defile of Oldcastle Street. By this time rumour had passed in front +of him and run off down side-streets like water let into an +irrigation system. At every corner was a knot of people, at most +windows a face. And the Deputy-Mayor never spoke nor smiled. The +farce was enormous; the memory of it would survive revolutions and +religions.</p> +<p>Halfway down Oldcastle Street the first disaster happened. +Electric tramways had not then knitted the Five Towns in a network +of steel; but the last word of civilization and refinement was +about to be uttered, and a gang of men were making patterns with +wires on the skyscape of Oldcastle Street. One of the wires, +slipping from its temporary gripper, swirled with an extraordinary +sound into the roadway, and writhed there in spirals. Several of +Mr. Curtenty's geese were knocked down, and rose obviously annoyed; +but the Barnacle gander fell with a clinging circle of wire round +his <a name='Page013' id="Page013"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>013</span> muscular, glossy neck, and did not rise again. +It was a violent, mysterious, agonizing, and sudden death for him, +and must have confirmed his theories about the arbitrariness of +things. The thirteen passed pitilessly on. Mr. Curtenty freed the +gander from the coiling wire, and picked it up, but, finding it far +too heavy to carry, he handed it to a Corporation road-sweeper.</p> +<p>'I'll send for it,' he said; 'wait here.'</p> +<p>These were the only words uttered by him during a memorable +journey.</p> +<p>The second disaster was that the deceitful afternoon turned to +rain—cold, cruel rain, persistent rain, full of sinister +significance. Mr. Curtenty ruefully raised the velvet of his +Melton. As he did so a brougham rolled into Oldcastle Street, a +little in front of him, from the direction of St. Peter's Church, +and vanished towards Hillport. He knew the carriage; he had bought +it and paid for it. Deep, far down, in his mind stirred the +thought:</p> +<p>'I'm just the least bit glad she didn't see me.'</p> +<p>He had the suspicion, which recurs even to optimists, that +happiness is after all a chimera.</p> +<p>The third disaster was that the sun set and <a name='Page014' id="Page014"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>014</span> darkness +descended. Mr. Curtenty had, unfortunately, not reckoned with this +diurnal phenomenon; he had not thought upon the undesirability of +being under compulsion to drive geese by the sole illumination of +gas-lamps lighted by Corporation gas.</p> +<p>After this disasters multiplied. Dark and the rain had +transformed the farce into something else. It was five-thirty when +at last he reached The Firs, and the garden of The Firs was filled +with lamentable complainings of a remnant of geese. His man Pond +met him with a stable-lantern.</p> +<p>'Damp, sir,' said Pond.</p> +<p>'Oh, nowt to speak of,' said Mr. Curtenty, and, taking off his +hat, he shot the fluid contents of the brim into Pond's face. It +was his way of dotting the 'i' of irony. 'Missis come in?'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir; I have but just rubbed the horse down.'</p> +<p>So far no reference to the surrounding geese, all forlorn in the +heavy winter rain.</p> +<p>'I've gotten a two-three geese and one gander here for +Christmas,' said Mr. Curtenty after a pause. To inferiors he always +used the dialect.</p> +<p><a name='Page015' id="Page015"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>015</span> 'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'Turn 'em into th' orchard, as you call it.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'They aren't all here. Thou mun put th' horse in the trap and +fetch the rest thysen.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'One's dead. A roadman's takkin' care on it in Oldcastle Street. +He'll wait for thee. Give him sixpence.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'There's another got into th' cut [canal].'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'There's another strayed on the railway-line—happen it's +run over by this.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'And one's making the best of her way to Oldcastle. I couldna +coax her in here.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>'Collect 'em.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty walked away towards the house.</p> +<p>'Mester!' Pond called after him, flashing the lantern.</p> +<p>'Well, lad?'</p> +<p>'There's no gander i' this lot.'</p> +<p><a name='Page016' id="Page016"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>016</span> 'Hast forgotten to count thysen?' Mr. Curtenty +answered blithely from the shelter of the side-door.</p> +<p>But within himself he was a little crest-fallen to think that +the surviving gander should have escaped his vigilance, even in the +darkness. He had set out to drive the geese home, and he had driven +them home, most of them. He had kept his temper, his dignity, his +cheerfulness. He had got a bargain in geese. So much was +indisputable ground for satisfaction. And yet the feeling of an +anticlimax would not be dismissed. Upon the whole, his transit +lacked glory. It had begun in splendour, but it had ended in +discomfort and almost ignominy. Nevertheless, Mr. Curtenty's +unconquerable soul asserted itself in a quite genuine and tuneful +whistle as he entered the house.</p> +<p>The fate of the Brent gander was never ascertained.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>The dining-room of The Firs was a spacious and inviting +refectory, which owed nothing of its charm to William Morris, +Regent Street, <a name='Page017' id="Page017"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>017</span> or the Arts and Crafts Society. Its triple +aim, was richness, solidity, and comfort, but especially comfort; +and this aim was achieved in new oak furniture of immovable +firmness, in a Turkey carpet which swallowed up the feet like a +feather bed, and in large oil-paintings, whose darkly-glinting +frames were a guarantee of their excellence. On a winter's night, +as now, the room was at its richest, solidest, most comfortable. +The blue plush curtains were drawn on their stout brass rods across +door and French window. Finest selected silkstone fizzed and flamed +in a patent grate which had the extraordinary gift of radiating +heat into the apartment instead of up the chimney. The shaded +Welsbach lights of the chandelier cast a dazzling luminance on the +tea-table of snow and silver, while leaving the pictures in a gloom +so discreet that not Ruskin himself could have decided whether +these were by Whistler or Peter Paul Rubens. On either side of the +marble mantelpiece were two easy-chairs of an immense, incredible +capacity, chairs of crimson plush for Titans, chairs softer than +moss, more pliant than a loving heart, more enveloping than a +caress. In one of <a name='Page018' id="Page018"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>018</span> these chairs, that to the left of the +fireplace, Mr. Curtenty was accustomed to snore every Saturday and +Sunday afternoon, and almost every evening. The other was usually +empty, but to-night it was occupied by Mrs. Curtenty, the jewel of +the casket. In the presence of her husband she always used a small +rocking-chair of ebonized cane.</p> +<p>To glance at this short, slight, yet plump little creature as +she reclined crosswise in the vast chair, leaving great spaces of +the seat unfilled, was to think rapturously to one's self: <i>This +is a woman</i>. Her fluffy head was such a dot against the back of +the chair, the curve of her chubby ringed hand above the head was +so adorable, her black eyes were so provocative, her slippered feet +so wee—yes, and there was something so mysteriously thrilling +about the fall of her skirt that you knew instantly her name was +Clara, her temper both fiery and obstinate, and her personality +distracting. You knew that she was one of those women of frail +physique who can endure fatigues that would destroy a camel; one of +those dæmonic women capable of doing without sleep for ten +nights in order to nurse you; capable of dying and <a name= +'Page019' id="Page019"></a><span class='pagenum'>019</span> seeing +you die rather than give way about the tint of a necktie; capable +of laughter and tears simultaneously; capable of never being in the +wrong except for the idle whim of so being. She had a big mouth and +very wide nostrils, and her years were thirty-five. It was no +matter; it would have been no matter had she been a hundred and +thirty-five. In short....</p> +<p>Clara Curtenty wore tight-fitting black silk, with a long gold +chain that descended from her neck nearly to her waist, and was +looped up in the middle to an old-fashioned gold brooch. She was in +mourning for a distant relative. Black pre-eminently suited her. +Consequently her distant relatives died at frequent intervals.</p> +<p>The basalt clock on the mantelpiece trembled and burst into the +song of six. Clara Curtenty rose swiftly from the easy-chair, and +took her seat in front of the tea-tray. Almost at the same moment a +neat black-and-white parlourmaid brought in teapot, copper kettle, +and a silver-covered dish containing hot pikelets; then departed. +Clara was alone again; not the same Clara now, but a personage +demure, prim, precise, frightfully upright of back—a <a name= +'Page020' id="Page020"></a><span class='pagenum'>020</span> sort of +impregnable stronghold—without doubt a Deputy-Mayoress.</p> +<p>At five past six Josiah Curtenty entered the room, radiant from +a hot bath, and happy in dry clothes—a fine, if mature, +figure of a man. His presence filled the whole room.</p> +<p>'Well, my chuck!' he said, and kissed her on the cheek.</p> +<p>She gazed at him with a look that might mean anything. Did she +raise her cheek to his greeting, or was it fancy that she had +endured, rather than accepted, his kiss? He was scarcely sure. And +if she had endured instead of accepting the kiss, was her mood to +be attributed to his lateness for tea, or to the fact that she was +aware of the episode of the geese? He could not divine.</p> +<p>'Pikelets! Good!' he exclaimed, taking the cover off the +dish.</p> +<p>This strong, successful, and dominant man adored his wife, and +went in fear of her. She was his first love, but his second spouse. +They had been married ten years. In those ten years they had +quarrelled only five times, and she had changed the very colour of +his life. Till his second marriage he had boasted that <a name= +'Page021' id="Page021"></a><span class='pagenum'>021</span> he +belonged to the people and retained the habits of the people. +Clara, though she also belonged to the people, very soon altered +all that. Clara had a passion for the genteel. Like many +warm-hearted, honest, clever, and otherwise sensible persons, Clara +was a snob, but a charming little snob. She ordered him to forget +that he belonged to the people. She refused to listen when he +talked in the dialect. She made him dress with opulence, and even +with tidiness; she made him buy a fashionable house and fill it +with fine furniture; she made him buy a brougham in which her +gentility could pay calls and do shopping (she shopped in +Oldcastle, where a decrepit aristocracy of tradesmen sneered at +Hanbridge's lack of style); she had her 'day'; she taught the +servants to enter the reception-rooms without knocking; she took +tea in bed in the morning, and tea in the afternoon in the +drawing-room. She would have instituted dinner at seven, but she +was a wise woman, and realized that too much tyranny often means +revolution and the crumbling of-thrones; therefore the ancient +plebeian custom of high tea at six was allowed to persist and +continue.</p> +<p><a name='Page022' id="Page022"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>022</span> She it was who had compelled Josiah (or +bewitched, beguiled, coaxed and wheedled him), after a public +refusal, to accept the unusual post of Deputy-Mayor. In two years' +time he might count on being Mayor. Why, then, should Clara have +been so anxious for this secondary dignity? Because, in that year +of royal festival, Bursley, in common with many other boroughs, had +had a fancy to choose a Mayor out of the House of Lords. The Earl +of Chell, a magnate of the county, had consented to wear the +mayoral chain and dispense the mayoral hospitalities on condition +that he was provided with a deputy for daily use.</p> +<p>It was the idea of herself being deputy to the lovely, +meddlesome, and arrogant Countess of Chell that had appealed to +Clara.</p> +<p>The deputy of a Countess at length spoke.</p> +<p>'Will Harry be late at the works again to-night?' she asked in +her colder, small-talk manner, which committed her to nothing, as +Josiah well knew.</p> +<p>Her way of saying that word 'Harry' was inimitably significant. +She gave it an air. She liked Harry, and she liked Harry's name, +because it had a Kensingtonian sound. Harry, <a name='Page023' id= +"Page023"></a><span class='pagenum'>023</span> so accomplished in +business, was also a dandy, and he was a dog. 'My +stepson'—she loved to introduce him, so tall, manly, +distinguished, and dandiacal. Harry, enriched by his own mother, +belonged to a London club; he ran down to Llandudno for week-ends; +and it was reported that he had been behind the scenes at the +Alhambra. Clara felt for the word 'Harry' the unreasoning affection +which most women lavish on 'George.'</p> +<p>'Like as not,' said Josiah. 'I haven't been to the works this +afternoon.'</p> +<p>Another silence fell, and then Josiah, feeling himself unable to +bear any further suspense as to his wife's real mood and temper, +suddenly determined to tell her all about the geese, and know the +worst. And precisely at the instant that he opened his mouth, the +maid opened the door and announced:</p> +<p>'Mr. Duncalf wishes to see you at once, sir. He won't keep you a +minute.'</p> +<p>'Ask him in here, Mary,' said the Deputy-Mayoress sweetly; 'and +bring another cup and saucer.'</p> +<p>Mr. Duncalf was the Town Clerk of Bursley: legal, portly, dry, +and a little shy.</p> +<p><a name='Page024' id="Page024"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>024</span> 'I won't stop, Curtenty. How d'ye do, Mrs. +Curtenty? No, thanks, really——' But she, smiling, +exquisitely gracious, flattered and smoothed him into a chair.</p> +<p>'Any interesting news, Mr. Duncalf?' she said, and added: 'But +we're glad that <i>anything</i> should have brought you in.'</p> +<p>'Well,' said Duncalf, 'I've just had a letter by the afternoon +post from Lord Chell.'</p> +<p>'Oh, the Earl! Indeed; how very interesting.'</p> +<p>'What's he after?' inquired Josiah cautiously.</p> +<p>'He says he's just been appointed Governor of East +Australia—announcement 'll be in to-morrow's papers—and +so he must regretfully resign the mayoralty. Says he'll pay the +fine, but of course we shall have to remit that by special +resolution of the Council.'</p> +<p>'Well, I'm damned!' Josiah exclaimed.</p> +<p>'Topham!' Mrs. Curtenty remonstrated, but with a delightful +acquitting dimple. She never would call him Josiah, much less Jos. +Topham came more easily to her lips, and sometimes Top.</p> +<p>'Your husband,' said Mr. Duncalf impressively to Clara, 'will, +of course, have to step <a name='Page025' id= +"Page025"></a><span class='pagenum'>025</span> into the Mayor's +shoes, and you'll have to fill the place of the Countess.' He +paused, and added: 'And very well you'll do it, too—very +well. Nobody better.'</p> +<p>The Town Clerk frankly admired Clara.</p> +<p>'Mr. Duncalf—Mr. Duncalf!' She raised a finger at him. +'You are the most shameless flatterer in the town.'</p> +<p>The flatterer was flattered. Having delivered the weighty news, +he had leisure to savour his own importance as the bearer of it. He +drank a cup of tea. Josiah was thoughtful, but Clara brimmed over +with a fascinating loquacity. Then Mr. Duncalf said that he must +really be going, and, having arranged with the Mayor-elect to call +a special meeting of the Council at once, he did go, all the while +wishing he had the enterprise to stay.</p> +<p>Josiah accompanied him to the front-door. The sky had now +cleared.</p> +<p>'Thank ye for calling,' said the host.</p> +<p>'Oh, that's all right. Good-night, Curtenty. Got that goose out +of the canal?'</p> +<p>So the story was all abroad!</p> +<p>Josiah returned to the dining-room, imperceptibly smiling. At +the door the sight of <a name='Page026' id= +"Page026"></a><span class='pagenum'>026</span> his wife halted him. +The face of that precious and adorable woman flamed out lightning +and all menace and offence. Her louring eyes showed what a triumph +of dissimulation she must have achieved in the presence of Mr. +Duncalf, but now she could speak her mind.</p> +<p>'Yes, Topham!' she exploded, as though finishing an harangue. +'And on this day of all days you choose to drive geese in the +public road behind my carriage!'</p> +<p>Jos was stupefied, annihilated.</p> +<p>'Did you see me, then, Clarry?'</p> +<p>He vainly tried to carry it off.</p> +<p>'Did I see you? Of course I saw you!'</p> +<p>She withered him up with the hot wind of scorn.</p> +<p>'Well,' he said foolishly, 'how was I to know that the Earl +would resign just to-day?'</p> +<p>'How were you to——?'</p> +<p>Harry came in for his tea. He glanced from one to the other, +discreet, silent. On the way home he had heard the tale of the +geese in seven different forms. The Deputy-Mayor, so soon to be +Mayor, walked out of the room.</p> +<p><a name='Page027' id="Page027"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>027</span> 'Pond has just come back, father,' said Harry; +'I drove up the hill with him.'</p> +<p>And as Josiah hesitated a moment in the hall, he heard Clara +exclaim, 'Oh, Harry!'</p> +<p>'Damn!' he murmured.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>The <i>Signal</i> of the following day contained the +announcement which Mr. Duncalf had forecast; it also stated, on +authority, that Mr. Josiah Curtenty would wear the mayoral chain of +Bursley immediately, and added as its own private opinion that, in +default of the Right Honourable the Earl of Chell and his Countess, +no better 'civic heads' could have been found than Mr. Curtenty and +his charming wife. So far the tone of the <i>Signal</i> was +unimpeachable. But underneath all this was a sub-title, 'Amusing +Exploit of the Mayor-elect,' followed by an amusing description of +the procession of the geese, a description which concluded by +referring to Mr. Curtenty as His Worship the Goosedriver.</p> +<p>Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, and Turnhill laughed heartily, and +perhaps a little viciously, <a name='Page028' id= +"Page028"></a><span class='pagenum'>028</span> at this paragraph, +but Bursley was annoyed by it. In print the affair did not look at +all well. Bursley prided itself on possessing a unique dignity as +the 'Mother of the Five Towns,' and to be presided over by a +goosedriver, however humorous and hospitable he might be, did not +consort with that dignity. A certain Mayor of Longshaw, years +before, had driven a sow to market, and derived a tremendous +advertisement therefrom, but Bursley had no wish to rival Longshaw +in any particular. Bursley regarded Longshaw as the Inferno of the +Five Towns. In Bursley you were bidden to go to Longshaw as you +were bidden to go to ... Certain acute people in Hillport saw +nothing but a paralyzing insult in the opinion of the <i>Signal</i> +(first and foremost a Hanbridge organ), that Bursley could find no +better civic head than Josiah Curtenty. At least three Aldermen and +seven Councillors privately, and in the Tiger, disagreed with any +such view of Bursley's capacity to find heads.</p> +<p>And underneath all this brooding dissatisfaction lurked the +thought, as the alligator lurks in a muddy river, that 'the Earl +wouldn't like it'—meaning the geese episode. It was <a name= +'Page029' id="Page029"></a><span class='pagenum'>029</span> +generally felt that the Earl had been badly treated by Jos +Curtenty. The town could not explain its sentiments—could not +argue about them. They were not, in fact, capable of logical +justification; but they were there, they violently existed. It +would have been useless to point out that if the inimitable Jos had +not been called to the mayoralty the episode of the geese would +have passed as a gorgeous joke; that everyone had been vastly +amused by it until that desolating issue of the <i>Signal</i> +announced the Earl's retirement; that Jos Curtenty could not +possibly have foreseen what was about to happen; and that, anyhow, +goosedriving was less a crime than a social solecism, and less a +social solecism than a brilliant eccentricity. Bursley was hurt, +and logic is no balm for wounds.</p> +<p>Some may ask: If Bursley was offended, why did it not mark its +sense of Josiah's failure to read the future by electing another +Mayor? The answer is, that while all were agreed that his antic was +inexcusable, all were equally agreed to pretend that it was a mere +trifle of no importance; you cannot deprive a man of his +prescriptive right for a mere trifle of no <a name='Page030' id= +"Page030"></a><span class='pagenum'>030</span> importance. Besides, +nobody could be so foolish as to imagine that goosedriving, though +reprehensible in a Mayor about to succeed an Earl, is an act of +which official notice can be taken.</p> +<p>The most curious thing in the whole imbroglio is that Josiah +Curtenty secretly agreed with his wife and the town. He was +ashamed, overset. His procession of geese appeared to him in an +entirely new light, and he had the strength of mind to admit to +himself, 'I've made a fool of myself.'</p> +<p>Harry went to London for a week, and Josiah, under plea of his +son's absence, spent eight hours a day at the works. The brougham +remained in the coach-house.</p> +<p>The Town Council duly met in special conclave, and Josiah Topham +Curtenty became Mayor of Bursley.</p> +<p>Shortly after Christmas it was announced that the Mayor and +Mayoress had decided to give a New Year's treat to four hundred +poor old people in the St. Luke's covered market. It was also +spread about that this treat would eclipse and extinguish all +previous treats of a similar nature, and that it might be accepted +as some slight foretaste of the hospitality which <a name='Page031' id="Page031"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>031</span> the Mayor and +Mayoress would dispense in that memorable year of royal festival. +The treat was to occur on January 9, the Mayoress's birthday.</p> +<p>On January 7 Josiah happened to go home early. He was proceeding +into the drawing-room without enthusiasm to greet his wife, when he +heard voices within; and one voice was the voice of Gas Gordon.</p> +<p>Jos stood still. It has been mentioned that Gordon and the Mayor +were in love with the same woman. The Mayor had easily captured her +under the very guns of his not formidable rival, and he had always +thereafter felt a kind of benevolent, good-humoured, contemptuous +pity for Gordon—Gordon, whose life was a tragic blank; +Gordon, who lived, a melancholy and defeated bachelor, with his +mother and two unmarried sisters older than himself. That Gordon +still worshipped at the shrine did not disturb him; on the +contrary, it pleased him. Poor Gordon!</p> +<p>'But, really, Mrs. Curtenty,' Gordon was saying—'really, +you know I—that—is—really—'</p> +<p>'To please me!' Mrs. Curtenty entreated, <a name='Page032' id= +"Page032"></a><span class='pagenum'>032</span> with a seductive +charm that Jos felt even outside the door.</p> +<p>Then there was a pause.</p> +<p>'Very well,' said Gordon.</p> +<p>Mr. Curtenty tiptoed away and back into the street. He walked in +the dark nearly to Oldcastle, and returned about six o'clock. But +Clara said no word of Gordon's visit. She had scarcely spoken to +Topham for three weeks.</p> +<p>The next morning, as Harry was departing to the works, Mrs. +Curtenty followed the handsome youth into the hall.</p> +<p>'Harry,' she whispered, 'bring me two ten-pound notes this +afternoon, will you, and say nothing to your father.'</p> +<h4>IV</h4> +<p>Gas Gordon was to be on the platform at the poor people's treat. +As he walked down Trafalgar Road his eye caught a still-exposed +fragment of a decayed bill on a hoarding. It referred to a meeting +of the local branch of the Anti-Gambling League a year ago in the +lecture-hall of the Wesleyan Chapel, and it said that Councillor +Gordon would occupy the <a name='Page033' id= +"Page033"></a><span class='pagenum'>033</span> chair on that +occasion. Mechanically Councillor Gordon stopped and tore the +fragment away from the hoarding.</p> +<p>The treat, which took the form of a dinner, was an unqualified +success; it surpassed all expectations. Even the diners themselves +were satisfied—a rare thing at such affairs. Goose was a +prominent item in the menu. After the repast the replete guests +were entertained from the platform, the Mayor being, of course, in +the chair. Harry sang 'In Old Madrid,' accompanied by his +stepmother, with faultless expression. Mr. Duncalf astonished +everybody with the famous North-Country recitation, 'The Patent +Hair-brushing Mashane.' There were also a banjo solo, a skirt dance +of discretion, and a campanological turn. At last, towards ten +o'clock, Mr. Gordon, who had hitherto done nothing, rose in his +place, amid good-natured cries of 'Gas!'</p> +<p>'I feel sure you will all agree with me,' he began, 'that this +evening would not be complete without a vote of thanks—a very +hearty vote of thanks—to our excellent host and +chairman.'</p> +<p>Ear-splitting applause.</p> +<p><a name='Page034' id="Page034"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>034</span> 'I've got a little story to tell you,' he +continued—'a story that up to this moment has been a close +secret between his Worship the Mayor and myself.' His Worship +looked up sharply at the speaker. 'You've heard about some geese, I +reckon. (<i>Laughter</i>.) Well, you've not heard all, but I'm +going to tell you. I can't keep it to myself any longer. You think +his Worship drove those geese—I hope they're digesting well +(<i>loud laughter</i>)—just for fun. He didn't. I was with +him when he bought them, and I happened to say that goosedriving +was a very difficult accomplishment.'</p> +<p>'Depends on the geese!' shouted a voice.</p> +<p>'Yes, it does,' Mr. Gordon admitted. 'Well, his Worship +contradicted me, and we had a bit of an argument. I don't bet, as +you know—at least, not often—but I don't mind +confessing that I offered to bet him a sovereign he couldn't drive +his geese half a mile. "Look here, Gordon," he said to me: "there's +a lot of distress in the town just now—trade bad, and so on, +and so on. I'll lay you a level ten pounds I drive these geese to +Hillport myself, the loser to give the money to charity." <a name= +'Page035' id="Page035"></a><span class='pagenum'>035</span> "Done," +I said. "Don't say anything about it," he says. "I won't," I +says—but I am doing. (<i>Applause</i>.) I feel it my duty to +say something about it. (<i>More applause</i>.) Well, I lost, as +you all know. He drove 'em to Hillport. ('<i>Good old Jos!</i>') +That's not all. The Mayor insisted on putting his own ten pounds to +mine and making it twenty. Here are the two identical notes, his +and mine.' Mr. Gordon waved the identical notes amid an uproar. +'We've decided that everyone who has dined here to-night shall +receive a brand-new shilling. I see Mr. Septimus Lovatt from the +bank there with a bag. He will attend to you as you go out. +(<i>Wild outbreak and tumult of rapturous applause</i>.) And now +three cheers for your Mayor—and Mayoress!'</p> +<p>It was colossal, the enthusiasm.</p> +<p>'<i>And</i> for Gas Gordon!' called several voices.</p> +<p>The cheers rose again in surging waves.</p> +<p>Everyone remarked that the Mayor, usually so imperturbable, was +quite overcome—seemed as if he didn't know where to look.</p> +<p>Afterwards, as the occupants of the platform descended, Mr. +Gordon glanced into the eyes of Mrs. Curtenty, and found there his +exceeding <a name='Page036' id="Page036"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>036</span> reward. The mediocrity had blossomed out that +evening into something new and strange. Liar, deliberate liar and +self-accused gambler as he was, he felt that he had lived during +that speech; he felt that it was the supreme moment of his +life.</p> +<p>'What a perfectly wonderful man your husband is!' said Mrs. +Duncalf to Mrs. Curtenty.</p> +<p>Clara turned to her husband with a sublime gesture of +satisfaction. In the brougham, going home, she bewitched him with +wifely endearments. She could afford to do so. The stigma of the +geese episode was erased.</p> +<p>But the barmaid of the Tiger, as she let down her bright hair +that night in the attic of the Tiger, said to herself, 'Well, of +all the——' Just that.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page039' id="Page039"></a><span class='pagenum'>039</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_ELIXIR_OF_YOUTH' id="THE_ELIXIR_OF_YOUTH"></a> +THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH</h3> +</div> +<p>It was Monday afternoon of Bursley Wakes—not our modern +rectified festival, but the wild and naïve orgy of seventy +years ago, the days of bear-baiting and of bull-baiting, from which +latter phrase, they say, the town derives its name. In those times +there was a town-bull, a sort of civic beast; and a certain +notorious character kept a bear in his pantry. The 'beating' +(baiting) occurred usually on Sunday mornings at six o'clock, with +formidable hungry dogs; and little boys used to look forward +eagerly to the day when they would be old enough to be permitted to +attend. On Sunday afternoons colliers and potters, gathered round +the jawbone of a whale which then stood as a natural curiosity on +the waste space near the corn-mill, would discuss the fray, and +make bets for next Sunday, while the exhausted dogs <a name= +'Page040' id="Page040"></a><span class='pagenum'>040</span> licked +their wounds, or died. During the Wakes week bull and bear were +baited at frequent intervals, according to popular demand, for +thousands of sportsmen from neighbouring villages seized the +opportunity of the fair to witness the fine beatings for which +Bursley was famous throughout the country of the Five Towns. In +that week the Wakes took possession of the town, which yielded +itself with savage abandonment to all the frenzies of license. The +public-houses remained continuously open night and day, and the +barmen and barmaids never went to bed; every inn engaged special +'talent' in order to attract custom, and for a hundred hours the +whole thronged town drank, drank, until the supply of coin of +George IV., converging gradually into the coffers of a few persons, +ceased to circulate. Towards the end of the Wakes, by way of a last +ecstasy, the cockfighters would carry their birds, which had +already fought and been called off, perhaps, half a dozen times, to +the town-field (where the discreet 40 per cent. brewery now +stands), and there match them to a finish. It was a spacious +age.</p> +<p>On this Monday afternoon in June the less <a name='Page041' id= +"Page041"></a><span class='pagenum'>041</span> fervid activities of +the Wakes were proceeding as usual in the market-place, +overshadowed by the Town Hall—not the present stone structure +with its gold angel, but a brick edifice built on an ashlar +basement. Hobby-horses and revolving swing-boats, propelled, with +admirable economy to the proprietors, by privileged boys who took +their pay in an occasional ride, competed successfully with the +skeleton man, the fat or bearded woman, and Aunt Sally. The long +toy-tents, artfully roofed with a tinted cloth which permitted only +a soft, mellow light to illuminate the wares displayed, were +crowded with jostling youth and full of the sound of whistles, +'squarkers,' and various pipes; and multitudes surrounded the +gingerbread, nut, and savoury stalls which lined both sides of the +roadway as far as Duck Bank. In front of the numerous boxing-booths +experts of the 'fancy,' obviously out of condition, offered to +fight all comers, and were not seldom well thrashed by impetuous +champions of local fame. There were no photographic studios and no +cocoanut-shies, for these things had not been thought of; and to us +moderns the fair, despite its uncontrolled exuberance of revelry, +<a name='Page042' id="Page042"></a><span class='pagenum'>042</span> +would have seemed strangely quiet, since neither steam-organ nor +hooter nor hurdy-gurdy was there to overwhelm the ear with crashing +waves of gigantic sound. But if the special phenomena of a later +day were missing from the carnival, others, as astonishing to us as +the steam-organ would have been to those uncouth roisterers, were +certainly present. Chief, perhaps, among these was the man who +retailed the elixir of youth, the veritable <i>eau de jouvence</i>, +to credulous drinkers at sixpence a bottle. This magician, whose +dark mysterious face and glittering eyes indicated a strain of +Romany blood, and whose accent proved that he had at any rate lived +much in Yorkshire, had a small booth opposite the watch-house under +the Town Hall. On a banner suspended in front of it was painted the +legend:</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>THE INCA OF PERU'S<br /></span> +<span>ELIXER OF YOUTH<br /></span> <span>SOLD HERE.<br /></span> +<span>ETERNAL YOUTH FOR ALL.<br /></span> <span>DRINK THIS AND YOU +WILL NEVER GROW OLD<br /></span> <span>AS SUPPLIED TO THE NOBILITY +& GENTRY<br /></span> <span>SIXPENCE PER BOT.<br /></span> +<span>WALK IN, WALK IN, &<br /></span> <span>CONSULT THE INCA +OF PERU.<br /></span></div> +</div> +<p><a name='Page043' id="Page043"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>043</span> The Inca of Peru, dressed in black velveteens, +with a brilliant scarf round his neck, stood at the door of his +tent, holding an empty glass in one jewelled hand, and with the +other twirling a long and silken moustache. Handsome, graceful, and +thoroughly inured to the public gaze, he fronted a small circle of +gapers like an actor adroit to make the best of himself, and his +tongue wagged fast enough to wag a man's leg off. At a casual +glance he might have been taken for thirty, but his age was fifty +and more—if you could catch him in the morning before he had +put the paint on.</p> +<p>'Ladies and gentlemen of Bursley, this enlightened and beautiful +town which I am now visiting for the first time,' he began in a +hard, metallic voice, employing again with the glib accuracy of a +machine the exact phrases which he had been using all day, 'look at +me—look well at me. How old do you think I am? How old do I +seem? Twenty, my dear, do you say?' and he turned with practised +insolence to a pot-girl in a red shawl who could not have uttered +an audible word to save her soul, but who blushed and giggled with +pleasure at this mark of attention. 'Ah! you flatter, <a name= +'Page044' id="Page044"></a><span class='pagenum'>044</span> fair +maiden! I look more than twenty, but I think I may say that I do +not look thirty. Does any lady or gentleman think I look thirty? +No! As a matter of fact, I was twenty-nine years of age when, in +South America, while exploring the ruins of the most ancient +civilization of the world—of the world, ladies and +gentlemen—I made my wonderful discovery, the Elixir of +Youth!'</p> +<p>'What art blethering at, Licksy?' a drunken man called from the +back of the crowd, and the nickname stuck to the great discoverer +during the rest of the Wakes.</p> +<p>'That, ladies and gentlemen,' the Inca of Peru continued +unperturbed, 'was—seventy-two years ago. I am now a hundred +and one years old precisely, and as fresh as a kitten, all along of +my marvellous elixir. Far older, for instance, than this good dame +here.'</p> +<p>He pointed to an aged and wrinkled woman, in blue cotton and a +white mutch, who was placidly smoking a short cutty. This creature, +bowed and satiate with monotonous years, took the pipe from her +indrawn lips, and asked in a weary, trembling falsetto:</p> +<p>'How many wives hast had?'</p> +<p><a name='Page045' id="Page045"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>045</span> 'Seventane,' the Inca retorted quickly, +dropping at once into broad dialect, 'and now lone and lookin' to +wed again. Wilt have me?'</p> +<p>'Nay,' replied the crone. 'I've buried four mysen, and no man o' +mine shall bury me.'</p> +<p>There was a burst of laughter, amid which the Inca, taking the +crowd archly into his confidence, remarked:</p> +<p>'I've never administered my elixir to any of my wives, ladies +and gentlemen. You may blame me, but I freely confess the fact;' +and he winked.</p> +<p>'Licksy! Licksy!' the drunken man idiotically chanted.</p> +<p>'And now,' the Inca proceeded, coming at length to the practical +part of his ovation, 'see here!' With the rapidity of a conjurer he +whipped from his pocket a small bottle, and held it up before the +increasing audience. It contained a reddish fluid, which shone +bright and rich in the sunlight. 'See here!' he cried +magnificently, but he was destined to interruption.</p> +<p>A sudden cry arose of 'Black Jack! Black Jack! 'Tis him! He's +caught!' And the <a name='Page046' id="Page046"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>046</span> Inca's crowd, together with all the other +crowds filling the market-place, surged off eastward in a dense, +struggling mass.</p> +<p>The cynosure of every eye was a springless clay-cart, which was +being slowly driven past the newly-erected 'big house' of Enoch +Wood, Esquire, towards the Town Hall. In this, cart were two +constables, with their painted staves drawn, and between the +constables sat a man securely chained—Black Jack of +Moorthorne, the mining village which lies over the ridge a mile or +so east of Bursley. The captive was a ferocious and splendid young +Hercules, tall, with enormous limbs and hands and heavy black +brows. He was dressed in his soiled working attire of a collier, +the trousers strapped under the knees, and his feet shod in vast +clogs. With open throat, small head, great jaws, and bold beady +eyes, he looked what he was, the superb brute—the brute +reckless of all save the instant satisfaction of his desires. He +came of a family of colliers, the most debased class in a lawless +district. Jack's father had been a colliery-serf, legally enslaved +to his colliery, legally liable to be sold with the colliery as a +chattel, <a name='Page047' id="Page047"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>047</span> and legally bound to bring up all his sons as +colliers, until the Act of George III. put an end to this +incredible survival from the customs of the Dark Ages. Black Jack +was now a hero to the crowd, and knew it, for those vast clogs had +kicked a woman to death on the previous day. She was a Moorthorne +woman, not his wife, but his sweetheart, older than he; people said +that she nagged him, and that he was tired of her. The murderer had +hidden for a night, and then, defiantly, surrendered to the watch, +and the watch were taking him to the watch-house in the ashlar +basement of the Town Hall. The feeble horse between the shafts of +the cart moved with difficulty through the press, and often the +coloured staves of the constables came down thwack on the heads of +heedless youth. At length the cart reached the space between the +watch-house and the tent of the Inca of Peru, where it stopped +while the constables unlocked a massive door; the prisoner remained +proudly in the cart, accepting, with obvious delight, the tribute +of cheers and jeers, hoots and shouts, from five thousand +mouths.</p> +<p>The Inca of Peru stood at the door of his <a name='Page048' id= +"Page048"></a><span class='pagenum'>048</span> tent and surveyed +Black Jack, who was not more than a few feet away from him.</p> +<p>'Have a glass of my elixir,' he said to the death-dealer; 'no +one in this town needs it more than thee, by all accounts. Have a +glass, and live for ever. Only sixpence.'</p> +<p>The man in the cart laughed aloud.</p> +<p>'I've nowt on me—not a farden,' he answered, in a strong +grating voice.</p> +<p>At that moment a girl, half hidden by the cart, sprang forward, +offering something in her outstretched palm to the Inca; but he, +misunderstanding her intention, merely glanced with passing +interest at her face, and returned his gaze to the prisoner.</p> +<p>'I'll give thee a glass, lad,' he said quickly, 'and then thou +canst defy Jack Ketch.'</p> +<p>The crowd yelled with excitement, and the murderer held forth +his great hand for the potion. Using every art to enhance the +effect of this dramatic advertisement, the Inca of Peru raised his +bottle on high, and said in a loud, impressive tone:</p> +<p>'This precious liquid has the property, possessed by no other +liquid on earth, of frothing twice. I shall pour it into the glass, +<a name='Page049' id="Page049"></a><span class='pagenum'>049</span> +and it will froth. Black Jack will drink it, and after he has drunk +it will froth again. Observe!'</p> +<p>He uncorked the bottle and filled the glass with the reddish +fluid, which after a few seconds duly effervesced, to the vague +wonder of the populace. The Inca held the glass till the froth had +subsided, and then solemnly gave it to Black Jack.</p> +<p>'Drink!' commanded the Inca.</p> +<p>Black Jack took the draught at a gulp, and instantly flung the +glass at the Inca's face. It missed him, however. There were signs +of a fracas, but the door of the watch-house swung opportunely +open, and Jack was dragged from the cart and hustled within. The +crowd, with a crowd's fickleness, turned to other affairs.</p> +<p>That evening the ingenious Inca of Peru did good trade for +several hours, but towards eleven o'clock the attraction of the +public-houses and of a grand special combined bull and bear beating +by moonlight in the large yard of the Cock Inn drew away the circle +of his customers until there was none left. He retired inside the +tent with several pounds in his pocket and a god's consciousness of +having <a name='Page050' id="Page050"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>050</span> made immortal many of the sons and daughters +of Adam.</p> +<p>As he was counting out his gains on the tub of eternal youth by +the flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and +stealthily entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, +which was sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the +young girl who had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black +Jack his priceless boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing +interest several times during the evening as she loitered restless +near the door of the watch-house.</p> +<p>'What do you want?' he asked her, with the ingratiating +affability of the rake who foresees everything.</p> +<p>'Give me a drink.'</p> +<p>'A drink of what, my dear?'</p> +<p>'Licksy.'</p> +<p>He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a +kind of face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out +of ten, but which will haunt the tenth: a child's face with a +passionate woman's eyes burning and dying in it—black hair, +black eyes, thin pale <a name='Page051' id= +"Page051"></a><span class='pagenum'>051</span> cheeks, equine +nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin conceivable. +He smiled at her, pleased.</p> +<p>'Can you pay for it?' he said pleasantly.</p> +<p>The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, +uncovered head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of +hardship and neglect.</p> +<p>'I've a silver groat,' she answered, and closed her small fist +tighter.</p> +<p>'A silver groat!' he exclaimed, rather astonished. 'Where did +you get that from?'</p> +<p>'He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.'</p> +<p>'Who?'</p> +<p>'Him yonder'—she jerked her head back to indicate the +watch-house—'Black Jack.'</p> +<p>'What for?'</p> +<p>'He kissed me,' she said boldly; 'I'm his sweetheart.'</p> +<p>'Eh!' The Inca paused a moment, startled. 'But he killed his +sweetheart yesterday.'</p> +<p>'What! Meg!' the girl exclaimed with deep scorn. 'Her weren't +his true sweetheart. Her druv him to it. Serve her well right! Owd +Meg!'</p> +<p>'How old are you, my dear?'</p> +<p><a name='Page052' id="Page052"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>052</span> 'Don't know. But feyther said last Wakes I was +fourtane. I mun keep young for Jack. He wunna have me if I'm +owd.'</p> +<p>'But he'll be hanged, they say.'</p> +<p>She gave a short, satisfied laugh.</p> +<p>'Not now he's drunk Licksy—hangman won't get him. I heard +a man say Jack 'd get off wi' twenty year for manslaughter, most +like.'</p> +<p>'And you'll wait twenty years for him?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she said; 'I'll meet him at prison gates. But I mun be +young. Give me a drink o' Licksy.'</p> +<p>He drew the red draught in silence, and after it had effervesced +offered it to her.</p> +<p>''Tis raight?' she questioned, taking the glass.</p> +<p>The Inca nodded, and, lifting the vessel, she opened her eager +lips and became immortal. It was the first time in her life that +she had drunk out of a glass, and it would be the last.</p> +<p>Struck dumb by the trusting joy in those profound eyes, the Inca +took the empty glass from her trembling hand. Frail organism and +prey of love! Passion had surprised her too young. Noon had come +before the flower could open. She went out of the tent.</p> +<p><a name='Page053' id="Page053"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>053</span> 'Wench!' the Inca called after her, 'thy +groat!'</p> +<p>She paid him and stood aimless for a second, and then started to +cross the roadway. Simultaneously there was a rush and a roar from +the Cock yard close by. The raging bull, dragging its ropes, and +followed by a crowd of alarmed pursuers, dashed out. The girl was +plain in the moonlight. Many others were abroad, but the bull +seemed to see nothing but her, and, lowering his huge head, he +charged with shut eyes and flung her over the Inca's booth.</p> +<p>'Thou's gotten thy wish: thou'rt young for ever!' the Inca of +Peru, made a poet for an instant by this disaster, murmured to +himself as he bent with the curious crowd over the corpse.</p> +<p>Black Jack was hanged.</p> +<p>Many years after all this Bursley built itself a new Town Hall +(with a spire, and a gold angel on the top in the act of crowning +the bailiwick with a gold crown), and began to think about getting +up in the world.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page057' id="Page057"></a><span class='pagenum'>057</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='MARY_WITH_THE_HIGH_HAND' id="MARY_WITH_THE_HIGH_HAND"></a> +MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND</h3> +</div> +<p>In the front-bedroom of Edward Beechinor's small house in +Trafalgar Road the two primary social forces of action and +reaction—those forces which under a thousand names and +disguises have alternately ruled the world since the invention of +politics—were pitted against each other in a struggle +rendered futile by the equality of the combatants. Edward Beechinor +had his money, his superior age, and the possible advantage of +being a dying man; Mark Beechinor had his youth and his devotion to +an ideal. Near the window, aloof and apart, stood the strange, +silent girl whose aroused individuality was to intervene with such +effectiveness on behalf of one of the antagonists. It was early +dusk on an autumn day.</p> +<p>'Tell me what it is you want, Edward,' said Mark quietly. 'Let +us come to the point.'</p> +<p><a name='Page058' id="Page058"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>058</span> 'Ay,' said the sufferer, lifting his pale hand +from the counterpane, 'I'll tell thee.'</p> +<p>He moistened his lips as if in preparation, and pushed back a +tuft of sparse gray hair, damp with sweat.</p> +<p>The physical and moral contrast between these two brothers was +complete. Edward was forty-nine, a small, thin, stunted man, with a +look of narrow cunning, of petty shrewdness working without +imagination. He had been clerk to Lawyer Ford for thirty-five +years, and had also furtively practised for himself. During this +period his mode of life had never varied, save once, and that only +a year ago. At the age of fourteen he sat in a grimy room with an +old man on one side of him, a copying-press on the other, and a +law-stationer's almanac in front, and he earned half a crown a +week. At the age of forty-eight he still sat in the same grimy room +(of which the ceiling had meanwhile been whitened three times), +with the same copying-press and the almanac of the same +law-stationers, and he earned thirty shillings a week. But now he, +Edward Beechinor, was the old man, and the indispensable lad of +fourteen, who had once been <a name='Page059' id= +"Page059"></a><span class='pagenum'>059</span> himself, was another +lad, perhaps thirtieth of the dynasty of office-boys. Throughout +this interminable and sterile desert of time he had drawn the same +deeds, issued the same writs, written the same letters, kept the +same accounts, lied the same lies, and thought the same thoughts. +He had learnt nothing except craft, and forgotten nothing except +happiness. He had never married, never loved, never been a rake, +nor deviated from respectability. He was a success because he had +conceived an object, and by sheer persistence attained it. In the +eyes of Bursley people he was a very decent fellow, a steady +fellow, a confirmed bachelor, a close un, a knowing customer, a +curmudgeon, an excellent clerk, a narrow-minded ass, a good +Wesleyan, a thrifty individual, and an intelligent +burgess—according to the point of view. The lifelong +operation of rigorous habit had sunk him into a groove as deep as +the canon of some American river. His ideas on every subject were +eternally and immutably fixed, and, without being altogether aware +of it, he was part of the solid foundation of England's greatness. +In 1892, when the whole of the Five Towns was agitated by the great +probate case of <a name='Page060' id="Page060"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>060</span> Wilbraham <i>v.</i> Wilbraham, in which Mr. +Ford acted for the defendants, Beechinor, then aged forty-eight, +was torn from his stool and sent out to Rio de Janeiro as part of a +commission to take the evidence of an important witness who had +declined all offers to come home.</p> +<p>The old clerk was full of pride and self-importance at being +thus selected, but secretly he shrank from the journey, the mere +idea of which filled him with vague apprehension and alarm. His +nature had lost all its adaptability; he trembled like a young girl +at the prospect of new experiences. On the return voyage the vessel +was quarantined at Liverpool for a fortnight, and Beechinor had an +attack of low fever. Eight months afterwards he was ill again. +Beechinor went to bed for the last time, cursing Providence, +Wilbraham <i>v.</i> Wilbraham, and Rio.</p> +<p>Mark Beechinor was thirty, just nineteen years younger than his +brother. Tall, uncouth, big-boned, he had a rather ferocious and +forbidding aspect; yet all women seemed to like him, despite the +fact that he seldom could open his mouth to them. There must have +been <a name='Page061' id="Page061"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>061</span> something in his wild and liquid dark eyes +which mutely appealed for their protective sympathy, something +about him of shy and wistful romance that atoned for the huge +awkwardness of this taciturn elephant. Mark was at present the +manager of a small china manufactory at Longshaw, the farthest of +the Five Towns in Staffordshire, and five miles from Bursley. He +was an exceptionally clever potter, but he never made money. He had +the dreamy temperament of the inventor. He was a man of ideas, the +kind of man who is capable of forgetting that he has not had his +dinner, and who can live apparently content amid the grossest +domestic neglect. He had once spoilt a hundred and fifty pounds' +worth of ware by firing it in a new kiln of his own contrivance; it +cost him three years of atrocious parsimony to pay for the ware and +the building of the kiln. He was impulsively and recklessly +charitable, and his Saturday afternoons and Sundays were chiefly +devoted to the passionate propagandism of the theories of liberty, +equality, and fraternity.</p> +<p>'Is it true as thou'rt for marrying Sammy Mellor's daughter over +at Hanbridge?' Edward <a name='Page062' id= +"Page062"></a><span class='pagenum'>062</span> Beechinor asked, in +the feeble, tremulous voice of one agonized by continual pain.</p> +<p>Among relatives and acquaintances he commonly spoke the Five +Towns dialect, reserving the other English for official use.</p> +<p>Mark stood at the foot of the bed, leaning with his elbows on +the brass rail. Like most men, he always felt extremely nervous and +foolish in a sick-room, and the delicacy of this question, so +bluntly put, added to his embarrassment. He looked round timidly in +the direction of the girl at the window; her back was towards +him.</p> +<p>'It's possible,' he replied. 'I haven't asked her yet.'</p> +<p>'Her'll have no money?'</p> +<p>'No.'</p> +<p>'Thou'lt want some brass to set up with. Look thee here, Mark: I +made my will seven years ago i' thy favour.'</p> +<p>'Thank ye,' said Mark gratefully.</p> +<p>'But that,' the dying man continued with a frown—'that was +afore thou'dst taken up with these socialistic doctrines o' thine. +I've heard as thou'rt going to be th' secretary o' the Hanbridge +Labour Church, as they call it.'</p> +<p><a name='Page063' id="Page063"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>063</span> Hanbridge is the metropolis of the Five Towns, +and its Labour Church is the most audacious and influential of all +the local activities, half secret, but relentlessly determined, +whose aim is to establish the new democratic heaven and the new +democratic earth by means of a gradual and bloodless revolution. +Edward Beechinor uttered its abhorred name with a bitter and +scornful hatred characteristic of the Toryism of a man who, having +climbed high up out of the crowd, fiercely resents any widening or +smoothing of the difficult path which he himself has conquered.</p> +<p>'They've asked me to take the post,' Mark answered.</p> +<p>'What's the wages?' the older man asked, with exasperated +sarcasm.</p> +<p>'Nothing.'</p> +<p>'Mark, lad,' the other said, softening, 'I'm worth seven hundred +pounds and this freehold house. What dost think o' that?'</p> +<p>Even in that moment, with the world and its riches slipping away +from his dying grasp, the contemplation of this great achievement +of thrift filled Edward Beechinor with a sublime <a name='Page064' id="Page064"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>064</span> satisfaction. +That sum of seven hundred pounds, which many men would dissipate in +a single night, and forget the next morning that they had done so, +seemed vast and almost incredible to him.</p> +<p>'I know you've always been very careful,' said Mark +politely.</p> +<p>'Give up this old Labour Church'—again old Beechinor laid +a withering emphasis on the phrase—'give up this Labour +Church, and its all thine—house and all.'</p> +<p>Mark shook his head.</p> +<p>'Think twice,' the sick man ordered angrily. 'I tell thee +thou'rt standing to lose every shilling.'</p> +<p>'I must manage without it, then.'</p> +<p>A silence fell.</p> +<p>Each brother was absolutely immovable in his decision, and the +other knew it. Edward might have said: 'I am a dying man: give up +this thing to oblige me.' And Mark could have pleaded: 'At such a +moment I would do anything to oblige you—except this, and +this I really can't do. Forgive me.' Such amenities would possibly +have eased the cord which was about to snap; but the idea of +regarding <a name='Page065' id="Page065"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>065</span> Edward's condition as a factor in the case did +not suggest itself favourably to the grim Beechinor stock, so +stern, harsh, and rude. The sick man wiped from his sunken features +the sweat which continually gathered there. Then he turned upon his +side with a grunt.</p> +<p>'Thou must fetch th' lawyer,' he said at length, 'for I'll cut +thee off.'</p> +<p>It was a strange request—like ordering a condemned man to +go out and search for his executioner; but Mark answered with +perfect naturalness:</p> +<p>'Yes. Mr. Ford, I suppose?'</p> +<p>'Ford? No! Dost think I want <i>him</i> meddling i' my affairs? +Go to young Baines up th' road. Tell him to come at once. He's sure +to be at home, as it's Saturday night.'</p> +<p>'Very well.'</p> +<p>Mark turned to leave the room.</p> +<p>'And, young un, I've done with thee. Never pass my door again +till thou know'st I'm i' my coffin. Understand?'</p> +<p>Mark hesitated a moment, and then went out, quietly closing the +door. No sooner had he done so than the girl, hitherto so passive +at the window, flew after him.</p> +<p><a name='Page066' id="Page066"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>066</span> There are some women whose calm, enigmatic +faces seem always to suggest the infinite. It is given to few to +know them, so rare as they are, and their lives usually so +withdrawn; but sometimes they pass in the street, or sit like +sphinxes in the church or the theatre, and then the memory of their +features, persistently recurring, troubles us for days. They are +peculiar to no class, these women: you may find them in a print +gown or in diamonds. Often they have thin, rather long lips and +deep rounded chins; but it is the fine upward curve of the nostrils +and the fall of the eyelids which most surely mark them. Their +glances and their faint smiles are beneficent, yet with a subtle +shade of half-malicious superiority. When they look at you from +under those apparently fatigued eyelids, you feel that they have an +inward and concealed existence far beyond the ordinary—that +they are aware of many things which you can never know. It is as +though their souls, during former incarnations, had trafficked with +the secret forces of nature, and so acquired a mysterious and +nameless quality above all the transient attributes of beauty, wit, +and talent. They exist: that is <a name='Page067' id= +"Page067"></a><span class='pagenum'>067</span> enough; that is +their genius. Whether they control, or are at the mercy of, those +secret forces; whether they have in fact learnt, but may not speak, +the true answer to the eternal Why; whether they are not perhaps a +riddle even to their own simple selves: these are points which can +never be decided.</p> +<p>Everyone who knew Mary Beechinor, in her cousin's home, or at +chapel, or on Titus Price's earthenware manufactory, where she +worked, said or thought that 'there was something about her ...' +and left the phrase unachieved. She was twenty-five, and she had +lived under the same roof with Edward Beechinor for seven years, +since the sudden death of her parents. The arrangement then made +was that Edward should keep her, while she conducted his household. +She had insisted on permission to follow her own occupation, and in +order that she might be at liberty to do so she personally paid +eighteenpence a week to a little girl who came in to perform sundry +necessary duties every day at noon. Mary Beechinor was a paintress +by trade. As a class the paintresses of the Five Towns are somewhat +similar to the more famous mill-girls of Lancashire and +Yorkshire—fiercely <a name='Page068' id= +"Page068"></a><span class='pagenum'>068</span> independent by +reason of good wages earned, loving finery and brilliant colours, +loud-tongued and aggressive, perhaps, and for the rest neither more +nor less kindly, passionate, faithful, than any other Saxon women +anywhere. The paintresses, however, have some slight advantage over +the mill-girls in the outward reticences of demeanour, due no doubt +to the fact that their ancient craft demands a higher skill, and is +pursued under more humane and tranquil conditions. Mary Beechinor +worked in the 'band-and-line' department of the painting-shop at +Price's. You may have observed the geometrical exactitude of the +broad and thin coloured lines round the edges of a common cup and +saucer, and speculated upon the means by which it was arrived at. A +girl drew those lines, a girl with a hand as sure as Giotto's, and +no better tools than a couple of brushes and a small revolving +table called a whirler. Forty-eight hours a week Mary Beechinor sat +before her whirler. Actuating the treadle, she placed a piece of +ware on the flying disc, and with a single unerring flip of the +finger pushed it precisely to the centre; then she held the full +brush firmly against the ware, and in three <a name='Page069' id= +"Page069"></a><span class='pagenum'>069</span> seconds the band +encircled it truly; another brush taken up, and the line below the +band also stood complete. And this process was repeated, with +miraculous swiftness, hour after hour, week after week, year after +year. Mary could decorate over thirty dozen cups and saucers in a +day, at three halfpence the dozen. 'Doesn't she ever do anything +else?' some visitor might curiously inquire, whom Titus Price was +showing over his ramshackle manufactory. 'No, always the same +thing,' Titus would answer, made proud for the moment of this +phenomenon of stupendous monotony. 'I wonder how she can stand +it—she has a refined face,' the visitor might remark; and +Mary Beechinor was left alone again. The idea that her work was +monotonous probably never occurred to the girl. It was her +work—as natural as sleep, or the knitting which she always +did in the dinner-hour. The calm and silent regularity of it had +become part of her, deepening her original quiescence, and setting +its seal upon her inmost spirit. She was not in the fellowship of +the other girls in the painting-shop. She seldom joined their more +boisterous diversions, nor talked their talk, and she never +<a name='Page070' id="Page070"></a><span class='pagenum'>070</span> +manoeuvred for their men. But they liked her, and their attitude +showed a certain respect, forced from them by they knew not what. +The powers in the office spoke of Mary Beechinor as 'a very +superior girl.'</p> +<p>She ran downstairs after Mark, and he waited in the narrow hall, +where there was scarcely room for two people to pass. Mark looked +at her inquiringly. Rather thin, and by no means tall, she seemed +the merest morsel by his side. She was wearing her second-best +crimson merino frock, partly to receive the doctor and partly +because it was Saturday night; over this a plain bibless apron. Her +cold gray eyes faintly sparkled in anger above the cheeks white +with watching, and the dropped corners of her mouth showed a +contemptuous indignation. Mary Beechinor was ominously roused from +the accustomed calm of years. Yet Mark at first had no suspicion +that she was disturbed. To him that pale and inviolate face, even +while it cast a spell over him, gave no sign of the fires +within.</p> +<p>She took him by the coat-sleeve and silently directed him into +the gloomy little parlour crowded with mahogany and horsehair +furniture, <a name='Page071' id="Page071"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>071</span> white antimacassars, wax flowers under glass, +and ponderous gilt-clasped Bibles.</p> +<p>'It's a cruel shame!' she whispered, as though afraid of being +overheard by the dying man upstairs.</p> +<p>'Do you think I ought to have given way?' he questioned, +reddening.</p> +<p>'You mistake me,' she said quickly; and with a sudden movement +she went up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The caress, so +innocent, unpremeditated, and instinctive, ran through him like a +voltaic shock. These two were almost strangers; they had scarcely +met till within the past week, Mark being seldom in Bursley. 'You +mistake me—it is a shame of <i>him</i>! I'm fearfully +angry.'</p> +<p>'Angry?' he repeated, astonished.</p> +<p>'Yes, angry.' She walked to the window, and, twitching at the +blind-cord, gazed into the dim street. It was beginning to grow +dark. 'Shall you fetch the lawyer? I shouldn't if I were you. I +won't.'</p> +<p>'I must fetch him,' Mark said.</p> +<p>She turned round and admired him. 'What <i>will</i> he do with +his precious money?' she murmured.</p> +<p><a name='Page072' id="Page072"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>072</span> 'Leave it to you, probably.'</p> +<p>'Not he. I wouldn't touch it—not now; it's yours by +rights. Perhaps you don't know that when I came here it was +distinctly understood I wasn't to expect anything under his will. +Besides, I have my own money ... Oh dear! If he wasn't in such +pain, wouldn't I talk to him—for the first and last time in +my life!'</p> +<p>'You must please not say a word to him. I don't really want the +money.'</p> +<p>'But you ought to have it. If he takes it away from you he's +<i>unjust</i>.'</p> +<p>'What did the doctor say this afternoon?' asked Mark, wishing to +change the subject.</p> +<p>'He said the crisis would come on Monday, and when it did Edward +would be dead all in a minute. He said it would be just like taking +prussic acid.'</p> +<p>'Not earlier than Monday?'</p> +<p>'He said he thought Monday.'</p> +<p>'Of course I shall take no notice of what Edward said to +me—I shall call to-morrow morning—and stay. Perhaps he +won't mind seeing me. And then you can tell me what happens +to-night.'</p> +<p><a name='Page073' id="Page073"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>073</span> 'I'm sure I shall send that lawyer man about +his business,' she threatened.</p> +<p>'Look here,' said Mark timorously as he was leaving the house, +'I've told you I don't want the money—I would give it away to +some charity; but do you think I ought to pretend to yield, just to +humour him, and let him die quiet and peaceful? I shouldn't like +him to die hating——'</p> +<p>'Never—never!' she exclaimed.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>'What have you and Mark been talking about?' asked Edward +Beechinor apprehensively as Mary re-entered the bedroom.</p> +<p>'Nothing,' she replied with a grave and soothing kindliness of +tone.</p> +<p>'Because, miss, if you think——'</p> +<p>'You must have your medicine now, Edward.'</p> +<p>But before giving the patient his medicine she peeped through +the curtain and watched Mark's figure till it disappeared up the +hill towards Bleakridge. He, on his part, walked with her image +always in front of him. He thought hers was the strongest, most +righteous soul he had ever encountered; it seemed as if she had a +perfect passion for truth and justice. <a name='Page074' id= +"Page074"></a><span class='pagenum'>074</span> And a week ago he +had deemed her a capable girl, certainly—but +lackadaisical!</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>The clock had struck ten before Mr. Baines, the solicitor, +knocked at the door. Mary hesitated, and then took him upstairs in +silence while he suavely explained to her why he had been unable to +come earlier. This lawyer was a young Scotsman who had descended +upon the town from nowhere, bought a small decayed practice, and +within two years had transformed it into a large and flourishing +business by one of those feats of energy, audacity, and tact, +combined, of which some Scotsmen seem to possess the secret.</p> +<p>'Here is Mr. Baines, Edward,' Mary said quietly; and then, +having rearranged the sick man's pillow, she vanished out of the +room and went into the kitchen.</p> +<p>The gas-jet there showed only a point of blue, but she did not +turn it up. Dragging an old oak rush-seated rocking-chair near to +the range, where a scrap of fire still glowed, she rocked herself +gently in the darkness.</p> +<p>After about half an hour Mr. Baines's voice sounded at the head +of the stairs:</p> +<p><a name='Page075' id="Page075"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>075</span> 'Miss Beechinor, will ye kindly step up? We +shall want some asseestance.'</p> +<p>She obeyed, but not instantly.</p> +<p>In the bedroom Mr. Baines, a fountain-pen between his fine white +teeth, was putting some coal on the fire. He stood up as she +entered.</p> +<p>'Mr. Beechinor is about to make a new will,' he said, without +removing the pen from his mouth, 'and ye will kindly witness +it.'</p> +<p>The small room appeared to be full of Baines—he was so +large and fleshy and assertive. The furniture, even the chest of +drawers, was dwarfed into toy-furniture, and Beechinor, slight and +shrunken-up, seemed like a cadaverous manikin in the bed.</p> +<p>'Now, Mr. Beechinor.' Dusting his hands, the lawyer took a +newly-written document from the dressing-table, and, spreading it +on the lid of a cardboard box, held it before the dying man. +'Here's the pen. There! I'll help ye to hold it.'</p> +<p>Beechinor clutched the pen. His wrinkled and yellow face, +flushed in irregular patches as though the cheeks had been badly +rouged, was covered with perspiration, and each difficult movement, +even to the slightest lifting of the <a name='Page076' id= +"Page076"></a><span class='pagenum'>076</span> head, showed extreme +exhaustion. He cast at Mary a long sinister glance of mistrust and +apprehension.</p> +<p>'What is there in this will?'</p> +<p>Mr. Baines looked sharply up at the girl, who now stood at the +side of the bed opposite him. Mechanically she smoothed the tumbled +bed-clothes.</p> +<p>'That's nowt to do wi' thee, lass,' said Beechinor +resentfully.</p> +<p>'It isn't necessary that a witness to a will should be aware of +its contents,' said Baines. 'In fact, it's quite unusual.'</p> +<p>'I sign nothing in the dark,' she said, smiling. Through their +half-closed lids her eyes glimmered at Baines.</p> +<p>'Ha! Legal caution acquired from your cousin, I presume.' Baines +smiled at her. 'But let me assure ye, Miss Beechinor, this is a +mere matter of form. A will must be signed in the presence of two +witnesses, both present at the same time; and there's only yeself +and me for it.'</p> +<p>Mary looked at the dying man, whose features were writhed in +pain, and shook her head.</p> +<p><a name='Page077' id="Page077"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>077</span> 'Tell her,' he murmured with bitter despair, +and sank down into the pillows, dropping the fountain-pen, which +had left a stain of ink on the sheet before Baines could pick it +up.</p> +<p>'Well, then, Miss Beechinor, if ye must know,' Baines began with +sarcasm, 'the will is as follows: The testator—that's Mr. +Beechinor—leaves twenty guineas to his brother Mark to show +that he bears him no ill-will and forgives him. The rest of his +estate is to be realized, and the proceeds given to the North +Staffordshire Infirmary, to found a bed, which is to be called the +Beechinor bed. If there is any surplus, it is to go to the Law +Clerks' Provident Society. That is all.'</p> +<p>'I shall have nothing to do with it,' Mary said coldly.</p> +<p>'Young lady, we don't want ye to have anything to do with it. We +only desire ye to witness the signature.'</p> +<p>'I won't witness the signature, and I won't see it signed.'</p> +<p>'Damn thee, Mary! thou'rt a wicked wench,' Beechinor whispered +in hoarse, feeble tones. <a name='Page078' id= +"Page078"></a><span class='pagenum'>078</span> He saw himself +robbed of the legitimate fruit of all those interminable years of +toilsome thrift. This girl by a trick would prevent him from +disposing of his own. He, Edward Beechinor, shrewd and wealthy, was +being treated like a child. He was too weak to rave, but from his +aggrieved and furious heart he piled silent curses on her. 'Go, +fetch another witness,' he added to the lawyer.</p> +<p>'Wait a moment,' said Baines. 'Miss Beechinor, do ye mean to say +that ye will cross the solemn wish of a dying man?'</p> +<p>'I mean to say I won't help a dying man to commit a crime.'</p> +<p>'A crime?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she answered, 'a crime. Seven years ago Mr. Beechinor +willed everything to his brother Mark, and Mark ought to have +everything. Mark is his only brother—his only relation except +me. And Edward knows it isn't me wants any of his money. North +Staffordshire Infirmary indeed! It's a crime!... What business have +<i>you</i>,' she went on to Edward Beechinor, 'to punish Mark just +because his politics aren't——'</p> +<p>'That's beside the point,' the lawyer interrupted. <a name= +'Page079' id="Page079"></a><span class='pagenum'>079</span> 'A +testator has a perfect right to leave his property as he chooses, +without giving reasons. Now, Miss Beechinor, I must ask ye to be +judeecious.'</p> +<p>Mary shut her lips.</p> +<p>'Her'll never do it. I tell thee, fetch another witness.'</p> +<p>The old man sprang up in a sort of frenzy as he uttered the +words, and then fell back in a brief swoon.</p> +<p>Mary wiped his brow, and pushed away the wet and matted hair. +Presently he opened his eyes, moaning. Mr. Baines folded up the +will, put it in his pocket, and left the room with quick steps. +Mary heard him open the front-door and then return to the foot of +the stairs.</p> +<p>'Miss Beechinor,' he called, 'I'll speak with ye a moment.'</p> +<p>She went down.</p> +<p>'Do you mind coming into the kitchen?' she said, preceding him +and turning up the gas; 'there's no light in the front-room.'</p> +<p>He leaned up against the high mantelpiece; his frock-coat hung +to the level of the oven-knob. She had one hand on the white deal +<a name='Page080' id="Page080"></a><span class='pagenum'>080</span> +table. Between them a tortoiseshell cat purred on the red-tiled +floor.</p> +<p>'Ye're doing a verra serious thing, Miss Beechinor. As Mr. +Beechinor's solicitor, I should just like to be acquaint with the +real reasons for this conduct.'</p> +<p>'I've told you.' She had a slightly quizzical look.</p> +<p>'Now, as to Mark,' the lawyer continued blandly, 'Mr. Beechinor +explained the whole circumstances to me. Mark as good as defied his +brother.'</p> +<p>'That's nothing to do with it.'</p> +<p>'By the way, it appears that Mark is practically engaged to be +married. May I ask if the lady is yeself?'</p> +<p>She hesitated.</p> +<p>'If so,' he proceeded, 'I may tell ye informally that I admire +the pluck of ye. But, nevertheless, that will has got to be +executed.'</p> +<p>'The young lady is a Miss Mellor of Hanbridge.'</p> +<p>'I'm going to fetch my clerk,' he said shortly. 'I can see ye're +an obstinate and unfathomable woman. I'll be back in half an +hour.'</p> +<p><a name='Page081' id="Page081"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>081</span> When he had departed she bolted the front-door +top and bottom, and went upstairs to the dying man.</p> +<p>Nearly an hour elapsed before she heard a knock. Mr. Baines had +had to arouse his clerk from sleep. Instead of going down to the +front-door, Mary threw up the bedroom window and looked out. It was +a mild but starless night. Trafalgar Road was silent save for the +steam-car, which, with its load of revellers returning from +Hanbridge—that centre of gaiety—slipped rumbling down +the hill towards Bursley.</p> +<p>'What do you want—disturbing a respectable house at this +time of night?' she called in a loud whisper when the car had +passed. 'The door's bolted, and I can't come down. You must come in +the morning.'</p> +<p>'Miss Beechinor, ye will let us in—I charge ye.'</p> +<p>'It's useless, Mr. Baines.'</p> +<p>'I'll break the door down. I'm a strong man, and a determined. +Ye are carrying things too far.'</p> +<p>In another moment the two men heard the creak of the bolts. Mary +stood before <a name='Page082' id="Page082"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>082</span> them, vaguely discernible, but a forbidding +figure.</p> +<p>'If you must—come upstairs,' she said coldly.</p> +<p>'Stay here in the passage, Arthur,' said Mr. Baines; 'I'll call +ye when I want ye;' and he followed Mary up the stairs.</p> +<p>Edward Beechinor lay on his back, and his sunken eyes stared +glassily at the ceiling. The skin of his emaciated face, stretched +tightly over the protruding bones, had lost all its crimson, and +was green, white, yellow. The mouth was wide open. His drawn +features wore a terribly sardonic look—a purely physical +effect of the disease; but it seemed to the two spectators that +this mean and disappointed slave of a miserly habit had by one +superb imaginative effort realized the full vanity of all human +wishes and pretensions.</p> +<p>'Ye can go; I shan't want ye,' said Mr. Baines, returning to the +clerk.</p> +<p>The lawyer never spoke of that night's business. Why should he? +To what end? Mark Beechinor, under the old will, inherited the +seven hundred pounds and the house. Miss Mellor of Hanbridge is +still Miss Mellor, her <a name='Page083' id= +"Page083"></a><span class='pagenum'>083</span> hand not having been +formally sought. But Mark, secretary of the Labour Church, is +married. Miss Mellor, with a quite pardonable air of tolerant +superiority, refers to his wife as 'a strange, timid little +creature—she couldn't say Bo to a goose.'</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page087' id="Page087"></a><span class='pagenum'>087</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_DOG' id="THE_DOG"></a> +THE DOG</h3> +</div> +<p>This is a scandalous story. It scandalized the best people in +Bursley; some of them would wish it forgotten. But since I have +begun to tell it I may as well finish. Moreover, like most tales +whispered behind fans and across club-tables, it carries a high and +valuable moral. The moral—I will let you have it at +once—is that those who love in glass houses should pull down +the blinds.</p> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>He had got his collar on safely; it bore his name—Ellis +Carter. Strange name for a dog, perhaps; and perhaps it was even +more strange that his collar should be white. But such dogs are not +common dogs. He tied his necktie exquisitely; caressed his hair +again with two brushes; curved his young moustache, <a name= +'Page088' id="Page088"></a><span class='pagenum'>088</span> and +then assumed his waistcoat and his coat; the trousers had naturally +preceded the collar. He beheld the suit in the glass, and saw that +it was good. And it was not built in London, either. There are +tailors in Bursley. And in particular there is the dog's tailor. +Ask the dog's tailor, as the dog once did, whether he can really do +as well as London, and he will smile on you with gentle pity; he +will not stoop to utter the obvious Yes. He may casually inform you +that, if he is not in London himself, the explanation is that he +has reasons for preferring Bursley. He is the social equal of all +his clients. He belongs to the dogs' club. He knows, and everybody +knows, that he is a first-class tailor with a first-class +connection, and no dog would dare to condescend to him. He is a +great creative artist; the dogs who wear his clothes may be said to +interpret his creations. Now, Ellis was a great interpretative +artist, and the tailor recognised the fact. When the tailor met +Ellis on Duck Bank greatly wearing a new suit, the scene was +impressive. It was as though Elgar had stopped to hear Paderewski +play 'Pomp and Circumstance' on the piano.</p> +<p><a name='Page089' id="Page089"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>089</span> Ellis descended from his bedroom into the +hall, took his straw hat, chose a stick, and went out into the +portico of the new large house on the Hawkins, near Oldcastle. In +the neighbourhood of the Five Towns no road is more august, more +correct, more detached, more umbrageous, than the Hawkins. M.P.'s +live there. It is the link between the aristocratic and antique +aloofness of Oldcastle and the solid commercial prosperity of the +Five Towns. Ellis adorned the portico. Young (a bare twenty-two), +fair, handsome, smiling, graceful, well-built, perfectly groomed, +he was an admirable and a characteristic specimen of the race of +dogs which, with the modern growth of luxury and the Luxurious +Spirit, has become so marked a phenomenon in the social development +of the once barbarous Five Towns.</p> +<p>When old Jack Carter (reputed to be the best turner that Bursley +ever produced) started a little potbank near St. Peter's Church in +1861—he was then forty, and had saved two hundred +pounds—he little dreamt that the supreme and final result +after forty years would be the dog. But so it was. Old Jack +<a name='Page090' id="Page090"></a><span class='pagenum'>090</span> +Carter had a son John Carter, who married at twenty-five and lived +at first on twenty-five shillings a week, and enthusiastically +continued the erection of the fortune which old Jack had begun. At +thirty-three, after old Jack's death, John became a Town +Councillor. At thirty-six he became Mayor and the father of Ellis, +and the recipient of a silver cradle. Ellis was his wife's maiden +name. At forty-two he built the finest earthenware manufactory in +Bursley, down by the canal-side at Shawport. At fifty-two he had +been everything that a man can be in the Five Towns—from +County Councillor to President of the Society for the Prosecution +of Felons. Then Ellis left school and came to the works to carry on +the tradition, and his father suddenly discovered him. The truth +was that John Carter had been so laudably busy with the affairs of +his town and county that he had nearly forgotten his family. Ellis, +in the process of achieving doghood, soon taught his father a thing +or two. And John learnt. John could manage a public meeting, but he +could not manage Ellis. Besides, there was plenty of money; and +Ellis was so ingratiating, <a name='Page091' id= +"Page091"></a><span class='pagenum'>091</span> and had curly hair +that somehow won sympathy. And, after all, Ellis was not such a +duffer as all that at the works. John knew other people's sons who +were worse. And Ellis could keep order in the paintresses' 'shops' +as order had never been kept there before.</p> +<p>John sometimes wondered what old Jack would have said about +Ellis and his friends, those handsome dogs, those fine dandies, who +taught to the Five Towns the virtue of grace and of style and of +dash, who went up to London—some of them even went to Paris +—and brought back civilization to the Five Towns, who removed +from the Five Towns the reproach of being uncouth and behind the +times. Was the outcome of two generations of unremitting toil +merely Ellis? (Ellis had several pretty sisters, but they did not +count.) John could only guess at what old Jack's attitude might +have been towards Ellis—Ellis, who had his shirts made to +measure. He knew exactly what was Ellis's attitude towards the +ideals of old Jack, old Jack the class-leader, who wore clogs till +he was thirty, and dined in his shirt-sleeves at one o'clock to the +end of his life.</p> +<p><a name='Page092' id="Page092"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>092</span> Ellis quitted the portico, ran down the +winding garden-path, and jumped neatly and fearlessly on to an +electric tramcar as it passed at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. +The car was going to Hanbridge, and it was crowded with the joy of +life; Ellis had to stand on the step. This was the Saturday before +the first Monday in August, and therefore the formal opening of +Knype Wakes, the most carnivalesque of all the carnivals which +enliven the four seasons in the Five Towns. It is still called +Knype Wakes, because once Knype overshadowed Hanbridge in +importance; but its headquarters are now quite properly at +Hanbridge, the hub, the centre, the Paris of the Five +Towns—Hanbridge, the county borough of sixty odd thousand +inhabitants. It is the festival of the masses that old Jack sprang +from, and every genteel person who can leaves the Five Towns for +the seaside at the end of July. Nevertheless, the district is never +more crammed than at Knype Wakes. And, of course, genteel persons, +whom circumstances have forced to remain in the Five Towns, sally +out in the evening to 'do' the Wakes in a spirit of tolerant +condescension. <a name='Page093' id="Page093"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>093</span> Ellis was in this case. His parents and +sisters were at Llandudno, and he had been left in charge of the +works and of the new house. He was always free; he could always +pity the bondage of his sisters; but now he was more free than +ever—he was absolutely free. Imagine the delicious feeling +that surged in his heart as he prepared to plunge himself doggishly +into the wild ocean of the Wakes. By the way, in that heart was the +image of a girl.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>He stepped off the car on the outskirts of Hanbridge, and +strolled gently and spectacularly into the joyous town. The streets +became more and more crowded and noisy as he approached the +market-place, and in Crown Square tramcars from the four quarters +of the earth discharged tramloads of humanity at the rate of two a +minute, and then glided off again empty in search of more humanity. +The lower portion of Crown Square was devoted to tramlines; in the +upper portion the Wakes began, and spread into the market-place, +and thence by many tentacles into all manner of streets.</p> +<p><a name='Page094' id="Page094"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>094</span> No Wakes is better than Knype Wakes; that is +to say, no Wakes is more ear-splitting, more terrific, more +dizzying, or more impassable. When you go to Knype Wakes you get +stuck in the midst of an enormous crowd, and you see roundabouts, +swings, switchbacks, myrioramas, atrocity booths, quack dentists, +shooting-galleries, cocoanut-shies, and bazaars, all around you. +Every establishment is jewelled, gilded, and electrically lighted; +every establishment has an orchestra, most often played by steam +and conducted by a stoker; every establishment has a +steam—whistle, which shrieks at the beginning and at the end +of each round or performance. You stand fixed in the multitude +listening to a thousand orchestras and whistles, with the roar of +machinery and the merry din of car-bells, and the popping of rifles +for a background of noise. Your eyes are charmed by the whirling of +a million lights and the mad whirling of millions of beautiful +girls and happy youths under the lights. For the roundabouts rule +the scene; the roundabouts take the money. The supreme desire of +the revellers is to describe circles, either on horseback or in +yachts, either simple circles or complex <a name='Page095' id= +"Page095"></a><span class='pagenum'>095</span> circles, either up +and down or straight along, but always circles. And it is as though +inventors had sat up at nights puzzling their brains how best to +make revellers seasick while keeping them equidistant from a +steam-orchestra.... Then the crowd solidly lurches, and you find +yourself up against a dentist, or a firm of wrestlers, or a +roundabout, or an ice-cream refectory, and you take what comes. You +have begun to 'do' the Wakes. The splendid insanity seizes you. The +lights, the colours, the explosions, the shrieks, the feathered +hats, the pretty faces as they fly past, the gilding, the statuary, +the August night, and the mingling of a thousand melodies in a +counterpoint beyond the dreams of Wagner—these things have +stirred the sap of life in you, have shown you how fine it is to be +alive, and, careless and free, have caught up your spirit into a +heaven from which you scornfully survey the year of daily toil +between one Wakes and another as the eagle scornfully surveys the +potato-field. Your nostrils dilate—nay, matters reach such a +pass that, even if you are genteel, you forget to condescend.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page096' id="Page096"></a><span class='pagenum'>096</span></p> +<h4> +III</h4> +<p>After Ellis had had the correct drink in the private bar up the +passage at the Turk's Head, and after he had plunged into the crowd +and got lost in it, and submitted good-humouredly to the frequent +ordeal of the penny squirt as administered by adorable creatures in +bright skirts, he found himself cast up by the human ocean on the +macadam shore near a shooting-gallery. This was no ordinary +shooting-gallery. It was one of Jenkins's affairs (Jenkins of +Manchester), and on either side of it Jenkins's Venetian gondalas +and Jenkins's Mexican mustangs were whizzing round two of Jenkins's +orchestras at twopence a time, and taking thirty-two pounds an +hour. This gallery was very different from the old galleries, in +which you leaned against a brass bar and shot up a kind of a drain. +This gallery was a large and brilliant room, with the front-wall +taken out. It was hung with mirrors and cretonnes, it was richly +carpeted, and, of course, it was lighted by electricity. Carved and +gilded tables bore a whole armoury of weapons. You shot at +tobacco-pipes, twisting <a name='Page097' id= +"Page097"></a><span class='pagenum'>097</span> and stationary, at +balls poised on jets of water, and at proper targets. In the +corners of the saloon, near the open, were large crimson plush +lounges, on which you lounged after the fatigue of shooting.</p> +<p>A pink-clad girl, young and radiant, had the concern in +charge.</p> +<p>She was speeding a party of bankrupt shooters, when she caught +sight of Ellis. Ellis answered her smile, and strolled up to the +booth with a countenance that might have meant anything. You can +never tell what a dog is thinking.</p> +<p>''Ello!' said the girl prettily (or, rather, she shouted +prettily, having to compete with the two orchestras). 'You here +again?'</p> +<p>The truth was that Ellis had been there on the previous night, +when the Wakes was only half opened, and he had come again to-night +expressly in order to see her; but he would not have admitted, even +to himself, that he had come expressly in order to see her; in his +mind it was just a chance that he might see her. She was a jolly +girl. (We are gradually approaching the scandalous part.)</p> +<p>'What a jolly frock!' he said, when he had <a name='Page098' id= +"Page098"></a><span class='pagenum'>098</span> shot five celluloid +balls in succession off a jet of water.</p> +<p>Smiling, she mechanically took a ball out of the basket and let +it roll down the conduit to the fountain.</p> +<p>'Do you think so?' she replied, smoothing the fluffy muslin +apron with her small hands, black from contact with the guns. 'That +one I wore last night was my second-best. I only wear this on +Saturdays and Mondays.'</p> +<p>He nodded like a connoisseur. The sixth ball had sprung up to +the top of the jet. He removed it with the certainty of a King's +Prize winner, and she complimented him.</p> +<p>'Ah!' he said, 'you should have seen me before I took to smoking +and drinking!'</p> +<p>She laughed freely. She was always showing her fine teeth. And +she had such a frank, jolly countenance, not exactly +pretty—better than pretty. She was a little short and a +little plump, and she wore a necklace round her neck, a ring on her +dainty, dirty finger, and a watch-bracelet on her wrist.</p> +<p>'Why!' she exclaimed. 'How old are you?'</p> +<p>'How old are <i>you</i>?' he retorted.</p> +<p><a name='Page099' id="Page099"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>099</span> Dogs do not give things away like that.</p> +<p>'I'm nineteen,' she said submissively. 'At least, I shall be +come Martinmas.'</p> +<p>And she yawned.</p> +<p>'Well,' he said, 'a little girl like you ought to be in +bed.'</p> +<p>'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed.</p> +<p>'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in +Paris you'd have to work Sundays too.'</p> +<p>'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to +Paris?'</p> +<p>'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he +told me. He came back only last week, and he says they keep open +Sundays, and all night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over +there.'</p> +<p>'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police +wouldn't allow it. I know what the police are.'</p> +<p>More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; +he sank into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and +watched her serve the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, +and so jolly—with him. He noticed with satisfaction that with +the <a name='Page100' id="Page100"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>100</span> other marksmen she showed a certain high +reserve.</p> +<p>They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across +to the lounge and gazed at him provocatively.</p> +<p>'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!'</p> +<p>The thought ran through him like lightning.</p> +<p>'Well?' she said.</p> +<p>'What do you do with yourself Sundays?' he asked her.</p> +<p>'Oh, sleep.'</p> +<p>'All day?'</p> +<p>'All morning.'</p> +<p>'What do you do in the afternoon?'</p> +<p>'Oh, nothing.'</p> +<p>She laughed gaily.</p> +<p>'Come out with me, eh?'</p> +<p>'To-morrow? Oh, I should LOVE TO!' she cried.</p> +<p>Her voice expanded into large capitals because by a singular +chance both the neighbouring orchestras stopped momentarily +together, and thus gave her shout a fair field. The effect was +startling. It startled Ellis. He had not for an instant expected +that she would consent. Never, dog though he was, had he armed +<a name='Page101' id="Page101"></a><span class='pagenum'>101</span> +a girl out on any afternoon, to say nothing of Sunday afternoon, +and Knype's Wakes Sunday at that! He had talked about girls at the +club. He understood the theory. But the practice——</p> +<p>The foundation of England's greatness is that Englishmen hate to +look fools. The fear of being taken for a ninny will spur an +Englishman to the most surprising deeds of courage. Ellis said +'Good!' with apparent enthusiasm, and arranged to be waiting for +her at half-past two at the Turk's Head. Then he left the saloon +and struck out anew into the ocean. He wanted to think it over.</p> +<p>Once, painful to relate, he had thoughts of failing to keep the +appointment. However, she was so jolly and frank. And what a fancy +she must have taken to him! No, he would see it through.</p> +<h4>IV</h4> +<p>If anybody had prophesied to Ellis that he would be driving out +a Wakes girl in a dogcart that Sunday afternoon he would have +laughed at the prophet; but so it occurred. He arrived at the +Turk's Head at two twenty-five. <a name='Page102' id= +"Page102"></a><span class='pagenum'>102</span> She was there before +him, dressed all in blue, except the white shoes and stockings, +weighing herself on the machine in the yard. She showed her teeth, +told him she weighed nine stone one, and abruptly asked him if he +could drive. He said he could. She clapped her hands and sprang off +the machine. Her father had bought a new mare the day before, and +it was in the Turk's Head stable, and the yardman said it wanted +exercise, and there was a dogcart and harness idling about, and, in +short, Ellis should drive her to Sneyd Park, which she had long +desired to see.</p> +<p>Ellis wished to ask questions, but the moment did not seem +auspicious.</p> +<p>In a few minutes the new mare, a high and somewhat frisky bay, +with big shoulders, was in the shafts of a high, green dogcart. +When asked if he could drive, Ellis ought to have answered: 'That +depends—on the horse.' Many men can tool a fifteen-year-old +screw down a country lane who would hesitate to get up behind a +five-year-old animal (in need of exercise) for a spin down Broad +Street, Hanbridge, on Knype Wakes Sunday. Ellis could drive; he +could just drive. His father <a name='Page103' id= +"Page103"></a><span class='pagenum'>103</span> had always +steadfastly refused to keep horses, but the fathers of other dogs +were more progressive, and Ellis had had opportunities. He knew how +to take the reins, and get up, and give the office; indeed, he had +read a handbook on the subject. So he rook the reins and got up, +and the Wakes girl got up.</p> +<p>He chirruped. The mare merely backed.</p> +<p>'Give 'er 'er mouth,' said the yardman disgustedly.</p> +<p>'Oh!' said Ellis, and slackened the reins, and the mare pawed +forward.</p> +<p>Then he had to turn her in the yard, and get her and the dogcart +down the passage. He doubted whether he should do it, for the +passage seemed a size too small. However, he did it, or the mare +did it, and the entire organism swerved across a portion of the +footpath into Broad Street.</p> +<p>For quite a quarter of a mile down Broad Street Ellis blushed, +and kept his gaze between the mare's ears. However, the mare went +beautifully. You could have driven her with a silken thread, so it +seemed. And then the dog, growing accustomed to his prominence up +there on the dogcart, began to be a bit <a name='Page104' id= +"Page104"></a><span class='pagenum'>104</span> doggy. He knew the +little thing's age and weight, but, really, when you take a girl +out for a Sunday spin you want more information about her than +that. Her asked her name, and her name was Jenkins—Ada. She +was the great Jenkins's daughter.</p> +<p>('Oh,' thought Ellis, 'the deuce you are!')</p> +<p>'Father's gone to Manchester for the day, and aunt's looking +after me,' said Ada.</p> +<p>'Do they know you've come out—like this?'</p> +<p>'Not much!' She laughed deliciously. 'How lovely it is!'</p> +<p>At Knype they drew up before the Five Towns Hotel and descended. +The Five Towns Hotel is the greatest hotel in North Staffordshire. +It has two hundred rooms. It would not entirely disgrace +Northumberland Avenue. In the Five Towns it is august, imposing, +and unique. They had a lemonade there, and proceeded. A clock +struck; it was a near thing. No more refreshments now until they +had passed the three-mile limit!</p> +<p>Yes! Not two hundred yards further on she spied an ice-cream +shop in Fleet Road, <a name='Page105' id="Page105"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>105</span> and Ellis learnt that she adored ice-cream. +The mare waited patiently outside in the thronged street.</p> +<p>After that the pilgrimage to Sneyd was punctuated with +ice-creams. At the Stag at Sneyd (where, among ninety-and-nine +dogcarts, Ellis's dogcart was the brightest green of them all) Ada +had another lemonade, and Ellis had something else. They saw the +Park, and Ada giggled charmingly her appreciation of its beauty. +The conversation throughout consisted chiefly of Ada's teeth. Ellis +said he would return by a different route, and he managed to get +lost. How anyone driving to Hanbridge from Sneyd could arrive at +the mining village of Silverton is a mystery. But Ellis arrived +there, and he ultimately came out at Hillport, the aristocratic +suburb of Bursley, where he had always lived till the last year. He +feared recognition there, and his fear was justified. Some silly +ass, a schoolmate, cried, 'Go it!' as the machine bowled along, and +the mischief was that the mare, startled, went it. She went it down +the curving hill, and the vehicle after her, like a kettle tied to +a dog's tail.</p> +<p>Ellis winked stoutly at Ada when they <a name='Page106' id= +"Page106"></a><span class='pagenum'>106</span> reached the bottom, +and gave the mare a piece of his mind, to which she objected. As +they crossed the railway-bridge a goods-train ran underneath and +puffed smoke into the mare's eyes. She set her ears back.</p> +<p>'Would you!' cried Ellis authoritatively, and touched her with +the whip (he had forgotten the handbook).</p> +<p>He scarcely touched her, but you never know where you are with +any horse. That mare, which had been a mirror of all the virtues +all the afternoon, was off like a rocket. She overtook an electric +car as if it had been standing still. Ellis sawed her mouth; he +might as well have sawed the funnel of a locomotive. He had meant +to turn off and traverse Bursley by secluded streets, but he +perceived that safety lay solely in letting her go straight ahead +up the very steep slope of Oldcastle Street into the middle of the +town. It would be an amazing mare that galloped to the top of +Oldcastle Street! She galloped nearly to the top, and then Ellis +began to get hold of her a bit.</p> +<p>'Don't be afraid,' he said masculinely to Ada.</p> +<p><a name='Page107' id="Page107"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>107</span> And, conscious of victory, he jerked the mare +to the left to avoid an approaching car....</p> +<p>The next instant they were anchored against the roots of a +lamp-post. When Ellis saw the upper half of the lamp-post bent down +at right angles, and pieces of glass covering the pavement, he +could not believe that he and his dogcart had done that, especially +as neither the mare, nor the dogcart, nor its freight, was damaged. +The machine was merely jammed, and the mare, satisfied, stood +quiet, breathing rapidly.</p> +<p>But Ada Jenkins was crying.</p> +<p>And the car stopped a moment to observe. And then a number of +chapel-goers on their way to the Sytch Chapel, which the Carter +family still faithfully attended, joined the scene; and then a +policeman.</p> +<p>Ellis sat like a stuck pig in the dogcart. He knew that speech +was demanded of him, but he did not know where to begin.</p> +<p>The worst thing of all was the lamp-post, bent, moveless, +unnatural, atrociously comic, accusing him.</p> +<p>The affair was over the town in a minute; <a name='Page108' id= +"Page108"></a><span class='pagenum'>108</span> the next morning it +reached Llandudno. Ellis Carter had been out on the spree with <i>a +Wakes girl</i> in a dogcart on Sunday afternoon, and had got into +such a condition that he had driven into a lamp-post at the top of +Oldcastle Street just as people were going into chapel.</p> +<p>The lamp-post remained bent for three days—a fearful +warning to all dogs that doggishness has limits.</p> +<p>If it had not been a dogcart, and such a high, green dogcart; if +it had been, say, a brougham, or even a cab! If it had not been +Sunday! And, granting Sunday, if it had not been just as people +were going into chapel! If he had not chosen that particular +lamp-post, visible both from the market-place and St. Luke's +Square! If he had only contrived to destroy a less obtrusive +lamp-post in some unfrequented street! And if it had not been a +Wakes girl—if the reprobate had only selected for his guilty +amours an actress from one of the touring companies, or even a star +from the Hanbridge Empire—yea, or even a local barmaid! But +<i>a Wakes girl</i>!</p> +<p>Ellis himself saw the enormity of his transgression. <a name= +'Page109' id="Page109"></a><span class='pagenum'>109</span> He lay +awake astounded by his own doggishness.</p> +<p>And yet he had seldom felt less doggy than during that trip. It +seemed to him that doggishness was not the glorious thing he had +thought. However, he cut a heroic figure at the dogs' club. Every +admiring face said: 'Well, you <i>have</i> been going the pace! We +always knew you were a hot un, but, really——'</p> +<h4>V</h4> +<p>On the following Friday evening, when Ellis jumped off the car +opposite his home on the Hawkins, he saw in the road, halted, a +train of vast and queer-shaped waggons in charge of two +traction-engines. They were painted on all sides with the great +name of Jenkins. They contained Jenkins's roundabouts and +shooting-saloons, on their way to rouse the joy of life in other +towns. And he perceived in front of the portico the high, green +dogcart and the lamp-post-destroying mare.</p> +<p>He went in. The family had come home that afternoon. Sundry of +his sisters greeted <a name='Page110' id="Page110"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>110</span> him with silent horror on their faces in the +hall. In the breakfast-room, which gave off the drawing-room, was +his mother in the attitude of an intent listener. She spoke no +word.</p> +<p>And Ellis listened, too.</p> +<p>'Yes,' a very powerful and raucous voice was saying in the +drawing-room, 'I reckoned I'd call and tell ye myself, Mister +Carter, what I thought on it. My gell, a motherless gell, but +brought up respectable; sixth standard at Whalley Range Board +School; and her aunt a strict God-fearing woman! And here your son +comes along and gets hold of the girl while her aunt's at the +special service for Wakes folks in Bethesda Chapel, and runs off +with her in my dogcart with one of my hosses, and raises a scandal +all o'er the Five Towns. God bless my soul, mister! I tell'n ye I +hardly liked to open o' Monday afternoon, I was that ashamed! And I +packed Ada off to Manchester. It seems to me that if the upper +classes, as they call 'em—the immoral classes <i>I</i> call +'em—'ud look after themselves a bit instead o' looking after +other people so much, things might be a bit better, Mister Carter. +I dare say you <a name='Page111' id="Page111"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>111</span> think it's nothing as your son should go about +ruining the reputation of any decent, respectable girl as he +happens to fancy, Mister Carter; but this is what I say. I +say——'</p> +<p>Mr. Carter was understood to assert, in his most pacific and +pained public-meeting voice, that he regretted, infinitely +regretted——</p> +<p>Mrs. Carter, weeping, ran out of the breakfast-room.</p> +<p>And soon afterwards the traction-engines rumbled off, and the +high, green dogcart followed them.</p> +<p>Ellis sat spell-bound.</p> +<p>He heard the parlourmaid go into the drawing-room and announce, +'Tea is ready, sir!' and then his father's dry cough.</p> +<p>And then the parlourmaid came into the breakfast-room: 'Tea is +ready, Mr. Ellis!'</p> +<p>Oh, the meal!</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page115' id="Page115"></a><span class='pagenum'>115</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='A_FEUD' id="A_FEUD"></a> +A FEUD</h3> +</div> +<p>When Clive Timmis paused at the side-door of Ezra Brunt's great +shop in Machin Street, and the door was opened to him by Ezra +Brunt's daughter before he had had time to pull the bell, not only +all Machin Street knew it within the hour, but also most persons of +consequence left in Hanbridge on a Thursday +afternoon—Thursday being early-closing day. For Hanbridge, +though it counts sixty thousand inhabitants, and is the chief of +the Five Towns—that vast, huddled congeries of boroughs +devoted to the manufacture of earthenware—is a place where +the art of attending to other people's business still flourishes in +rustic perfection.</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt's drapery establishment was the foremost retail +house, in any branch of trade, of the Five Towns. It had no rival +nearer than Manchester, thirty-six miles off; and <a name='Page116' id="Page116"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>116</span> even Manchester +could exhibit nothing conspicuously superior to it. The most +acutely critical shoppers of the Five Towns—women who were in +the habit of going to London every year for the January +sales—spoke of Brunt's as a 'right-down good shop.' And the +husbands of these ladies, manufacturers who employed from two +hundred to a thousand men, regarded Ezra Brunt as a commercial +magnate of equal importance with themselves. Brunt, who had served +his apprenticeship at Birmingham, started business in Machin Street +in 1862, when Hanbridge was half its present size and all the best +shops of the district were in Oldcastle, an ancient burg contiguous +with, but holding itself proudly aloof from, the industrial Five +Towns. He paid eighty pounds a year rent, and lived over the shop, +and in the summer quarter his gas bill was always under a +sovereign. For ten years success tarried, but in 1872 his daughter +Eva was born and his wife died, and from that moment the sun of his +prosperity climbed higher and higher into heaven. He had been +profoundly attached to his wife, and, having lost her he abandoned +himself to the mercantile struggle with that <a name='Page117' id= +"Page117"></a><span class='pagenum'>117</span> morose and terrible +ferocity which was the root of his character. Of rude, gaunt +aspect, gruffly taciturn by nature, and variable in temper, he yet +had the precious instinct for soothing customers. To this day he +can surpass his own shop-walkers in the admirable and tender +solicitude with which, forsaking dialect, he drops into a lady's +ear his famous stereotyped phrase: 'Are you receiving proper +attention, madam?' From the first he eschewed the facile trickeries +and ostentations which allure the populace. He sought a high-class +trade, and by waiting he found it. He would never advertise on +hoardings; for many years he had no signboard over his shop-front; +and whereas the name of 'Bostocks,' the huge cheap drapers lower +down Machin Street, on the opposite side, attacks you at every +railway-station and in every tramcar, the name of 'E. Brunt' is to +be seen only in a modest regular advertisement on the front page of +the <i>Staffordshire Signal</i>. Repose, reticence, +respectability—it was these attributes which he decided his +shop should possess, and by means of which he succeeded. To enter +Brunt's, with its silently swinging doors, its broad, easy +staircases, its long floors <a name='Page118' id= +"Page118"></a><span class='pagenum'>118</span> covered with warm, +red linoleum, its partitioned walls, its smooth mahogany counters, +its unobtrusive mirrors, its rows of youths and virgins in black, +and its pervading atmosphere of quietude and discretion, was like +entering a temple before the act of oblation has commenced. You +were conscious of some supreme administrative influence everywhere +imposing itself. That influence was Ezra Brunt. And yet the man +differed utterly from the thing he had created. His was one of +those dark and passionate souls which smoulder in this harsh +Midland district as slag-heaps smoulder on the pit-banks, revealing +their strange fires only in the darkness.</p> +<p>In 1899 Brunt's establishment occupied four shops, Nos. 52, 56, +58, and 60, in Machin Street. He had bought the freeholds at a +price which timid people regarded as exorbitant, but the solicitors +of Hanbridge secretly applauded his enterprise and shrewdness in +anticipating the enormous rise in ground-values which has now been +in rapid, steady progress there for more than a decade. He had +thrown the interiors together and rebuilt the frontages in handsome +freestone. He had also purchased <a name='Page119' id= +"Page119"></a><span class='pagenum'>119</span> several shops +opposite, and rumour said that it was his intention to offer these +latter to the Town Council at a low figure if the Council would cut +a new street leading from his premises to the Market Square. Such a +scheme would have met with general approval. But there was one +serious hiatus in the plans of Ezra Brunt—to wit, No. 54, +Machin Street. No. 54, separating 52 and 56, was a chemist's shop, +shabby but sedate as to appearance, owned and occupied by George +Christopher Timmis, a mild and venerable citizen, and a local +preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist Connexion. For nearly thirty +years Brunt had coveted Mr. Timmis's shop; more than twenty years +have elapsed since he first opened negotiations for it. Mr. Timmis +was by no means eager to sell—indeed, his attitude was +distinctly a repellent one—but a bargain would undoubtedly +have been concluded had not a report reached the ears of Mr. Timmis +to the effect that Ezra Brunt had remarked at the Turk's Head that +'th' old leech was only sticking out for every brass farthing he +could get.' The report was untrue, but Mr. Timmis believed it, and +from that moment Ezra Brunt's <a name='Page120' id= +"Page120"></a><span class='pagenum'>120</span> chances of obtaining +the chemist's shop vanished completely. His lawyer expended +diplomacy in vain, raising the offer week by week till the +incredible sum of three thousand pounds was reached. Then Ezra +Brunt himself saw Mr. Timmis, and without a word of prelude +said:</p> +<p>'Will ye take three thousand guineas for this bit o' +property?'</p> +<p>'Not thirty thousand guineas,' said Mr. Timmis quietly; the +stern pride of the benevolent old local preacher had been +aroused.</p> +<p>'Then be damned to you!' said Ezra Brunt, who had never been +known to swear before.</p> +<p>Thenceforth a feud existed, not less bitter because it was a +feud in which nothing was said and nothing done—a silent and +implacable mutual resistance. The sole outward sign of it was the +dirty and stumpy brown-brick shop-front of Mr. Timmis, squeezed in +between those massive luxurious façades of stone which Ezra +Brunt soon afterwards erected. The pharmaceutical business of Mr. +Timmis was not a very large one, and, fiscally, Ezra Brunt could +have swallowed him at a meal and suffered no inconvenience; but in +that the aged chemist had lived on just half his <a name='Page121' id="Page121"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>121</span> small income for +some fifty years past, his position was impregnable. Hanbridge +smiled cynically at this <i>impasse</i> produced by an idle word, +and, recognising the equality of the antagonists, leaned neither to +one side nor to the other. At intervals, however, the legend of the +feud was embroidered with new and effective detail in the mouth of +some inventive gossip, and by degrees it took high place among +those piquant social histories which illustrate the real life of a +town, and which parents recount to their children with such zest in +moods of reminiscence.</p> +<p>When George Christopher Timmis buried his wife, Ezra Brunt, as a +near neighbour, was asked to the funeral. 'The cortège will +move at 1.30,' ran the printed invitation, and at 1.15 Brunt's +carriage was decorously in place behind the hearse and the two +mourning-coaches. The demeanour of the chemist and the draper +towards each other was a sublime answer to the demands of the +occasion; some people even said that the breach had been healed, +but these were not of the discerning.</p> +<p>The most active person at the funeral was the chemist's only +nephew, Clive Timmis, <a name='Page122' id= +"Page122"></a><span class='pagenum'>122</span> partner in a small +but prosperous firm of majolica manufacturers at Bursley. Clive, +who was seldom seen in Hanbridge, made a favourable impression on +everyone by his pleasing, unaffected manner and his air of +discretion and success. He was a bachelor of thirty-two, and lived +in lodgings at Bursley. On the return of the funeral-party from the +cemetery, Clive Timmis found Brunt's daughter Eva in his uncle's +house. Uninvited, she had left her place in the private room at her +father's shop in order to assist Timmis's servant Sarah in the +preparation of that solid and solemn repast which must inevitably +follow every proper interment in the Five Towns. Without false +modesty, she introduced herself to one or two of the men who had +surprised her at her work, and then quietly departed just as they +were sitting down to table and Sarah had brought in the hot +tea-cakes. Clive Timmis saw her only for a moment, but from that +moment she was his one thought. During the evening, which he spent +alone with his uncle, he behaved in every particular as a nephew +should, yet he was acting a part; his real self roved after Ezra +Brunt's daughter, wherever she might be. <a name='Page123' id= +"Page123"></a><span class='pagenum'>123</span> Clive had never +fallen in love, though several times in his life he had tried hard +to do so. He had long wished to marry—wished ardently; he had +even got into the way of regarding every woman he met—and he +met many—in the light of a possible partner. 'Can it be +<i>she</i>? he had asked himself a thousand times, and then +answered half sadly, 'No.' Not one woman had touched his +imagination, coincided with his dream. It is strange that after +seeing Eva Brunt he forgot thus to interrogate himself. For a +fortnight, while he went his ways as usual, her image occupied his +heart, throwing that once orderly chamber into the wildest +confusion; and he let it remain, dimly aware of some delicious +danger. He inspected the image every night before he slept, and +every morning when he awoke, and made no effort to define its +distracting charm; he knew only that Eva Brunt was absolutely and +in every detail unlike all other women. On the second Sunday he +murmured during the sermon: 'But I only saw her for a minute.' A +few days afterwards he took the tram to Hanbridge.</p> +<p>'Uncle,' he said, 'how should you like me to come and live here +with you? I've been <a name='Page124' id="Page124"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>124</span> thinking things out a bit, and I thought +perhaps you'd like it. I expect you must feel rather lonely +now.'</p> +<p>The neat, fragrant shop was empty, and the two men stood behind +the big glass-fronted case of Burroughs and Wellcome's +preparations. Clive's venerable uncle happened to be looking into a +drawer marked 'Gentianæ Rad. Pulv.' He closed the drawer with +slow hesitation, and then, stroking his long white beard, replied +in that deliberate voice which seemed always to tremble with +religious fervour:</p> +<p>'The hand of the Lord is in this thing, Clive. I have wished +that you might come to live here with me. But I was afraid it would +be too far from the works.'</p> +<p>'Pooh! that's nothing,' said Clive.</p> +<p>As he lingered at the shop door for the Bursley car to pass the +end of Machin Street, Eva Brunt went by. He raised his hat with +diffidence, and she smiled. It was a marvellous chance. His heart +leapt into a throb which was half agony and half delight.</p> +<p>'I am in love,' he said gravely.</p> +<p>He had just discovered the fact, and the discovery filled him +with exquisite apprehension.</p> +<p><a name='Page125' id="Page125"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>125</span> If he had waited till the age of thirty-two +for that springtime of the soul which we call love, Clive had not +waited for nothing. Eva was a woman to enravish the heart of a man +whose imagination could pierce the agitating secrets immured in +that calm and silent bosom. Slender and scarcely tall, she belonged +to the order of spare, slight-made women, who hide within their +slim frames an endowment of profound passion far exceeding that of +their more voluptuously-formed sisters, who never coarsen into +stoutness, and who at forty are as disturbing as at twenty. At this +date Eva was twenty-six. She had a rather small, white face, which +was a mask to the casual observer, and the very mirror of her +feelings to anyone with eyes to read its signs.</p> +<p>'I tell you what you are like,' said Clive to her once: 'you are +like a fine racehorse, always on the quiver.'</p> +<p>Yet many people considered her cold and impassive. Her walk and +bearing showed a sensitive independence, and when she spoke it was +usually in tones of command. The girls in the shop, where she was a +power second only to Ezra Brunt, were a little afraid of her, +<a name='Page126' id="Page126"></a><span class='pagenum'>126</span> +chiefly because she poured terrible scorn on their small +affectations, jealousies, and vendettas. But they liked her +because, in their own phrase, 'there was no nonsense about' this +redoubtable woman. She hated shams and make-believes with a bitter +and ruthless hatred. She was the heiress to at least five thousand +a year, and knew it well, but she never encouraged her father to +complicate their simple mode of life with the pomps of wealth. They +lived in a house with a large garden at Pireford, which is on the +summit of the steep ridge between the Five Towns and Oldcastle, and +they kept two servants and a coachman, who was also gardener. Eva +paid the servants good wages, and took care to get good value +therefor.</p> +<p>'It's not often I have any bother with my servants,' she would +say, 'for they know that if there is any trouble I would just as +soon clear them out and put on an apron and do the work +myself.'</p> +<p>She was an accomplished house-mistress, and could bake her own +bread: in towns not one woman in a thousand can bake. With the +coachman she had little to do, for she could <a name='Page127' id= +"Page127"></a><span class='pagenum'>127</span> not rid herself of a +sentimental objection to the carriage—it savoured of 'airs'; +when she used it she used it as she might use a tramcar. It was her +custom, every day except Saturday, to walk to the shop about eleven +o'clock, after her house had been set in order. She had been +thoroughly trained in the business, and had spent a year at a +first-rate shop in High Street, Kensington. Millinery was her +speciality, and she still watched over that department with a +particular attention; but for some time past she had risen beyond +the limitations of departments, and assisted her father in the +general management of the vast concern. In commercial aptitude she +resembled the typical Frenchwoman.</p> +<p>Although he was her father, Ezra Brunt had the wit to recognise +her talents, and he always listened to her suggestions, which, +however, sometimes startled him. One of them was that he should +import into the Five Towns a modiste from Paris, offering a salary +of two hundred a year. The old provincial stood aghast. He had the +idea that all Parisian women were stage-dancers. And to pay four +pounds a week to a female!</p> +<p><a name='Page128' id="Page128"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>128</span> Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Bertot—styled +in the shop 'Madame'—now presides over Ezra Brunt's +dressmakers, draws her four pounds a week (of which she saves two), +and by mere nationality has given a unique distinction and success +to her branch of the business.</p> +<p>Eva occupied a small room opening off the principal showroom, +and during hours of work she issued thence but seldom. Only +customers of the highest importance might speak with her. She was a +power felt rather than seen. Employés who knocked at her +door always did so with a certain awe of what awaited them on the +other side, and a consciousness that the moment was unsuitable for +levity. 'If you please, Miss Eva——'. Here she gave +audience to the 'buyers' and window-dressers, listened to +complaints and excuses, and occasionally had a secret orgy of +afternoon tea with one or two of her friends. None but these few +girls—mostly younger than herself, and remarkable only in +that their dislike of the snobbery of the Five Towns, though less +fiercely displayed, agreed with her own—really knew Eva. To +them alone did she unveil herself, and by them she was +idolized.</p> +<p><a name='Page129' id="Page129"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>129</span> 'She is simply splendid when you know +her—such a jolly girl!' they would say to other people; but +other people, especially other women, could not believe it. They +fearfully respected her because she was very well dressed and had +quantities of money. But they called her 'a curious creature'; it +was inconceivable to them that she should choose to work in a shop; +and her tongue had a causticity which was sometimes exceedingly +disconcerting and mortifying. As for men, she was shy of them, and, +moreover, she loathed the elaborate and insincere ritual of +deference which the average man practises towards women unrelated +to him, particularly when they are young and rich. Her father she +adored, without knowing it; for he often angered her, and +humiliated her in private. As for the rest, she was, after all, +only six-and-twenty.</p> +<p>'If you don't mind, I should like to walk along with you,' Clive +Timmis said to her one Sunday evening in the porch of the Bethesda +Chapel.</p> +<p>'I shall be glad,' she answered at once; 'father isn't here, and +I'm all alone.'</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt was indeed seldom there, counting <a name='Page130' id="Page130"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>130</span> in the matter of +attendance at chapel among what were called 'the weaker +brethren.'</p> +<p>'I am going over to Oldcastle,' Clive explained calmly.</p> +<p>So began the formal courtship—more than a month after +Clive had settled in Machin Street, for he was far too discreet to +engender by precipitancy any suspicion in the haunts of scandal +that his true reason for establishing himself in his uncle's +household was a certain rich young woman who was to be found every +day next door. Guided as much by instinct as by tact, Clive +approached Eva with an almost savage simplicity and naturalness of +manner, ignoring not only her father's wealth, but all the feigned +punctilio of a wooer. His face said: 'Let there be no beating about +the bush—I like you.' Hers answered: 'Good! we will see.'</p> +<p>From the first he pleased her, and not least in treating her +exactly as she would have wished to be treated—namely, as a +quite plain person of that part of the middle class which is +neither upper nor lower. Few men in the Five Towns would have been +capable of forgetting Ezra Brunt's income in talking to <a name= +'Page131' id="Page131"></a><span class='pagenum'>131</span> Ezra +Brunt's daughter. Fortunately, Timmis had a proud, confident +spirit—the spirit of one who, unaided, has wrested success +from the world's deathlike clutch. Had Eva the reversion of fifty +thousand a year instead of five, he, Clive, was still a prosperous +plain man, well able to support a wife in the position to which God +had called him.</p> +<p>Their walks together grew more and more frequent, and they +became intimate, exchanging ideas and rejoicing openly at the +similarity of those ideas. Although there was no concealment in +these encounters, still, there was a circumspection which resembled +the clandestine. By a silent understanding Clive did not enter the +house at Pireford; to have done so would have excited remark, for +this house, unlike some, had never been the rendezvous of young +men; much less, therefore, did he invade the shop. No! The chief +part of their love-making (for such it was, though the term would +have roused Eva's contemptuous anger) occurred in the streets; in +this they did but follow the traditions of their class. Thus, the +idyll, so matter-of-fact upon the surface, but within which glowed +secret and adorable fires, <a name='Page132' id= +"Page132"></a><span class='pagenum'>132</span> progressed towards +its culmination. Eva, the artless fool—oh, how simple are the +wisest at times!—thought that the affair was hid from the +shop. But was it possible? Was it possible that in those tiny +bedrooms on the third floor, where the heavy evening hours were +ever lightened with breathless interminable recitals of what some +'he' had said and some 'she' had replied, such an enthralling +episode should escape discovery? The dormitories knew of Eva's +'attachment' before Eva herself. Yet none knew how it was known. +The whisper arose like Venus from a sea of trivial gossip, +miraculously, exquisitely. On the night when the first rumour of it +traversed the passages there was scarcely any sleep at Brunt's, +while Eva up at Pireford slumbered as a young girl.</p> +<p>On the Thursday afternoon with which we began, Brunt's was +deserted save for the housekeeper and Eva, who was writing letters +in her room.</p> +<p>'I saw you from my window, coming up the street,' she said to +Clive, 'and so I ran down to open the door. Will you come into +father's room? He is in Manchester for the day, buying.</p> +<p><a name='Page133' id="Page133"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>133</span> 'I knew that,' said Timmis.</p> +<p>'How did you know?' She observed that his manner was somewhat +nervous and constrained.</p> +<p>'You yourself told me last night—don't you remember?'</p> +<p>'So I did.'</p> +<p>'That's why I sent the note round this morning to say I'd call +this afternoon. You got it, I suppose?'</p> +<p>She nodded thoughtfully.</p> +<p>'Well, what is this business you want to talk about?'</p> +<p>It was spoken with a brave carelessness, but he caught the +tremor in her voice, and saw her little hand shake as it lay on the +table amid her father's papers. Without knowing why he should do +so, he stepped hastily forward and seized that hand. Her emotion +unmanned him. He thought he was going to cry; he could not account +for himself.</p> +<p>'Eva,' he said thickly, 'you know what the business is; you +know, don't you?'</p> +<p>She smiled. That smile, the softness of her hand, the sparkle in +her eye, the heave of her small bosom ... it was the divinest +miracle! <a name='Page134' id="Page134"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>134</span> Clive, manufacturer of majolica, went hot and +then cold, and then his wits were suddenly his own again.</p> +<p>'That's all right,' he murmured, and sighed, and placed on Eva's +lips the first kiss that had ever lain there.</p> +<p>'Dear boy,' she said later, 'you should have come up to +Pireford, not here, and when father was there.'</p> +<p>'Should I?' he answered happily. 'It just occurred to me all of +a sudden this morning that you would be here, and that I couldn't +wait.'</p> +<p>'You will come up to-night and see father?'</p> +<p>'I had meant to.'</p> +<p>'You had better go home now.'</p> +<p>'Had I?'</p> +<p>She nodded, putting her lips tightly together—a trick of +hers.</p> +<p>'Come up about half-past eight.'</p> +<p>'Good! I will let myself out.'</p> +<p>He left her, and she gazed dreamily at the window, which looked +on to a whitewashed yard. The next moment someone else entered the +room with heavy footsteps. She turned round a little startled.</p> +<p><a name='Page135' id="Page135"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>135</span> It was her father.</p> +<p>'Why! You <i>are</i> back early, father! How——' She +stopped. Something in the old man's glance gave her a premonition +of disaster. To this day she does not know what accident brought +him from Manchester two hours sooner than usual, and to Machin +Street instead of Pireford.</p> +<p>'Has young Timmis been here?' he inquired curtly.</p> +<p>'Yes.'</p> +<p>'Ha!' with subdued, sinister satisfaction, 'I saw him going out. +He didna see me.' Ezra Brunt deposited his hat and sat down.</p> +<p>Intimate with all her father's various moods, she saw instantly +and with terrible certainty that a series of chances had fatally +combined themselves against her. If only she had not happened to +tell Clive that her father would be at Manchester this day! If only +her father had adhered to his customary hour of return! If only +Clive had had the sense to make his proposal openly at Pireford +some evening! If only he had left a little earlier! If only her +father had not caught him going out by the side-door on a Thursday +afternoon when the <a name='Page136' id="Page136"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>136</span> place was empty! Here, she guessed, was the +suggestion of furtiveness which had raised her father's unreasoning +anger, often fierce, and always incalculable.</p> +<p>'Clive Timmis has asked me to marry him, father.'</p> +<p>'Has he!'</p> +<p>'Surely you must have known, father, that he and I were seeing +each other a great deal.'</p> +<p>'Not from your lips, my girl.'</p> +<p>'Well, father——' Again she stopped, this strong and +capable woman, gifted with a fine brain to organize and a powerful +will to command. She quailed, robbed of speech, before the +causeless, vindictive, and infantile wrath of an old man who +happened to be in a bad temper. She actually felt like a naughty +schoolgirl before him. Such is the tremendous influence of lifelong +habit, the irresistible power of the <i>patria potestas</i> when it +has never been relaxed. Ezra Brunt saw in front of him only a +cowering child. 'Clive is coming up to see you to-night,' she went +on timidly, clearing her throat.</p> +<p>'Humph! Is he?'</p> +<p>The rosy and tender dream of five minutes ago lay in fragments +at Eva's feet. She brooded <a name='Page137' id= +"Page137"></a><span class='pagenum'>137</span> with stricken +apprehension upon the forms of obstruction which his despotism +might choose.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>The next morning Clive and his uncle breakfasted together as +usual in the parlour behind, the chemist's shop.</p> +<p>'Uncle,' said Clive brusquely, when the meal was nearly +finished, 'I'd better tell you that I've proposed to Eva +Brunt.'</p> +<p>Old George Timmis lowered the <i>Manchester Guardian</i> and +gazed at Clive over his steel-rimmed spectacles.</p> +<p>'She is a good girl,' he remarked; 'she will make you a good +wife. Have you spoken to her father?'</p> +<p>'That's the point. I saw him last night, and I'll tell you what +he said. These were his words: "You can marry my daughter, Mr. +Timmis, when your uncle agrees to part with his shop!"'</p> +<p>'That I shall never do, nephew,' said the aged patriarch quietly +and deliberately.</p> +<p>'Of course you won't, uncle. I shouldn't think of suggesting it. +I'm merely telling you what he said.' Clive laughed harshly. 'Why,' +he added, 'the man must be mad!'</p> +<p><a name='Page138' id="Page138"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>138</span> 'What did the young woman say to that?' his +uncle inquired.</p> +<p>Clive frowned.</p> +<p>'I didn't see her last night,' he said. 'I didn't ask to see +her. I was too angry.'</p> +<p>Just then the post arrived, and there was a letter for Clive, +which he read and put carefully in his waistcoat pocket.</p> +<p>'Eva writes asking me to go to Pireford to-night,' he said, +after a pause. 'I'll soon settle it, depend on that. If Ezra Brunt +refuses his consent, so much the worse for him. I wonder whether he +actually imagines that a grown man and a grown woman are to be.... +Ah well, I can't talk about it! It's too silly. I'll be off to the +works.'</p> +<p>When Clive reached Pireford that night, Eva herself opened the +door to him. She was wearing a gray frock, and over it a large +white apron, perfectly plain.</p> +<p>'My girls are both out to-night,' she said, 'and I was making +some puffs for the sewing-meeting tea. Come into the +breakfast-room.... This way,' she added, guiding him. He had +entered the house on the previous night for the first time. She +spoke hurriedly, and, <a name='Page139' id= +"Page139"></a><span class='pagenum'>139</span> instead of stopping +in the breakfast-room, wandered uncertainly through it into the +greenhouse, to which it gave access by means of a French window. In +the dark, confined space, amid the close-packed blossoms, they +stood together. She bent down to smell at a musk-plant. He took her +hand and drew her soft and yielding form towards him and kissed her +warm face.</p> +<p>'Oh, Clive!' she said. 'Whatever are we to do?'</p> +<p>'Do?' he replied, enchanted by her instinctive feminine +surrender and reliance upon him, which seemed the more precious in +that creature so proud and reserved to all others. 'Do! Where is +your father?'</p> +<p>'Reading the <i>Signal</i> in the dining-room.'</p> +<p>Every business man in the Five Towns reads the <i>Staffordshire +Signal</i> from beginning to end every night.</p> +<p>'I will see him. Of course he is your father; but I will just +tell him—as decently as I can—that neither you nor I +will stand this nonsense.'</p> +<p>'You mustn't—you mustn't see him.'</p> +<p>'Why not?'</p> +<p><a name='Page140' id="Page140"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>140</span> 'It will only lead to unpleasantness.'</p> +<p>'That can't be helped.'</p> +<p>'He never, never changes when once he has <i>said</i> a thing. I +know him.'</p> +<p>Clive was arrested by something in her tone, something new to +him, that in its poignant finality seemed to have caught up and +expressed in a single instant that bitterness of a lifetime's +renunciation which falls to the lot of most women.</p> +<p>'Will you come outside?' he asked in a different voice.</p> +<p>Without replying, she led the way down the long garden, which +ended in an ivy-grown brick wall and a panorama of the immense +valley of industries below. It was a warm, cloudy evening. The last +silver tinge of an August twilight lay on the shoulder of the hill +to the left. There was no moon, but the splendid watch-fires of +labour flamed from ore-heap and furnace across the whole expanse, +performing their nightly miracle of beauty. Trains crept with +noiseless mystery along the middle distance, under their canopies +of yellow steam. Further off the far-extending streets of Hanbridge +made a map of starry lines on <a name='Page141' id= +"Page141"></a><span class='pagenum'>141</span> the blackness. To +the south-east stared the cold, blue electric lights of Knype +railway-station. All was silent, save for a distant thunderous +roar, the giant breathing of the forge at Cauldon Bar +Ironworks.</p> +<p>Eva leaned both elbows on the wall and looked forth.</p> +<p>'Do you mean to say,' said Clive, 'that Mr. Brunt will actually +stick by what he has said?'</p> +<p>'Like grim death,' said Eva.</p> +<p>'But what's his idea?'</p> +<p>'Oh! how can I tell you?' she burst out passionately.</p> +<p>'Perhaps I did wrong. Perhaps I ought to have warned him +earlier—said to him, "Father, Clive Timmis is courting me!" +Ugh! He cannot bear to be surprised about anything. But yet he must +have known.... It was all an accident, Clive—all an accident. +He saw you leaving the shop yesterday. He would say he +<i>caught</i> you leaving the shop—<i>sneaking</i> off +like——'</p> +<p>'But, Eva——'</p> +<p>'I know—I know! Don't tell me! But it was that, I am sure. +He would resent the <a name='Page142' id="Page142"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>142</span> mere look of things, and then he would think +and think, and the notion of your uncle's shop would occur to him +again, after all these years. I can see his thoughts as plain ... +My dear, if he had not seen you at Machin Street yesterday, or if +you had seen him and spoken to him, all might have gone right. He +would have objected, but he would have given way in a day or two. +Now he will never give way! I asked you just now what was to be +done, but I knew all the time that there was nothing.'</p> +<p>'There is one thing to be done, Eva, and the sooner the +better.'</p> +<p>'Do you mean that old Mr. Timmis must give up his shop to my +father? Never! never!'</p> +<p>'I mean,' said Clive quietly, 'that we must marry without your +father's consent.'</p> +<p>She shook her head slowly and sadly, relapsing into +calmness.</p> +<p>'You shake your head, Eva, but it must be so.'</p> +<p>'I can't, my dear.'</p> +<p>'Do you mean to say that you will allow your father's childish +whim—for it's nothing <a name='Page143' id= +"Page143"></a><span class='pagenum'>143</span> else; he can't find +any objection to me as a husband for you, and he knows +it—that you will allow his childish whim to spoil your life +and mine? Remember, you are twenty-six and I am thirty-two.'</p> +<p>'I can't do it! I daren't! I'm mad with myself for feeling like +this, but I daren't! And even if I dared I wouldn't. Clive, you +don't know! You can't tell how it is!'</p> +<p>Her sorrowful, pathetic firmness daunted him. She was now +composed, mistress again of herself, and her moral force dominated +him.</p> +<p>'Then, you and I are to be unhappy all our lives, Eva?'</p> +<p>The soft influences of the night seemed to direct her voice as, +after a long pause, she uttered the words: 'No one is ever quite +unhappy in all this world.' There was another pause, as she gazed +steadily down into the wonderful valley. 'We must wait.'</p> +<p>'Wait!' echoed Clive with angry grimness. 'He will live for +twenty years!'</p> +<p>'No one is ever quite unhappy in all this world,' she repeated +dreamily, as one might turn over a treasure in order to examine +it.</p> +<p><a name='Page144' id="Page144"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>144</span> Now for the epilogue to the feud. Two years +passed, and it happened that there was to be a Revival at the +Bethesda Chapel. One morning the superintendent minister and the +revivalist called on Ezra Brunt at his shop. When informed of their +presence, the great draper had an impulse of anger, for, like many +stouter chapel-goers than himself, he would scarcely tolerate the +intrusion of religion into commerce. However, the visit had an air +of ceremony, and he could not decline to see these ambassadors of +heaven in his private room. The revivalist, a cheery, shrewd man, +whose powers of organization were obvious, and who seemed to put +organization before everything else, pleased Ezra Brunt at +once.</p> +<p>'We want a specially good congregation at the opening meeting +to-night,' said the revivalist. 'Now, the basis of a good +congregation must necessarily be the regular pillars of the church, +and therefore we are making a few calls this morning to insure the +presence of our chief men—the men of influence and position. +You will come, Mr. Brunt, and you will let it be known among your +employés that they will please you by coming too?'</p> +<p><a name='Page145' id="Page145"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>145</span> Ezra Brunt was by no means a regular pillar of +the Bethesda, but he had a vague sensation of flattery, and he +consented; indeed, there was no alternative.</p> +<p>The first hymn was being sung when he reached the chapel. To his +surprise, he found the place crowded in every part. A man whom he +did not know led him to a wooden form which had been put in the +space between the front pews and the Communion-rail. He felt +strange there, and uneasy, apprehensive.</p> +<p>The usual discreet somnolence of the chapel had been disturbed +as by some indecorous but formidable awakener; the air was +electric; anything might occur. Ezra was astounded by the mere +volume of the singing; never had he heard such singing. At the end +of the hymn the congregation sat down, hiding their faces in +expectation. The revivalist stood erect and terrible in the pulpit, +no longer a shrewd, cheery man of the world, but the very +mouthpiece of the wrath and mercy of God. Ezra's self-importance +dwindled before that gaze, till, from a renowned magnate of the +Five Towns, he became an item in the multitude <a name='Page146' id="Page146"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>146</span> of suppliants. He +profoundly wished he had never come.</p> +<p>'Remember the hymn,' said the revivalist, with austere +emphasis:</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>'"My richest gain I count but +loss,<br /></span> <span>And pour contempt on all my +pride."'<br /></span></div> +</div> +<p>The admirable histrionic art with which he intensified the +consonants in the last line produced a tremendous effect. Not for +nothing was this man cerebrated throughout Methodism as a saver of +souls. When, after a pause, he raised his hand and ejaculated, 'Let +us pray,' sobs could be heard throughout the chapel. The Revival +had begun.</p> +<p>At the end of a quarter of an hour Ezra Brunt would have given +fifty pounds to be outside, but he could not stir; he was +magnetized. Soon the revivalist came down from the pulpit and stood +within the Communion-rail, whence he addressed the nearmost part of +the people in low, soothing tones of persuasion. Apparently he +ignored Ezra Brunt, but the man was convicted of sin, and felt +himself melting like an icicle in front of a fire. He recalled the +days of his youth, the piety of his father and mother, <a name= +'Page147' id="Page147"></a><span class='pagenum'>147</span> and the +long traditions of a stern Dissenting family. He had backslidden, +slackened in the use of the means of grace, run after the things of +this world. It is true that none of his chiefest iniquities +presented themselves to him; he was quite unconscious of them even +then; but the lesser ones were more than sufficient to overwhelm +him. Class-leaders were now reasoning with stricken sinners, and +Ezra, who could not take his eyes off the revivalist, heard the +footsteps of those who were going to the 'inquiry-room' for more +private counsel. In vain he argued that he was about to be +ridiculous; that the idea of him, Ezra Brunt, a professed Wesleyan +for half a century, being publicly 'saved' at the age of +fifty-seven was not to be entertained; that the town would talk; +that his business might suffer if for any reason he should be +morally bound to apply to it too strictly the principles of the New +Testament. He was under the spell. The tears coursed down his long +cheeks, and he forgot to care, but sat entranced by the +revivalist's marvellous voice. Suddenly, with an awful sob, he bent +and hid his face in his hands. The spectacle of the old, proud man +helpless in the grasp of <a name='Page148' id= +"Page148"></a><span class='pagenum'>148</span> profound emotion was +a sight to rend the heart-strings.</p> +<p>'Brother, be of good cheer,' said a tremulous and benign voice +above him. 'The love of God compasseth all things. Only +believe.'</p> +<p>He looked up and saw the venerable face and long white beard of +George Christopher Timmis.</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt shrank away, embittered and ashamed.</p> +<p>'I cannot,' he murmured with difficulty.</p> +<p>'The love of God is all-powerful.'</p> +<p>'Will it make you part with that bit o' property, think you?' +said Ezra Brunt, with a kind of despairing ferocity.</p> +<p>'Brother,' replied the aged servant of God, unmoved, 'if my shop +is in truth a stumbling-block in this solemn hour, you shall have +it.'</p> +<p>Ezra Brunt was staggered.</p> +<p>'I believe! I believe!' he cried.</p> +<p>'Praise God!' said the chemist, with majestic joy.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>Three months afterwards Eva Brunt and Clive Timmis were married. +It is characteristic of the fine sentimentality which underlies the +<a name='Page149' id="Page149"></a><span class='pagenum'>149</span> +surface harshness of the inhabitants of the Five Towns that, though +No. 54 Machin Street was duly transferred to Ezra Brunt, the +chemist retiring from business, he has never rebuilt it to accord +with the rest of his premises. In all its shabbiness it stands +between the other big dazzling shops as a reminding monument.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page153' id="Page153"></a><span class='pagenum'>153</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='PHANTOM' id="PHANTOM"></a> +PHANTOM</h3> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>The heart of the Five Towns—that undulating patch of +England covered with mean streets, and dominated by tall smoking +chimneys, whence are derived your cups and saucers and plates, some +of your coal, and a portion of your iron—is Hanbridge, a +borough larger and busier than its four sisters, and even more +grimy and commonplace than they. And the heart of Hanbridge is +probably the offices of the Five Towns Banking Company, where the +last trace of magic and romance is beaten out of human existence, +and the meaning of life is expressed in balances, deposits, +percentages, and overdrafts—especially overdrafts. In a fine +suite of rooms on the first floor of the bank building resides Mr. +Lionel Woolley, the manager, with his wife May and their +children. <a name='Page154' id="Page154"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>154</span> +Mrs. Woolley is compelled to change her white window-curtains once a week +because of the smuts. Mr. Woolley, forty-five, rather bald, frigidly +suave, positive, egotistic, and pontifical, is a specimen of the man of +business who is nothing else but a man of business. His career has been +a calculation from which sentiment is entirely omitted; he has no +instinct for the things which cannot be defined and assessed. Scarcely a +manufacturer in Hanbridge but who inimically and fearfully regards Mr. +Woolley as an amazing instance of a creature without a soul; and the +absence of soul in a fellow-man must be very marked indeed before a +Hanbridge manufacturer notices it. There are some sixty thousand +immortal souls in Hanbridge, but they seldom attract attention.</p> +<p>Yet Mr. Woolley was once brought into contact with the things +which cannot be defined and assessed; once he stood face to face +with some strange visible resultant of those secret forces that lie +beyond the human ken. And, moreover, the adventure affected the +whole of his domestic life. The wonder and the pathos of the story +lie in the fact that <a name='Page155' id= +"Page155"></a><span class='pagenum'>155</span> Nature, prodigal +though she is known to be, should have wasted the rare and +beautiful visitation on just Mr. Woolley. Mr. Woolley was bathed in +romance of the most singular kind, and the precious fluid ran off +him like water off a duck's back.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>Ten years ago on a Thursday afternoon in July, Lionel Woolley, +as he walked up through the new park at Bursley to his celibate +rooms in Park Terrace, was making addition sums out of various +items connected with the institution of marriage. Bursley is next +door to Hanbridge, and Lionel happened then to be cashier of the +Bursley branch of the bank. He had in mind two possible wives, each +of whom possessed advantages which appealed to him, and he was +unable to decide between them by any mathematical process. +Suddenly, from a glazed shelter near the empty bandstand, there +emerged in front of him one of the delectable creatures who had +excited his fancy. May Lawton was twenty-eight, an orphan, and a +schoolmistress. She, too, had <a name='Page156' id= +"Page156"></a><span class='pagenum'>156</span> celibate rooms in +Park Terrace, and it was owing to this coincidence that Lionel had +made her acquaintance six months previously. She was not pretty, +but she was tall, straight, well dressed, well educated, and not +lacking in experience; and she had a little money of her own.</p> +<p>'Well, Mr. Woolley,' she said easily, stopping for him as she +raised her sunshade, 'how satisfied you look!'</p> +<p>'It's the sight of you,' he replied, without a moment's +hesitation.</p> +<p>He had a fine assured way with women (he need not have envied a +curate accustomed to sewing meetings), and May Lawton belonged to +the type of girl whose demeanour always challenges the masculine in +a man. Gazing at her, Lionel was swiftly conscious of several +things: the piquancy of her snub nose, the brightness of her smile, +at once defiant and wistful, the lingering softness of her gloved +hand, and the extraordinary charm of her sunshade, which matched +her dress and formed a sort of canopy and frame for that +intelligent, tantalizing face. He remembered that of late he and +she had grown very intimate; and it <a name='Page157' id= +"Page157"></a><span class='pagenum'>157</span> came upon him with a +shock, as though he had just opened a telegram which said so, that +May, and not the other girl, was his destined mate. And he thought +of her fortune, tiny but nevertheless useful, and how clever she +was, and how inexplicably different from the rest of her sex, and +how she would adorn his house, and set him off, and help him in his +career. He heard himself saying negligently to friends: 'My wife +speaks French like a native. Of course, my wife has travelled a +great deal. My wife has thoroughly studied the management of +children. Now, my wife does understand the art of dress. I put my +wife's bit of money into so-and-so.' In short, Lionel was as near +being in love as his character permitted.</p> +<p>And while he walked by May's side past the bowling-greens at the +summit of the hill, she lightly quizzing the raw newness of the +park and its appurtenances, he wondered, he honestly wondered, that +he could ever have hesitated between May Lawton and the other. Her +superiority was too obvious; she was a woman of the world! She.... +In a flash he knew that he would propose to her that <a name= +'Page158' id="Page158"></a><span class='pagenum'>158</span> very +afternoon. And when he had suggested a stroll towards Moorthorne, +and she had deliciously agreed, he was conscious of a tumultuous +uplifting and splendid carelessness of spirits. 'Imagine me +bringing it to a climax to-day,' he reflected, profoundly pleased +with himself. 'Ah well, it will be settled once for all!' He +admired his own decision; he was quite struck by it. 'I shall call +her May before I leave her,' he thought, gazing at her, and +discovering how well the name suited her, with its significances of +alertness, geniality, and half-mocking coyness.</p> +<p>'So school is closed,' he said, and added humorously: '"Broken +up" is the technical term, I believe.'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she answered, 'and I had walked out into the park to +meditate seriously upon the question of my holiday.'</p> +<p>She caught his eye in a net of bright glances, and romance was +in the air. They had crossed a couple of smoke-soiled fields, and +struck into the old Hanbridge road just below the abandoned +toll-house with its broad eaves.</p> +<p>'And whither do your meditations point?' he demanded +playfully.</p> +<p><a name='Page159' id="Page159"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>159</span> 'My meditations point to Switzerland,' she +said. 'I have friends in Lausanne.'</p> +<p>The reference to foreign climes impressed him.</p> +<p>'Would that I could go to Switzerland too!' he exclaimed; and +privately: 'Now for it! I'm about to begin.'</p> +<p>'Why?' she questioned, with elaborate simplicity.</p> +<p>At the moment, as they were passing the toll-house, the other +girl appeared surprisingly from round the corner of the toll-house, +where the lane from Toft End joins the highroad. This second +creature was smaller than Miss Lawton, less assertive, less +intelligent, perhaps, but much more beautiful.</p> +<p>Everyone halted and everyone blushed.</p> +<p>'May!' the interrupter at length stammered.</p> +<p>'May!' responded Miss Lawton lamely.</p> +<p>The other girl was named May too—May Deane, child of the +well-known majolica manufacturer, who lived with his sons and +daughter in a solitary and ancient house at Toft End.</p> +<p>Lionel Woolley said nothing until they had all shaken +hands—his famous way with women <a name='Page160' id= +"Page160"></a><span class='pagenum'>160</span> seemed to have +deserted him—and then he actually stated that he had +forgotten an appointment, and must depart. He had gone before the +girls could move.</p> +<p>When they were alone, the two Mays fronted each other, confused, +hostile, almost homicidal.</p> +<p>'I hope I didn't spoil a <i>tête-à-tête</i>,' +said May Deane, stiffly and sharply, in a manner quite foreign to +her soft and yielding nature.</p> +<p>The schoolmistress, abandoning herself to an inexplicable but +overwhelming impulse, took breath for a proud lie.</p> +<p>'No,' she answered; 'but if you had come three minutes +earlier——'</p> +<p>She smiled calmly.</p> +<p>'Oh!' murmured May Deane, after a pause.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>That evening May Deane returned home at half-past nine. She had +been with her two brothers to a lawn-tennis party at Hillport, and +she told her father, who was reading the <i>Staffordshire +Signal</i> in his accustomed solitude, that the boys were staying +later for cards, but <a name='Page161' id= +"Page161"></a><span class='pagenum'>161</span> that she had +declined to stay because she felt tired. She kissed the old widower +good-night, and said that she should go to bed at once. But before +retiring she visited the housekeeper in the kitchen in order to +discuss certain household matters: Jim's early breakfast, the +proper method of washing Herbert's new flannels (Herbert would be +very angry if they were shrunk), and the dog-biscuits for Carlo. +These questions settled, she went to her room, drew the blind, +lighted some candles, and sat down near the window.</p> +<p>She was twenty-two, and she had about her that strange and +charming nunlike mystery which often comes to a woman who lives +alone and unguessed-at among male relatives. Her room was her +bower. No one, save the servants and herself, ever entered it. Mr. +Deane and Jim and Bertie might glance carelessly through the open +door in passing along the corridor, but had they chanced in idle +curiosity to enter, the room would have struck them as unfamiliar, +and they might perhaps have exclaimed with momentary interest, 'So +this is May's room!' And some hint that May was more than a +daughter and sister—a <a name='Page162' id= +"Page162"></a><span class='pagenum'>162</span> woman, withdrawn, +secret, disturbing, living her own inner life side by side with the +household life—might have penetrated their obtuse paternal +and fraternal masculinity. Her beautiful face (the nose and mouth +were perfect, and at either extremity of the upper lip grew a soft +down), her dark hair, her quiet voice and her gentle acquiescence +(diversified by occasional outbursts of sarcasm), appealed to them +and won them; but they accepted her as something of course, as +something which went without saying. They adored her, and did not +know that they adored her.</p> +<p>May took off her hat, stuck the pins into it again, and threw it +on the bed, whose white and green counterpane hung down nearly to +the floor on either side. Then she lay back in the chair, and, +pulling away the blind, glanced through the window; the moon, +rather dim behind the furnace lights of Red Cow Ironworks, was +rising over Moorthorne. May dropped the blind with a wearied +gesture, and turned within the room, examining its contents as if +she had not seen them before: the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, +which was also a dressing-table, the washstand, the dwarf book-case +<a name='Page163' id="Page163"></a><span class='pagenum'>163</span> +with its store of Edna Lyalls, Elizabeth Gaskells, Thackerays, +Charlotte Yonges, Charlotte Brontës, a Thomas Hardy or so, and +some old school-books. She looked at the pictures, including a +sampler worked by a deceased aunt, at the loud-ticking Swiss clock +on the mantelpiece, at the higgledy-piggledy photographs there, at +the new Axminster carpet, the piece of linoleum in front of the +washstand, and the bad joining of the wallpaper to the left of the +door. She missed none of the details which she knew so well, with +such long monotonous intimacy, and sighed.</p> +<p>Then she got up from the chair, and, opening a small drawer in +the chest of drawers, put her hand familiarly to the back and drew +forth a photograph. She carried the photograph to the light of the +candles on the mantelpiece, and gazed at it attentively, puckering +her brows. It was a portrait of Lionel Woolley. Heaven knows by +what subterfuge or lucky accident she had obtained it, for Lionel +certainly had not given it to her. She loved Lionel. She had loved +him for five years, with a love silent, blind, intense, irrational, +<a name='Page164' id="Page164"></a><span class='pagenum'>164</span> +and too elemental to be concealed. Everyone knew of May's passion. +Many women admired her taste; a few were shocked and puzzled by it. +All the men of her acquaintance either pitied or despised her for +it. Her father said nothing. Her brothers were less cautious, and +summed up their opinion of Lionel in the curt, scornful assertion +that he showed a tendency to cheat at tennis. But May would never +hear ill of him; he was a god to her, and she could not hide her +worship. For more than a year, until lately, she had been almost +sure of him, and then came a faint vague rumour concerning Lionel +and May Lawton, a rumour which she had refused to take seriously. +The encounter of that afternoon, and Miss Lawton's triumphant +remark, had dazed her. For seven hours she had existed in a kind of +semi-conscious delirium, in which she could perceive nothing but +the fatal fact, emerging more clearly every moment from the welter +of her thoughts, that she had lost Lionel. Lionel had proposed to +May Lawton, and been accepted, just before she surprised them +together; and Lionel, with a man's excusable cowardice, <a name= +'Page165' id="Page165"></a><span class='pagenum'>165</span> had +left his betrothed to announce the engagement.</p> +<p>She tore up the photograph, put the fragments in the grate, and +set a light to them.</p> +<p>Her father's step sounded on the stairs; he hesitated, and +knocked sharply at her door.</p> +<p>'What's burning, May?'</p> +<p>'It's all right, father,' she answered calmly, 'I'm only burning +some papers in the fire-grate.'</p> +<p>'Well, see you don't burn the house down.'</p> +<p>He passed on.</p> +<p>Then she found a sheet of notepaper, and wrote on it in pencil, +using the mantelpiece for a desk: 'Dear home. Good-night, +good-bye.' She cogitated, and wrote further: 'Forgive +me.—MAY.'</p> +<p>She put the message in an envelope, and wrote on the envelope +'Jim,' and placed it prominently in front of the clock. But after +she had looked at it for a minute, she wrote 'Father' above Jim, +and then 'Herbert' below.</p> +<p>There were noises in the hall; the boys had returned earlier +than she expected. As they went along the corridor and caught a +glimpse <a name='Page166' id="Page166"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>166</span> of her light under the door, Jim cried gaily: +'Now then, out with that light! A little thing like you ought to be +asleep hours since.'</p> +<p>She listened for the bang of their door, and then, very +hurriedly, she removed her pink frock and put on an old black one, +which was rather tight in the waist. And she donned her hat, +securing it carefully with both pins, extinguished the candles, and +crept quietly downstairs, and so by the back-door into the garden. +Carlo, the retriever, came halfway out of his kennel and greeted +her in the moonlight with a yawn. She patted his head and ran +stealthily up the garden, through the gate, and up the waste green +land towards the crown of the hill.</p> +<h4>IV</h4> +<p>The top of Toft End is the highest land in the Five Towns, and +from it may be clearly seen all the lurid evidences of manufacture +which sweep across the borders of the sky on north, east, west, and +south. North-eastwards lie the moorlands, and far off Manifold, the +'metropolis of the moorlands,' as it is called. On <a name= +'Page167' id="Page167"></a><span class='pagenum'>167</span> this +night the furnaces of Red Cow Ironworks, in the hollow to the east, +were in full blast; their fluctuating yellow light illuminated +queerly the grass of the fields above Deane's house, and the +regular roar of their breathing reached that solitary spot like the +distant rumour of some leviathan beast angrily fuming. Further away +to the south-west the Cauldon Bar Ironworks reproduced the same +phenomena, and round the whole horizon, near and far, except to the +north-east, the lesser fires of labour leapt and flickered and +glinted in their mists of smoke, burning ceaselessly, as they +burned every night and every day at all seasons of all years. The +town of Bursley slept in the deep valley to the west, and vast +Hanbridge in the shallower depression to the south, like two +sleepers accustomed to rest quietly amid great disturbances; the +beacons of their Town Halls and churches kept watch, and the whole +scene was dominated by the placidity of the moon, which had now +risen clear of the Red Cow furnace clouds, and was passing upwards +through tracts of stars.</p> +<p>Into this scene, climbing up from the direction of Manifold, +came Lionel Woolley, nearly <a name='Page168' id= +"Page168"></a><span class='pagenum'>168</span> at midnight, having +walked some eighteen miles in a vain effort to re-establish his +self-satisfaction by a process of reasoning and ingenious excuses. +Lionel felt that in the brief episode of the afternoon he had +scarcely behaved with dignity. In other words, he was fully and +painfully aware that he must have looked a fool, a coward, an ass, +a contemptible and pitiful person, in the eyes of at least one +girl, if not of two. He did not like this—no man would have +liked it; and to Lionel the memory of an undignified act was acute +torture. Why had he bidden the girls adieu and departed? Why had +he, in fact, run away? What precisely would May Lawton think of +him? How could he explain his conduct to her—and to himself? +And had that worshipping, affectionate thing, May Deane, taken note +of his confusion—of the confusion of him who was never +confused, who was equal to every occasion and every emergency? +These were some of the questions which harried him and declined to +be settled. He had walked to Manifold, and had tea at the Roebuck, +and walked back, and still the questions were harrying; and as he +came over the hill by the <a name='Page169' id= +"Page169"></a><span class='pagenum'>169</span> field-path, and +descried the lone house of the Deanes in the light of the Red Cow +furnaces and of the moon, the worship of May Deane seemed suddenly +very precious to him, and he could not bear to think that any +stupidity of his should have impaired it.</p> +<p>Then he saw May Deane walking slowly across the field, close to +an abandoned pit-shaft, whose low protecting circular wall of brick +was crumbling to ruin on the side nearest to him.</p> +<p>She stopped, appeared to gaze at him intently, turned, and began +to approach him. And he too, moved by a mysterious impulse which he +did not pause to examine, swerved, and quickened his step in order +to lessen the distance between them. He did not at first even feel +surprise that she should be wandering solitary on the hill at that +hour. Presently she stood still, while he continued to move +forward. It was as if she drew him; and soon, in the pale moonlight +and the wavering light of the furnaces, he could decipher all the +details of her face, and he saw that she was smiling fondly, +invitingly, admiringly, lustrously, with the old undiminished +worship and affection. And he perceived a dark discoloration on her +right <a name='Page170' id="Page170"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>170</span> cheek, as though she had suffered a blow, but +this mark did not long occupy his mind. He thought suddenly of the +strong probability that her father would leave a nice little bit of +money to each of his three children; and he thought of her beauty, +and of her timid fragility in the tight black dress, and of her +immense and unquestioning love for him, which would survive all +accidents and mishaps. He seemed to sink luxuriously into this +grand passion of hers (which he deemed quite natural and proper) as +into a soft feather-bed. To live secure in an atmosphere of +exhaustless worship; to keep a fount of balm and admiration for +ever in the house, a bubbling spring of passionate appreciation +which would be continually available for the refreshment of his +self-esteem! To be always sure of an obedience blind and willing, a +subservience which no tyranny and no harshness and no whim would +rouse into revolt; to sit on a throne with so much beauty kneeling +at his feet!</p> +<p>And the possession of her beauty would be a source of legitimate +pride to him. People would often refer to the beautiful Mrs. +Woolley.</p> +<p><a name='Page171' id="Page171"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>171</span> He felt that in sending May Deane to interrupt +his highly emotional conversation with May Lawton Providence had +watched over him and done him a good turn. May Lawton had +advantages, and striking advantages, but he could not be sure of +her. The suspicion that if she married him she would marry him for +her own ends caused him a secret disquiet, and he feared that one +day, perhaps one morning at breakfast, she might take it into her +intelligent head to mock him, to exercise upon him her gift of +irony, and to intimate to him that if he fancied she was his slave +he was deceived. That she sincerely admired him he never for an +instant doubted. But——</p> +<p>And, moreover, the unfortunate episode of the afternoon might +have cooled her ardour to freezing-point.</p> +<p>He stood now in front of his worshipper, and the notion crossed +his mind that in after-years he could say to his friends: 'I +proposed to my wife at midnight under the moon. Not many men have +done that.'</p> +<p>'Good-evening,' he ventured to the girl; and he added with +bravado: 'We've met before to-day, haven't we?'</p> +<p><a name='Page172' id="Page172"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>172</span> She made no reply, but her smile was more +affectionate, more inviting, than ever.</p> +<p>'I'm glad of this opportunity—very glad,' he proceeded. +'I've been wanting to ... You must know, my dear girl, how I +feel....'</p> +<p>She gave a gesture, charming in its sweet humility, as if to +say: 'Who am I that I should dare——'</p> +<p>And then he proposed to her, asked her to share his life, and +all that sort of thing; and when he had finished he thought, 'It's +done now, anyway.'</p> +<p>Strange to relate, she offered no immediate reply, but she bent +a little towards him with shining, happy eyes. He had an impulse to +seize her in his arms and kiss her, but prudence suggested that he +should defer the rite. She turned and began to walk slowly and +meditatively towards the pit-shaft. He followed almost at her side, +but a foot or so behind, waiting for her to speak. And as he +waited, expectant, he looked at her profile and reflected how well +the name May suited her, with its significances of shyness and +dreamy hope, and hidden fire and the modesty of spring.</p> +<p>And while he was thus savouring her face, <a name='Page173' id= +"Page173"></a><span class='pagenum'>173</span> and they were still +ten yards from the pit-shaft, she suddenly disappeared from his +vision, as it were by a conjuring trick. He had a horrible +sensation in his spinal column. He was not the man to mistrust the +evidence of his senses, and he knew, therefore, that he had been +proposing to a phantom.</p> +<h4>V</h4> +<p>The next morning—early, because of Jim's early +breakfast—when May Deane's disappearance became known to the +members of the household, Jim had the idea of utilizing Carlo in +the search for her. The retriever went straight, without a fault, +to the pit-shaft, and May was discovered alive and unscathed, save +for a contusion of the face and a sprain in the wrist.</p> +<p>Her suicidal plunge had been arrested, at only a few feet from +the top of the shaft, by a cross-stay of timber, upon which she lay +prone. There was no reason why the affair should be made public, +and it was not. It was suppressed into one of those secrets which +embed themselves <a name='Page174' id="Page174"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>174</span> in the history of families, and after two or +three generations blossom into romantic legends full of appropriate +circumstantial detail.</p> +<p>Lionel Woolley spent a woeful night at his rooms. He did not +know what to do, and on the following day May Lawton encountered +him again, and proved by her demeanour that the episode of the +previous afternoon had caused no estrangement. Lionel vacillated. +The sway of the schoolmistress was almost restored, and it would +have been restored fully had he not been preoccupied by a feverish +curiosity—the curiosity to know whether or not May Deane was +dead. He felt that she must indeed be dead, and he lived through +the day expectant of the news of her sudden decease. Towards night +his state of mind was such that he was obliged to call at the +Deanes'. May heard him, and insisted on seeing him; more, she +insisted on seeing him alone in the breakfast-room, where she +reclined, interestingly white, on the sofa. Her father and brothers +objected strongly to the interview, but they yielded, afraid that a +refusal might induce hysteria and worse things.</p> +<p><a name='Page175' id="Page175"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>175</span> And when Lionel Woolley came into the room, +May, steeped in felicity, related to him the story of her impulsive +crime.</p> +<p>'I was so happy,' she said, 'when I knew that Miss Lawton had +deceived me.' And before he could inquire what she meant, she +continued rapidly: 'I must have been unconscious, but I felt you +were there, and something of me went out towards you. And oh! the +answer to your question—I heard your question; the real +<i>me</i> heard it, but that <i>something</i> could not speak.'</p> +<p>'My question?'</p> +<p>'You asked a question, didn't you?' she faltered, sitting +up.</p> +<p>He hesitated, and then surrendered himself to her immense love +and sank into it, and forgot May Lawton.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he said.</p> +<p>'The answer is yes. Oh, you must have known the answer would be +yes! You did know, didn't you?'</p> +<p>He nodded grandly.</p> +<p>She sighed with delicious and overwhelming joy.</p> +<p>In the ecstasy of the achievement of her <a name='Page176' id= +"Page176"></a><span class='pagenum'>176</span> desire the girl gave +little thought to the psychic aspect of the possibly unique +wooing.</p> +<p>As for Lionel, he refused to dwell on it even in thought. And so +that strange, magic, yearning effluence of a soul into a visible +projection and shape was ignored, slurred over, and, after ten +years of domesticity in the bank premises, is gradually being +forgotten.</p> +<p>He is a man of business, and she, with her fading beauty, her +ardent, continuous worship of the idol, her half-dozen small +children, the eldest of whom is only eight, and the white +window-curtains to change every week because of the smuts—do +you suppose she has time or inclination to ponder upon the theory +of the subliminal consciousness and kindred mysteries?</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page179' id="Page179"></a><span class='pagenum'>179</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='TIDDY_FOL_LOL' id="TIDDY_FOL_LOL"></a> +TIDDY-FOL-LOL</h3> +</div> +<p>It was the dinner-hour, and a group of ragged and clay-soiled +apprentice boys were making a great noise in the yard of Henry +Mynors and Co.'s small, compact earthenware manufactory up at Toft +End. Toft End caps the ridge to the east of Bursley; and Bursley, +which has been the home of the potter for ten centuries, is the +most ancient of the Five Towns in Staffordshire. The boys, dressed +for the most part in shirt, trousers, and boots, all equally ragged +and insecure, were playing at prison-bars.</p> +<p>Soon the game ended abruptly in a clamorous dispute upon a point +of law, and it was not recommenced. The dispute dying a natural +death, the tireless energies of the boys needed a fresh outlet. +Inspired by a common instinct, they began at once to bait one of +their number, <a name='Page180' id="Page180"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>180</span> a slight youngster of twelve years, much +better clothed than the rest, who had adventurously strolled in +from a neighbouring manufactory. This child answered their jibes in +an amiable, silly, drawling tone which seemed to justify the +epithet 'Loony,' frequently applied to him. Now and then he +stammered; and then companions laughed loud, and he with them. It +was known that several years ago he had fallen down a flight of +stone steps, alighting on the back of his head, and that ever since +he had been deaf of one ear and under some trifling mental +derangement. His sublime calmness under their jests baffled them +until the terrible figure of Mr. Machin, the engine-man, standing +at the door of the slip-house, caught their attention and suggested +a plan full of joyous possibilities. They gathered round the lad, +and, talking in subdued murmurs, unanimously urged him with many +persuasions to a certain course of action. He declined the scheme, +and declined again. Suddenly a boy shouted:</p> +<p>'Thee dars' na'!'</p> +<p>'I dare,' was the drawled, smiling answer.</p> +<p>'I tell thee thee dars' na'!'</p> +<p>'I tell thee I dare.' And thereupon he <a name='Page181' id= +"Page181"></a><span class='pagenum'>181</span> slowly but +resolutely set out for the slip-house door and Mr. Machin.</p> +<p>Eli Machin was beyond doubt the most considerable employé +on Clarke's 'bank' (manufactory). Even Henry Clarke approached him +with a subtly-indicated deference, and whenever Silas Emery, the +immensely rich and miserly sleeping partner in the firm, came up to +visit the works, these two old men chatted as old friends. In a +modern earthenware manufactory the engine-room is the source of all +activity, for, owing to the inventive genius of a famous and +venerable son of the Five Towns, steam now presides at nearly every +stage in the long process of turning earth into ware. It moves the +pug-mill, the jollies, and the marvellous batting machines, dries +the unfired clay, heats the printers' stoves, and warms the offices +where the 'jacket-men' dwell. Coal is a tremendous item in the cost +of production, and a competent, economical engine-man can be sure +of good wages and a choice of berths; he is desired like a good +domestic servant. Eli Machin was the prince of engine-men. His +engine never went wrong, his coal bills were never extravagant, and +(supreme <a name='Page182' id="Page182"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>182</span> virtue!) he was never absent on Mondays. From +his post in the slip-house he watched over the whole works like a +father, stern, gruff, forbidding, but to be trusted absolutely. He +was sixty years old, and had been 'putting by' for nearly half a +century. He lived in a tiny villa-cottage with his bed-ridden, +cheerful wife, and lent small sums on mortgage of approved +freeholds at 5 per cent.—no more and no less. Secure behind +this rampart of saved money, he was the equal of the King on the +throne. Not a magnate in all the Five Towns who would dare to be +condescending to Eli Machin. He had been a sidesman at the old +church. A trades-union had once asked him to become a working-man +candidate for the Bursley Town Council, but he had refused because +he did not care for the possibility of losing caste by being +concerned in a strike. His personal respectability was entirely +unsullied, and he worshipped this abstract quality as he worshipped +God.</p> +<p>There was only one blot—but how foul!—on Eli +Machin's career, and that had been dropped by his daughter Miriam, +when, defying his authority, she married a scene-shifter at +Hanbridge Theatre. The atrocious idea of <a name='Page183' id= +"Page183"></a><span class='pagenum'>183</span> being connected with +the theatre had rendered him speechless for a time. He could but +endure it in the most awful silence that ever hid passionate +feeling. Then one day he had burst out, 'The wench is no better +than a tiddy-fol-lol!' Only this solitary phrase—nothing +else.</p> +<p>What a tiddy-fol-lol was no one quite knew; but the word, +getting about, stuck to him, and for some weeks boys used to shout +it after him in the streets, until he caught one of them, and in +thirty seconds put an end to the practice. Thenceforth Miriam, with +all hers, was dead to him. When her husband expired of consumption, +Eli Machin saw the avenging arm of the Lord in action; and when her +boy grew to be a source of painful anxiety to her, he said to +himself that the wrath of Heaven was not yet cooled towards this +impious daughter. The passage of fifteen years had apparently in no +way softened his resentment.</p> +<p>The challenged lad in Mynors' yard slowly approached the +slip-house door, and halted before Eli Machin, grinning.</p> +<p>'Well, young un,' the old man said absently, 'what dost +want?'</p> +<p><a name='Page184' id="Page184"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>184</span> 'Tiddy-fol-lol, grandfeyther,' the child +drawled in his silly, irritating voice, and added: 'They said I +darena say it to ye.'</p> +<p>Without and instant's hesitation Eli Machin raised his still +powerful arm, and, catching the boy under the ear, knocked him +down. The other boys yelled with unaffected pleasure and ran +away.</p> +<p>'Get up, and be off wi' ye. Ye dunna belong to this bank,' said +Eli Machin in cold anger to the lad. But the lad did not stir; the +lad's eyes were closed, and he lay white on the stones.</p> +<p>Eli Machin bent down, and peered through his spectacles at the +prone form upon which the mid-day sun was beating.</p> +<p>'It's Miriam's boy!' he ejaculated under his breath, and looked +round as if in inquiry—the yard was empty. Then with quick +decision he picked up this limp and inconvenient parcel of humanity +and hastened—ran—with it out of the yard into the +road.</p> +<p>Down the road he ran, turned to the left into Clowes Street, and +stopped before a row of small brown cottages. At the open door of +one of these cottages a woman sat sewing. <a name='Page185' id= +"Page185"></a><span class='pagenum'>185</span> She was rather stout +and full-bosomed, with a fair, fresh face, full of sense and peace; +she looked under thirty, but was older.</p> +<p>'Here's thy Tommy, Miriam,' said Eli Machin shortly. 'He give me +some of his sauce, and I doubt I've done him an injury.'</p> +<p>The woman dropped her sewing.</p> +<p>'Eh, dear!' she cried, 'is that lad o' mine in mischief again? I +do hope he's no limb brokken.'</p> +<p>'It in'na that,' said the old man, 'but he's dazed-like. Better +lay him on th' squab.'</p> +<p>She calmly took Tommy and placed him gently down on the +check-covered sofa under the window. 'Come in, father, do.'</p> +<p>The man obeyed, astonished at the entire friendliness of this +daughter, whom, though he had frequently seen her, he had never +spoken to for more than ten years. Her manner, at once filial and +quite natural, perfectly ignored the long breach, and disclosed no +trace of animosity.</p> +<p>Father and daughter examined the unconscious child. Pale, +pulseless, cold, he lay on the sofa like a corpse except for the +short, faint breaths which he drew through his blue lips.</p> +<p><a name='Page186' id="Page186"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>186</span> 'I doubt I've killed him,' said Eli.</p> +<p>'Nay, nay, father!' And her face actually smiled. This supremacy +of the soul against years of continued misfortune lifted her high +above him, and he suddenly felt himself an inferior creature.</p> +<p>'I'll go for th' doctor,' he said.</p> +<p>'Nay! I shall need ye.' And she put her head out of the window. +'Mrs. Walley, will ye let your Lucy run quick for th' club doctor? +my Tommy's hurt.'</p> +<p>The whole street awoke instantly from its nap, and in a few +moments every door was occupied. Miriam closed her own door softly, +as though she might wake the boy, and spoke in whispers to people +through the window, finally telling them to go away. When the +doctor came, half an hour afterwards, she had done all that she +knew for Tommy, without the slightest apparent result.</p> +<p>'What is it?' asked the doctor curtly, as he lifted the child's +thin and lifeless hand.</p> +<p>Eli Machin explained that he had boxed the boy's ear.</p> +<p>'Tommy was impudent to his grandfather,' Miriam added +hastily.</p> +<p><a name='Page187' id="Page187"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>187</span> 'Which ear?' the doctor inquired. It was the +left. He gazed into it, and then raised the boy's right leg and +arm. 'There is no paralysis,' he said. Then he felt the heart, and +then took out his stethoscope and applied it, listening +intently.</p> +<p>'Canst hear owt?' the old man said.</p> +<p>'I cannot,' he answered.</p> +<p>'Don't say that, doctor—don't say that! said Miriam, with +an accent of appeal.</p> +<p>'In these cases it is almost impossible to tell whether the +patient is alive or dead. We must wait. Mrs. Baddeley, make a +mustard plaster for his feet, and we will put another over the +heart.' And so they waited one hour, while the clock ticked and the +mustard plasters gradually cooled. Then Tommy's lips parted.</p> +<p>After another half-hour the doctor said:</p> +<p>'I must go now; I will come again at six. Do nothing but apply +fresh plasters. Be sure to keep his neck free. He is breathing, but +I may as well be plain with you—there is a great risk of your +child dying in this condition.'</p> +<p>Neighbours were again at the window, and Miriam drew the blind, +waving them away. At six o'clock the doctor reappeared. 'There +<a name='Page188' id="Page188"></a><span class='pagenum'>188</span> +is no change,' he remarked. 'I will call in before I go to +bed.'</p> +<p>When he lifted the latch for the third time, at ten o'clock, Eli +Machin and Miriam still sat by the sofa, and Tommy still lay +thereon, moveless, a terrible enigma. But the glass lamp was +lighted on the mantelpiece, and Miriam's sewing, by which she +earned a livelihood, had been hidden out of sight.</p> +<p>'There is no change,' said the doctor. 'You can do nothing +except hope.'</p> +<p>'And pray,' the calm mother added.</p> +<p>Eli neither stirred nor spoke. For nine hours he had absolutely +forgotten his engine. He knew the boy would die.</p> +<p>The clock struck eleven, twelve, one, two, three, each time +fretting the nerves of the old man like a rasp. It was the hour of +summer dawn. A cold gray light fell unkindly across the small +figure on the sofa.</p> +<p>'Open th' door a bit, father,' said Miriam. 'This parlour's +gettin' close; th' lad canna breathe.'</p> +<p>'Nay, lass,' Eli sighed, as he stumbled obediently to the door. +'The lad'll breathe no more. I've killed him i' my anger.' He +<a name='Page189' id="Page189"></a><span class='pagenum'>189</span> +frowned heavily, as though someone was annoying him.</p> +<p>'Hist!' she exclaimed, when, after extinguishing the lamp, she +returned to her boy's side. 'He's reddened—he's reddened! +Look thee at his cheeks, father!' She seized the child's inert +hands and rubbed them between her own. The blood was now plain in +Tommy's face. His legs faintly twitched. His breathing was slower. +Miriam moved the coverlet and put her head upon his heart. 'It's +beating loud, father,' she cried. 'Bless God!'</p> +<p>Eli stared at the child with the fixity of a statue. Then Tommy +opened his eyes for an instant. The old man groaned. Tommy looked +vacantly round, closed his eyes again, and was unmistakably asleep. +He slept for one minute, and then waked. Eli involuntarily put a +hand on the sofa. Tommy gazed at him, and, with the most heavenly +innocent smile of recognition, lightly touched his grandfather's +hand. Then he turned over on his right side. In the anguish of +sudden joy Eli gave a deep, piteous sob. That smile burnt into him +like a coal of fire.</p> +<p>'Now for the beef-tea,' said Miriam, crying.</p> +<p><a name='Page190' id="Page190"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>190</span> 'Beef-tea?' the boy repeated after her, mildly +questioning.</p> +<p>'Yes, my poppet,' she answered; and then aside, 'Father, he can +hear i' his left ear. Did ye notice it?'</p> +<p>'It's a miracle—a miracle of God!' said Eli.</p> +<p>In a few hours Tommy was as well as ever—indeed, better; +not only was his hearing fully restored, but he had ceased to +stammer, and the thin, almost imperceptible cloud upon his +intellect was dissipated. The doctor expressed but little surprise +at these phenomena, and, in fact, stated that similar things had +occurred often before, and were duly written down in the books of +medicine. But Eli Machin's firm, instinctive faith that Providence +had intervened will never be shaken.</p> +<p>Miriam and Tommy now live in the villa-cottage with the old +people.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page193' id="Page193"></a><span class='pagenum'>193</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_IDIOT' id="THE_IDIOT"></a> +THE IDIOT</h3> +</div> +<p>William Froyle, ostler at the Queen's Arms at Moorthorne, took +the letter, and, with a curt nod which stifled the loquacity of the +village postman, went at once from the yard into the coach-house. +He had recognised the hand-writing on the envelope, and the +recognition of it gave form and quick life to all the vague +suspicions that had troubled him some months before, and again +during the last few days. He felt suddenly the near approach of a +frightful calamity which had long been stealing towards him.</p> +<p>A wire-sheathed lantern, set on a rough oaken table, cast a +wavering light round the coach-house, and dimly showed the inner +stable. Within the latter could just be distinguished the +mottled-gray flanks of a fat cob which dragged its chain +occasionally, making <a name='Page194' id= +"Page194"></a><span class='pagenum'>194</span> the large slow +movements of a horse comfortably lodged in its stall. The pleasant +odour of animals and hay filled the wide spaces of the shed, and +through the half-open door came a fresh thin mist rising from the +rain-soaked yard in the November evening.</p> +<p>Froyle sat down on the oaken table, his legs dangling, and +looked again at the envelope before opening it. He was a man about +thirty years of age, with a serious and thoughtful, rather heavy +countenance. He had a long light moustache, and his skin was a +fresh, rosy salmon colour; his straw-tinted hair was cut very +short, except over the forehead, where it grew full and bushy. +Dressed in his rough stable corduroys, his forearms bare and white, +he had all the appearance of the sturdy Englishman, the sort of +Englishman that crosses the world in order to find vent for his +taciturn energy on virgin soils. From the whole village he +commanded and received respect. He was known for a scholar, and it +was his scholarship which had obtained for him the proud position +of secretary to the provident society styled the Queen's Arms Slate +Club. His respectability and his learning combined <a name= +'Page195' id="Page195"></a><span class='pagenum'>195</span> had +enabled him to win with dignity the hand of Susie Trimmer, the +grocer's daughter, to whom he had been engaged about a year. The +village could not make up its mind concerning that match; without +doubt it was a social victory for Froyle, but everyone wondered +that so sedate and sagacious a man should have seen in Susie a +suitable mate.</p> +<p>He tore open the envelope with his huge forefinger, and, bending +down towards the lantern, began to read the letter. It ran:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'OLDCASTLE STREET,</p> +<p>'BURSLEY.</p> +<p>'DEAR WILL,</p> +<p>'I asked father to tell you, but he would not. He said I must +write. Dear Will, I hope you will never see me again. As you will +see by the above address, I am now at Aunt Penrose's at Bursley. +She is awful angry, but I was obliged to leave the village because +of my shame. I have been a wicked girl. It was in July. You know +the man, because you asked me about him one Sunday night. He is no +good. He is a villain. Please forget all about me. I want to go to +London. So many people know me here, and <a name='Page196' id= +"Page196"></a><span class='pagenum'>196</span> what with people +coming in from the village, too. Please forgive me.</p> +<p>'S. TRIMMER.'</p> +</div> +<p>After reading the letter a second time, Froyle folded it up and +put it in his pocket. Beyond a slight unaccustomed pallor of the +red cheeks, he showed no sign of emotion. Before the arrival of the +postman he had been cleaning his master's bicycle, which stood +against the table. To this he returned. Kneeling down in some fresh +straw, he used his dusters slowly and patiently—rubbing, then +stopping to examine the result, and then rubbing again. When the +machine was polished to his satisfaction, he wheeled it carefully +into the stable, where it occupied a stall next to that of the cob. +As he passed back again, the animal leisurely turned its head and +gazed at Froyle with its large liquid eyes. He slapped the immense +flank. Content, the animal returned to its feed, and the weighted +chain ran down with a rattle.</p> +<p>The fortnightly meeting of the Slate Club was to take place at +eight o'clock that evening. Froyle had employed part of the +afternoon in <a name='Page197' id="Page197"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>197</span> making ready his books for the event, to him +always so solemn and ceremonious; and the affairs of the club were +now prominent in his mind. He was sorry that it would be impossible +for him to attend the meeting; fortunately, all the usual +preliminaries were complete.</p> +<p>He took a piece of notepaper from a little hanging cupboard, +and, sprawling across the table, began to write under the lantern. +The pencil seemed a tiny toy in his thick roughened fingers:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'<i>To Mr. Andrew McCall, Chairman Queen's Arms Slate +Club.</i></p> +<p>'DEAR SIR,</p> +<p>'I regret to inform you that I shall not be at the meeting +to-night. You will find the books in order....'</p> +</div> +<p>Here he stopped, biting the end of the pencil in thought. He put +down the pencil and stepped hastily out of the stable, across the +yard, and into the hotel. In the large room, the room where +cyclists sometimes took tea and cold meat during the summer season, +the <a name='Page198' id="Page198"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>198</span> long deal table and the double line of oaken +chairs stood ready for the meeting. A fire burnt warmly in the big +grate, and the hanging lamp had been lighted. On the wall was a +large card containing the rules of the club, which had been written +out in a fair hand by the schoolmaster. It was to this card that +Froyle went. Passing his thumb down the card, he paused at Rule +VII.:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'Each member shall, on the death of another member, pay 1s. for +benefit of widow or nominee of deceased, same to be paid within one +month after notice given.'</p> +<p>'Or nominee—nominee,' he murmured reflectively, staring at +the card. He mechanically noticed, what he had noticed often before +with disdain, that the chairman had signed the rules without the +use of capitals.</p> +<p>He went back to the dusk of the coach-house to finish his +letter, still murmuring the word 'nominee,' of whose meaning he was +not quite sure:</p> +<p>'I request that the money due to me from the Slate Club on my +death shall be paid to <a name='Page199' id= +"Page199"></a><span class='pagenum'>199</span> my nominee, Miss +Susan Trimmer, now staying with her aunt, Mrs. Penrose, at +Bursley.</p> +<p>'Yours respectfully,</p> +<p>'WILLIAM FROYLE.'</p> +</div> +<p>After further consideration he added:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'P.S.—My annual salary of sixpence per member would be due +at the end of December. If so be the members would pay that, or +part of it, should they consider the same due, to Susan Trimmer as +well, I should be thankful.—Yours resp, W.F.'</p> +</div> +<p>He put the letter in an envelope, and, taking it to the large +room, laid it carefully at the end of the table opposite the +chairman's seat. Once more he returned to the coach-house. From the +hanging cupboard he now produced a piece of rope. Standing on the +table he could just reach, by leaning forward, a hook in the +ceiling, that was sometimes used for the slinging of bicycles. With +difficulty he made the rope fast to the hook. Putting a noose on +the other end, he tightened it round his neck. He looked up at the +ceiling and down at the floor in order to judge whether the rope +was short enough.</p> +<p><a name='Page200' id="Page200"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>200</span> 'Good-bye, Susan, and everyone,' he whispered, +and then stepped off the table.</p> +<p>The tense rope swung him by his neck halfway across the +coach-house. He swung twice to and fro, but as he passed under the +hook for the fifth time his toes touched the floor. The rope had +stretched. In another second he was standing firm on the floor, +purple and panting, but ignominiously alive.</p> +<p>'Good-even to you, Mr. Froyle. Be you committing suicide?' The +tones were drawling, uncertain, mildly astonished.</p> +<p>He turned round hastily, his hands busy with the rope, and saw +in the doorway the figure of Daft Jimmy, the Moorthorne idiot.</p> +<p>He hesitated before speaking, but he was not confused. No one +could have been confused before Daft Jimmy. Neither man nor woman +in the village considered his presence more than that of a cat.</p> +<p>'Yes, I am,' he said.</p> +<p>The middle-aged idiot regarded him with a vague, interested +smile, and came into the coach-house.</p> +<p>'You'n gotten the rope too long, Mr. Froyle. Let me help +you.'</p> +<p><a name='Page201' id="Page201"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>201</span> Froyle calmly assented. He stood on the table, +and the two rearranged the noose and made it secure. As they did so +the idiot gossiped:</p> +<p>'I was going to Bursley to-night to buy me a pair o' boots, and +when I was at top o' th' hill I remembered as I'd forgotten the +measure o' my feet. So I ran back again for it. Then I saw the +light in here, and I stepped up to bid ye good-evening.'</p> +<p>Someone had told him the ancient story of the fool and his +boots, and, with the pride of an idiot in his idiocy, he had +determined that it should be related of himself.</p> +<p>Froyle was silent.</p> +<p>The idiot laughed with a dry cackle.</p> +<p>'Now you go,' said Froyle, when the rope was fixed.</p> +<p>'Let me see ye do it,' the idiot pleaded with pathetic eyes.</p> +<p>'No; out you get!'</p> +<p>Protesting, the idiot went forth, and his irregular clumsy +footsteps sounded on the pebble-paved yard. When the noise of them +ceased in the soft roadway, Froyle jumped off the table again. +Gradually his body, like a <a name='Page202' id= +"Page202"></a><span class='pagenum'>202</span> stopping pendulum, +came to rest under the hook, and hung twitching, with strange +disconnected movements. The horse in the stable, hearing +unaccustomed noises, rattled his chain and stamped about in the +straw of his box.</p> +<p>Furtive steps came down the yard again, and Daft Jimmy peeped +into the coach-house.</p> +<p>'He done it! he done it!' the idiot cried gleefully. 'Damned if +he hasna'.' He slapped his leg and almost danced. The body still +twitched occasionally. 'He done it!'</p> +<p>'Done what, Daft Jimmy? You're making a fine noise there! Done +what?'</p> +<p>The idiot ran out of the stable. At the side-entrance to the +hotel stood the barmaid, the outline of her fine figure distinct +against the light from within.</p> +<p>The idiot continued to laugh.</p> +<p>'Done what?' the girl repeated, calling out across the dark yard +in clear, pleasant tones of amused inquiry. 'Done what?'</p> +<p>'What's that to you, Miss Tucker?'</p> +<p>'Now, none of your sauce, Daft Jimmy! Is Willie Froyle in +there?'</p> +<p>The idiot roared with laughter.</p> +<p>'Yes, he is, miss.'</p> +<p><a name='Page203' id="Page203"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>203</span> 'Well, tell him his master wants him. I don't +want to cross this mucky, messy yard.'</p> +<p>'Yes, miss.'</p> +<p>The girl closed the door.</p> +<p>The idiot went into the coach-house, and, slapping William's +body in a friendly way so that it trembled on the rope, he +spluttered out between his laughs:</p> +<p>'Master wants ye, Mr. Froyle.'</p> +<p>Then he walked out into the village street, and stood looking up +the muddy road, still laughing quietly. It was quite dark, but the +moon aloft in the clear sky showed the highway with its shining +ruts leading in a straight line over the hill to Bursley.</p> +<p>'Them shoes!' the idiot ejaculated suddenly. 'Well, I be an +idiot, and that's true! They can take the measure from my feet, and +I never thought on it till this minute!'</p> +<p>Laughing again, he set off at a run up the hill.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page205' id="Page205"></a><span class='pagenum'>205</span></p> +<h2><a name='PART_II' id="PART_II"></a> +PART II<br /> +ABROAD</h2> +</div> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<p> +<a name='Page207' id="Page207"></a><span class='pagenum'>207</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_HUNGARIAN_RHAPSODY' id="THE_HUNGARIAN_RHAPSODY"></a> +THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY</h3> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>After a honeymoon of five weeks in the shining cities of the +Mediterranean and in Paris, they re-entered the British Empire by +the august portals of the Chatham and Dover Railway. They stood +impatiently waiting, part of a well-dressed, querulous crowd, while +a few officials performed their daily task of improvising a +Custom-house for registered luggage on a narrow platform of +Victoria Station. John, Mr. Norris's man, who had met them, +attended behind. Suddenly, with a characteristic movement, the +husband lifted his head, and then looked down at his wife.</p> +<p>'I say, May!'</p> +<p>'Well?'</p> +<p>She knew that he was about to propose some swift alteration of +their plans, but she smiled <a name='Page208' id= +"Page208"></a><span class='pagenum'>208</span> upwards out of her +furs at his grave face, and the tone of her voice granted all +requests in advance.</p> +<p>'I think I'd better go to the office,' he said.</p> +<p>'Now?'</p> +<p>She smiled again, inviting him to do exactly what he chose. She +was already familiar with his restiveness under enforced delays and +inaction, and his unfortunate capacity for being actively bored by +trifles which did not interest him aroused in her a sort of +maternal sympathy.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he answered. 'I can be there and back in an hour or less. +You titivate yourself, and we'll dine at the Savoy, or anywhere you +please. We'll keep the ball rolling to-night. Yes,' he repeated, as +if to convince himself that he was not a deserter, 'I really must +call in at the office. You and John can see to the luggage, can't +you?'</p> +<p>'Of course,' she replied, with calm good-nature, and also with +perfect self-confidence. 'But give me the keys of the trunks, and +don't be late, Ted.'</p> +<p>'Oh, I shan't be late,' he said.</p> +<p>Their fingers touched as she took the keys. <a name='Page209' id="Page209"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>209</span> He went away +enraptured anew by her delightful acquiescences, her unique smile, +her common-sense, her mature charm, and the astonishing elegance of +her person. The honeymoon was over—and with what finished +discretion, combining the innocent girl with the woman of the +world, she had lived through the honeymoon!—another life, +more delicious, was commencing.</p> +<p>'What a wife!' he thought triumphantly. 'She does understand a +man! And fancy leaving any ordinary bride to look after +luggage!'</p> +<p>Nevertheless, once in his offices at Winchester House, he +managed to forget her, and to forget time, for nearly an hour and a +half. When at last he came to himself from the enchantment of +affairs, he jumped into a hansom, and told the driver to drive fast +to Knightsbridge. He was ardent to see her again. In the dark +seclusion of the cab he speculated upon her toilette, the colour of +her shoes. He thought of the last five weeks, of the next five +years. Dwelling on their mutual love and esteem, their health, +their self-knowledge and experience and cheerfulness, her <a name= +'Page210' id="Page210"></a><span class='pagenum'>210</span> sense +and grace, his talent for getting money first and keeping it +afterwards, he foresaw nothing but happiness for them. Children? +H'm! Possibly....</p> +<p>At Piccadilly Circus it began to rain—cold, heavy March +rain.</p> +<p>'Window down, sir?' asked the voice of the cabman.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he ordered sardonically. 'Better be suffocated than +drowned.'</p> +<p>'You're right, sir,' said the voice.</p> +<p>Soon, through the streaming glass, which made every gas-jet into +a shooting pillar of flame, Norris discerned vaguely the vast bulk +of Hyde Park Mansions. 'Good!' he muttered, and at that very moment +he was shot through the window into the thin, light-reflecting mire +of the street. Enormous and strange beasts menaced him with +pitiless hoofs. Millions of people crowded about him. In response +to a question that seemed to float slowly towards him, he tried to +give his address. He realized, by a considerable feat of intellect, +that the horse must have fallen down; and then, with a dim notion +that nothing mattered, he went to sleep.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page211' id="Page211"></a><span class='pagenum'>211</span></p> +<h4> +II</h4> +<p>In the boudoir of the magnificent flat on the first floor, +shielded from the noise and the inclemency of the world by four +silk-hung walls and a double window, and surrounded by all the +multitudinous and costly luxury that a stockbroker with brains and +taste can obtain for the wife of his love, May was leisurely +finishing her toilette. And every detail in the long, elaborate +process was accomplished with a passionate intention to bewitch the +man at Winchester House.</p> +<p>These two had first met seven years before, when May, the +daughter of a successful wholesale draper at Hanbridge, in the Five +Towns district of Staffordshire, was aged twenty-two. Mr. Scarratt +went to Manchester each Tuesday to buy, and about once a month he +took May with him. One day, when they were lunching at the Exchange +Restaurant, a young man came up whom her father introduced as Mr. +Edward Norris, his stockbroker. Mr. Norris, whose years were +thirty, glanced keenly at May, and accepted Mr. Scarratt's +invitation to join them. Ever afterwards May vividly remembered +<a name='Page212' id="Page212"></a><span class='pagenum'>212</span> +the wonderful sensation, joyous yet disconcerting, which she then +experienced—the sensation of having captivated her father's +handsome and correct stockbroker. The three talked horses with a +certain freedom, and since May was accustomed to drive the Scarratt +dogcart, so famous in the Five Towns, she could bring her due share +to the conversation. The meal over, Mr. Norris discussed business +matters with his client, and then sedately departed, but not +without the obviously sincere expression of a desire to meet Miss +Scarratt again. The wholesale draper praised Edward's financial +qualities behind his back, and wondered that a man of such aptitude +should remain in Manchester while London existed. As for May, she +decided that she would have a new frock before she came to +Manchester in the following month.</p> +<p>She had a new frock, but not of the colour intended. By the +following month her father was enclosed in a coffin, and it +happened to his estate, as to the estates of many successful men +who employ stockbrokers, that the liabilities far more than covered +the assets. May and her mother were left without a penny. <a name= +'Page213' id="Page213"></a><span class='pagenum'>213</span> The +mother did the right thing, and died—it was best. May went +direct to Brunt's, the largest draper in the Five Towns, and asked +for a place under 'Madame' in the dress-making department. Brunt's +daughter, who was about to be married, gave her the place +instantly. Three years later, when 'Madame' returned to Paris, May +stepped into the French-woman's shoes.</p> +<p>On Sundays and on Thursday afternoons, and sometimes (but not +too often) at the theatre, May was the finest walking advertisement +that Brunt's ever had. Old Brunt would have proposed to her, it was +rumoured, had he not been scared by her elegance. Sundry sons of +prosperous manufacturers, unabashed by this elegance, did in fact +secretly propose, but with what result was known only to +themselves.</p> +<p>Later, as May waxed in importance at Brunt's, she was sent to +Manchester to buy. She lunched at the Exchange Restaurant. The +world and Manchester are very small. The first man she set eyes on +was Edward Norris. Another week, Norris said to her with a thrill, +and he would have been gone for ever to <a name='Page214' id= +"Page214"></a><span class='pagenum'>214</span> London. Chance is +not to be flouted. The sequel was inevitable. They loved. And all +the select private bars in Hanbridge tinkled to the news that May +Scarratt had been and hooked a stockbroker!</p> +<p>When the toilette was done, and the maid gone, she wound a thin +black scarf round her olive neck and shoulders, and sat down +negligently on a Chippendale settee in the attitude of a portrait +by Boldini; her little feet were tucked up sideways on the settee; +the perforated lace ends of the scarf fell over her low corsage to +the level of the seat. And she waited, still the bride. He was +late, but she knew he would be late. Sure in the conviction that he +was a strong man, a man of imagination and of deeds, she could +easily excuse this failing in him, as she did that other habit of +impulsive action in trifles. Nay, more, she found keen pleasure in +excusing it. 'Dear thing!' she reflected, 'he forgets so.' +Therefore she waited, content in enjoying the image in the glass of +her dark face, her small plump person, and her Paris +gown—that dream! She thought with assuaged grief of her +father's tragedy; she would have liked him to see her <a name= +'Page215' id="Page215"></a><span class='pagenum'>215</span> now, +the jewel in the case—her father and she had understood each +other.</p> +<p>All around, and above and below, she felt, without hearing it, +the activity of the opulent, complex life of the mansions. Her mind +dwelt with satisfaction on long carpeted corridors noiselessly +paraded by flunkeys, mahogany lifts continually ascending and +descending like the angels of the ladder, the great entrance hall +with its fire always burning and its doors always swinging, the +<i>salle à manger</i> sown with rose-shaded candles, and all +the splendid privacies rising stage upon stage to the attics, where +the flunkeys philosophized together. She confessed the beauty and +distinction achieved by this extravagant organization for +gratifying earthly desires. Often, in the pinching days of her +servitude, she had murmured against the injustice of things, and +had called wealth a crime while poverty starved. But now she +perceived that society was what it was inevitably, and could not be +altered. She accepted it in profound peace of mind, gaily fraternal +towards the fortunate, compassionate towards those in +adversity.</p> +<p>In the next flat someone began to play very <a name='Page216' id="Page216"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>216</span> brilliantly a +Hungarian Rhapsody of Liszt's. And even the faint sound of that +riotous torrent of melody, so arrogantly gorgeous, intoxicated her +soul. She shivered under the sudden vision of the splendid joy of +being alive. And how she envied the player! French she had learned +from 'Madame,' but she had no skill on the piano; it was her one +regret.</p> +<p>She touched the bell.</p> +<p>'Has your master come in yet?' she inquired of the maid.</p> +<p>'No, madam, not yet.'</p> +<p>She knew he had not come in, but she could not resist the +impulse to ask.</p> +<p>Ten minutes later, when the piano had ceased, she jumped up, +and, creeping to the front-door of the flat, gazed foolishly across +the corridor at the grille of the lift. She heard the lift in +travail. It appeared and passed out of sight above. No, he had not +come! Glancing aside, she saw the tall slender figure of a girl in +a green tea-gown—a mere girl: it was the player of the +Hungarian Rhapsody. And this girl, too, she thought, was expectant +and disappointed! They shut their doors simultaneously, she and +May, who also had her <a name='Page217' id= +"Page217"></a><span class='pagenum'>217</span> girlish moments. +Then the rhapsody recommenced.</p> +<p>'Oh, madam!' screamed the maid, almost tumbling into the +boudoir.</p> +<p>'What is it?' May demanded with false calm.</p> +<p>The maid lifted the corner of her black apron to her eyes, as +though she had been a stage soubrette in trouble.</p> +<p>'The master, madam! He's fell out of his cab—just in front +of the mansions—and they're bringing him in—such blood +I never did see!'</p> +<p>The maid finished with hysterics.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>'And them just off their honeymoon!'</p> +<p>The inconsolable tones of the lady's-maid came from the kitchen +to the open door of the bedroom, where May was giving instructions +to the elderly cook.</p> +<p>'Send that girl out of the flat this moment!' May said.</p> +<p>'Yes, ma'am.'</p> +<p>'Make the beef-tea in case it's wanted, and <a name='Page218' id="Page218"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>218</span> let me have some +more warm water. There's John and the doctor!'</p> +<p>She started at a knock.</p> +<p>'No, it's only the postman, ma'am.'</p> +<p>Some letters danced on the hall floor and on her nerves.</p> +<p>'Oh dear!' May whispered. 'I thought it was the doctor at +last.'</p> +<p>'John's bound to be back with one in a minute, ma'am. Do bear +up,' urged the cook, hurrying to the kitchen.</p> +<p>She could have destroyed the woman for those last words.</p> +<p>With the proud certainty of being equal to the dreadful crisis, +she turned abruptly into the bedroom, where her husband lay +insensible on one of the new beds. Assisted by the policemen and +the cook, she had done everything that could be done: cut away the +coats and the waistcoat, removed the boots, straightened the limbs, +washed the face and neck—especially the neck—which had +to be sponged continually, and scattered messengers, including +John, over the vicinity in search of medical aid. And now the +policemen had gone, the general emotion on the staircase had +subsided, <a name='Page219' id="Page219"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>219</span> the front-door of the flat was shut. The great +ocean of the life of the mansions had closed smoothly upon her +little episode. She was alone with the shattered organism.</p> +<p>She bent fondly over the bed, and her Paris frock, and the black +scarf which she had not removed, touched its ruinous burden. Her +right hand directed the sponge with ineffable tenderness, and then +the long thin fingers tightened to a frenzied clutch to squeeze it +over the basin. The whole of her being was absorbed in a deep +passion of pity and an intolerable hunger for the doctor.</p> +<p>Through the wall came once more the faint sound of the Hungarian +Rhapsody, astonishingly rapid and brilliant. She set her teeth to +endure its unconscious message of the vast indifference of life to +death.</p> +<p>The organism stirred, and May watched the deathly face for a +sign. The eyes opened and stared at her in agonized bewilderment. +The lips tried to speak, and failed.</p> +<p>'It's all right, darling,' she said softly. 'You're in your own +bed. The doctor will be here directly. Drink this.'</p> +<p>She gave him some brandy-and-water, and <a name='Page220' id= +"Page220"></a><span class='pagenum'>220</span> they looked at each +other. He was no longer Edward Norris, the finely regulated +intelligence, the masterful volition, the conqueror of the world +and of a woman; but merely the embodiment of a frightened, +despairing, flickering, hysterical will-to-live, which glanced in +terror at the corners of the room as though it saw fate there. And +beneath her intense solicitude was the instinctive feeling, which +hurt her, but which she could not dismiss, of her measureless, +dominating superiority. With what glad relief would she have +changed places with him!</p> +<p>'I'm dying, May,' he murmured at length, with a sigh. 'Why +doesn't the doctor come?'</p> +<p>'He is coming,' she replied soothingly. 'You'll be better +soon.'</p> +<p>But his effort in speaking obliged her to use the sponge again, +and he saw it, and drew another sigh, more mortal than the +first.</p> +<p>'Oh! I'm dying,' he repeated.</p> +<p>'Not you, Ted!' And her smile cost her an awful pang.</p> +<p>'I am. I know it.' This time he spoke with sad resignation. 'You +must face it. And—listen.'</p> +<p><a name='Page221' id="Page221"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>221</span> 'What, dear?'</p> +<p>A physical sensation of sickness came over her. She could not +disguise from herself the fact that he was dying. The warped and +pallid face, the panic-struck eyes, the sweat, the wound in the +neck, the damp hands nervously pulling the hem of the +sheet—these indications were not to be gainsaid. The truth +was too horrible to grasp; she wanted to put it away from her. +'This calamity cannot happen to me!' she thought urgently, and all +the while she knew that it was happening to her.</p> +<p>He collected the feeble remnant of his powers by an immense +effort, and began to speak, slowly and fragmentarily, and with such +weakness that she could only catch his words by putting her ear to +his mouth. The restless hands dropped the sheet and took the end of +the black scarf.</p> +<p>'You'll be comfortable—for money,' he said. 'Will made.... +It's not that. It's ... I must tell you. It's——'</p> +<p>'Yes?' she encouraged him. 'Tell me. I can hear.'</p> +<p>'It's about your father. I didn't treat him <a name='Page222' id="Page222"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>222</span> quite right ... +once.... Week after I first met you, May.... No, not quite right. +He was holding Hull and Barnsley shares ... you know, railway ... +great gambling stock, then, Hull and Barn—Barnsley. Holding +them on cover; for the rise.... They dropped too much—dropped +to 23.... He couldn't hold any longer ... wired to me to sell and +cut the loss. Understand?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she said, trembling. 'I quite understand.'</p> +<p>'Well ... I wired back, "Sold at 23." ... But some mistake. +Shares not sold. Clerk's mistake.... Clerk didn't sell.... Next day +rise began.... I didn't wire him shares not sold. Somehow, I +couldn't.... Put it off.... Rise went on.... I took over shares +myself ... you see—myself.... Made nearly five thousand +clear.... I wanted money then.... I think I would have told him, +perhaps, later ... made it right ... but he died ... sudden ... I +wasn't going to let his creditors have that five thou.... No, he'd +meant to sell ... and, look here, May, if those shares had dropped +lower ... 'stead of rising ... I should have had <a name='Page223' id="Page223"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>223</span> to stand the +racket ... with your father, for my clerk's mistake.... See?... +He'd meant to sell.... Hard lines on him, but he'd meant to +sell.... He'd meant——'</p> +<p>'Don't say any more, dear.'</p> +<p>'Must explain this, May. Why didn't I give the money to you ... +when he was dead?... Because I knew you'd only ... give it ... to +creditors.... I knew you.... That's straight.... I've told you +now.'</p> +<p>He lost consciousness again, but for an instant May did not +notice it. She was crying, and her tears fell on his face.</p> +<p>Then came a doctor, a little dark man, who explained with calm +politeness that he had been out when the messenger first arrived. +He took off his coat, hung it up, opened his bag, and proceeded to +a minute examination of the patient. His movements were so +methodical, and he gave orders to May in a tone so quiet, casual, +and ordinary, that she almost lost her sense of the reality of the +scene.</p> +<p>'Yes, yes,' he said, from time to time, as if to himself; +nothing else; not a single enlightening word to May.</p> +<p><a name='Page224' id="Page224"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>224</span> 'I'm dying,' moaned Edward, opening his +eyes.</p> +<p>The doctor glanced round at May and winked. That wink, +deliberate and humorous, was like an electric shock to her. She +could actually feel her heart leap in her breast. If she had not +been afraid of the doctor, she would have fainted.</p> +<p>'You all think you're dying,' the doctor remarked in a low, +amused tone to the ceiling, as he wiped a pair of scissors, 'when +you've been knocked silly, especially if there's a lot of blood +about.'</p> +<p>The door opened.</p> +<p>'Here's John, ma'am,' said the cook, 'with two more doctors. +What am I to do?'</p> +<p>May involuntarily turned towards the door.</p> +<p>'Don't you go, Mrs. Norris,' the little dark man commanded. 'I +want you.' Then he carelessly scrutinized the elderly servant. +'Tell 'em they're too late,' he said. 'It's generally like that +when there's an accident,' he continued after the housekeeper had +gone. 'First you can't get a doctor anywhere, and then in half an +hour or so we come in crowds. I've known seven doctors turn up one +after another. <a name='Page225' id="Page225"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>225</span> But in that affair the man happened to have +been killed outright.'</p> +<p>He smiled grimly. In a little while he was snapping his bag.</p> +<p>'I'll come in the morning, of course,' he said, as he wrote on a +piece of paper. 'Have this made up, and give it him in the night if +he is wakeful. Keep him warm. You might put a couple of hot-water +bags, one on either side of him. You've got beef-tea made, you say? +That's right. Let him have as much as he wants. Mr. Norris, you'll +sleep like a top.'</p> +<p>'But, doctor,' May inquired the next morning in the hall, after +Edward had smiled at a joke, and been informed that he must run +down to Bournemouth in a week, 'have we nothing to fear?'</p> +<p>'I think not,' was the measured answer. 'These affairs nearly +always seem much worse than they are. Of course, the immediate +upset is tremendous—the disorganization, and all that sort of +thing. But Nature's pretty wonderful. You'll find your husband will +soon get over it. I should say he had a good constitution.'</p> +<p>'And there will be no permanent effects?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' said the doctor, with genial cynicism. <a name='Page226' id="Page226"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>226</span> 'There'll be one +permanent effect. Nobody will ever persuade him to ride in a hansom +again. If he can't find a four-wheeler, he'll walk in future.'</p> +<p>She returned to the bedroom. The man on the bed was Edward +Norris once more, in control of himself, risen out of his +humiliation. A feeling of thankfulness overwhelmed her for a +moment, and she sat down.</p> +<p>'Well, May?' he murmured.</p> +<p>'Well, dear.'</p> +<p>They both realized that what they had been through was a common, +daily street accident. The smile of each was self-conscious, +apprehensive, insincere.</p> +<p>'Quite a concert going on next door,' he said with an +affectation of lightness.</p> +<p>It was the Hungarian Rhapsody, impetuous and brilliant as ever. +How she hated it now—this symbol of the hurried, unheeding, +relentless, hollow gaiety of the world! Yet she longed for the +magic fingers of the player, that she, too, might smother grief in +such glittering veils!</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page227' id="Page227"></a><span class='pagenum'>227</span></p> +<h4> +IV</h4> +<p>The marriage which had begun so dramatically fell into placid +routine. Edward fulfilled the prophecy of the doctor. In a week +they were able to go to Bournemouth for a few days, and in less +than a fortnight he was at the office—the strong man again, +confident and ambitious.</p> +<p>After days devoted to finance, he came home in the evenings +high-spirited and determined to enjoy himself. His voice was firm +and his eye steady when he spoke to his wife; there was no trace of +self-consciousness in his demeanour. She admired the masculinity of +the brain that could forget by an effort of will. She felt that he +trusted her to forget also; that he relied on her common-sense, her +characteristic sagacity, to extinguish for ever the memory of an +awkward incident. He loved her. He was intensely proud of her. He +treated her with every sort of generosity. And in return he +expected her to behave like a man.</p> +<p>She loved him. She esteemed him as a wife should. She made a +profession of wifehood. <a name='Page228' id= +"Page228"></a><span class='pagenum'>228</span> He gave his days to +finance and his nights to diversion; but her vocation was always +with her—she was never off duty. She aimed to please him to +the uttermost in everything, to be in all respects the ideal +helpmate of a husband who was at once strenuous, fastidious, and +wealthy. Elegance and suavity were a religion with her. She was the +delight of the eye and of the ear, the soother of groans, the +refuge of distress, the uplifter of the heart.</p> +<p>She made new acquaintances for him, and cemented old +friendships. Her manner towards his old friends enchanted him; but +when they were gone she had a way of making him feel that she was +only his. She thought that she was succeeding in her aim. She +thought that all these sweet, endless labours—of traffic with +dressmakers, milliners, coiffeurs, maids, cooks, and furnishers; of +paying and receiving calls; of delicious surprise journeys to the +City to bring home the breadwinner; of giving and accepting +dinners; of sitting alert and appreciative in theatres and +music-halls; of supping in golden restaurants; of being serious, +cautionary, submissive, and seductive; of smiles, laughter, +<a name='Page229' id="Page229"></a><span class='pagenum'>229</span> +and kisses; and of continuous sympathetic responsiveness—she +thought that all these labours had attained their object: Edward's +complete serenity and satisfaction. She imagined that love and duty +had combined successfully to deceive him on one solitary point. She +was sure that he was deceived. But she was wrong.</p> +<p>One evening they were at the theatre alone together. It was a +musical comedy, and they had a large stage-box. May sat a little +behind. After having been darkened for a scenic conjuring trick, +the stage was very suddenly thrown into brilliant light. Edward +turned with equal suddenness to share his appreciation of the +effect with his wife, and the light and his eye caught her +unawares. She smiled instantly, but too late; he had seen the +expression of her features. For a second she felt as if the whole +fabric which she had been building for the last six months had +crumbled; but this disturbing idea passed as she recovered +herself.</p> +<p>'Let's go home, eh?' he said, at the end of the first act.</p> +<p>'Yes,' she agreed. 'It would be nice to be in early, wouldn't +it?'</p> +<p><a name='Page230' id="Page230"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>230</span> In the brougham they exchanged the amiable +banalities of people who are thoroughly intimate. When they reached +the flat, she poured out his whisky-and-potass, and sat on the arm +of his particular arm-chair while he sipped it; then she whispered +that she was going to bed.</p> +<p>'Wait a bit,' he said; 'I want to talk to you seriously.'</p> +<p>'Dear thing!' she murmured, stroking his coat.</p> +<p>She had not the slightest notion of his purpose.</p> +<p>'You've tried your best, May,' he said bluntly, 'but you've +failed. I've suspected it for a long time.'</p> +<p>She flushed, and retired to a sofa, away from the orange +electric lamp.</p> +<p>'What do you mean, Edward?' she asked.</p> +<p>'You know very well what I mean, my dear,' he replied. 'What I +told you—that night! You've tried to forget it. You've tried +to look at me as though you had forgotten it. But you can't do it. +It's on your mind. I've noticed it again and again. I noticed it at +the theatre to-night. So I said <a name='Page231' id= +"Page231"></a><span class='pagenum'>231</span> to myself, "I'll +have it out with her." And I'm having it out.'</p> +<p>'My dear Ted, I assure you——'</p> +<p>'No, you don't,' he stopped her. 'I wish you did. Now you must +just listen. I know exactly what sort of an idiot I was that night +as well as you do. But I couldn't help it. I was a fool to tell +you. Still, I thought I was dying. I simply had a babbling fit. +People are like that. You thought I was dying, too, didn't +you?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' she said quietly, 'for a minute or two.'</p> +<p>'Ah! It was that minute or two that did it. Well, I let it out, +the rotten little secret. I admit it wasn't on the square, that bit +of business. But, on the other hand, it wasn't anything really +bad—like cruelty to animals or ruining a girl. Of course, the +chap was your father, but, but——. Look here, May, you +ought to be able to see that I was exactly the same man after I +told you as I was before. You ought to be able to see that. My +character wasn't wrecked because I happened to split on myself, +like an ass, about that affair. Mind you, I don't blame you. You +can't help your feelings. But do you suppose there's a single +<a name='Page232' id="Page232"></a><span class='pagenum'>232</span> +man on this blessed earth without a secret? I'm not going to grovel +before gods or men. I'm not going to pretend I'm so frightfully +sorry. I'm sorry in a way. But can't you see——'</p> +<p>'Don't say any more, Ted,' she begged him, fingering her sash. +'I know all that. I know it all, and everything else you can say. +Oh, my darling boy! do you think I would look down on you ever so +little because of—what you told me? Who am I? I wouldn't care +twopence even if——'</p> +<p>'But it's between us all the same,' he broke in. 'You can't get +over it.'</p> +<p>'Get over it!' she repeated lamely.</p> +<p>'Can you? Have you?' He pinned her to a direct answer.</p> +<p>She did not flinch.</p> +<p>'No,' she said.</p> +<p>'I thought you would have done,' he remarked, half to himself. +'I thought you would. I thought you were enough a woman of the +world for that, May. It isn't as if the confounded thing had made +any real difference to your father. The old man died, +and——'</p> +<p><a name='Page233' id="Page233"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>233</span> 'Ted!' she exclaimed, 'I shall have to tell +you, after all. It killed him.'</p> +<p>'What killed him? He died of gastritis.'</p> +<p>'He was ill with gastritis, but he died of suicide. It's easy +for a gastritis patient to commit suicide. And father did.'</p> +<p>'Why?'</p> +<p>'Oh, ruin, despair! He'd been in difficulties for a long time. +He said that selling those shares just one day too soon was the end +of it. When he saw them going up day after day, it got on his mind. +He said he knew he would never, never have any luck. And then +...'</p> +<p>'You kept it quiet.' He was walking about the room.</p> +<p>'Yes, that was pretty easy.'</p> +<p>'And did your mother know?'</p> +<p>He turned and looked at her.</p> +<p>'Yes, mother knew. It finished her. Oh, Ted!' she burst out, 'if +you'd only telegraphed to him the next morning that the shares +weren't sold, things might have been quite different.'</p> +<p>'You mean I killed your father—and your mother.'</p> +<p><a name='Page234' id="Page234"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>234</span> 'No, I don't,' she cried passionately. 'I tell +you I don't. You didn't know. But I think of it all, sometimes. And +that's why—that's why——'</p> +<p>She sat down again.</p> +<p>'By God, May,' he swore, 'I'm frightfully sorry!'</p> +<p>'I never meant to tell you,' she said, composing herself. 'But, +there! things slip out. Good-night.'</p> +<p>She was gone, but in passing him she had timidly caressed his +shoulder.</p> +<p>'It's all up,' he said to himself. 'This will always be between +us. No one could expect her to forget it.'</p> +<h4>V</h4> +<p>Gradually her characteristic habits deserted her; she seemed to +lose energy and a part of her interest in those things which had +occupied her most. She changed her dress less frequently, ignoring +dressmakers, and she showed no longer the ravishing elegance of the +bride. She often lay in bed till noon, she who had always entered +the dining-room at <a name='Page235' id="Page235"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>235</span> nine o'clock precisely to dispense his coffee +and listen to his remarks on the contents of the newspaper. She +said 'As you please' to the cook, and the meals began to lose their +piquancy. She paid no calls, but some of her women friends +continued, nevertheless, to visit her. Lastly, she took to sewing. +The little dark doctor, who had become an acquaintance, smiled at +her and told her to do no more than she felt disposed to do. She +reclined on sofas in shaded rooms, and appeared to meditate. She +was not depressed, but thoughtful. It was as though she had much to +settle in her own mind. At intervals the faint sound of the +Hungarian Rhapsody mingled with her reveries.</p> +<p>As for Edward, his behaviour was immaculate. During the day he +made money furiously. In the evening he sat with his wife. They did +not talk much, and he never questioned her. She developed a certain +curious whimsicality now and then; but for him she could do no +wrong.</p> +<p>The past was not mentioned. They both looked apprehensively +towards the future, towards a crisis which they knew was inexorably +<a name='Page236' id="Page236"></a><span class='pagenum'>236</span> +approaching. They were afraid, while pretending to have no +fear.</p> +<p>And one afternoon, precipitately, surprisingly, the crisis +came.</p> +<p>'You are the father of a son—a very noisy son,' said the +doctor, coming into the drawing-room where Edward had sat in +torture for three hours.</p> +<p>'And May?'</p> +<p>'Oh, never fear: she's doing excellently.'</p> +<p>'Can I go and see her?' he asked, like a humble petitioner.</p> +<p>'Well—yes,' said the doctor, 'for one minute; not +more.'</p> +<p>So he went into the bedroom as into a church, feeling a fool. +The nurse, miraculously white and starched, stood like a sentinel +at the foot of the bed of mystery.</p> +<p>'All serene, May?' he questioned. If he had attempted to say +another word he would have cried.</p> +<p>The pale mother nodded with a fatigued smile, and by a scarcely +perceptible gesture drew his attention to a bundle. From the next +flat came a faint, familiar sound, insolently joyous.</p> +<p><a name='Page237' id="Page237"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>237</span> 'Yes,' he thought, 'but if they had both been +lying dead here that tune would have been the same.'</p> +<p>Two months later he left the office early, telling his secretary +that he had a headache. It was a mere fibbing excuse. He suffered +from sudden fits of anxiety about his wife and child. When he +reached the flat, he found no one at home but the cook.</p> +<p>'Where's your mistress?' he demanded.</p> +<p>'She's out in the park with baby and nurse, sir.'</p> +<p>'But it's going to rain,' he cried angrily. 'It is raining. +They'll get wet through.'</p> +<p>He rushed into the corridor, and met the procession—May, +the perambulator, and the nursemaid.</p> +<p>'Only fancy, Ted!' May exclaimed, 'the perambulator will go into +the lift, after all. Aren't you glad?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' he said. 'But you're wet, surely?'</p> +<p>'Not a drop. We just got in in time.'</p> +<p>'Sure?'</p> +<p>'Quite.'</p> +<p>The tableau of May, elegant as ever, but her eyes brighter and +her body more leniently <a name='Page238' id= +"Page238"></a><span class='pagenum'>238</span> curved, of the +hooded perambulator, and of the fluffy-white nursemaid +behind—it was too much for him. Touching clumsily the apron +of the perambulator, the stockbroker turned into his doorway. Just +then the girl from the next flat came out into the corridor, +dressed for social rites of the afternoon. The perambulator was her +excuse for stopping.</p> +<p>'What a pretty boy!' she exclaimed in ecstasy, trying to squeeze +her picture hat under the hood of the perambulator.</p> +<p>'Do you really think so?' said the mother, enchanted.</p> +<p>'Of course! The darling! How I envy you!'</p> +<p>May wanted to reciprocate this politeness.</p> +<p>'I can't tell you,' she said, 'how I envy you your +piano-playing. There's one piece——'</p> +<p>'Envy me! Why! It's only a pianola we've got!'</p> +<p>'Isn't he the picture of his granddad?' said May to Edward when +they bent over the cot that night before retiring.</p> +<p>And as she said it there was such candour in her voice, such +content in her smiling and <a name='Page239' id= +"Page239"></a><span class='pagenum'>239</span> courageous eyes, +that Edward could not fail to comprehend her message to him. Down +in some very secret part of his soul he felt for the first time the +real force of the great explanatory truth that one generation +succeeds another.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page243' id="Page243"></a><span class='pagenum'>243</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='THE_SISTERS_QITA' id="THE_SISTERS_QITA"></a> +THE SISTERS QITA</h3> +</div> +<p>The manuscript ran thus:</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>When I had finished my daily personal examination of the ropes +and trapezes, I hesitated a moment, and then climbed up again, to +the roof, where the red and the blue long ropes were fastened. I +took my sharp scissors from my chatelaine, and gently fretted the +blue rope with one blade of the scissors until only a single strand +was left intact. I gazed down at the vast floor a hundred feet +below. The afternoon varieties were over, and a phrenologist was +talking to a small crowd of gapers in a corner. The rest of the +floor was pretty empty save for the chairs and the fancy stalls, +and the fatigued stall-girls in their black dresses. I too, had +once almost been a stall-girl at the Aquarium! I descended. Few +observed me <a name='Page244' id="Page244"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>244</span> in my severe street dress. Our secretary, +Charles, attended me on the stage.</p> +<p>'Everything right, Miss Paquita?' he said, handing me my hat and +gloves, which I had given him, to hold.</p> +<p>I nodded. I could see that he thought I was in one of my stern, +far-away moods.</p> +<p>'Miss Mariquita is waiting for you in the carriage,' he +said.</p> +<p>We drove away in silence—I with my inborn melancholy too +sad, Sally (Mariquita) too happy to speak. This daily afternoon +drive was really part of our 'turn'! A team of four mules driven by +a negro will make a sensation even in Regent Street. All London +looked at us, and contrasted our impassive beauty—mine mature +(too mature!) and dark, Sally's so blonde and youthful, our simple +costumes, and the fact that we stayed at an exclusive Mayfair +hotel, with the stupendous flourish of our turnout. The renowned +Sisters Qita—Paquita and Mariquita Qita—and the +renowned mules of the Sisters Qita! Two hundred pounds a week at +the Aquarium! Twenty-five thousand francs for one month at the +Casino de Paris! Twelve thousand five hundred dollars for a tour of +fifty <a name='Page245' id="Page245"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>245</span> performances in the States! Fifteen hundred +pesos a night and a special train <i>de luxe</i> in Argentina and +Brazil! I could see the loungers and the drivers talking and +pointing as usual. The gilded loungers in Verrey's café got +up and watched us through the windows as we passed. This was fame. +For nearly twenty years I had been intimate with fame, and with the +envy of women and the foolish homage of men.</p> +<p>We saw dozens of omnibuses bearing the legend 'Qita.' Then we +met one which said: 'Empire Theatre. Valdès, the matchless +juggler,' and Sally smiled with pleasure.</p> +<p>'He's coming to see our turn to-night, after his,' she remarked, +blushing.</p> +<p>'Valdès? Why?' I asked, without turning my head.</p> +<p>'He wants us to sup with him, to celebrate our engagement.'</p> +<p>'When do you mean to get married?' I asked her shortly. I felt +quite calm.</p> +<p>'I guess you're a Tartar to-day,' said the pretty thing, with a +touch of her American sauciness. 'We haven't studied it out yet. It +was only yesterday afternoon he kissed me for the first time.' Then +she bent towards me <a name='Page246' id="Page246"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>246</span> with her characteristic plaintive, wistful +appeal. 'Say! You aren't vexed, Selina, are you, because of this? +Of course, he wants me to tour with him after we're married, and do +a double act. He's got lots of dandy ideas for a double act. But I +won't, I won't, Selina, unless you say the word. Now, don't you go +and be cross, Selina.'</p> +<p>I let myself expand generously.</p> +<p>'My darling girl!' I said, glancing at her kindly. 'You ought to +know me better. Of course I'm not cross. And of course you must +tour with Valdès. I shall be all right. How do you suppose I +managed before I invented you?' I smiled like an indulgent +mother.</p> +<p>'Oh! I didn't mean that,' she said. 'I know you're frightfully +clever. I'm nothing——'</p> +<p>'I hope you'll be awfully happy,' I whispered, squeezing her +hand. 'And don't forget that I introduced him to you—I knew +him years before you did. I'm the cause of this +bliss——Do you remember that cold morning in +Berlin?'</p> +<p>'Oh! well, I should say!' she exclaimed in ecstasy.</p> +<p>When we reached our rooms in the hotel I <a name='Page247' id= +"Page247"></a><span class='pagenum'>247</span> kissed her warmly. +Women do that sort of thing.</p> +<p>Then a card was brought to me. 'George Capey,' it said; and in +pencil, 'Of the Five Towns.'</p> +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. Sally had gone to scribble a note to +her Valdès. 'Show Mr. Capey in,' I said, and a natty young +man entered, half nervousness, half audacity.</p> +<p>'How did you know I come from the Five Towns?' I questioned +him.</p> +<p>'I am on the <i>Evening Mail</i>,' he said, 'where they know +everything, madam.'</p> +<p>I was annoyed. 'Then they know, on the <i>Evening Mail</i> that +Paquita Qita has never been interviewed, and never will be,' I +said.</p> +<p>'Besides,' he went on, 'I come from the Five Towns myself.'</p> +<p>'Bursley?' I asked mechanically.</p> +<p>'Bursley,' he ejaculated; then added, 'you haven't been near old +Bosley since——'</p> +<p>It was true.</p> +<p>'No,' I said hastily. 'It is many years since I have been in +England, even. Do they know down there who Qita is?'</p> +<p>'Not they!' he replied.</p> +<p><a name='Page248' id="Page248"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>248</span> I grew reflective. Stars such as I have no +place of origin. We shoot up out of a void, and sink back into a +void. I had forgotten Bursley and Bursley folk. Recollections +rushed in upon me.... I felt beautifully sad. I drew off my gloves, +and flung my hat on a chair with a movement that would have +bewitched a man of the world, but Mr. George Capey was unimpressed. +I laughed.</p> +<p>'What's the joke?' he inquired. I adored him for his +Bursliness.</p> +<p>'I was just thinking, of fat Mrs. Cartledge, who used to keep +that fishmonger's shop in Oldcastle Street, opposite Bates's. I +wonder if she's still there?'</p> +<p>'She is,' he said. 'And fatter than ever! She's getting on in +years now.'</p> +<p>I broke the rule of a lifetime, and let him interview me.</p> +<p>'Tell them I'm thirty-seven,' I said. 'Yes, I mean it. Tell +them.'</p> +<p>And then for another tit-bit I explained to him how I had +discovered Sally at Koster and Bial's, in New York, five years ago, +and made her my sister for stage purposes because I was lonely, and +liked her American simplicity and <a name='Page249' id= +"Page249"></a><span class='pagenum'>249</span> twang. He departed +full of tea and satisfaction.</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>It was our last night at the Aquarium. The place was crammed. +The houses where I performed were always crammed. Our turn was in +three parts, and lasted half an hour. The first part was a skirt +dance in full afternoon dress (<i>danse de modernité</i>, I +called it); the second was a double horizontal bar act; the third +was the famous act of the red and the blue ropes, in full evening +dress. It was 10.45 when we climbed the silk ladders for the third +part. High up in the roof, separated from each other by nearly the +length of the great hall, Sally and I stood on two little +platforms. I held the ends of the red and the blue ropes. I had to +let the blue rope swing across the hall to her. She would seize it, +and, clutching it, swoop like the ball of an enormous pendulum from +her platform to mine. (But would she?) I should then swing on the +red rope to the platform she had left.</p> +<p>Then the band would stop for the thrilling moment, and the +lights would be lowered. Each lighting and holding a powerful +electric <a name='Page250' id="Page250"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>250</span> hand-light—one red, one blue—we +should signal the drummer and plunge simultaneously into space, +flash past each other in mid-flight, exchanging lights as we passed +(this was the trick), and soar to opposite platforms again, amid +frenzied applause. There were no nets.</p> +<p>That was what ought to occur.</p> +<p>I stood bowing to the floor of tiny upturned heads, and jerking +the ropes a little. Then I let Sally's rope go with a push, and it +dropped away from me, and in a few seconds she had it safe in her +strong hand. She was taller than me, with a fuller figure, yet she +looked quite small on her distant platform. All the evening I had +been thinking of fat old Mrs. Cartledge messing and slopping among +cod and halibut on white tiles. I could not get Bursley and my +silly infancy out of my head. I followed my feverish career from +the age of fifteen, when that strange Something in me, which makes +an artist, had first driven me forth to conquer two continents. I +thought of all the golden loves I had scorned, and my own love, +which had been ignored, unnoticed, but which still obstinately +burned. I glanced downwards and descried Valdès precisely +where Sally had <a name='Page251' id="Page251"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>251</span> said he would be. Valdès, what a fool +you were! And I hated a fool. I am one of those who can love and +hate, who can love and despise, who can love and loathe the same +object in the same moment. Then I signalled to Sally to plunge, and +my eyes filled with tears. For, you see, somehow, in some senseless +sentimental way, the thought of fat Mrs. Cartledge and my silly +infancy had forced me to send Sally the red rope, not the blue one. +We exchanged ropes on alternate nights, but this was her night for +the blue one.</p> +<p>She swung over, alighting accurately at my side with that +exquisite outward curve of the spine which had originally attracted +me to her.</p> +<p>'You sent me the red one,' she said to me, after she had +acknowledged the applause.</p> +<p>'Yes,' I said. 'Never mind; stick to it now you've got it. +Here's the red light. Have you seen Valdès?'</p> +<p>She nodded.</p> +<p>I took the blue light and clutched the blue rope. Instead of +murder—suicide, since it must be one or the other. And why +not? Indeed, I censured myself in that second for having <a name= +'Page252' id="Page252"></a><span class='pagenum'>252</span> meant +to kill Sally. Not because I was ashamed of the sin, but because +the revenge would have been so pitiful and weak. If Valdès +the matchless was capable of passing me over and kneeling to the +pretty thing——</p> +<p>I stood ready. The world was to lose that fineness, that +distinction, that originality, that disturbing subtlety, which +constituted Paquita Qita. I plunged.</p> +<p>... I was on the other platform. The rope had held, then: I +remembered nothing of the flight except that I had passed near the +upturned, pleasant face of Valdès.</p> +<p>The band stopped. The lights of the hall were lowered. All was +dark. I switched on my dazzling blue light; Sally switched on her +red one. I stood ready. The rope could not possibly endure a second +strain. I waved to Sally and signalled to the conductor. The world +was to lose Paquita. The drum began its formidable roll. Whirrr! I +plunged, and saw the red star rushing towards me. I snatched it and +soared upwards. The blue rope seemed to tremble. As I came near the +platform at decreasing speed, it seemed to stretch like elastic. It +broke! The platform <a name='Page253' id="Page253"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>253</span> jumped up suddenly over my head, but I caught +at the silk ladder. I was saved! There was a fearful silence, and +then the appalling shock of hysterical applause from seven thousand +throats. I slid down the ladder, ran across the stage into my +dressing-room for a cloak, out again into the street. In two days I +was in Buda-Pesth.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page257' id="Page257"></a><span class='pagenum'>257</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='NOCTURNE_AT_THE_MAJESTIC' id= +"NOCTURNE_AT_THE_MAJESTIC"></a> +NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC</h3> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>In the daily strenuous life of a great hotel there are periods +during which its bewildering activities slacken, and the vast +organism seems to be under the influence of an opiate. Such a +period recurs after dinner when the guests are preoccupied by the +mysterious processes of digestion in the drawing-rooms or +smoking-rooms or in the stalls of a theatre. On the evening of this +nocturne the well-known circular entrance-hall of the Majestic, +with its tessellated pavement, its malachite pillars, its Persian +rugs, its lounges, and its renowned stuffed bears at the foot of +the grand stairway, was for the moment deserted, save by the head +hall-porter and the head night-porter and the girl in the bureau. +It was a quarter to nine, and the head hall-porter was abdicating +his <a name='Page258' id="Page258"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>258</span> pagoda to the head night-porter, and telling +him the necessary secrets of the day. These two lords, before whom +the motley panorama of human existence was continually being +enrolled, held a portentous confabulation night and morning. They +had no illusions; they knew life. Shakespeare himself might have +listened to them with advantage.</p> +<p>The girl in the bureau, like a beautiful and languishing animal +in its cage, leaned against her window, and looked between two +pillars at the magnificent lords. She was too far off to catch +their talk, and, indeed, she watched them absently in a reverie +induced by the sweet melancholy of the summer twilight, by the +torpidity of the hour, and by the prospect of the next day, which +was her day off. The liveried functionaries ignored her, probably +scorned her as a mere pretty little morsel. Nevertheless, she was +the centre of energy, not they. If money were payable, she was the +person to receive it; if a customer wanted a room, she would choose +it; and the lords had to call her 'miss.' The immense and splendid +hotel pulsed round this simple heart hidden under a white blouse. +Especially in summer, <a name='Page259' id= +"Page259"></a><span class='pagenum'>259</span> her presence and the +presence of her companions in the bureau (but to-night she was +alone) ministered to the satisfaction of male guests, whose cruel +but profoundly human instincts found pleasure in the fact that, no +matter when they came in from their wanderings, the pretty captives +were always there in the bureau, smiling welcome, puzzling stupid +little brains and puckering pale brows over enormous ledgers, +twittering borrowed facetiousness from rosy mouths, and smoothing +out seductive toilettes with long thin hands that were made for +ring and bracelet and rudder-lines, and not a bit for the pen and +the ruler.</p> +<p>The pretty little thing despised of the functionaries +corresponded almost exactly in appearance to the typical bureau +girl. She was moderately tall; she had a good slim figure, all +pleasant curves, flaxen hair and plenty of it, and a dainty, rather +expressionless face; the ears and mouth were very small, the eyes +large and blue, the nose so-so, the cheeks and forehead of an equal +ivory pallor, the chin trifling, with a crease under the lower lip +and a rich convexity springing out from below the crease. The +extremities of the full lips were <a name='Page260' id= +"Page260"></a><span class='pagenum'>260</span> nearly always drawn +up in a smile, mechanical, but infallibly attractive. The hair was +of an orthodox frizziness. You would have said she was a nice, +kind, good-natured girl, flirtatious but correct, well adapted to +adorn a dogcart on Sundays.</p> +<p>This was Nina, foolish Nina, aged twenty-one. In her reverie the +entire Hôtel Majestic weighed on her; she had a more than +adequate sense of her own solitary importance in the bureau, and +stirring obscurely beneath that consciousness were the deep +ineradicable longings of a poor pretty girl for heaps of money, +endless luxury of finery and chocolates, and sentimental silken +dalliance.</p> +<p>Suddenly a stranger entered the hall. His advent seemed to wake +the place out of the trance into which it had fallen. The nocturne +had begun. Nina straightened herself and intensified her eternal +smile. The two porters became military, and smiled with a special +and peculiar urbanity. Several lesser but still lordly +functionaries appeared among the pillars; a page-boy emerged by +magic from the region of the chimney-piece like Mephistopheles in +Faust's study; and some guests of both sexes <a name='Page261' id= +"Page261"></a><span class='pagenum'>261</span> strolled chattering +across the tessellated pavement as they passed from one wing of the +hotel to the other.</p> +<p>'How do, Tom?' said the stranger, grasping the hand of the head +hall-porter, and nodding to the head night-porter.</p> +<p>His voice showed that he was an American, and his demeanour that +he was one of those experienced, wealthy, and kindly travellers who +know the Christian names of all the hall-porters in the world, and +have the trick of securing their intimacy and fealty. He wore a +blue suit and a light gray wideawake, and his fine moustache was +grizzled. In his left hand he carried a brown bag.</p> +<p>'Nicely, thank you, sir,' Tom replied. 'How are you, sir?'</p> +<p>'Oh, about six and six.'</p> +<p>Whereupon both porters laughed heartily.</p> +<p>Tom escorted him to the bureau, and tried to relieve him of his +bag. Inferior lords escorted Tom.</p> +<p>'I guess I'll keep the grip,' said the stranger. 'Mr. Pank will +be around with some more baggage pretty soon. We've expressed the +rest on to the steamer. Well, my dear,' he went <a name='Page262' id="Page262"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>262</span> on, turning to +Nina, 'you're a fresh face here.'</p> +<p>He looked her steadily in the eyes.</p> +<p>'Yes, I am,' she said, conquered instantly.</p> +<p>Radiant and triumphant, the man brought good-humour into every +face, like some wonderful combination of the sun and the +sea-breeze.</p> +<p>'Give me two bedrooms and a parlour, please,' he commanded.</p> +<p>'First floor?' asked Nina prettily.</p> +<p>'First floor! Well—I should say! <i>And</i> on the Strand, +my dear.'</p> +<p>She bent over her ledgers, blushing.</p> +<p>'Send someone to the 'phone, Tom, and let 'em put me on to the +Regency, will you?' said the stranger.</p> +<p>'Yes, sir. Samuels, go and ring up the Regency +Theatre—quick!'</p> +<p>Swift departure of a lord.</p> +<p>'And ask Alphonse to come up to my bedroom in ten minutes from +now,' the stranger proceeded to Tom. 'I shall want a dandy supper +for fourteen at a quarter after eleven.'</p> +<p>'Yes, sir. No dinner, sir?'</p> +<p><a name='Page263' id="Page263"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>263</span> 'No; we dined on the Pullman. Well, my dear, +figured it out yet?'</p> +<p>'Numbers 102, 120, and 107,' said Nina.</p> +<p>'Keys 102, 120, and 107,' said Tom.</p> +<p>Swift departure of another lord to the pagoda.</p> +<p>'How much?' demanded the stranger.</p> +<p>'The bedrooms are twenty-five shillings, and the sitting-room +two guineas.'</p> +<p>'I guess Mr. Pank won't mind that. Hullo, Pank, you're here! I'm +through. Your number's 102 or 120, which you fancy. Just going to +the 'phone a minute, and then I'll join you upstairs.'</p> +<p>Mr. Pank was a younger man, possessing a thin, astute, +intellectual face. He walked into the hall with noticeable +deliberation. His travelling costume was faultless, but from +beneath his straw hat his black hair sprouted in a somewhat +peculiar fashion over his broad forehead. He smiled lazily and +shrewdly, and without a word disappeared into a lift. Two large +portmanteaus accompanied him.</p> +<p>Presently the elder stranger could be heard battling with the +obstinate idiosyncrasies of a London telephone.</p> +<p><a name='Page264' id="Page264"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>264</span> 'You haven't registered,' Nina called to him +in her tremulous, delicate, captivating voice, as he came out of +the telephone-box.</p> +<p>He advanced to sign, and, taking a pen and leaning on the front +of the bureau, wrote in the visitor's book, in a careful, legible +hand: 'Lionel Belmont, New York.' Having thus written, and still +resting on the right elbow, he raised his right hand a little and +waved the pen like a delicious menace at Nina.</p> +<p>'Mr. Pank hasn't registered, either,' he said slowly, with a +charming affectation of solemnity, as though accusing Mr. Pank of +some appalling crime.</p> +<p>Nina laughed timidly as she pushed his room-ticket across the +page of the big book. She thought that Mr. Lionel Belmont was +perfectly delightful.</p> +<p>'No,' he hasn't,' she said, trying also to be arch; 'but he +must.'</p> +<p>At that moment she happened to glance at the right hand of Mr. +Belmont. In the brilliance of the electric light she could see the +fair skin of the wrist and forearm within the whiteness of his +shirt-sleeve. She stared at what she saw, every muscle tense.</p> +<p><a name='Page265' id="Page265"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>265</span> 'I guess you can round up Mr. Pank yourself, +my dear, later on,' said Lionel Belmont, and turned quickly away, +intent on the next thing.</p> +<p>He did not notice that her large eyes had grown larger and her +pale face paler. In another moment the hall was deserted again. Mr. +Belmont had ascended in the lift, Tom had gone to his rest, and the +head night-porter was concealed in the pagoda. Nina sank down +limply on her stool, her nostrils twitching; she feared she was +about to faint, but this final calamity did not occur. She had, +nevertheless, experienced the greatest shock of her brief life, and +the way of it was thus.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>Nina Malpas was born amid the embers of one of those fiery +conjugal dramas which occur with romantic frequency in the +provincial towns of the northern Midlands, where industrial +conditions are such as to foster an independent spirit among women +of the lower class generally, and where by long tradition +'character' is allowed to exploit itself more <a name='Page266' id= +"Page266"></a><span class='pagenum'>266</span> freely than in the +southern parts of our island. Lemuel Malpas was a dashing young +commercial traveller, with what is known as 'an agreeable address,' +in Bursley, one of the Five Towns, Staffordshire. On the strength +of his dash he wooed and married the daughter of an hotel-keeper in +the neighbouring town of Hanbridge. Six months after the +wedding—in other words, at the most dangerous period of the +connubial career—Mrs. Malpas's father died, and Mrs. Malpas +became the absolute mistress of eight thousand pounds. +Lemuel<a name='FNanchor_1_1' id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href= +'#Footnote_1_1'><sup>[1]</sup></a> had carefully foreseen this +windfall, and wished to use the money in enterprises of the +earthenware trade. Mrs. Malpas, pretty and vivacious, with a +self-conceit hardened by the adulation of saloon-bars, very +decidedly thought otherwise. Her motto was, 'What's yours is mine, +but what's mine's my own.' The difference was accentuated. Long +mutual resistances were followed by reconciliations, which grew +more and more transitory, and at length both recognised that the +union, not founded on genuine affection, had been a mistake.</p> +<div class='footnote'> +<p><a name='Footnote_1_1' id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href= +'#FNanchor_1_1'>[1]</a> This name is pronounced with the accent on +the first syllable in the Five Towns.</p> +</div> + +<p><a name='Page267' id="Page267"></a><span class='pagenum'>267</span> +'Keep your d——d brass!' Lemuel exclaimed one +morning, and he went off on a journey and forgot to come back. A +curious letter dated from Liverpool wished his wife happiness, and +informed her that, since she was well provided for, he had no +scruples about leaving her. Mrs. Malpas was startled at first, but +she soon perceived that what Lemuel had done was exactly what the +brilliant and enterprising Lemuel might have been expected to do. +She jerked up her doll's head, and ejaculated, 'So much the +better!'</p> +<p>A few weeks later she sold the furniture and took rooms in +Scarborough, where, amid pleasurable surroundings, she determined +to lead the joyous life of a grass-widow, free of all cares. Then, +to her astonishment and disgust, Nina was born. She had not +bargained for Nina. She found herself in the tiresome position of a +mother whose explanations of her child lack plausibility. One +lodging-housekeeper to whom she hazarded the statement that Lemuel +was in Australia had saucily replied: 'I thought maybe it was the +North Pole he was gone to!'</p> +<p>This decided Mrs. Malpas. She returned <a name='Page268' id= +"Page268"></a><span class='pagenum'>268</span> suddenly to the Five +Towns, where at least her reputation was secure. Only a week +previously Lemuel had learnt indirectly that she had left their +native district. He determined thenceforward to forget her +completely. Mrs. Malpas's prettiness was of the fleeting sort. +After Nina's birth she began to get stout and coarse, and the +nostalgia of the saloon-bar, the coffee-room, and the sanded +portico overtook her. The Tiger at Bursley was for sale, a +respectable commercial hotel, the best in the town. She purchased +it, wines, omnibus connection, and all, and developed into the +typical landlady in black silk and gold rings.</p> +<p>In the Tiger Nina was brought up. She was a pretty child from +her earliest years, and received the caresses of all as a matter of +course. She went to a good school, studied the piano, and learnt +dancing, and at sixteen did her hair up. She did as she was told +without fuss, being apparently of a lethargic temperament; she had +all the money and all the clothes that her heart could desire; she +was happy, and in a quiet way she deemed herself a rather +considerable item in the world. When she was eighteen her mother +died miserably of cancer, <a name='Page269' id= +"Page269"></a><span class='pagenum'>269</span> and it was +discovered that the liabilities of Mrs. Malpas's estate exceeded +its assets—and the Tiger mortgaged up to its value! The +creditors were not angry; they attributed the state of affairs to +illness and the absence of male control, and good-humouredly +accepted what they could get. None the less, Nina, the child of +luxury and sloth, had to start life with several hundreds of pounds +less than nothing. Of her father all trace had been long since +lost. A place was found for her, and for over two years she saw the +world from the office of a famous hotel in Doncaster. Her lethargy, +and an invaluable gift of adapting herself to circumstances, saved +her from any acute unhappiness in the Yorkshire town. Instinctively +she ceased to remember the Tiger and past splendours. (Equally, if +she had married a Duke instead of becoming a book-keeper, she would +have ceased to remember the Tiger and past humility.) Then by good +or ill fortune she had the offer of a situation at the Hôtel +Majestic, Strand, London. The Majestic and the sights thereof woke +up the sleeping soul.</p> +<p>Before her death Mrs. Malpas had told Nina many things about the +vanished Lemuel; <a name='Page270' id="Page270"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>270</span> among others, the curious detail that he had +two small moles—one hairless, the other hirsute—close +together on the under side of his right wrist. Nina had seen +precisely such marks of identification on the right wrist of Mr. +Lionel Belmont.</p> +<p>She was convinced that Lionel Belmont was her father. There +could not be two men in the world so stamped by nature. She +perceived that in changing his name he had chosen Lionel because of +its similarity to Lemuel. She felt certain, too, that she had +noticed vestiges of the Five Towns accent beneath his Americanisms. +But apart from these reasons, she knew by a superrational instinct +that Lionel Belmont was her father; it was not the call of blood, +but the positiveness of a woman asserting that a thing is so +because she is sure it is so.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>Nina was not of an imaginative disposition. The romance of this +extraordinary encounter made no appeal to her. She was the sort of +girl that constantly reads novelettes, and yet always, with +fatigued scorn, refers to them as <a name='Page271' id= +"Page271"></a><span class='pagenum'>271</span> 'silly.' Stupid +little Nina was intensely practical at heart, and it was the +practical side of her father's reappearance that engaged her +birdlike mind. She did not stop to reflect that truth is stranger +than fiction. Her tiny heart was not agitated by any ecstatic +ponderings upon the wonder and mystery of fate. She did not feel +strangely drawn towards Lionel Belmont, nor did she feel that he +supplied a something which had always been wanting to her.</p> +<p>On the other hand, her pride—and Nina was very +proud—found much satisfaction in the fact that her father, +having turned up, was so fine, handsome, dashing, good-humoured, +and wealthy. It was well, and excellently well, and delicious, to +have a father like that. The possession of such a father opened up +vistas of a future so enticing and glorious that her present career +became instantly loathsome to her.</p> +<p>It suddenly seemed impossible that she could have tolerated the +existence of a hotel clerk for a single week. Her eyes were opened, +and she saw, as many women have seen, that luxury was an absolute +necessity to her. All her ideas soared with the magic swiftness of +the bean-stalk. <a name='Page272' id="Page272"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>272</span> And at the same time she was terribly afraid, +unaccountably afraid, to confront Mr. Belmont and tell him that she +was his Nina; he was entirely unaware that he had a Nina.</p> +<p>'I'm your daughter! I know by your moles!'</p> +<p>She whispered the words in her tiny heart, and felt sure that +she could never find courage to say them aloud to that great and +important man. The announcement would be too monstrous, incredible, +and absurd. People would laugh. He would laugh. And Nina could +stand anything better than being laughed at. Even supposing she +proved to him his paternity—she thought of the horridness of +going to lawyers' offices—he might decline to recognise her. +Or he might throw her fifty pounds a year, as one throws sixpence +to an importunate crossing-sweeper, to be rid of her. The United +States existed in her mind chiefly as a country of +highly-remarkable divorce laws, and she thought that Mr. Belmont +might have married again. A fashionable and arrogant Mrs. Belmont, +and a dazzling Miss Belmont, aged possibly eighteen, might arrive, +both of them <a name='Page273' id="Page273"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>273</span> steeped in all conceivable luxury, at any +moment. Where would Nina be then, with her +two-and-eleven-pence-halfpenny blouse from Glave's?...</p> +<p>Mr. Belmont, accompanied by Alphonse, the head-waiter in the +<i>salle à manger</i>, descended in the lift and crossed the +hall to the portico, where he stood talking for a few seconds. Mr. +Belmont turned, and, as he conversed with Alphonse, gazed absently +in the direction of the bureau. He looked straight through the +pretty captive. After all, despite his superficial heartiness, she +could be nothing to him—so rich, assertive, and truly +important. A hansom was called for him, and he departed; she +observed that he was in evening dress now.</p> +<p>No! Her cause was just; but it was too startling—that was +what was the matter with it.</p> +<p>Then she told herself she would write to Lionel Belmont. She +would write a letter that night.</p> +<p>At nine-thirty she was off duty. She went upstairs to her perch +in the roof, and sat on her bed for over two hours. Then she came +<a name='Page274' id="Page274"></a><span class='pagenum'>274</span> +down again to the bureau with some bluish note-paper and envelopes +in her hand, and, in response to the surprised question of the +pink-frocked colleague who had taken her place, she explained that +she wanted to write a letter.</p> +<p>'You do look that bad, Miss Malpas,' said the other girl, who +made a speciality of compassion.</p> +<p>'Do I?' said Nina.</p> +<p>'Yes, you do. What have you got <i>on</i>, <i>now</i>, my poor +dear?'</p> +<p>'What's that to you? I'll thank you to mind your own business, +Miss Bella Perkins.'</p> +<p>Usually Nina was not soon ruffled; but that night all her nerves +were exasperated and exceedingly sensitive.</p> +<p>'Oh!' said the girl. 'What price the Duchess of Doncaster? And I +was just going to wish you a nice day to-morrow for your holiday, +too.'</p> +<p>Nina seated herself at the table to write the letter. An +electric light burned directly over her frizzy head. She wrote a +weak but legible and regular back-hand. She hated writing letters, +partly because she was dubious about <a name='Page275' id= +"Page275"></a><span class='pagenum'>275</span> her spelling, and +partly because of an obscure but irrepressible suspicion that her +letters were of necessity silly. She pondered for a long time, and +then wrote: 'Dear Mr. Belmont,—I venture——' She +made a new start: 'Dear Sir,—I hope you will not think +me——' And a third attempt: 'My dear +Father——' No! it was preposterous. It could no more be +written than it could be said.</p> +<p>The situation was too much for simple Nina.</p> +<p>Suddenly the grand circular hall of the Majestic was filled with +a clamour at once charming and fantastic. There was chattering of +musical, gay American voices, pattering of elegant feet on the +tessellated pavement, the unique incomparable sound of the +<i>frou-frou</i> of many frocks; and above all this the rich tones +of Mr. Lionel Belmont. Nina looked up and saw her radiant father +the centre of a group of girls all young, all beautiful, all +stylish, all with picture hats, all self-possessed, all sparkling, +doubtless the recipients of the dandy supper.</p> +<p>Oh, how insignificant and homicidal Nina felt!</p> +<p>'Thirteen of you!' exclaimed Lionel Belmont, <a name='Page276' id="Page276"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>276</span> pulling his +superb moustache. 'Two to a hansom. I guess I'll want six and a +half hansoms, boy.'</p> +<p>There was an explosion of delicious laughter, and the page-boy +grinned, ran off, and began whistling in the portico like a vexed +locomotive. The thirteen fair, shepherded by Lionel Belmont, passed +out into the murmurous summer night of the Strand. Cab after cab +drove up, and Nina saw that her father, after filling each cab, +paid each cabman. In three minutes the dream-like scene was over. +Mr. Belmont re-entered the hotel, winked humorously at the occupant +of the pagoda, ignored the bureau, and departed to his rooms.</p> +<p>Nina ripped her inchoate letters into small pieces, and, with a +tart good-night to Miss Bella Perkins, who was closing her ledgers, +the hour being close upon twelve-thirty, she passed sedately, +stiffly, as though in performance of some vestal's ritual, up the +grand staircase. Turning to the right at the first landing, she +traversed a long corridor which was no part of the route to her +cubicle on the ninth floor. This corridor was lighted by glowing +sparks, which hung on yellow cords from the central <a name= +'Page277' id="Page277"></a><span class='pagenum'>277</span> line of +the ceiling; underfoot was a heavy but narrow crimson patterned +carpet with a strip of polished oak parquet on either side of it. +Exactly along the central line of the carpet Nina tripped, +languorously, like an automaton, and exactly over her head +glittered the line of electric sparks. The corridor and the journey +seemed to be interminable, and Nina on some inscrutable and mystic +errand. At length she moved aside from the religious line, went +into a service cabinet, and emerged with a small bunch of +pass-keys. No. 107 was Lionel Belmont's sitting-room; No. 102, his +bedroom, was opposite to 107. No. 108, another sitting-room, was, +as Nina knew, unoccupied. She noiselessly let herself into No. 108, +closed the door, and stood still. After a minute she switched on +the light. These two rooms, Nos. 108 and 107, had once +communicated, but, as space grew precious with the growing success +of the Majestic, they had been finally separated, and the door +between them locked and masked by furniture. By reason of the door, +Nina could hear Lionel Belmont moving to and fro in No. 107. She +listened a long time. Then, involuntarily, she yawned with +fatigue.</p> +<p><a name='Page278' id="Page278"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>278</span> 'How silly of me to be here!' she thought. +'What good will this do me?'</p> +<p>She extinguished the light and opened the door to leave. At the +same instant the door of No. 107, three feet off, opened. She drew +back with a start of horror. Suppose she had collided with her +father on the landing! Timorously she peeped out, and saw Lionel +Belmont, in his shirt-sleeves, disappear round the corner.</p> +<p>'He is going to talk with his friend Mr. Pank,' Nina thought, +knowing that No. 120 lay at some little distance round that +corner.</p> +<p>Mr. Belmont had left the door of No. 107 slightly ajar. An +unseen and terrifying force compelled Nina to venture into the +corridor, and then to push the door of No. 107 wide open. The same +force, not at all herself, quite beyond herself, seemed to impel +her by the shoulders into the room. As she stood unmistakably +within her father's private sitting-room, scared, breathing +rapidly, inquisitive, she said to herself:</p> +<p>'I shall hear him coming back, and I can run out before he turns +the corner of the corridor.' And she kept her little pink ears +alert.</p> +<p><a name='Page279' id="Page279"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>279</span> She looked about the softly brilliant room, +such an extravagant triumph of luxurious comfort as twenty years +ago would have aroused comment even in Mayfair; but there were +scores of similar rooms in the Majestic. No one thought twice of +them. Her father's dress-coat was thrown arrogantly over a Louis +Quatorze chair, and this careless flinging of the expensive shining +coat across the gilded chair somehow gave Nina a more intimate +appreciation of her father's grandeur and of the great and glorious +life he led. She longed to recline indolently in a priceless +tea-gown on the couch by the fireplace and issue orders.... She +approached the writing-table, littered with papers, documents, in +scores and hundreds. To the left was the brown bag. It was locked, +and very heavy, she thought. To the right was a pile of telegrams. +She picked up one, and read:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'<i>Pank, Grand Hotel, Birmingham. Why not burgle hotel? +Simplest most effective plan and solves all +difficulties.</i>—BELMONT.'</p> +</div> +<p>She read it twice, crunched it in her left hand, and picked up +another one:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p><a name='Page280' id="Page280"></a><span class='pagenum'>280</span> +'<i>Pank, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. Your objection absurd. See +safe in bureau at Majestic. Quite easy. Scene with girl second +evening</i>.—BELMONT.'</p> +</div> +<p>The thing flashed blindingly upon her. Her father and Mr. Pank +belonged to the swell mob of which she had heard and seen so much +at Doncaster. She at once became the excessively knowing and +suspicious hotel employé, to whom every stranger is a rogue +until he has proved the contrary. Had she lived through three St. +Leger weeks for nothing? At the hotel at Doncaster, what they +didn't know about thieves and sharpers was not knowledge. The +landlord kept a loaded revolver in his desk there during the week. +And she herself had been provided with a whistle which she was to +blow at the slightest sign of a row; she had blown it once, and +seven policemen had appeared within thirty seconds. The landlord +used to tell tales of masterly and huge scoundrelism that would +make Charles Peace turn in his grave. And the landlord had ever +insisted that no one, no one at all, could always distinguish with +certainty between a real gent and a swell-mobsman.</p> +<p><a name='Page281' id="Page281"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>281</span> So her father and Mr. Pank had deceived +everyone in the hotel except herself, and they meant to rob the +safe in the bureau to-morrow night. Of course Mr. Lionel Belmont +was a villain, or he would not have deserted her poor dear mother; +it was annoying, but indubitable.... Even now he was maturing his +plans round the corner with that Mr. Pank.... Burglars always went +about in shirt-sleeves.... The brown bag contained the +tools....</p> +<p>The shock was frightful, disastrous, tragic; but it had solved +the situation by destroying it. Practically, Nina no longer had a +father. He had existed for about four hours as a magnificent +reality, full of possibilities; he now ceased to be +recognisable.</p> +<p>She was about to pick up a third telegram when a slight noise +caused her to turn swiftly; she had forgotten to keep her little +pink ears alert. Her father stood in the doorway. He was certainly +the victim of some extraordinary emotion; his face worked; he +seemed at a loss what to do or say; he seemed pained, confused, +even astounded. Simple, foolish Nina had upset the balance of his +equations.</p> +<p>Then he resumed his self-control and came <a name='Page282' id= +"Page282"></a><span class='pagenum'>282</span> forward into the +room with a smile intended to be airy. Meanwhile Nina had not +moved. One is inclined to pity the artless and defenceless girl in +this midnight duel of wits with a shrewd, resourceful, and +unscrupulous man of the world. But one's pity should not be +lavished on an undeserving object. Though Nina trembled, she was +mistress of herself. She knew just where she was, and just how to +behave. She was as impregnable as Gibraltar.</p> +<p>'Well,' said Mr. Lionel Belmont, genially gazing at her pose, +'you do put snap into it, any way.'</p> +<p>'Into what?' she was about to inquire, but prudently she held +her tongue. Drawing, herself up with the gesture of an offended and +unapproachable queen, the little thing sailed past him, close past +her own father, and so out of the room.</p> +<p>'Say!' she heard him remark: 'let's straighten this thing out, +eh?'</p> +<p>But she heroically ignored him, thinking the while that, with +all his sins, he was attractive enough. She still held the first +telegram in her long, thin fingers.</p> +<p>So ended the nocturne.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page283' id="Page283"></a><span class='pagenum'>283</span></p> +<h4> +IV</h4> +<p>At five o'clock the next morning Nina's trifling nose was +pressed against the windowpane of her cubicle. In the enormous +slate roof of the Majestic are three rows of round windows, like +port-holes. Out of the highest one, at the extremity of the left +wing, Nina looked. From thence she could see five other vast +hotels, and the yard of Charing Cross Station, with three +night-cabs drawn up to the kerb, and a red van of W.H. Smith and +Son disappearing into the station. The Strand was quite empty. It +was a strange world of sleep and grayness and disillusion. Within a +couple of hundred yards or so of her thousands of people lay +asleep, and they would all soon wake into the disillusion, and the +Strand would wake, and the first omnibus of all the omnibuses would +come along....</p> +<p>Never had simple Nina felt so sad and weary. She was determined +to give up her father. She was bound to tell the manager of her +discovery, for Nina was an honest servant, and she was piqued in +her honesty. No one should know that Lionel Belmont was her +father.... <a name='Page284' id="Page284"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>284</span> She saw before her the task of forgetting him +and forgetting the rich dreams of which he had been the origin. She +was once more a book-keeper with no prospects.</p> +<p>At eight she saw the manager in the managerial room. Mr. Reuben +was a young Jew, aged about thirty-four, with a cold but +indestructibly polite manner. He was a great man, and knew it; he +had almost invented the Majestic.</p> +<p>She told him her news; it was impossible for foolish Nina to +conceal her righteousness and her sense of her importance.</p> +<p>'Whom did you say, Miss Malpas?' asked Mr. Reuben.</p> +<p>'Mr. Lionel Belmont—at least, that's what he calls +himself.'</p> +<p>'Calls himself, Miss Malpas?'</p> +<p>'Here's one of the telegrams.'</p> +<p>Mr. Reuben read it, looked at little Nina, and smiled; he never +laughed.</p> +<p>'Is it possible, Miss Malpas,' said he, 'that you don't know who +Mr. Belmont and Mr. Pank are?' And then, as she shook her head, he +continued in his impassive, precise way: 'Mr. Belmont is one of the +principal theatrical <a name='Page285' id= +"Page285"></a><span class='pagenum'>285</span> managers in the +United States. Mr. Pank is one of the principal playwrights in the +United States. Mr. Pank's melodrama 'Nebraska' is now being played +at the Regency by Mr. Belmont's own American company. Another of +Mr. Belmont's companies starts shortly for a tour in the provinces +with the musical comedy 'The Dolmenico Doll.' I believe that Mr. +Pank and Mr. Belmont are now writing a new melodrama, and as they +have both been travelling, but not together, I expect that these +telegrams relate to that melodrama. Did you suppose that +safe-burglars wire their plans to each other like this?' He waved +the telegram with a gesture of fatigue.</p> +<p>Silly, ruined Nina made no answer.</p> +<p>'Do you ever read the papers—the <i>Telegraph</i> or the +<i>Mail</i>, Miss Malpas?'</p> +<p>'N-no, sir.'</p> +<p>'You ought to, then you wouldn't be so ignorant and silly. A +hotel-clerk can't know too much. And, by-the-way, what were you +doing in Mr. Belmont's room last night, when you found these +wonderful telegrams?'</p> +<p>'I went there—I went there—to——'</p> +<p>'Don't cry, please, it won't help you. You <a name='Page286' id= +"Page286"></a><span class='pagenum'>286</span> must leave here +to-day. You've been here three weeks, I think. I'll tell Mr. Smith +to pay you your month's wages. You don't know enough for the +Majestic, Miss Malpas. Or perhaps you know too much. I'm sorry. I +had thought you would suit us. Keep straight, that's all I have to +say to you. Go back to Doncaster, or wherever it is you came from. +Leave before five o'clock. That will do.'</p> +<p>With a godlike air, Mr. Reuben swung round his office-chair and +faced his desk. He tried not to perceive that there was a +mysterious quality about this case which he had not quite +understood. Nina tripped piteously out.</p> +<p>In the whole of London Nina had one acquaintance, and an hour or +so later, after drinking some tea, she set forth to visit this +acquaintance. The weight of her own foolishness, fatuity, +silliness, and ignorance was heavy upon her. And, moreover, she had +been told that Mr. Lionel Belmont had already departed back to +America, his luggage being marked for the American Transport +Line.</p> +<p>She was primly walking, the superlative of the miserable, past +the façade of the hotel, <a name='Page287' id= +"Page287"></a><span class='pagenum'>287</span> when someone sprang +out of a cab and spoke to her. And it was Mr. Lionel Belmont.</p> +<p>'Get right into this hansom, Miss Malpas,' he said kindly, 'and +I guess we'll talk it out.'</p> +<p>'Talk what out?' she thought.</p> +<p>But she got in.</p> +<p>'Marble Arch, and go up Regent Street, and don't hurry,' said +Mr. Belmont to the cabman.</p> +<p>'How did he know my name?' she asked herself.</p> +<p>'A hansom's the most private place in London,' he said after a +pause.</p> +<p>It certainly did seem to her very cosy and private, and her +nearness to one of the principal theatrical managers in America was +almost startling. Her white frock, with the black velvet +decorations, touched his gray suit.</p> +<p>'Now,' he said, 'I do wish you'd tell me why you were in my +parlour last night. Honest.'</p> +<p>'What for?' she parried, to gain time.</p> +<p>Should she begin to disclose her identity?</p> +<p>'Because—well, because—oh, look here, <a name= +'Page288' id="Page288"></a><span class='pagenum'>288</span> my +girl, I want to be on very peculiar terms with you. I want to +straighten out everything. You'll be sort of struck, but I'll be +bound to tell you I'm your father. Now, don't faint or +anything.'</p> +<p>'Oh, I knew that!' she gasped. 'I saw the moles on your wrist +when your were registering—mother told me about them. Oh, if +I had only known you knew!'</p> +<p>They looked at one another.</p> +<p>'It was only the day before yesterday I found out I possessed +such a thing as a daughter. I had a kind of fancy to go around to +the old spot. This notion of me having a daughter struck me +considerable, and I concluded to trace her and size her up at +once.' Nina was bound to smile. 'So your poor mother's been dead +three years?'</p> +<p>'Yes,' said Nina.</p> +<p>'Ah! don't let us talk about that. I feel I can't say just the +right thing.... And so you knew me by those pips.' He pulled up his +right sleeve. 'Was that why you came up to my parlour?'</p> +<p>Nina nodded, and Lionel Belmont sighed with relief.</p> +<p><a name='Page289' id="Page289"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>289</span> 'Why didn't you tell me at once, my dear, who +you where?'</p> +<p>'I didn't dare,' she smiled; 'I was afraid. I thought you +wouldn't——'</p> +<p>'Listen,' he said; 'I've wanted someone like you for years, +years, and years. I've got no one to look after——'</p> +<p>'Then why didn't <i>you</i> tell <i>me</i> at once who you +were?' she questioned with adorable pertness.</p> +<p>'Oh!' he laughed; 'how could I—plump like that? When I saw +you first, in the bureau, the stricken image of your mother at your +age, I was nearly down. But I came up all right, didn't I, my dear? +I acted it out well, didn't I?'</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p>The hansom was rolling through Hyde Park, and the sunshiny hour +was eleven in June. Nina looked forth on the gay and brilliant +scene: rhododendrons, duchesses, horses, dandies—the +incomparable wealth and splendour of the capital. She took a long +breath, and began to be happy for the rest of her life. She felt +that, despite her plain <a name='Page290' id= +"Page290"></a><span class='pagenum'>290</span> frock, she was in +this picture. Her father had told her that his income was rising on +a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and he would thank her +to spend it. Her father had told her, when she had confessed the +scene with Mr. Reuben and what led to it, that she had grit, and +that the mistake was excusable, and that a girl as pretty as she +was didn't want to be as fly as Mr. Reuben had said. Her father had +told her that he was proud of her, and he had not been so rude as +to laugh at her blunder.</p> +<p>She felt that she was about to enter upon the true and only +vocation of a dainty little morsel—namely, to spend money +earned by other people. She thought less homicidally now of the +thirteen chorus-girls of the previous night.</p> +<p>'Say,' said her father, 'I sail this afternoon for New York, +Nina.'</p> +<p>'They said you'd gone, at the hotel.'</p> +<p>'Only my baggage. The <i>Minnehaha</i> clears at five. I guess I +want you to come along too. On the voyage we'll get acquainted, and +tell each other things.'</p> +<p>'Suppose I say I won't?'</p> +<p><a name='Page291' id="Page291"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>291</span> She spoke despotically, as the pampered +darling should.</p> +<p>'Then I'll wait for the next boat. But it'll be awkward.'</p> +<p>'Then I'll come. But I've got no things.'</p> +<p>He pushed up the trap-door.</p> +<p>'Driver, Bond Street. And get on to yourself, for goodness' sake! +Hurry!'</p> +<p>'You told me not to hurry,' grumbled the cabby.</p> +<p>'And now I tell you to hustle. See?'</p> +<p>'Shall you want me to call myself Belmont?' Nina asked.</p> +<p>'I chose it because it was a fine ten-horse-power name twenty +years ago,' said her father; and she murmured that she liked the +name very much.</p> +<p>As Lionel Belmont the Magnificent paid the cabman, and Nina +walked across the pavement into one of the most famous repositories +of expensive frippery in the world, she thrilled with the +profoundest pleasure her tiny soul was capable of. Foolish, simple +Nina had achieved the <i>nec plus ultra</i> of her languorous +dreams.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page295' id="Page295"></a><span class='pagenum'>295</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='CLARICE_OF_THE_AUTUMN_CONCERTS' id= +"CLARICE_OF_THE_AUTUMN_CONCERTS"></a> +CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS</h3> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>'What did you say your name was?' asked Otto, the famous concert +manager.</p> +<p>'Clara Toft.'</p> +<p>'That won't do,' he said roughly.</p> +<p>'My real proper name is Clarice,' she added, blushing. +'But——'</p> +<p>'That's better, that's better.' His large, dark face smiled +carelessly. 'Clarice—and stick an "e" on to +Toft—Clarice Tofte. Looks like either French or German then. +I'll send you the date. It'll be the second week in September. And +you can come round to the theatre and try the +piano—Bechstein.'</p> +<p>'And what do you think I had better play, Mr. Otto?'</p> +<p>'You must play what you have just played, <a name='Page296' id= +"Page296"></a><span class='pagenum'>296</span> of course. +Tschaikowsky's all the rage just now. Your left hand's very weak, +especially in the last movement. You've got to make more +noise—at my concerts. And see here, Miss Toft, don't you go +and make a fool of me. I believe you have a great future, and I'm +backing my opinion. Don't you go and make a fool of me.'</p> +<p>'I shall play my very best,' she smiled nervously. 'I'm awfully +obliged to you, Mr. Otto.'</p> +<p>'Well,' he said, 'you ought to be.'</p> +<p>At the age of fifteen her father, an earthenware manufacturer, +and the flamboyant Alderman of Turnhill, in the Five Towns, had let +her depart to London to the Royal College of Music. Thence, at +nineteen, she had proceeded to the Conservatoire of Liége. +At twenty-two she could play the great concert pieces—Liszt's +'Rhapsodies Hongroises,' Chopin's Ballade, Op. 47, Beethoven's Op. +111, etc.—in concert style, and she was the wonder of the +Five Towns when she visited Turnhill. But in London she had +obtained neither engagements nor pupils: she had never believed in +herself. She knew of dozens of <a name='Page297' id= +"Page297"></a><span class='pagenum'>297</span> pianists whom she +deemed more brilliant than little, pretty, modest Clara Toft; and +after her father's death and the not surprising revelation of his +true financial condition, she settled with her faded, captious +mother in Turnhill as a teacher of the pianoforte, and did +nicely.</p> +<p>Then, when she was twenty-six, and content in provincialism, she +had met during an August holiday at Llandudno her old fellow pupil, +Albert Barbellion, who was conducting the Pier concerts. Barbellion +had asked her to play at a 'soirée musicale' which he gave +one night in the ball-room of his hotel, and she had performed +Tschaikowsky's immense and lurid Slavonic Sonata; and the +unparalleled Otto, renowned throughout the British Empire for +Otto's Bohemian Autumn Nightly Concerts at Covent Garden Theatre, +had happened to hear her and that seldom played sonata for the +first time. It was a wondrous chance. Otto's large, picturesque, +extempore way of inviting her to appear at his promenade concerts +reminded her of her father.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page298' id="Page298"></a><span class='pagenum'>298</span></p> +<h4> +II</h4> +<p>In the bleak three-cornered artists'-room she could faintly hear +the descending impetuous velocities of the Ride of the Walkyries. +She was waiting in her new yellow dress, waiting painfully. Otto +rushed in, a glass in his hand.</p> +<p>'You all right?' he questioned sharply.</p> +<p>'Oh, yes,' she said, getting up from the cane-chair.</p> +<p>'Let me see you stand on one leg,' he said; and then, because +she hesitated: 'Go on, quick! Stand on one leg. It's a good test.' +So she stood on one leg, foolishly smiling. 'Here, drink this,' he +ordered, and she had to drink brandy-and-soda out of the glass. +'You're better now,' he remarked; and decidedly, though her throat +tingled and she coughed, she felt equal to anything at that +moment.</p> +<p>A stout, middle-aged woman, in a rather shabby opera cloak, +entered the room.</p> +<p>'Ah, Cornelia!' exclaimed Otto grandly.</p> +<p>'My dear Otto!' the woman responded, wrinkling her wonderfully +enamelled cheeks.</p> +<p>'Miss Toft, let me introduce you to <a name='Page299' id= +"Page299"></a><span class='pagenum'>299</span> Madame Lopez.' He +turned to the newcomer. 'Keep her calm for me, bright star, will +you?'</p> +<p>Then Otto went, and Clarice was left alone with the world-famous +operatic soprano, who was advertised to sing that night the Shadow +Song from 'Dinorah.'</p> +<p>'Where did he pick you up, my dear?' the decayed diva inquired +maternally.</p> +<p>Clarice briefly explained.</p> +<p>'You aren't paying him anything, are you?'</p> +<p>'Oh, no!' said Clarice, shocked. 'But I get no fee this +time——'</p> +<p>'Of course not, my dear,' the Lopez cut her short. 'It's all +right so long as you aren't paying him anything to let you go on. +Now run along.'</p> +<p>Clarice's heart stopped. The call-boy, with his cockney twang, +had pronounced her name.</p> +<p>She moved forward, and, by dint of following the call-boy, at +length reached the stage. Applause—good-natured +applause—seemed to roll towards her from the uttermost parts +of the vast auditorium. She realized with a start that this +applause was exclusively for her. She sat down to the piano, and +there ensued a <a name='Page300' id="Page300"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>300</span> death-like silence—a silence broken only +by the striking of matches and the tinkle of the embowered fountain +in front of the stage. She had a consciousness, rather than a +vision, of a floor of thousands of upturned faces below her, and +tier upon tier of faces rising above her and receding to the +illimitable dark distances of the gallery. She heard a door bang, +and perceived that some members of the orchestra were creeping +quietly out at the back. Then she plunged, dizzy, into the sonata, +as into a heaving and profound sea. The huge concert piano +resounded under the onslaught of her broad hands. When she had +played ten bars she knew with an absolute conviction that she would +do justice to her talent. She could see, as it were, the entire +sonata stretched out in detail before her like a road over which +she had to travel....</p> +<p>At the end of the first movement the clapping enheartened her; +she smiled confidently at the conductor, who, unemployed during her +number, sat on a chair under his desk. Before recommencing she +gazed boldly at the house, and certain placards—'Smoking +permitted,' 'Emergency exit,' 'Ices,' and 'Fancy Dress <a name= +'Page301' id="Page301"></a><span class='pagenum'>301</span> +Balls'—were fixed for ever on the retina of her eye. At the +end of the second movement there was more applause, and the +conductor tapped appreciation with his stick against the pillar of +his desk; the leader of the listless orchestra also tapped with his +fiddle-bow and nodded. It seemed to her now that she more and more +dominated the piano, and that she rendered the great finale with +masterful and fierce assurance....</p> +<p>She was pleased with herself as she banged the last massive +chord. And the applause, the clapping, the hammering of sticks, +astounded her, staggered her. She might have died of happiness +while she bowed and bowed again. She ran off the stage triumphant, +and the applause seemed to assail her little figure from all +quarters and overwhelm it. As she stood waiting, concealed behind a +group of palms, it suddenly occurred to her that, after all, she +had underestimated herself. She saw her rosy future as the spoiled +darling of continental capitals. The hail of clapping persisted, +and the apparition of Otto violently waved her to return to the +stage. She returned, bowed her passionate exultation with burning +face and <a name='Page302' id="Page302"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>302</span> trembling knees, and retired. The clapping +continued. Yes, she would be compelled to grant an encore—to +<i>grant</i> one. She would grant it like a honeyed but imperious +queen.</p> +<p>Suddenly she heard the warning tap of the conductor's baton; the +applause was hushed as though by a charm, and the orchestra broke +into the overture to 'Zampa.' She could not understand, she could +not think. As she tripped tragically to the artists'-room in her +new yellow dress she said to herself that the conductor must have +made some mistake, and that——</p> +<p>'Very nice, my dear,' said the Lopez kindly to her. 'You got +quite a call—quite a call.'</p> +<p>She waited for Otto to come and talk to her.</p> +<p>At length the Lopez was summoned, and Clarice followed to listen +to her. And when the Lopez had soared with strong practised flight +through the brilliant intricacy of the Shadow Song, Clarice became +aware what real applause sounded like from the stage. It shook the +stage as the old favourite of two generations, wearing her set +smile, waddled back to the debutante. Scores of voices <a name= +'Page303' id="Page303"></a><span class='pagenum'>303</span> +hoarsely shouted 'Encore!' and 'Last Rose of Summer,' and with a +proud sigh the Lopez went on again, bowing.</p> +<p>Clarice saw nothing more of Otto, who doubtless had other birds +to snare. The next day only three daily papers mentioned the +concert at all. In fact, Otto expected press notices but once a +week. All three papers praised the matchless Lopez in her Shadow +Song. One referred to Clarice as talented; another called her +well-intentioned; the third merely said that she had played. The +short dream of artistic ascendancy lay in fragments around her. She +was a sensible girl, and stamped those iridescent fragments into +dust.</p> +<h4>III</h4> +<p>The <i>Staffordshire Signal</i> contained the following +advertisement: 'Miss Clara Toft, solo pianist, of the Otto Autumn +Concerts, London, will resume lessons on the 1st proximo at Liszt +House, Turnhill. Terms on application.' At thirty Clarice married +James Sillitoe, the pianoforte dealer in Market Square, Turnhill, +and captious old Mrs. Toft formed part of the new <a name='Page304' id="Page304"></a> +<span class='pagenum'>304</span> household. At +thirty-four Clarice possessed a little girl and two little boys, +twins. Sillitoe was a money-maker, and she no longer gave +lessons.</p> +<p>Happy? Perhaps not unhappy.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p> +<a name='Page307' id="Page307"></a><span class='pagenum'>307</span></p> +<h3> +<a name='A_LETTER_HOME' id="A_LETTER_HOME"></a> +A LETTER HOME<a name='FNanchor_2_2' id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href='#Footnote_2_2'><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</h3> +</div> + +<div class='footnote'> +<p><a name='Footnote_2_2' id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href= +'#FNanchor_2_2'>[2]</a> Written in 1893.</p> +</div> +<h4>I</h4> +<p>Rain was falling—it had fallen steadily through the +night—but the sky showed promise of fairer weather. As the +first streaks of dawn appeared, the wind died away, and the young +leaves on the trees were almost silent. The birds were insistently +clamorous, vociferating times without number that it was a healthy +spring morning and good to be alive.</p> +<p>A little, bedraggled crowd stood before the park gates, awaiting +the hour named on the notice board when they would be admitted to +such lodging and shelter as iron seats and overspreading branches +might afford. A weary, patient-eyed, dogged crowd—a dozen +men, a boy of thirteen, and a couple of women, both past middle +age—which had been gathering <a name='Page308' id= +"Page308"></a><span class='pagenum'>308</span> slowly since five +o'clock. The boy appeared to be the least uncomfortable. His feet +were bare, but he had slept well in an area in Grosvenor Place, and +was not very damp yet. The women had nodded on many doorsteps, and +were soaked. They stood apart from the men, who seemed unconscious +of their existence. The men were exactly such as one would have +expected to find there—beery and restless as to the eyes, +quaintly shod, and with nondescript greenish clothes which for the +most part bore traces of the yoke of the sandwich board. Only one +amongst them was different.</p> +<p>He was young, and his cap, and manner of wearing it, gave sign +of the sea. His face showed the rough outlines of his history. Yet +it was a transparently honest face, very pale, but still boyish and +fresh enough to make one wonder by what rapid descent he had +reached his present level. Perhaps the receding chin, the heavy, +pouting lower lip, and the ceaselessly twitching mouth offered a +key to the problem.</p> +<p>'Say, Darkey!' he said.</p> +<p>'Well?'</p> +<p>'How much longer?'</p> +<p><a name='Page309' id="Page309"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>309</span> 'Can't ye see the clock? It's staring ye in +the face.'</p> +<p>'No. Something queer's come over my eyes.'</p> +<p>Darkey was a short, sturdy man, who kept his head down and his +hands deep in his pockets. The raindrops clinging to the rim of an +ancient hat fell every now and then into his gray beard, which +presented a drowned appearance. He was a person of long and varied +experiences; he knew that queer feeling in the eyes, and his heart +softened.</p> +<p>'Come, lean against the pillar,' he said, 'if you don't want to +tumble. Three of brandy's what you want. There's four minutes to +wait yet.'</p> +<p>With body flattened to the masonry, legs apart, and head thrown +back, Darkey's companion felt more secure, and his mercurial +spirits began to revive. He took off his cap, and brushing back his +light brown curly hair with the hand which held it, he looked down +at Darkey through half-closed eyes, the play of his features +divided between a smile and a yawn.</p> +<p>He had a lively sense of humour, and the <a name='Page310' id= +"Page310"></a><span class='pagenum'>310</span> irony of his +situation was not lost on him. He took a grim, ferocious delight in +calling up the might-have-beens and the 'fatuous ineffectual +yesterdays' of life. There is a certain sardonic satisfaction to be +gleaned from a frank recognition of the fact that you are the +architect of your own misfortune. He felt that satisfaction, and +laughed at Darkey, who was one of those who moan about 'ill-luck' +and 'victims of circumstance.'</p> +<p>'No doubt,' he would say, 'you're a very deserving fellow, +Darkey, who's been treated badly. I'm not.'</p> +<p>To have attained such wisdom at twenty-five is not to have lived +altogether in vain.</p> +<p>A park-keeper presently arrived to unlock the gates, and the +band of outcasts straggled indolently towards the nearest sheltered +seats. Some went to sleep at once, in a sitting posture. Darkey +produced a clay pipe, and, charging it with a few shreds of tobacco +laboriously gathered from his waistcoat pocket, began to smoke. He +was accustomed to this sort of thing, and with a pipe in his mouth +could contrive to be moderately philosophical upon occasion. He +looked curiously at his companion, <a name='Page311' id= +"Page311"></a><span class='pagenum'>311</span> who lay stretched at +full length on another bench.</p> +<p>'I say, pal,' he remarked, 'I've known ye two days; ye've never +told me yer name, and I don't ask ye to. But I see ye've not slep' +in a park before.'</p> +<p>'You hit it, Darkey; but how?'</p> +<p>'Well, if the keeper catches ye lying down, he'll be on to ye. +Lying down's not allowed.'</p> +<p>The man raised himself on his elbow.</p> +<p>'Really now,' he said; 'that's interesting. But I think I'll +give the keeper the opportunity of moving me. Why, it's quite fine, +the sun's coming out, and the sparrows are hopping +round—cheeky little devils! I'm not sure that I don't feel +jolly.'</p> +<p>'I wish I'd got the price of a pint about me,' sighed Darkey, +and the other man dropped his head and appeared to sleep. Then +Darkey dozed a little, and heard in his waking sleep the heavy, +crunching tread of an approaching park-keeper; he started up to +warn his companion, but thought better of it, and closed his eyes +again.</p> +<p>'Now then, there,' the park-keeper shouted to the man with the +sailor's cap, 'get up! <a name='Page312' id= +"Page312"></a><span class='pagenum'>312</span> This ain't a +fourpenny doss, you know. No lying down.'</p> +<p>A rough shake accompanied the words, and the man sat up.</p> +<p>'All right, my friend.'</p> +<p>The keeper, who was a good-humoured man, passed on without +further objurgation.</p> +<p>The face of the younger man had grown whiter.</p> +<p>'Look here, Darkey,' he said, 'I believe I'm done for.'</p> +<p>'Never say die.'</p> +<p>'No, just die without speaking.'</p> +<p>His head fell forward and his eyes closed.</p> +<p>'At any rate, this is better than some deaths I've seen,' he +began again with a strange accession of liveliness. 'Darkey, did I +tell you the story of the five Japanese girls?'</p> +<p>'What, in Suez Bay?' said Darkey, who had heard many sea-stories +during the last two days, and recollected them but hazily.</p> +<p>'No, man. This was at Nagasaki. We were taking in a cargo of +coal for Hong Kong. Hundreds of little Jap girls pass the coal from +hand to hand over the ship's side in tiny baskets that hold about a +plateful. In that way you <a name='Page313' id= +"Page313"></a><span class='pagenum'>313</span> can get three +thousand tons aboard in two days.'</p> +<p>'Talking of platefuls reminds me of sausage and mash,' said +Darkey.</p> +<p>'Don't interrupt. Well, five of these gay little dolls wanted to +go to Hong Kong, and they arranged with the Chinese sailors to stow +away; I believe their friends paid those cold-blooded fiends +something to pass them down food on the voyage, and give them an +airing at nights. We had a particularly lively trip, battened +everything down tight, and scarcely uncovered till we got into +port. Then I and another man found those five girls among the +coal.'</p> +<p>'Dead, eh?'</p> +<p>'They'd simply torn themselves to pieces. Their bits of frock +things were in strips, and they were scratched deep from top to +toe. The Chinese had never troubled their heads about them at all, +although they must have known it meant death. You may bet there was +a row. The Japanese authorities make you search ship before +sailing, now.'</p> +<p>'Well?'</p> +<p>'Well, I shan't die like that. That's all.'</p> +<p><a name='Page314' id="Page314"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>314</span> He stretched himself out once more, and for +ten minutes neither spoke. The park-keeper strolled up again.</p> +<p>'Get up, there!' he said shortly and gruffly.</p> +<p>'Up ye get, mate,' added Darkey, but the man on the bench did +not stir. One look at his face sufficed to startle the keeper, and +presently two policemen were wheeling an ambulance cart to the +hospital. Darkey followed, gave such information as he could, and +then went his own ways.</p> +<h4>II</h4> +<p>In the afternoon the patient regained full consciousness. His +eyes wandered vacantly about the illimitable ward, with its rows of +beds stretching away on either side of him. A woman with a white +cap, a white apron, and white wristbands bent over him, and he felt +something gratefully warm passing down his throat. For just one +second he was happy. Then his memory returned, and the nurse saw +that he was crying. When he caught the nurse's eye he ceased, and +looked steadily at the distant ceiling.</p> +<p><a name='Page315' id="Page315"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>315</span> 'You're better?'</p> +<p>'Yes.'</p> +<p>He tried to speak boldly, decisively, nonchalantly. He was +filled with a sense of physical shame, the shame which bodily +helplessness always experiences in the presence of arrogant, +patronizing health. He would have got up and walked briskly away if +he could. He hated to be waited on, to be humoured, to be examined +and theorized about. This woman would be wanting to feel his pulse. +She should not; he would turn cantankerous. No doubt they had been +saying to each other, 'And so young, too! How sad!' Confound +them!</p> +<p>'Have you any friends that you would like to send for?'</p> +<p>'No, none.'</p> +<p>The girl—she was only a girl—looked at him, and +there was that in her eye which overcame him.</p> +<p>'None at all?'</p> +<p>'Not that I want to see.'</p> +<p>'Are your parents alive?'</p> +<p>'My mother is, but she lives away in the Five Towns.'</p> +<p><a name='Page316' id="Page316"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>316</span> 'You've not seen her lately, perhaps?'</p> +<p>He did not reply, and the nurse spoke again, but her voice +sounded indistinct and far off.</p> +<p>When he awoke it was night. At the other end of the ward was a +long table covered with a white cloth, and on this table a +lamp.</p> +<p>In the ring of light under the lamp was an open book, an +inkstand and a pen. A nurse—not <i>his</i> nurse—was +standing by the table, her fingers idly drumming the cloth, and +near her a man in evening dress. Perhaps a doctor. They were +conversing in low tones. In the middle of the ward was an open +stove, and the restless flames were reflected in all the brass +knobs of the bedsteads and in some shining metal balls which hung +from an unlighted chandelier. His part of the ward was almost in +darkness. A confused, subdued murmur of little coughs, breathings, +rustlings, was continually audible, and sometimes it rose above the +conversation at the table. He noticed all these things. He became +conscious, too, of a strangely familiar smell. What was it? Ah, +yes! Acetic acid; his mother used it for her rheumatics.</p> +<p><a name='Page317' id="Page317"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>317</span> Suddenly, magically, a great longing came over +him. He must see his mother, or his brothers, or his little +sister—someone who knew him, someone who <i>belonged</i> to +him. He could have cried out in his desire. This one thought +consumed all his faculties. If his mother could but walk in just +now through that doorway! If only old Spot even could amble up to +him, tongue out and tail furiously wagging! He tried to sit up, and +he could not move! Then despair settled on him, and weighed him +down. He closed his eyes.</p> +<p>The doctor and the nurse came slowly up the ward, pausing here +and there. They stopped before his bed, and he held his breath.</p> +<p>'Not roused up again, I suppose?'</p> +<p>'No.'</p> +<p>'H'm! He may flicker on for forty-eight hours. Not more.'</p> +<p>They went on, and with a sigh of relief he opened his eyes +again. The doctor shook hands with the nurse, who returned to the +table and sat down.</p> +<p>Death! The end of all this! Yes, it was coming. He felt it. His +had been one of <a name='Page318' id="Page318"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>318</span> those wasted lives of which he used to read in +books. How strange! Almost amusing! He was one of those sons who +bring sorrow and shame into a family. Again, how strange! What a +coincidence that he—just <i>he</i> and not the man in the +next bed—should be one of those rare, legendary +good-for-nothings who go recklessly to ruin. And yet, he was sure +that he was not such a bad fellow after all. Only somehow he had +been careless. Yes, careless; that was the word ... nothing +worse.... As to death, he was indifferent. Remembering his father's +death, he reflected that it was probably less disturbing to die +one's self than to watch another pass.</p> +<p>He smelt the acetic acid once more, and his thoughts reverted to +his mother. Poor mother! No, great mother! The grandeur of her +life's struggle filled him with a sense of awe. Strange that until +that moment he had never seen the heroic side of her humdrum, +commonplace existence! He must write to her, now, at once, before +it was too late. His letter would trouble her, add another wrinkle +to her face, but he must write; she must know that he had been +thinking of her.</p> +<p><a name='Page319' id="Page319"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>319</span> 'Nurse!' he cried out, in a thin, weak +voice.</p> +<p>'Ssh!'</p> +<p>She was by his side directly, but not before he had lost +consciousness again.</p> +<p>The following morning he managed with infinite labour to scrawl +a few lines:</p> +<div class='blockquote'> +<p>'DEAR MAMMA,</p> +<p>'You will be surprised but not glad to get this letter. I'm done +for, and you will never see me again. I'm sorry for what I've done, +and how I've treated you, but it's no use saying anything now. If +Pater had only lived he might have kept me in order. But you were +too kind, you know. You've had a hard struggle these last six +years, and I hope Arthur and Dick will stand by you better than I +did, now they are growing up. Give them my love, and kiss little +Fannie for me.</p> +<p>'WILLIE.</p> +<p>'<i>Mrs. Hancock</i>——'</p> +</div> +<p>He got no further with the address.</p> + +<p> +<a name='Page320' id="Page320"></a><span class='pagenum'>320</span></p> +<h4> +III</h4> +<p>By some turn of the wheel, Darkey gathered several shillings +during the next day or two, and, feeling both elated and +benevolent, he called one afternoon at the hospital, 'just to +inquire like.' They told him the man was dead.</p> +<p>'By the way, he left a letter without an address. Mrs. +Hancock—here it is.'</p> +<p>'That'll be his mother; he did tell me about her—lived at +Knype, Staffordshire, he said. I'll see to it.'</p> +<p>They gave Darkey the letter.</p> +<p>'So his name's Hancock,' he soliloquized, when he got into the +street. 'I knew a girl of that name—once. I'll go and have a +pint of four-half.'</p> +<p>At nine o'clock that night Darkey was still consuming four-half, +and relating certain adventures by sea which, he averred, had +happened to himself. He was very drunk.</p> +<p>'Yes,' he said, 'and them five lil' gals was lying there without +a stitch on 'em, dead as meat; 's 'true as I'm 'ere. I've seen a +thing or two in my time, I can tell ye.'</p> +<p><a name='Page321' id="Page321"></a><span class= +'pagenum'>321</span> 'Talking about these Anarchists—' said a +man who appeared anxious to change the subject.</p> +<p>'An—kists,' Darkey interrupted. 'I tell ye what I'd do +with that muck.'</p> +<p>He stopped to light his pipe, looked in vain for a match, felt +in his pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper—the +letter.</p> +<p>'I tell you what I'd do. I'd—'</p> +<p>He slowly and meditatively tore the letter in two, dropped one +piece on the floor, thrust the other into a convenient gas-jet, and +applied it to the tobacco.</p> +<p>'I'd get 'em 'gether in a heap, and I'd—Damn this +pipe!'</p> +<p>He picked up the other half of the letter, and relighted the +pipe.</p> +<p>'After you, mate,' said a man sitting near, who was just biting +the end from a cigar.</p> +<hr class='long' /> + +<h2> +<a name='THE_END' id="THE_END"></a> +THE END.</h2> + + + + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/old/old/13293-8.txt b/old/old/13293-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1861b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/13293-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6653 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13293] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +TALES + +OF THE FIVE TOWNS + +By + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + * * * * * + +First published January 1905 + + * * * * * + +TO + +MARCEL SCHWOB + +MY LITERARY GODFATHER IN FRANCE + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + THE DOG + A FEUD + PHANTOM + TIDDY-FOL-LOL + THE IDIOT + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + THE SISTERS QITA + NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + A LETTER HOME + + * * * * * + + + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + + * * * * * + + + + +HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + + +I + +It was an amiable but deceitful afternoon in the third week of December. +Snow fell heavily in the windows of confectioners' shops, and Father +Christmas smiled in Keats's Bazaar the fawning smile of a myth who knows +himself to be exploded; but beyond these and similar efforts to remedy +the forgetfulness of a careless climate, there was no sign anywhere in +the Five Towns, and especially in Bursley, of the immediate approach of +the season of peace, goodwill, and gluttony on earth. + +At the Tiger, next door to Keats's in the market-place, Mr. Josiah +Topham Curtenty had put down his glass (the port was kept specially for +him), and told his boon companion, Mr. Gordon, that he must be going. +These two men had one powerful sentiment in common: they loved the same +woman. Mr. Curtenty, aged twenty-six in heart, thirty-six in mind, and +forty-six in looks, was fifty-six only in years. He was a rich man; he +had made money as an earthenware manufacturer in the good old times +before Satan was ingenious enough to invent German competition, American +tariffs, and the price of coal; he was still making money with the aid +of his son Harry, who now managed the works, but he never admitted that +he was making it. No one has yet succeeded, and no one ever will +succeed, in catching an earthenware manufacturer in the act of making +money; he may confess with a sigh that he has performed the feat in the +past, he may give utterance to a vague, preposterous hope that he will +perform it again in the remote future, but as for surprising him in the +very act, you would as easily surprise a hen laying an egg. Nowadays Mr. +Curtenty, commercially secure, spent most of his energy in helping to +shape and control the high destinies of the town. He was Deputy-Mayor, +and Chairman of the General Purposes Committee of the Town Council; he +was also a Guardian of the Poor, a Justice of the Peace, President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons, a sidesman, an Oddfellow, and +several other things that meant dining, shrewdness, and good-nature. He +was a short, stiff, stout, red-faced man, jolly with the jollity that +springs from a kind heart, a humorous disposition, a perfect digestion, +and the respectful deference of one's bank-manager. Without being a +member of the Browning Society, he held firmly to the belief that all's +right with the world. + +Mr. Gordon, who has but a sorry part in the drama, was a younger, +quieter, less forceful person, rather shy; a municipal mediocrity, +perhaps a little inflated that day by reason of his having been elected +to the Chairmanship of the Gas and Lighting Committee. + +Both men had sat on their committees at the Town Hall across the way +that deceitful afternoon, and we see them now, after refreshment well +earned and consumed, about to separate and sink into private life. But +as they came out into the portico of the Tiger, the famous Calypso-like +barmaid of the Tiger a hovering enchantment in the background, it +occurred that a flock of geese were meditating, as geese will, in the +middle of the road. The gooseherd, a shabby middle-aged man, looked as +though he had recently lost the Battle of Marathon, and was asking +himself whether the path of his retreat might not lie through the +bar-parlour of the Tiger. + +'Business pretty good?' Mr. Curtenty inquired of him cheerfully. + +In the Five Towns business takes the place of weather as a topic of +salutation. + +'Business!' echoed the gooseherd. + +In that one unassisted noun, scorning the aid of verb, adjective, or +adverb, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound and subtle emphasis, +contrived to express the fact that he existed in a world of dead +illusions, that he had become a convert to Schopenhauer, and that Mr. +Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a final grievance to him. + +'There ain't no business!' he added. + +'Ah!' returned Mr. Curtenty, thoughtful: such an assertion of the entire +absence of business was a reflection upon the town. + +'Sithee!' said the gooseherd in ruthless accents, 'I druv these 'ere +geese into this 'ere town this morning.' (Here he exaggerated the +number of miles traversed.) 'Twelve geese and two gander--a Brent and a +Barnacle. And how many is there now? How many?' + +'Fourteen,' said Mr. Gordon, having counted; and Mr. Curtenty gazed at +him in reproach, for that he, a Town Councillor, had thus mathematically +demonstrated the commercial decadence of Bursley. + +'Market overstocked, eh?' Mr. Curtenty suggested, throwing a side-glance +at Callear the poulterer's close by, which was crammed with everything +that flew, swam, or waddled. + +'Call this a market?' said the gooseherd. 'I'st tak' my lot over to +Hanbridge, wheer there _is_ a bit doing, by all accounts.' + +Now, Mr. Curtenty had not the least intention of buying those geese, but +nothing could be better calculated to straighten the back of a Bursley +man than a reference to the mercantile activity of Hanbridge, that +Chicago of the Five Towns. + +'How much for the lot?' he inquired. + +In that moment he reflected upon his reputation; he knew that he was a +cure, a card, a character; he knew that everyone would think it just +like Jos Curtenty, the renowned Deputy-Mayor of Bursley, to stand on +the steps of the Tiger and pretend to chaffer with a gooseherd for a +flock of geese. His imagination caught the sound of an oft-repeated +inquiry, 'Did ye hear about old Jos's latest--trying to buy them there +geese?' and the appreciative laughter that would follow. + +The gooseherd faced him in silence. + +'Well,' said Mr. Curtenty again, his eyes twinkling, 'how much for the +lot?' + +The gooseherd gloomily and suspiciously named a sum. + +Mr. Curtenty named a sum startlingly less, ending in sixpence. + +'I'll tak' it,' said the gooseherd, in a tone that closed on the bargain +like a vice. + +The Deputy-Mayor perceived himself the owner of twelve geese and two +ganders--one Brent, one Barnacle. It was a shock, but he sustained it. +Involuntarily he looked at Mr. Gordon. + +'How are you going to get 'em home, Curtenty?' asked Gordon, with coarse +sarcasm; 'drive 'em?' + +Nettled, Mr. Curtenty retorted: + +'Now, then, Gas Gordon!' + +The barmaid laughed aloud at this sobriquet, which that same evening +was all over the town, and which has stuck ever since to the Chairman of +the Gas and Lighting Committee. Mr. Gordon wished, and has never ceased +to wish, either that he had been elected to some other committee, or +that his name had begun with some other letter. + +The gooseherd received the purchase-money like an affront, but when Mr. +Curtenty, full of private mirth, said, 'Chuck us your stick in,' he give +him the stick, and smiled under reservation. Jos Curtenty had no use for +the geese; he could conceive no purpose which they might be made to +serve, no smallest corner for them in his universe. Nevertheless, since +he had rashly stumbled into a ditch, he determined to emerge from it +grandly, impressively, magnificently. He instantaneously formed a plan +by which he would snatch victory out of defeat. He would take Gordon's +suggestion, and himself drive the geese up to his residence in Hillport, +that lofty and aristocratic suburb. It would be an immense, an +unparalleled farce; a wonder, a topic for years, the crown of his +reputation as a card. + +He announced his intention with that misleading sobriety and +ordinariness of tone which it has been the foible of many great +humorists to assume. Mr. Gordon lifted his head several times very +quickly, as if to say, 'What next?' and then actually departed, which +was a clear proof that the man had no imagination and no soul. + +The gooseherd winked. + +'You be rightly called "Curtenty," mester,' said he, and passed into the +Tiger. + +'That's the best joke I ever heard,' Jos said to himself 'I wonder +whether he saw it.' + +Then the procession of the geese and the Deputy-Mayor commenced. Now, it +is not to be assumed that Mr. Curtenty was necessarily bound to look +foolish in the driving of geese. He was no nincompoop. On the contrary, +he was one of those men who, bringing common-sense and presence of mind +to every action of their lives, do nothing badly, and always escape the +ridiculous. He marshalled his geese with notable gumption, adopted +towards them exactly the correct stress of persuasion, and presently he +smiled to see them preceding him in the direction of Hillport. He +looked neither to right nor left, but simply at his geese, and thus the +quidnuncs of the market-place and the supporters of shop-fronts were +unable to catch his eye. He tried to feel like a gooseherd; and such was +his histrionic quality, his instinct for the dramatic, he _was_ a +gooseherd, despite his blue Melton overcoat, his hard felt hat with the +flattened top, and that opulent-curving collar which was the secret +despair of the young dandies of Hillport. He had the most natural air in +the world. The geese were the victims of this imaginative effort of Mr. +Curtenty's. They took him seriously as a gooseherd. These fourteen +intelligences, each with an object in life, each bent on +self-aggrandisement and the satisfaction of desires, began to follow the +line of least resistance in regard to the superior intelligence unseen +but felt behind them, feigning, as geese will, that it suited them so to +submit, and that in reality they were still quite independent. But in +the peculiar eye of the Barnacle gander, who was leading, an observer +with sufficient fancy might have deciphered a mild revolt against this +triumph of the absurd, the accidental, and the futile; a passive yet +Promethean spiritual defiance of the supreme powers. + +Mr. Curtenty got his fourteen intelligences safely across the top of St. +Luke's Square, and gently urged them into the steep defile of Oldcastle +Street. By this time rumour had passed in front of him and run off down +side-streets like water let into an irrigation system. At every corner +was a knot of people, at most windows a face. And the Deputy-Mayor never +spoke nor smiled. The farce was enormous; the memory of it would survive +revolutions and religions. + +Halfway down Oldcastle Street the first disaster happened. Electric +tramways had not then knitted the Five Towns in a network of steel; but +the last word of civilization and refinement was about to be uttered, +and a gang of men were making patterns with wires on the skyscape of +Oldcastle Street. One of the wires, slipping from its temporary gripper, +swirled with an extraordinary sound into the roadway, and writhed there +in spirals. Several of Mr. Curtenty's geese were knocked down, and rose +obviously annoyed; but the Barnacle gander fell with a clinging circle +of wire round his muscular, glossy neck, and did not rise again. It was +a violent, mysterious, agonizing, and sudden death for him, and must +have confirmed his theories about the arbitrariness of things. The +thirteen passed pitilessly on. Mr. Curtenty freed the gander from the +coiling wire, and picked it up, but, finding it far too heavy to carry, +he handed it to a Corporation road-sweeper. + +'I'll send for it,' he said; 'wait here.' + +These were the only words uttered by him during a memorable journey. + +The second disaster was that the deceitful afternoon turned to +rain--cold, cruel rain, persistent rain, full of sinister significance. +Mr. Curtenty ruefully raised the velvet of his Melton. As he did so a +brougham rolled into Oldcastle Street, a little in front of him, from +the direction of St. Peter's Church, and vanished towards Hillport. He +knew the carriage; he had bought it and paid for it. Deep, far down, in +his mind stirred the thought: + +'I'm just the least bit glad she didn't see me.' + +He had the suspicion, which recurs even to optimists, that happiness is +after all a chimera. + +The third disaster was that the sun set and darkness descended. Mr. +Curtenty had, unfortunately, not reckoned with this diurnal phenomenon; +he had not thought upon the undesirability of being under compulsion to +drive geese by the sole illumination of gas-lamps lighted by Corporation +gas. + +After this disasters multiplied. Dark and the rain had transformed the +farce into something else. It was five-thirty when at last he reached +The Firs, and the garden of The Firs was filled with lamentable +complainings of a remnant of geese. His man Pond met him with a +stable-lantern. + +'Damp, sir,' said Pond. + +'Oh, nowt to speak of,' said Mr. Curtenty, and, taking off his hat, he +shot the fluid contents of the brim into Pond's face. It was his way of +dotting the 'i' of irony. 'Missis come in?' + +'Yes, sir; I have but just rubbed the horse down.' + +So far no reference to the surrounding geese, all forlorn in the heavy +winter rain. + +'I've gotten a two-three geese and one gander here for Christmas,' said +Mr. Curtenty after a pause. To inferiors he always used the dialect. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Turn 'em into th' orchard, as you call it.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'They aren't all here. Thou mun put th' horse in the trap and fetch the +rest thysen.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'One's dead. A roadman's takkin' care on it in Oldcastle Street. He'll +wait for thee. Give him sixpence.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another got into th' cut [canal].' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another strayed on the railway-line--happen it's run over by +this.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'And one's making the best of her way to Oldcastle. I couldna coax her +in here.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Collect 'em.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +Mr. Curtenty walked away towards the house. + +'Mester!' Pond called after him, flashing the lantern. + +'Well, lad?' + +'There's no gander i' this lot.' + +'Hast forgotten to count thysen?' Mr. Curtenty answered blithely from +the shelter of the side-door. + +But within himself he was a little crest-fallen to think that the +surviving gander should have escaped his vigilance, even in the +darkness. He had set out to drive the geese home, and he had driven them +home, most of them. He had kept his temper, his dignity, his +cheerfulness. He had got a bargain in geese. So much was indisputable +ground for satisfaction. And yet the feeling of an anticlimax would not +be dismissed. Upon the whole, his transit lacked glory. It had begun in +splendour, but it had ended in discomfort and almost ignominy. +Nevertheless, Mr. Curtenty's unconquerable soul asserted itself in a +quite genuine and tuneful whistle as he entered the house. + +The fate of the Brent gander was never ascertained. + + + +II + +The dining-room of The Firs was a spacious and inviting refectory, which +owed nothing of its charm to William Morris, Regent Street, or the Arts +and Crafts Society. Its triple aim, was richness, solidity, and comfort, +but especially comfort; and this aim was achieved in new oak furniture +of immovable firmness, in a Turkey carpet which swallowed up the feet +like a feather bed, and in large oil-paintings, whose darkly-glinting +frames were a guarantee of their excellence. On a winter's night, as +now, the room was at its richest, solidest, most comfortable. The blue +plush curtains were drawn on their stout brass rods across door and +French window. Finest selected silkstone fizzed and flamed in a patent +grate which had the extraordinary gift of radiating heat into the +apartment instead of up the chimney. The shaded Welsbach lights of the +chandelier cast a dazzling luminance on the tea-table of snow and +silver, while leaving the pictures in a gloom so discreet that not +Ruskin himself could have decided whether these were by Whistler or +Peter Paul Rubens. On either side of the marble mantelpiece were two +easy-chairs of an immense, incredible capacity, chairs of crimson plush +for Titans, chairs softer than moss, more pliant than a loving heart, +more enveloping than a caress. In one of these chairs, that to the left +of the fireplace, Mr. Curtenty was accustomed to snore every Saturday +and Sunday afternoon, and almost every evening. The other was usually +empty, but to-night it was occupied by Mrs. Curtenty, the jewel of the +casket. In the presence of her husband she always used a small +rocking-chair of ebonized cane. + +To glance at this short, slight, yet plump little creature as she +reclined crosswise in the vast chair, leaving great spaces of the seat +unfilled, was to think rapturously to one's self: _This is a woman_. Her +fluffy head was such a dot against the back of the chair, the curve of +her chubby ringed hand above the head was so adorable, her black eyes +were so provocative, her slippered feet so wee--yes, and there was +something so mysteriously thrilling about the fall of her skirt that you +knew instantly her name was Clara, her temper both fiery and obstinate, +and her personality distracting. You knew that she was one of those +women of frail physique who can endure fatigues that would destroy a +camel; one of those dæmonic women capable of doing without sleep for ten +nights in order to nurse you; capable of dying and seeing you die +rather than give way about the tint of a necktie; capable of laughter +and tears simultaneously; capable of never being in the wrong except for +the idle whim of so being. She had a big mouth and very wide nostrils, +and her years were thirty-five. It was no matter; it would have been no +matter had she been a hundred and thirty-five. In short.... + +Clara Curtenty wore tight-fitting black silk, with a long gold chain +that descended from her neck nearly to her waist, and was looped up in +the middle to an old-fashioned gold brooch. She was in mourning for a +distant relative. Black pre-eminently suited her. Consequently her +distant relatives died at frequent intervals. + +The basalt clock on the mantelpiece trembled and burst into the song of +six. Clara Curtenty rose swiftly from the easy-chair, and took her seat +in front of the tea-tray. Almost at the same moment a neat +black-and-white parlourmaid brought in teapot, copper kettle, and a +silver-covered dish containing hot pikelets; then departed. Clara was +alone again; not the same Clara now, but a personage demure, prim, +precise, frightfully upright of back--a sort of impregnable +stronghold--without doubt a Deputy-Mayoress. + +At five past six Josiah Curtenty entered the room, radiant from a hot +bath, and happy in dry clothes--a fine, if mature, figure of a man. His +presence filled the whole room. + +'Well, my chuck!' he said, and kissed her on the cheek. + +She gazed at him with a look that might mean anything. Did she raise her +cheek to his greeting, or was it fancy that she had endured, rather than +accepted, his kiss? He was scarcely sure. And if she had endured instead +of accepting the kiss, was her mood to be attributed to his lateness for +tea, or to the fact that she was aware of the episode of the geese? He +could not divine. + +'Pikelets! Good!' he exclaimed, taking the cover off the dish. + +This strong, successful, and dominant man adored his wife, and went in +fear of her. She was his first love, but his second spouse. They had +been married ten years. In those ten years they had quarrelled only five +times, and she had changed the very colour of his life. Till his second +marriage he had boasted that he belonged to the people and retained the +habits of the people. Clara, though she also belonged to the people, +very soon altered all that. Clara had a passion for the genteel. Like +many warm-hearted, honest, clever, and otherwise sensible persons, Clara +was a snob, but a charming little snob. She ordered him to forget that +he belonged to the people. She refused to listen when he talked in the +dialect. She made him dress with opulence, and even with tidiness; she +made him buy a fashionable house and fill it with fine furniture; she +made him buy a brougham in which her gentility could pay calls and do +shopping (she shopped in Oldcastle, where a decrepit aristocracy of +tradesmen sneered at Hanbridge's lack of style); she had her 'day'; she +taught the servants to enter the reception-rooms without knocking; she +took tea in bed in the morning, and tea in the afternoon in the +drawing-room. She would have instituted dinner at seven, but she was a +wise woman, and realized that too much tyranny often means revolution +and the crumbling of-thrones; therefore the ancient plebeian custom of +high tea at six was allowed to persist and continue. + +She it was who had compelled Josiah (or bewitched, beguiled, coaxed and +wheedled him), after a public refusal, to accept the unusual post of +Deputy-Mayor. In two years' time he might count on being Mayor. Why, +then, should Clara have been so anxious for this secondary dignity? +Because, in that year of royal festival, Bursley, in common with many +other boroughs, had had a fancy to choose a Mayor out of the House of +Lords. The Earl of Chell, a magnate of the county, had consented to wear +the mayoral chain and dispense the mayoral hospitalities on condition +that he was provided with a deputy for daily use. + +It was the idea of herself being deputy to the lovely, meddlesome, and +arrogant Countess of Chell that had appealed to Clara. + +The deputy of a Countess at length spoke. + +'Will Harry be late at the works again to-night?' she asked in her +colder, small-talk manner, which committed her to nothing, as Josiah +well knew. + +Her way of saying that word 'Harry' was inimitably significant. She gave +it an air. She liked Harry, and she liked Harry's name, because it had a +Kensingtonian sound. Harry, so accomplished in business, was also a +dandy, and he was a dog. 'My stepson'--she loved to introduce him, so +tall, manly, distinguished, and dandiacal. Harry, enriched by his own +mother, belonged to a London club; he ran down to Llandudno for +week-ends; and it was reported that he had been behind the scenes at the +Alhambra. Clara felt for the word 'Harry' the unreasoning affection +which most women lavish on 'George.' + +'Like as not,' said Josiah. 'I haven't been to the works this +afternoon.' + +Another silence fell, and then Josiah, feeling himself unable to bear +any further suspense as to his wife's real mood and temper, suddenly +determined to tell her all about the geese, and know the worst. And +precisely at the instant that he opened his mouth, the maid opened the +door and announced: + +'Mr. Duncalf wishes to see you at once, sir. He won't keep you a +minute.' + +'Ask him in here, Mary,' said the Deputy-Mayoress sweetly; 'and bring +another cup and saucer.' + +Mr. Duncalf was the Town Clerk of Bursley: legal, portly, dry, and a +little shy. + +'I won't stop, Curtenty. How d'ye do, Mrs. Curtenty? No, thanks, +really----' But she, smiling, exquisitely gracious, flattered and +smoothed him into a chair. + +'Any interesting news, Mr. Duncalf?' she said, and added: 'But we're +glad that _anything_ should have brought you in.' + +'Well,' said Duncalf, 'I've just had a letter by the afternoon post from +Lord Chell.' + +'Oh, the Earl! Indeed; how very interesting.' + +'What's he after?' inquired Josiah cautiously. + +'He says he's just been appointed Governor of East +Australia--announcement 'll be in to-morrow's papers--and so he must +regretfully resign the mayoralty. Says he'll pay the fine, but of course +we shall have to remit that by special resolution of the Council.' + +'Well, I'm damned!' Josiah exclaimed. + +'Topham!' Mrs. Curtenty remonstrated, but with a delightful acquitting +dimple. She never would call him Josiah, much less Jos. Topham came more +easily to her lips, and sometimes Top. + +'Your husband,' said Mr. Duncalf impressively to Clara, 'will, of +course, have to step into the Mayor's shoes, and you'll have to fill +the place of the Countess.' He paused, and added: 'And very well you'll +do it, too--very well. Nobody better.' + +The Town Clerk frankly admired Clara. + +'Mr. Duncalf--Mr. Duncalf!' She raised a finger at him. 'You are the +most shameless flatterer in the town.' + +The flatterer was flattered. Having delivered the weighty news, he had +leisure to savour his own importance as the bearer of it. He drank a cup +of tea. Josiah was thoughtful, but Clara brimmed over with a fascinating +loquacity. Then Mr. Duncalf said that he must really be going, and, +having arranged with the Mayor-elect to call a special meeting of the +Council at once, he did go, all the while wishing he had the enterprise +to stay. + +Josiah accompanied him to the front-door. The sky had now cleared. + +'Thank ye for calling,' said the host. + +'Oh, that's all right. Good-night, Curtenty. Got that goose out of the +canal?' + +So the story was all abroad! + +Josiah returned to the dining-room, imperceptibly smiling. At the door +the sight of his wife halted him. The face of that precious and +adorable woman flamed out lightning and all menace and offence. Her +louring eyes showed what a triumph of dissimulation she must have +achieved in the presence of Mr. Duncalf, but now she could speak her +mind. + +'Yes, Topham!' she exploded, as though finishing an harangue. 'And on +this day of all days you choose to drive geese in the public road behind +my carriage!' + +Jos was stupefied, annihilated. + +'Did you see me, then, Clarry?' + +He vainly tried to carry it off. + +'Did I see you? Of course I saw you!' + +She withered him up with the hot wind of scorn. + +'Well,' he said foolishly, 'how was I to know that the Earl would resign +just to-day?' + +'How were you to----?' + +Harry came in for his tea. He glanced from one to the other, discreet, +silent. On the way home he had heard the tale of the geese in seven +different forms. The Deputy-Mayor, so soon to be Mayor, walked out of +the room. + +'Pond has just come back, father,' said Harry; 'I drove up the hill +with him.' + +And as Josiah hesitated a moment in the hall, he heard Clara exclaim, +'Oh, Harry!' + +'Damn!' he murmured. + + + +III + +The _Signal_ of the following day contained the announcement which Mr. +Duncalf had forecast; it also stated, on authority, that Mr. Josiah +Curtenty would wear the mayoral chain of Bursley immediately, and added +as its own private opinion that, in default of the Right Honourable the +Earl of Chell and his Countess, no better 'civic heads' could have been +found than Mr. Curtenty and his charming wife. So far the tone of the +_Signal_ was unimpeachable. But underneath all this was a sub-title, +'Amusing Exploit of the Mayor-elect,' followed by an amusing description +of the procession of the geese, a description which concluded by +referring to Mr. Curtenty as His Worship the Goosedriver. + +Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, and Turnhill laughed heartily, and perhaps a +little viciously, at this paragraph, but Bursley was annoyed by it. In +print the affair did not look at all well. Bursley prided itself on +possessing a unique dignity as the 'Mother of the Five Towns,' and to be +presided over by a goosedriver, however humorous and hospitable he might +be, did not consort with that dignity. A certain Mayor of Longshaw, +years before, had driven a sow to market, and derived a tremendous +advertisement therefrom, but Bursley had no wish to rival Longshaw in +any particular. Bursley regarded Longshaw as the Inferno of the Five +Towns. In Bursley you were bidden to go to Longshaw as you were bidden +to go to ... Certain acute people in Hillport saw nothing but a +paralyzing insult in the opinion of the _Signal_ (first and foremost a +Hanbridge organ), that Bursley could find no better civic head than +Josiah Curtenty. At least three Aldermen and seven Councillors +privately, and in the Tiger, disagreed with any such view of Bursley's +capacity to find heads. + +And underneath all this brooding dissatisfaction lurked the thought, as +the alligator lurks in a muddy river, that 'the Earl wouldn't like +it'--meaning the geese episode. It was generally felt that the Earl had +been badly treated by Jos Curtenty. The town could not explain its +sentiments--could not argue about them. They were not, in fact, capable +of logical justification; but they were there, they violently existed. +It would have been useless to point out that if the inimitable Jos had +not been called to the mayoralty the episode of the geese would have +passed as a gorgeous joke; that everyone had been vastly amused by it +until that desolating issue of the _Signal_ announced the Earl's +retirement; that Jos Curtenty could not possibly have foreseen what was +about to happen; and that, anyhow, goosedriving was less a crime than a +social solecism, and less a social solecism than a brilliant +eccentricity. Bursley was hurt, and logic is no balm for wounds. + +Some may ask: If Bursley was offended, why did it not mark its sense of +Josiah's failure to read the future by electing another Mayor? The +answer is, that while all were agreed that his antic was inexcusable, +all were equally agreed to pretend that it was a mere trifle of no +importance; you cannot deprive a man of his prescriptive right for a +mere trifle of no importance. Besides, nobody could be so foolish as to +imagine that goosedriving, though reprehensible in a Mayor about to +succeed an Earl, is an act of which official notice can be taken. + +The most curious thing in the whole imbroglio is that Josiah Curtenty +secretly agreed with his wife and the town. He was ashamed, overset. His +procession of geese appeared to him in an entirely new light, and he had +the strength of mind to admit to himself, 'I've made a fool of myself.' + +Harry went to London for a week, and Josiah, under plea of his son's +absence, spent eight hours a day at the works. The brougham remained in +the coach-house. + +The Town Council duly met in special conclave, and Josiah Topham +Curtenty became Mayor of Bursley. + +Shortly after Christmas it was announced that the Mayor and Mayoress had +decided to give a New Year's treat to four hundred poor old people in +the St. Luke's covered market. It was also spread about that this treat +would eclipse and extinguish all previous treats of a similar nature, +and that it might be accepted as some slight foretaste of the +hospitality which the Mayor and Mayoress would dispense in that +memorable year of royal festival. The treat was to occur on January 9, +the Mayoress's birthday. + +On January 7 Josiah happened to go home early. He was proceeding into +the drawing-room without enthusiasm to greet his wife, when he heard +voices within; and one voice was the voice of Gas Gordon. + +Jos stood still. It has been mentioned that Gordon and the Mayor were in +love with the same woman. The Mayor had easily captured her under the +very guns of his not formidable rival, and he had always thereafter felt +a kind of benevolent, good-humoured, contemptuous pity for +Gordon--Gordon, whose life was a tragic blank; Gordon, who lived, a +melancholy and defeated bachelor, with his mother and two unmarried +sisters older than himself. That Gordon still worshipped at the shrine +did not disturb him; on the contrary, it pleased him. Poor Gordon! + +'But, really, Mrs. Curtenty,' Gordon was saying--'really, you know +I--that--is--really--' + +'To please me!' Mrs. Curtenty entreated, with a seductive charm that +Jos felt even outside the door. + +Then there was a pause. + +'Very well,' said Gordon. + +Mr. Curtenty tiptoed away and back into the street. He walked in the +dark nearly to Oldcastle, and returned about six o'clock. But Clara said +no word of Gordon's visit. She had scarcely spoken to Topham for three +weeks. + +The next morning, as Harry was departing to the works, Mrs. Curtenty +followed the handsome youth into the hall. + +'Harry,' she whispered, 'bring me two ten-pound notes this afternoon, +will you, and say nothing to your father.' + + + +IV + +Gas Gordon was to be on the platform at the poor people's treat. As he +walked down Trafalgar Road his eye caught a still-exposed fragment of a +decayed bill on a hoarding. It referred to a meeting of the local branch +of the Anti-Gambling League a year ago in the lecture-hall of the +Wesleyan Chapel, and it said that Councillor Gordon would occupy the +chair on that occasion. Mechanically Councillor Gordon stopped and tore +the fragment away from the hoarding. + +The treat, which took the form of a dinner, was an unqualified success; +it surpassed all expectations. Even the diners themselves were +satisfied--a rare thing at such affairs. Goose was a prominent item in +the menu. After the repast the replete guests were entertained from the +platform, the Mayor being, of course, in the chair. Harry sang 'In Old +Madrid,' accompanied by his stepmother, with faultless expression. Mr. +Duncalf astonished everybody with the famous North-Country recitation, +'The Patent Hair-brushing Mashane.' There were also a banjo solo, a +skirt dance of discretion, and a campanological turn. At last, towards +ten o'clock, Mr. Gordon, who had hitherto done nothing, rose in his +place, amid good-natured cries of 'Gas!' + +'I feel sure you will all agree with me,' he began, 'that this evening +would not be complete without a vote of thanks--a very hearty vote of +thanks--to our excellent host and chairman.' + +Ear-splitting applause. + +'I've got a little story to tell you,' he continued--'a story that up +to this moment has been a close secret between his Worship the Mayor and +myself.' His Worship looked up sharply at the speaker. 'You've heard +about some geese, I reckon. (_Laughter_.) Well, you've not heard all, +but I'm going to tell you. I can't keep it to myself any longer. You +think his Worship drove those geese--I hope they're digesting well +(_loud laughter_)--just for fun. He didn't. I was with him when he +bought them, and I happened to say that goosedriving was a very +difficult accomplishment.' + +'Depends on the geese!' shouted a voice. + +'Yes, it does,' Mr. Gordon admitted. 'Well, his Worship contradicted me, +and we had a bit of an argument. I don't bet, as you know--at least, not +often--but I don't mind confessing that I offered to bet him a sovereign +he couldn't drive his geese half a mile. "Look here, Gordon," he said to +me: "there's a lot of distress in the town just now--trade bad, and so +on, and so on. I'll lay you a level ten pounds I drive these geese to +Hillport myself, the loser to give the money to charity." "Done," I +said. "Don't say anything about it," he says. "I won't," I says--but I +am doing. (_Applause_.) I feel it my duty to say something about it. +(_More applause_.) Well, I lost, as you all know. He drove 'em to +Hillport. ('_Good old Jos!_') That's not all. The Mayor insisted on +putting his own ten pounds to mine and making it twenty. Here are the +two identical notes, his and mine.' Mr. Gordon waved the identical notes +amid an uproar. 'We've decided that everyone who has dined here to-night +shall receive a brand-new shilling. I see Mr. Septimus Lovatt from the +bank there with a bag. He will attend to you as you go out. (_Wild +outbreak and tumult of rapturous applause_.) And now three cheers for +your Mayor--and Mayoress!' + +It was colossal, the enthusiasm. + +'_And_ for Gas Gordon!' called several voices. + +The cheers rose again in surging waves. + +Everyone remarked that the Mayor, usually so imperturbable, was quite +overcome--seemed as if he didn't know where to look. + +Afterwards, as the occupants of the platform descended, Mr. Gordon +glanced into the eyes of Mrs. Curtenty, and found there his exceeding +reward. The mediocrity had blossomed out that evening into something new +and strange. Liar, deliberate liar and self-accused gambler as he was, +he felt that he had lived during that speech; he felt that it was the +supreme moment of his life. + +'What a perfectly wonderful man your husband is!' said Mrs. Duncalf to +Mrs. Curtenty. + +Clara turned to her husband with a sublime gesture of satisfaction. In +the brougham, going home, she bewitched him with wifely endearments. She +could afford to do so. The stigma of the geese episode was erased. + +But the barmaid of the Tiger, as she let down her bright hair that night +in the attic of the Tiger, said to herself, 'Well, of all the----' Just +that. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + + +It was Monday afternoon of Bursley Wakes--not our modern rectified +festival, but the wild and naïve orgy of seventy years ago, the days of +bear-baiting and of bull-baiting, from which latter phrase, they say, +the town derives its name. In those times there was a town-bull, a sort +of civic beast; and a certain notorious character kept a bear in his +pantry. The 'beating' (baiting) occurred usually on Sunday mornings at +six o'clock, with formidable hungry dogs; and little boys used to look +forward eagerly to the day when they would be old enough to be permitted +to attend. On Sunday afternoons colliers and potters, gathered round the +jawbone of a whale which then stood as a natural curiosity on the waste +space near the corn-mill, would discuss the fray, and make bets for next +Sunday, while the exhausted dogs licked their wounds, or died. During +the Wakes week bull and bear were baited at frequent intervals, +according to popular demand, for thousands of sportsmen from +neighbouring villages seized the opportunity of the fair to witness the +fine beatings for which Bursley was famous throughout the country of the +Five Towns. In that week the Wakes took possession of the town, which +yielded itself with savage abandonment to all the frenzies of license. +The public-houses remained continuously open night and day, and the +barmen and barmaids never went to bed; every inn engaged special +'talent' in order to attract custom, and for a hundred hours the whole +thronged town drank, drank, until the supply of coin of George IV., +converging gradually into the coffers of a few persons, ceased to +circulate. Towards the end of the Wakes, by way of a last ecstasy, the +cockfighters would carry their birds, which had already fought and been +called off, perhaps, half a dozen times, to the town-field (where the +discreet 40 per cent. brewery now stands), and there match them to a +finish. It was a spacious age. + +On this Monday afternoon in June the less fervid activities of the +Wakes were proceeding as usual in the market-place, overshadowed by the +Town Hall--not the present stone structure with its gold angel, but a +brick edifice built on an ashlar basement. Hobby-horses and revolving +swing-boats, propelled, with admirable economy to the proprietors, by +privileged boys who took their pay in an occasional ride, competed +successfully with the skeleton man, the fat or bearded woman, and Aunt +Sally. The long toy-tents, artfully roofed with a tinted cloth which +permitted only a soft, mellow light to illuminate the wares displayed, +were crowded with jostling youth and full of the sound of whistles, +'squarkers,' and various pipes; and multitudes surrounded the +gingerbread, nut, and savoury stalls which lined both sides of the +roadway as far as Duck Bank. In front of the numerous boxing-booths +experts of the 'fancy,' obviously out of condition, offered to fight all +comers, and were not seldom well thrashed by impetuous champions of +local fame. There were no photographic studios and no cocoanut-shies, +for these things had not been thought of; and to us moderns the fair, +despite its uncontrolled exuberance of revelry, would have seemed +strangely quiet, since neither steam-organ nor hooter nor hurdy-gurdy +was there to overwhelm the ear with crashing waves of gigantic sound. +But if the special phenomena of a later day were missing from the +carnival, others, as astonishing to us as the steam-organ would have +been to those uncouth roisterers, were certainly present. Chief, +perhaps, among these was the man who retailed the elixir of youth, the +veritable _eau de jouvence_, to credulous drinkers at sixpence a bottle. +This magician, whose dark mysterious face and glittering eyes indicated +a strain of Romany blood, and whose accent proved that he had at any +rate lived much in Yorkshire, had a small booth opposite the watch-house +under the Town Hall. On a banner suspended in front of it was painted +the legend: + + THE INCA OF PERU'S + ELIXER OF YOUTH + SOLD HERE. + ETERNAL YOUTH FOR ALL. + DRINK THIS AND YOU WILL NEVER GROW OLD + AS SUPPLIED TO THE NOBILITY & GENTRY + SIXPENCE PER BOT. + WALK IN, WALK IN, & + CONSULT THE INCA OF PERU. + +The Inca of Peru, dressed in black velveteens, with a brilliant scarf +round his neck, stood at the door of his tent, holding an empty glass in +one jewelled hand, and with the other twirling a long and silken +moustache. Handsome, graceful, and thoroughly inured to the public gaze, +he fronted a small circle of gapers like an actor adroit to make the +best of himself, and his tongue wagged fast enough to wag a man's leg +off. At a casual glance he might have been taken for thirty, but his age +was fifty and more--if you could catch him in the morning before he had +put the paint on. + +'Ladies and gentlemen of Bursley, this enlightened and beautiful town +which I am now visiting for the first time,' he began in a hard, +metallic voice, employing again with the glib accuracy of a machine the +exact phrases which he had been using all day, 'look at me--look well at +me. How old do you think I am? How old do I seem? Twenty, my dear, do +you say?' and he turned with practised insolence to a pot-girl in a red +shawl who could not have uttered an audible word to save her soul, but +who blushed and giggled with pleasure at this mark of attention. 'Ah! +you flatter, fair maiden! I look more than twenty, but I think I may +say that I do not look thirty. Does any lady or gentleman think I look +thirty? No! As a matter of fact, I was twenty-nine years of age when, in +South America, while exploring the ruins of the most ancient +civilization of the world--of the world, ladies and gentlemen--I made my +wonderful discovery, the Elixir of Youth!' + +'What art blethering at, Licksy?' a drunken man called from the back of +the crowd, and the nickname stuck to the great discoverer during the +rest of the Wakes. + +'That, ladies and gentlemen,' the Inca of Peru continued unperturbed, +'was--seventy-two years ago. I am now a hundred and one years old +precisely, and as fresh as a kitten, all along of my marvellous elixir. +Far older, for instance, than this good dame here.' + +He pointed to an aged and wrinkled woman, in blue cotton and a white +mutch, who was placidly smoking a short cutty. This creature, bowed and +satiate with monotonous years, took the pipe from her indrawn lips, and +asked in a weary, trembling falsetto: + +'How many wives hast had?' + +'Seventane,' the Inca retorted quickly, dropping at once into broad +dialect, 'and now lone and lookin' to wed again. Wilt have me?' + +'Nay,' replied the crone. 'I've buried four mysen, and no man o' mine +shall bury me.' + +There was a burst of laughter, amid which the Inca, taking the crowd +archly into his confidence, remarked: + +'I've never administered my elixir to any of my wives, ladies and +gentlemen. You may blame me, but I freely confess the fact;' and he +winked. + +'Licksy! Licksy!' the drunken man idiotically chanted. + +'And now,' the Inca proceeded, coming at length to the practical part of +his ovation, 'see here!' With the rapidity of a conjurer he whipped from +his pocket a small bottle, and held it up before the increasing +audience. It contained a reddish fluid, which shone bright and rich in +the sunlight. 'See here!' he cried magnificently, but he was destined to +interruption. + +A sudden cry arose of 'Black Jack! Black Jack! 'Tis him! He's caught!' +And the Inca's crowd, together with all the other crowds filling the +market-place, surged off eastward in a dense, struggling mass. + +The cynosure of every eye was a springless clay-cart, which was being +slowly driven past the newly-erected 'big house' of Enoch Wood, Esquire, +towards the Town Hall. In this, cart were two constables, with their +painted staves drawn, and between the constables sat a man securely +chained--Black Jack of Moorthorne, the mining village which lies over +the ridge a mile or so east of Bursley. The captive was a ferocious and +splendid young Hercules, tall, with enormous limbs and hands and heavy +black brows. He was dressed in his soiled working attire of a collier, +the trousers strapped under the knees, and his feet shod in vast clogs. +With open throat, small head, great jaws, and bold beady eyes, he looked +what he was, the superb brute--the brute reckless of all save the +instant satisfaction of his desires. He came of a family of colliers, +the most debased class in a lawless district. Jack's father had been a +colliery-serf, legally enslaved to his colliery, legally liable to be +sold with the colliery as a chattel, and legally bound to bring up all +his sons as colliers, until the Act of George III. put an end to this +incredible survival from the customs of the Dark Ages. Black Jack was +now a hero to the crowd, and knew it, for those vast clogs had kicked a +woman to death on the previous day. She was a Moorthorne woman, not his +wife, but his sweetheart, older than he; people said that she nagged +him, and that he was tired of her. The murderer had hidden for a night, +and then, defiantly, surrendered to the watch, and the watch were taking +him to the watch-house in the ashlar basement of the Town Hall. The +feeble horse between the shafts of the cart moved with difficulty +through the press, and often the coloured staves of the constables came +down thwack on the heads of heedless youth. At length the cart reached +the space between the watch-house and the tent of the Inca of Peru, +where it stopped while the constables unlocked a massive door; the +prisoner remained proudly in the cart, accepting, with obvious delight, +the tribute of cheers and jeers, hoots and shouts, from five thousand +mouths. + +The Inca of Peru stood at the door of his tent and surveyed Black Jack, +who was not more than a few feet away from him. + +'Have a glass of my elixir,' he said to the death-dealer; 'no one in +this town needs it more than thee, by all accounts. Have a glass, and +live for ever. Only sixpence.' + +The man in the cart laughed aloud. + +'I've nowt on me--not a farden,' he answered, in a strong grating voice. + +At that moment a girl, half hidden by the cart, sprang forward, offering +something in her outstretched palm to the Inca; but he, misunderstanding +her intention, merely glanced with passing interest at her face, and +returned his gaze to the prisoner. + +'I'll give thee a glass, lad,' he said quickly, 'and then thou canst +defy Jack Ketch.' + +The crowd yelled with excitement, and the murderer held forth his great +hand for the potion. Using every art to enhance the effect of this +dramatic advertisement, the Inca of Peru raised his bottle on high, and +said in a loud, impressive tone: + +'This precious liquid has the property, possessed by no other liquid on +earth, of frothing twice. I shall pour it into the glass, and it will +froth. Black Jack will drink it, and after he has drunk it will froth +again. Observe!' + +He uncorked the bottle and filled the glass with the reddish fluid, +which after a few seconds duly effervesced, to the vague wonder of the +populace. The Inca held the glass till the froth had subsided, and then +solemnly gave it to Black Jack. + +'Drink!' commanded the Inca. + +Black Jack took the draught at a gulp, and instantly flung the glass at +the Inca's face. It missed him, however. There were signs of a fracas, +but the door of the watch-house swung opportunely open, and Jack was +dragged from the cart and hustled within. The crowd, with a crowd's +fickleness, turned to other affairs. + +That evening the ingenious Inca of Peru did good trade for several +hours, but towards eleven o'clock the attraction of the public-houses +and of a grand special combined bull and bear beating by moonlight in +the large yard of the Cock Inn drew away the circle of his customers +until there was none left. He retired inside the tent with several +pounds in his pocket and a god's consciousness of having made immortal +many of the sons and daughters of Adam. + +As he was counting out his gains on the tub of eternal youth by the +flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and stealthily +entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, which was +sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the young girl who +had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black Jack his priceless +boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing interest several times +during the evening as she loitered restless near the door of the +watch-house. + +'What do you want?' he asked her, with the ingratiating affability of +the rake who foresees everything. + +'Give me a drink.' + +'A drink of what, my dear?' + +'Licksy.' + +He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a kind of +face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out of ten, but +which will haunt the tenth: a child's face with a passionate woman's +eyes burning and dying in it--black hair, black eyes, thin pale cheeks, +equine nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin +conceivable. He smiled at her, pleased. + +'Can you pay for it?' he said pleasantly. + +The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, uncovered +head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of hardship and +neglect. + +'I've a silver groat,' she answered, and closed her small fist tighter. + +'A silver groat!' he exclaimed, rather astonished. 'Where did you get +that from?' + +'He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.' + +'Who?' + +'Him yonder'--she jerked her head back to indicate the +watch-house--'Black Jack.' + +'What for?' + +'He kissed me,' she said boldly; 'I'm his sweetheart.' + +'Eh!' The Inca paused a moment, startled. 'But he killed his sweetheart +yesterday.' + +'What! Meg!' the girl exclaimed with deep scorn. 'Her weren't his true +sweetheart. Her druv him to it. Serve her well right! Owd Meg!' + +'How old are you, my dear?' + +'Don't know. But feyther said last Wakes I was fourtane. I mun keep +young for Jack. He wunna have me if I'm owd.' + +'But he'll be hanged, they say.' + +She gave a short, satisfied laugh. + +'Not now he's drunk Licksy--hangman won't get him. I heard a man say +Jack 'd get off wi' twenty year for manslaughter, most like.' + +'And you'll wait twenty years for him?' + +'Yes,' she said; 'I'll meet him at prison gates. But I mun be young. +Give me a drink o' Licksy.' + +He drew the red draught in silence, and after it had effervesced offered +it to her. + +''Tis raight?' she questioned, taking the glass. + +The Inca nodded, and, lifting the vessel, she opened her eager lips and +became immortal. It was the first time in her life that she had drunk +out of a glass, and it would be the last. + +Struck dumb by the trusting joy in those profound eyes, the Inca took +the empty glass from her trembling hand. Frail organism and prey of +love! Passion had surprised her too young. Noon had come before the +flower could open. She went out of the tent. + +'Wench!' the Inca called after her, 'thy groat!' + +She paid him and stood aimless for a second, and then started to cross +the roadway. Simultaneously there was a rush and a roar from the Cock +yard close by. The raging bull, dragging its ropes, and followed by a +crowd of alarmed pursuers, dashed out. The girl was plain in the +moonlight. Many others were abroad, but the bull seemed to see nothing +but her, and, lowering his huge head, he charged with shut eyes and +flung her over the Inca's booth. + +'Thou's gotten thy wish: thou'rt young for ever!' the Inca of Peru, made +a poet for an instant by this disaster, murmured to himself as he bent +with the curious crowd over the corpse. + +Black Jack was hanged. + +Many years after all this Bursley built itself a new Town Hall (with a +spire, and a gold angel on the top in the act of crowning the bailiwick +with a gold crown), and began to think about getting up in the world. + + * * * * * + + + + +MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + + +In the front-bedroom of Edward Beechinor's small house in Trafalgar Road +the two primary social forces of action and reaction--those forces which +under a thousand names and disguises have alternately ruled the world +since the invention of politics--were pitted against each other in a +struggle rendered futile by the equality of the combatants. Edward +Beechinor had his money, his superior age, and the possible advantage of +being a dying man; Mark Beechinor had his youth and his devotion to an +ideal. Near the window, aloof and apart, stood the strange, silent girl +whose aroused individuality was to intervene with such effectiveness on +behalf of one of the antagonists. It was early dusk on an autumn day. + +'Tell me what it is you want, Edward,' said Mark quietly. 'Let us come +to the point.' + +'Ay,' said the sufferer, lifting his pale hand from the counterpane, +'I'll tell thee.' + +He moistened his lips as if in preparation, and pushed back a tuft of +sparse gray hair, damp with sweat. + +The physical and moral contrast between these two brothers was complete. +Edward was forty-nine, a small, thin, stunted man, with a look of narrow +cunning, of petty shrewdness working without imagination. He had been +clerk to Lawyer Ford for thirty-five years, and had also furtively +practised for himself. During this period his mode of life had never +varied, save once, and that only a year ago. At the age of fourteen he +sat in a grimy room with an old man on one side of him, a copying-press +on the other, and a law-stationer's almanac in front, and he earned half +a crown a week. At the age of forty-eight he still sat in the same grimy +room (of which the ceiling had meanwhile been whitened three times), +with the same copying-press and the almanac of the same law-stationers, +and he earned thirty shillings a week. But now he, Edward Beechinor, was +the old man, and the indispensable lad of fourteen, who had once been +himself, was another lad, perhaps thirtieth of the dynasty of +office-boys. Throughout this interminable and sterile desert of time he +had drawn the same deeds, issued the same writs, written the same +letters, kept the same accounts, lied the same lies, and thought the +same thoughts. He had learnt nothing except craft, and forgotten nothing +except happiness. He had never married, never loved, never been a rake, +nor deviated from respectability. He was a success because he had +conceived an object, and by sheer persistence attained it. In the eyes +of Bursley people he was a very decent fellow, a steady fellow, a +confirmed bachelor, a close un, a knowing customer, a curmudgeon, an +excellent clerk, a narrow-minded ass, a good Wesleyan, a thrifty +individual, and an intelligent burgess--according to the point of view. +The lifelong operation of rigorous habit had sunk him into a groove as +deep as the canon of some American river. His ideas on every subject +were eternally and immutably fixed, and, without being altogether aware +of it, he was part of the solid foundation of England's greatness. In +1892, when the whole of the Five Towns was agitated by the great probate +case of Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, in which Mr. Ford acted for the +defendants, Beechinor, then aged forty-eight, was torn from his stool +and sent out to Rio de Janeiro as part of a commission to take the +evidence of an important witness who had declined all offers to come +home. + +The old clerk was full of pride and self-importance at being thus +selected, but secretly he shrank from the journey, the mere idea of +which filled him with vague apprehension and alarm. His nature had lost +all its adaptability; he trembled like a young girl at the prospect of +new experiences. On the return voyage the vessel was quarantined at +Liverpool for a fortnight, and Beechinor had an attack of low fever. +Eight months afterwards he was ill again. Beechinor went to bed for the +last time, cursing Providence, Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, and Rio. + +Mark Beechinor was thirty, just nineteen years younger than his brother. +Tall, uncouth, big-boned, he had a rather ferocious and forbidding +aspect; yet all women seemed to like him, despite the fact that he +seldom could open his mouth to them. There must have been something in +his wild and liquid dark eyes which mutely appealed for their protective +sympathy, something about him of shy and wistful romance that atoned for +the huge awkwardness of this taciturn elephant. Mark was at present the +manager of a small china manufactory at Longshaw, the farthest of the +Five Towns in Staffordshire, and five miles from Bursley. He was an +exceptionally clever potter, but he never made money. He had the dreamy +temperament of the inventor. He was a man of ideas, the kind of man who +is capable of forgetting that he has not had his dinner, and who can +live apparently content amid the grossest domestic neglect. He had once +spoilt a hundred and fifty pounds' worth of ware by firing it in a new +kiln of his own contrivance; it cost him three years of atrocious +parsimony to pay for the ware and the building of the kiln. He was +impulsively and recklessly charitable, and his Saturday afternoons and +Sundays were chiefly devoted to the passionate propagandism of the +theories of liberty, equality, and fraternity. + +'Is it true as thou'rt for marrying Sammy Mellor's daughter over at +Hanbridge?' Edward Beechinor asked, in the feeble, tremulous voice of +one agonized by continual pain. + +Among relatives and acquaintances he commonly spoke the Five Towns +dialect, reserving the other English for official use. + +Mark stood at the foot of the bed, leaning with his elbows on the brass +rail. Like most men, he always felt extremely nervous and foolish in a +sick-room, and the delicacy of this question, so bluntly put, added to +his embarrassment. He looked round timidly in the direction of the girl +at the window; her back was towards him. + +'It's possible,' he replied. 'I haven't asked her yet.' + +'Her'll have no money?' + +'No.' + +'Thou'lt want some brass to set up with. Look thee here, Mark: I made my +will seven years ago i' thy favour.' + +'Thank ye,' said Mark gratefully. + +'But that,' the dying man continued with a frown--'that was afore +thou'dst taken up with these socialistic doctrines o' thine. I've heard +as thou'rt going to be th' secretary o' the Hanbridge Labour Church, as +they call it.' + +Hanbridge is the metropolis of the Five Towns, and its Labour Church is +the most audacious and influential of all the local activities, half +secret, but relentlessly determined, whose aim is to establish the new +democratic heaven and the new democratic earth by means of a gradual and +bloodless revolution. Edward Beechinor uttered its abhorred name with a +bitter and scornful hatred characteristic of the Toryism of a man who, +having climbed high up out of the crowd, fiercely resents any widening +or smoothing of the difficult path which he himself has conquered. + +'They've asked me to take the post,' Mark answered. + +'What's the wages?' the older man asked, with exasperated sarcasm. + +'Nothing.' + +'Mark, lad,' the other said, softening, 'I'm worth seven hundred pounds +and this freehold house. What dost think o' that?' + +Even in that moment, with the world and its riches slipping away from +his dying grasp, the contemplation of this great achievement of thrift +filled Edward Beechinor with a sublime satisfaction. That sum of seven +hundred pounds, which many men would dissipate in a single night, and +forget the next morning that they had done so, seemed vast and almost +incredible to him. + +'I know you've always been very careful,' said Mark politely. + +'Give up this old Labour Church'--again old Beechinor laid a withering +emphasis on the phrase--'give up this Labour Church, and its all +thine--house and all.' + +Mark shook his head. + +'Think twice,' the sick man ordered angrily. 'I tell thee thou'rt +standing to lose every shilling.' + +'I must manage without it, then.' + +A silence fell. + +Each brother was absolutely immovable in his decision, and the other +knew it. Edward might have said: 'I am a dying man: give up this thing +to oblige me.' And Mark could have pleaded: 'At such a moment I would do +anything to oblige you--except this, and this I really can't do. Forgive +me.' Such amenities would possibly have eased the cord which was about +to snap; but the idea of regarding Edward's condition as a factor in +the case did not suggest itself favourably to the grim Beechinor stock, +so stern, harsh, and rude. The sick man wiped from his sunken features +the sweat which continually gathered there. Then he turned upon his side +with a grunt. + +'Thou must fetch th' lawyer,' he said at length, 'for I'll cut thee +off.' + +It was a strange request--like ordering a condemned man to go out and +search for his executioner; but Mark answered with perfect naturalness: + +'Yes. Mr. Ford, I suppose?' + +'Ford? No! Dost think I want _him_ meddling i' my affairs? Go to young +Baines up th' road. Tell him to come at once. He's sure to be at home, +as it's Saturday night.' + +'Very well.' + +Mark turned to leave the room. + +'And, young un, I've done with thee. Never pass my door again till thou +know'st I'm i' my coffin. Understand?' + +Mark hesitated a moment, and then went out, quietly closing the door. No +sooner had he done so than the girl, hitherto so passive at the window, +flew after him. + +There are some women whose calm, enigmatic faces seem always to suggest +the infinite. It is given to few to know them, so rare as they are, and +their lives usually so withdrawn; but sometimes they pass in the street, +or sit like sphinxes in the church or the theatre, and then the memory +of their features, persistently recurring, troubles us for days. They +are peculiar to no class, these women: you may find them in a print gown +or in diamonds. Often they have thin, rather long lips and deep rounded +chins; but it is the fine upward curve of the nostrils and the fall of +the eyelids which most surely mark them. Their glances and their faint +smiles are beneficent, yet with a subtle shade of half-malicious +superiority. When they look at you from under those apparently fatigued +eyelids, you feel that they have an inward and concealed existence far +beyond the ordinary--that they are aware of many things which you can +never know. It is as though their souls, during former incarnations, had +trafficked with the secret forces of nature, and so acquired a +mysterious and nameless quality above all the transient attributes of +beauty, wit, and talent. They exist: that is enough; that is their +genius. Whether they control, or are at the mercy of, those secret +forces; whether they have in fact learnt, but may not speak, the true +answer to the eternal Why; whether they are not perhaps a riddle even to +their own simple selves: these are points which can never be decided. + +Everyone who knew Mary Beechinor, in her cousin's home, or at chapel, or +on Titus Price's earthenware manufactory, where she worked, said or +thought that 'there was something about her ...' and left the phrase +unachieved. She was twenty-five, and she had lived under the same roof +with Edward Beechinor for seven years, since the sudden death of her +parents. The arrangement then made was that Edward should keep her, +while she conducted his household. She had insisted on permission to +follow her own occupation, and in order that she might be at liberty to +do so she personally paid eighteenpence a week to a little girl who came +in to perform sundry necessary duties every day at noon. Mary Beechinor +was a paintress by trade. As a class the paintresses of the Five Towns +are somewhat similar to the more famous mill-girls of Lancashire and +Yorkshire--fiercely independent by reason of good wages earned, loving +finery and brilliant colours, loud-tongued and aggressive, perhaps, and +for the rest neither more nor less kindly, passionate, faithful, than +any other Saxon women anywhere. The paintresses, however, have some +slight advantage over the mill-girls in the outward reticences of +demeanour, due no doubt to the fact that their ancient craft demands a +higher skill, and is pursued under more humane and tranquil conditions. +Mary Beechinor worked in the 'band-and-line' department of the +painting-shop at Price's. You may have observed the geometrical +exactitude of the broad and thin coloured lines round the edges of a +common cup and saucer, and speculated upon the means by which it was +arrived at. A girl drew those lines, a girl with a hand as sure as +Giotto's, and no better tools than a couple of brushes and a small +revolving table called a whirler. Forty-eight hours a week Mary +Beechinor sat before her whirler. Actuating the treadle, she placed a +piece of ware on the flying disc, and with a single unerring flip of the +finger pushed it precisely to the centre; then she held the full brush +firmly against the ware, and in three seconds the band encircled it +truly; another brush taken up, and the line below the band also stood +complete. And this process was repeated, with miraculous swiftness, hour +after hour, week after week, year after year. Mary could decorate over +thirty dozen cups and saucers in a day, at three halfpence the dozen. +'Doesn't she ever do anything else?' some visitor might curiously +inquire, whom Titus Price was showing over his ramshackle manufactory. +'No, always the same thing,' Titus would answer, made proud for the +moment of this phenomenon of stupendous monotony. 'I wonder how she can +stand it--she has a refined face,' the visitor might remark; and Mary +Beechinor was left alone again. The idea that her work was monotonous +probably never occurred to the girl. It was her work--as natural as +sleep, or the knitting which she always did in the dinner-hour. The calm +and silent regularity of it had become part of her, deepening her +original quiescence, and setting its seal upon her inmost spirit. She +was not in the fellowship of the other girls in the painting-shop. She +seldom joined their more boisterous diversions, nor talked their talk, +and she never manoeuvred for their men. But they liked her, and their +attitude showed a certain respect, forced from them by they knew not +what. The powers in the office spoke of Mary Beechinor as 'a very +superior girl.' + +She ran downstairs after Mark, and he waited in the narrow hall, where +there was scarcely room for two people to pass. Mark looked at her +inquiringly. Rather thin, and by no means tall, she seemed the merest +morsel by his side. She was wearing her second-best crimson merino +frock, partly to receive the doctor and partly because it was Saturday +night; over this a plain bibless apron. Her cold gray eyes faintly +sparkled in anger above the cheeks white with watching, and the dropped +corners of her mouth showed a contemptuous indignation. Mary Beechinor +was ominously roused from the accustomed calm of years. Yet Mark at +first had no suspicion that she was disturbed. To him that pale and +inviolate face, even while it cast a spell over him, gave no sign of the +fires within. + +She took him by the coat-sleeve and silently directed him into the +gloomy little parlour crowded with mahogany and horsehair furniture, +white antimacassars, wax flowers under glass, and ponderous +gilt-clasped Bibles. + +'It's a cruel shame!' she whispered, as though afraid of being overheard +by the dying man upstairs. + +'Do you think I ought to have given way?' he questioned, reddening. + +'You mistake me,' she said quickly; and with a sudden movement she went +up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The caress, so innocent, +unpremeditated, and instinctive, ran through him like a voltaic shock. +These two were almost strangers; they had scarcely met till within the +past week, Mark being seldom in Bursley. 'You mistake me--it is a shame +of _him_! I'm fearfully angry.' + +'Angry?' he repeated, astonished. + +'Yes, angry.' She walked to the window, and, twitching at the +blind-cord, gazed into the dim street. It was beginning to grow dark. +'Shall you fetch the lawyer? I shouldn't if I were you. I won't.' + +'I must fetch him,' Mark said. + +She turned round and admired him. 'What _will_ he do with his precious +money?' she murmured. + +'Leave it to you, probably.' + +'Not he. I wouldn't touch it--not now; it's yours by rights. Perhaps you +don't know that when I came here it was distinctly understood I wasn't +to expect anything under his will. Besides, I have my own money ... Oh +dear! If he wasn't in such pain, wouldn't I talk to him--for the first +and last time in my life!' + +'You must please not say a word to him. I don't really want the money.' + +'But you ought to have it. If he takes it away from you he's _unjust_.' + +'What did the doctor say this afternoon?' asked Mark, wishing to change +the subject. + +'He said the crisis would come on Monday, and when it did Edward would +be dead all in a minute. He said it would be just like taking prussic +acid.' + +'Not earlier than Monday?' + +'He said he thought Monday.' + +'Of course I shall take no notice of what Edward said to me--I shall +call to-morrow morning--and stay. Perhaps he won't mind seeing me. And +then you can tell me what happens to-night.' + +'I'm sure I shall send that lawyer man about his business,' she +threatened. + +'Look here,' said Mark timorously as he was leaving the house, 'I've +told you I don't want the money--I would give it away to some charity; +but do you think I ought to pretend to yield, just to humour him, and +let him die quiet and peaceful? I shouldn't like him to die hating----' + +'Never--never!' she exclaimed. + + * * * * * + +'What have you and Mark been talking about?' asked Edward Beechinor +apprehensively as Mary re-entered the bedroom. + +'Nothing,' she replied with a grave and soothing kindliness of tone. + +'Because, miss, if you think----' + +'You must have your medicine now, Edward.' + +But before giving the patient his medicine she peeped through the +curtain and watched Mark's figure till it disappeared up the hill +towards Bleakridge. He, on his part, walked with her image always in +front of him. He thought hers was the strongest, most righteous soul he +had ever encountered; it seemed as if she had a perfect passion for +truth and justice. And a week ago he had deemed her a capable girl, +certainly--but lackadaisical! + + * * * * * + +The clock had struck ten before Mr. Baines, the solicitor, knocked at +the door. Mary hesitated, and then took him upstairs in silence while he +suavely explained to her why he had been unable to come earlier. This +lawyer was a young Scotsman who had descended upon the town from +nowhere, bought a small decayed practice, and within two years had +transformed it into a large and flourishing business by one of those +feats of energy, audacity, and tact, combined, of which some Scotsmen +seem to possess the secret. + +'Here is Mr. Baines, Edward,' Mary said quietly; and then, having +rearranged the sick man's pillow, she vanished out of the room and went +into the kitchen. + +The gas-jet there showed only a point of blue, but she did not turn it +up. Dragging an old oak rush-seated rocking-chair near to the range, +where a scrap of fire still glowed, she rocked herself gently in the +darkness. + +After about half an hour Mr. Baines's voice sounded at the head of the +stairs: + +'Miss Beechinor, will ye kindly step up? We shall want some +asseestance.' + +She obeyed, but not instantly. + +In the bedroom Mr. Baines, a fountain-pen between his fine white teeth, +was putting some coal on the fire. He stood up as she entered. + +'Mr. Beechinor is about to make a new will,' he said, without removing +the pen from his mouth, 'and ye will kindly witness it.' + +The small room appeared to be full of Baines--he was so large and fleshy +and assertive. The furniture, even the chest of drawers, was dwarfed +into toy-furniture, and Beechinor, slight and shrunken-up, seemed like a +cadaverous manikin in the bed. + +'Now, Mr. Beechinor.' Dusting his hands, the lawyer took a newly-written +document from the dressing-table, and, spreading it on the lid of a +cardboard box, held it before the dying man. 'Here's the pen. There! +I'll help ye to hold it.' + +Beechinor clutched the pen. His wrinkled and yellow face, flushed in +irregular patches as though the cheeks had been badly rouged, was +covered with perspiration, and each difficult movement, even to the +slightest lifting of the head, showed extreme exhaustion. He cast at +Mary a long sinister glance of mistrust and apprehension. + +'What is there in this will?' + +Mr. Baines looked sharply up at the girl, who now stood at the side of +the bed opposite him. Mechanically she smoothed the tumbled bed-clothes. + +'That's nowt to do wi' thee, lass,' said Beechinor resentfully. + +'It isn't necessary that a witness to a will should be aware of its +contents,' said Baines. 'In fact, it's quite unusual.' + +'I sign nothing in the dark,' she said, smiling. Through their +half-closed lids her eyes glimmered at Baines. + +'Ha! Legal caution acquired from your cousin, I presume.' Baines smiled +at her. 'But let me assure ye, Miss Beechinor, this is a mere matter of +form. A will must be signed in the presence of two witnesses, both +present at the same time; and there's only yeself and me for it.' + +Mary looked at the dying man, whose features were writhed in pain, and +shook her head. + +'Tell her,' he murmured with bitter despair, and sank down into the +pillows, dropping the fountain-pen, which had left a stain of ink on the +sheet before Baines could pick it up. + +'Well, then, Miss Beechinor, if ye must know,' Baines began with +sarcasm, 'the will is as follows: The testator--that's Mr. +Beechinor--leaves twenty guineas to his brother Mark to show that he +bears him no ill-will and forgives him. The rest of his estate is to be +realized, and the proceeds given to the North Staffordshire Infirmary, +to found a bed, which is to be called the Beechinor bed. If there is any +surplus, it is to go to the Law Clerks' Provident Society. That is all.' + +'I shall have nothing to do with it,' Mary said coldly. + +'Young lady, we don't want ye to have anything to do with it. We only +desire ye to witness the signature.' + +'I won't witness the signature, and I won't see it signed.' + +'Damn thee, Mary! thou'rt a wicked wench,' Beechinor whispered in +hoarse, feeble tones. He saw himself robbed of the legitimate fruit of +all those interminable years of toilsome thrift. This girl by a trick +would prevent him from disposing of his own. He, Edward Beechinor, +shrewd and wealthy, was being treated like a child. He was too weak to +rave, but from his aggrieved and furious heart he piled silent curses on +her. 'Go, fetch another witness,' he added to the lawyer. + +'Wait a moment,' said Baines. 'Miss Beechinor, do ye mean to say that ye +will cross the solemn wish of a dying man?' + +'I mean to say I won't help a dying man to commit a crime.' + +'A crime?' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'a crime. Seven years ago Mr. Beechinor willed +everything to his brother Mark, and Mark ought to have everything. Mark +is his only brother--his only relation except me. And Edward knows it +isn't me wants any of his money. North Staffordshire Infirmary indeed! +It's a crime!... What business have _you_,' she went on to Edward +Beechinor, 'to punish Mark just because his politics aren't----' + +'That's beside the point,' the lawyer interrupted. 'A testator has a +perfect right to leave his property as he chooses, without giving +reasons. Now, Miss Beechinor, I must ask ye to be judeecious.' + +Mary shut her lips. + +'Her'll never do it. I tell thee, fetch another witness.' + +The old man sprang up in a sort of frenzy as he uttered the words, and +then fell back in a brief swoon. + +Mary wiped his brow, and pushed away the wet and matted hair. Presently +he opened his eyes, moaning. Mr. Baines folded up the will, put it in +his pocket, and left the room with quick steps. Mary heard him open the +front-door and then return to the foot of the stairs. + +'Miss Beechinor,' he called, 'I'll speak with ye a moment.' + +She went down. + +'Do you mind coming into the kitchen?' she said, preceding him and +turning up the gas; 'there's no light in the front-room.' + +He leaned up against the high mantelpiece; his frock-coat hung to the +level of the oven-knob. She had one hand on the white deal table. +Between them a tortoiseshell cat purred on the red-tiled floor. + +'Ye're doing a verra serious thing, Miss Beechinor. As Mr. Beechinor's +solicitor, I should just like to be acquaint with the real reasons for +this conduct.' + +'I've told you.' She had a slightly quizzical look. + +'Now, as to Mark,' the lawyer continued blandly, 'Mr. Beechinor +explained the whole circumstances to me. Mark as good as defied his +brother.' + +'That's nothing to do with it.' + +'By the way, it appears that Mark is practically engaged to be married. +May I ask if the lady is yeself?' + +She hesitated. + +'If so,' he proceeded, 'I may tell ye informally that I admire the pluck +of ye. But, nevertheless, that will has got to be executed.' + +'The young lady is a Miss Mellor of Hanbridge.' + +'I'm going to fetch my clerk,' he said shortly. 'I can see ye're an +obstinate and unfathomable woman. I'll be back in half an hour.' + +When he had departed she bolted the front-door top and bottom, and went +upstairs to the dying man. + +Nearly an hour elapsed before she heard a knock. Mr. Baines had had to +arouse his clerk from sleep. Instead of going down to the front-door, +Mary threw up the bedroom window and looked out. It was a mild but +starless night. Trafalgar Road was silent save for the steam-car, which, +with its load of revellers returning from Hanbridge--that centre of +gaiety--slipped rumbling down the hill towards Bursley. + +'What do you want--disturbing a respectable house at this time of +night?' she called in a loud whisper when the car had passed. 'The +door's bolted, and I can't come down. You must come in the morning.' + +'Miss Beechinor, ye will let us in--I charge ye.' + +'It's useless, Mr. Baines.' + +'I'll break the door down. I'm a strong man, and a determined. Ye are +carrying things too far.' + +In another moment the two men heard the creak of the bolts. Mary stood +before them, vaguely discernible, but a forbidding figure. + +'If you must--come upstairs,' she said coldly. + +'Stay here in the passage, Arthur,' said Mr. Baines; 'I'll call ye when +I want ye;' and he followed Mary up the stairs. + +Edward Beechinor lay on his back, and his sunken eyes stared glassily at +the ceiling. The skin of his emaciated face, stretched tightly over the +protruding bones, had lost all its crimson, and was green, white, +yellow. The mouth was wide open. His drawn features wore a terribly +sardonic look--a purely physical effect of the disease; but it seemed to +the two spectators that this mean and disappointed slave of a miserly +habit had by one superb imaginative effort realized the full vanity of +all human wishes and pretensions. + +'Ye can go; I shan't want ye,' said Mr. Baines, returning to the clerk. + +The lawyer never spoke of that night's business. Why should he? To what +end? Mark Beechinor, under the old will, inherited the seven hundred +pounds and the house. Miss Mellor of Hanbridge is still Miss Mellor, her +hand not having been formally sought. But Mark, secretary of the Labour +Church, is married. Miss Mellor, with a quite pardonable air of tolerant +superiority, refers to his wife as 'a strange, timid little +creature--she couldn't say Bo to a goose.' + + * * * * * + + + + +THE DOG + + +This is a scandalous story. It scandalized the best people in Bursley; +some of them would wish it forgotten. But since I have begun to tell it +I may as well finish. Moreover, like most tales whispered behind fans +and across club-tables, it carries a high and valuable moral. The +moral--I will let you have it at once--is that those who love in glass +houses should pull down the blinds. + + + +I + +He had got his collar on safely; it bore his name--Ellis Carter. Strange +name for a dog, perhaps; and perhaps it was even more strange that his +collar should be white. But such dogs are not common dogs. He tied his +necktie exquisitely; caressed his hair again with two brushes; curved +his young moustache, and then assumed his waistcoat and his coat; the +trousers had naturally preceded the collar. He beheld the suit in the +glass, and saw that it was good. And it was not built in London, either. +There are tailors in Bursley. And in particular there is the dog's +tailor. Ask the dog's tailor, as the dog once did, whether he can really +do as well as London, and he will smile on you with gentle pity; he will +not stoop to utter the obvious Yes. He may casually inform you that, if +he is not in London himself, the explanation is that he has reasons for +preferring Bursley. He is the social equal of all his clients. He +belongs to the dogs' club. He knows, and everybody knows, that he is a +first-class tailor with a first-class connection, and no dog would dare +to condescend to him. He is a great creative artist; the dogs who wear +his clothes may be said to interpret his creations. Now, Ellis was a +great interpretative artist, and the tailor recognised the fact. When +the tailor met Ellis on Duck Bank greatly wearing a new suit, the scene +was impressive. It was as though Elgar had stopped to hear Paderewski +play 'Pomp and Circumstance' on the piano. + +Ellis descended from his bedroom into the hall, took his straw hat, +chose a stick, and went out into the portico of the new large house on +the Hawkins, near Oldcastle. In the neighbourhood of the Five Towns no +road is more august, more correct, more detached, more umbrageous, than +the Hawkins. M.P.'s live there. It is the link between the aristocratic +and antique aloofness of Oldcastle and the solid commercial prosperity +of the Five Towns. Ellis adorned the portico. Young (a bare twenty-two), +fair, handsome, smiling, graceful, well-built, perfectly groomed, he was +an admirable and a characteristic specimen of the race of dogs which, +with the modern growth of luxury and the Luxurious Spirit, has become so +marked a phenomenon in the social development of the once barbarous Five +Towns. + +When old Jack Carter (reputed to be the best turner that Bursley ever +produced) started a little potbank near St. Peter's Church in 1861--he +was then forty, and had saved two hundred pounds--he little dreamt that +the supreme and final result after forty years would be the dog. But so +it was. Old Jack Carter had a son John Carter, who married at +twenty-five and lived at first on twenty-five shillings a week, and +enthusiastically continued the erection of the fortune which old Jack +had begun. At thirty-three, after old Jack's death, John became a Town +Councillor. At thirty-six he became Mayor and the father of Ellis, and +the recipient of a silver cradle. Ellis was his wife's maiden name. At +forty-two he built the finest earthenware manufactory in Bursley, down +by the canal-side at Shawport. At fifty-two he had been everything that +a man can be in the Five Towns--from County Councillor to President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons. Then Ellis left school and +came to the works to carry on the tradition, and his father suddenly +discovered him. The truth was that John Carter had been so laudably busy +with the affairs of his town and county that he had nearly forgotten his +family. Ellis, in the process of achieving doghood, soon taught his +father a thing or two. And John learnt. John could manage a public +meeting, but he could not manage Ellis. Besides, there was plenty of +money; and Ellis was so ingratiating, and had curly hair that somehow +won sympathy. And, after all, Ellis was not such a duffer as all that at +the works. John knew other people's sons who were worse. And Ellis could +keep order in the paintresses' 'shops' as order had never been kept +there before. + +John sometimes wondered what old Jack would have said about Ellis and +his friends, those handsome dogs, those fine dandies, who taught to the +Five Towns the virtue of grace and of style and of dash, who went up to +London--some of them even went to Paris--and brought back civilization +to the Five Towns, who removed from the Five Towns the reproach of being +uncouth and behind the times. Was the outcome of two generations of +unremitting toil merely Ellis? (Ellis had several pretty sisters, but +they did not count.) John could only guess at what old Jack's attitude +might have been towards Ellis--Ellis, who had his shirts made to +measure. He knew exactly what was Ellis's attitude towards the ideals of +old Jack, old Jack the class-leader, who wore clogs till he was thirty, +and dined in his shirt-sleeves at one o'clock to the end of his life. + +Ellis quitted the portico, ran down the winding garden-path, and jumped +neatly and fearlessly on to an electric tramcar as it passed at the rate +of fifteen miles an hour. The car was going to Hanbridge, and it was +crowded with the joy of life; Ellis had to stand on the step. This was +the Saturday before the first Monday in August, and therefore the formal +opening of Knype Wakes, the most carnivalesque of all the carnivals +which enliven the four seasons in the Five Towns. It is still called +Knype Wakes, because once Knype overshadowed Hanbridge in importance; +but its headquarters are now quite properly at Hanbridge, the hub, the +centre, the Paris of the Five Towns--Hanbridge, the county borough of +sixty odd thousand inhabitants. It is the festival of the masses that +old Jack sprang from, and every genteel person who can leaves the Five +Towns for the seaside at the end of July. Nevertheless, the district is +never more crammed than at Knype Wakes. And, of course, genteel persons, +whom circumstances have forced to remain in the Five Towns, sally out in +the evening to 'do' the Wakes in a spirit of tolerant condescension. +Ellis was in this case. His parents and sisters were at Llandudno, and +he had been left in charge of the works and of the new house. He was +always free; he could always pity the bondage of his sisters; but now he +was more free than ever--he was absolutely free. Imagine the delicious +feeling that surged in his heart as he prepared to plunge himself +doggishly into the wild ocean of the Wakes. By the way, in that heart +was the image of a girl. + + + +II + +He stepped off the car on the outskirts of Hanbridge, and strolled +gently and spectacularly into the joyous town. The streets became more +and more crowded and noisy as he approached the market-place, and in +Crown Square tramcars from the four quarters of the earth discharged +tramloads of humanity at the rate of two a minute, and then glided off +again empty in search of more humanity. The lower portion of Crown +Square was devoted to tramlines; in the upper portion the Wakes began, +and spread into the market-place, and thence by many tentacles into all +manner of streets. + +No Wakes is better than Knype Wakes; that is to say, no Wakes is more +ear-splitting, more terrific, more dizzying, or more impassable. When +you go to Knype Wakes you get stuck in the midst of an enormous crowd, +and you see roundabouts, swings, switchbacks, myrioramas, atrocity +booths, quack dentists, shooting-galleries, cocoanut-shies, and bazaars, +all around you. Every establishment is jewelled, gilded, and +electrically lighted; every establishment has an orchestra, most often +played by steam and conducted by a stoker; every establishment has a +steam--whistle, which shrieks at the beginning and at the end of each +round or performance. You stand fixed in the multitude listening to a +thousand orchestras and whistles, with the roar of machinery and the +merry din of car-bells, and the popping of rifles for a background of +noise. Your eyes are charmed by the whirling of a million lights and the +mad whirling of millions of beautiful girls and happy youths under the +lights. For the roundabouts rule the scene; the roundabouts take the +money. The supreme desire of the revellers is to describe circles, +either on horseback or in yachts, either simple circles or complex +circles, either up and down or straight along, but always circles. And +it is as though inventors had sat up at nights puzzling their brains how +best to make revellers seasick while keeping them equidistant from a +steam-orchestra.... Then the crowd solidly lurches, and you find +yourself up against a dentist, or a firm of wrestlers, or a roundabout, +or an ice-cream refectory, and you take what comes. You have begun to +'do' the Wakes. The splendid insanity seizes you. The lights, the +colours, the explosions, the shrieks, the feathered hats, the pretty +faces as they fly past, the gilding, the statuary, the August night, and +the mingling of a thousand melodies in a counterpoint beyond the dreams +of Wagner--these things have stirred the sap of life in you, have shown +you how fine it is to be alive, and, careless and free, have caught up +your spirit into a heaven from which you scornfully survey the year of +daily toil between one Wakes and another as the eagle scornfully surveys +the potato-field. Your nostrils dilate--nay, matters reach such a pass +that, even if you are genteel, you forget to condescend. + + + +III + +After Ellis had had the correct drink in the private bar up the passage +at the Turk's Head, and after he had plunged into the crowd and got lost +in it, and submitted good-humouredly to the frequent ordeal of the penny +squirt as administered by adorable creatures in bright skirts, he found +himself cast up by the human ocean on the macadam shore near a +shooting-gallery. This was no ordinary shooting-gallery. It was one of +Jenkins's affairs (Jenkins of Manchester), and on either side of it +Jenkins's Venetian gondalas and Jenkins's Mexican mustangs were whizzing +round two of Jenkins's orchestras at twopence a time, and taking +thirty-two pounds an hour. This gallery was very different from the old +galleries, in which you leaned against a brass bar and shot up a kind of +a drain. This gallery was a large and brilliant room, with the +front-wall taken out. It was hung with mirrors and cretonnes, it was +richly carpeted, and, of course, it was lighted by electricity. Carved +and gilded tables bore a whole armoury of weapons. You shot at +tobacco-pipes, twisting and stationary, at balls poised on jets of +water, and at proper targets. In the corners of the saloon, near the +open, were large crimson plush lounges, on which you lounged after the +fatigue of shooting. + +A pink-clad girl, young and radiant, had the concern in charge. + +She was speeding a party of bankrupt shooters, when she caught sight of +Ellis. Ellis answered her smile, and strolled up to the booth with a +countenance that might have meant anything. You can never tell what a +dog is thinking. + +''Ello!' said the girl prettily (or, rather, she shouted prettily, +having to compete with the two orchestras). 'You here again?' + +The truth was that Ellis had been there on the previous night, when the +Wakes was only half opened, and he had come again to-night expressly in +order to see her; but he would not have admitted, even to himself, that +he had come expressly in order to see her; in his mind it was just a +chance that he might see her. She was a jolly girl. (We are gradually +approaching the scandalous part.) + +'What a jolly frock!' he said, when he had shot five celluloid balls in +succession off a jet of water. + +Smiling, she mechanically took a ball out of the basket and let it roll +down the conduit to the fountain. + +'Do you think so?' she replied, smoothing the fluffy muslin apron with +her small hands, black from contact with the guns. 'That one I wore last +night was my second-best. I only wear this on Saturdays and Mondays.' + +He nodded like a connoisseur. The sixth ball had sprung up to the top of +the jet. He removed it with the certainty of a King's Prize winner, and +she complimented him. + +'Ah!' he said, 'you should have seen me before I took to smoking and +drinking!' + +She laughed freely. She was always showing her fine teeth. And she had +such a frank, jolly countenance, not exactly pretty--better than pretty. +She was a little short and a little plump, and she wore a necklace round +her neck, a ring on her dainty, dirty finger, and a watch-bracelet on +her wrist. + +'Why!' she exclaimed. 'How old are you?' + +'How old are _you_?' he retorted. + +Dogs do not give things away like that. + +'I'm nineteen,' she said submissively. 'At least, I shall be come +Martinmas.' + +And she yawned. + +'Well,' he said, 'a little girl like you ought to be in bed.' + +'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed. + +'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in Paris +you'd have to work Sundays too.' + +'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to Paris?' + +'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he told me. +He came back only last week, and he says they keep open Sundays, and all +night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over there.' + +'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police wouldn't +allow it. I know what the police are.' + +More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; he sank +into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and watched her serve +the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, and so jolly--with him. +He noticed with satisfaction that with the other marksmen she showed a +certain high reserve. + +They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across to the +lounge and gazed at him provocatively. + +'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!' + +The thought ran through him like lightning. + +'Well?' she said. + +'What do you do with yourself Sundays?' he asked her. + +'Oh, sleep.' + +'All day?' + +'All morning.' + +'What do you do in the afternoon?' + +'Oh, nothing.' + +She laughed gaily. + +'Come out with me, eh?' + +'To-morrow? Oh, I should LOVE TO!' she cried. + +Her voice expanded into large capitals because by a singular chance both +the neighbouring orchestras stopped momentarily together, and thus gave +her shout a fair field. The effect was startling. It startled Ellis. He +had not for an instant expected that she would consent. Never, dog +though he was, had he armed a girl out on any afternoon, to say nothing +of Sunday afternoon, and Knype's Wakes Sunday at that! He had talked +about girls at the club. He understood the theory. But the practice---- + +The foundation of England's greatness is that Englishmen hate to look +fools. The fear of being taken for a ninny will spur an Englishman to +the most surprising deeds of courage. Ellis said 'Good!' with apparent +enthusiasm, and arranged to be waiting for her at half-past two at the +Turk's Head. Then he left the saloon and struck out anew into the ocean. +He wanted to think it over. + +Once, painful to relate, he had thoughts of failing to keep the +appointment. However, she was so jolly and frank. And what a fancy she +must have taken to him! No, he would see it through. + + + +IV + +If anybody had prophesied to Ellis that he would be driving out a Wakes +girl in a dogcart that Sunday afternoon he would have laughed at the +prophet; but so it occurred. He arrived at the Turk's Head at two +twenty-five. She was there before him, dressed all in blue, except the +white shoes and stockings, weighing herself on the machine in the yard. +She showed her teeth, told him she weighed nine stone one, and abruptly +asked him if he could drive. He said he could. She clapped her hands and +sprang off the machine. Her father had bought a new mare the day before, +and it was in the Turk's Head stable, and the yardman said it wanted +exercise, and there was a dogcart and harness idling about, and, in +short, Ellis should drive her to Sneyd Park, which she had long desired +to see. + +Ellis wished to ask questions, but the moment did not seem auspicious. + +In a few minutes the new mare, a high and somewhat frisky bay, with big +shoulders, was in the shafts of a high, green dogcart. When asked if he +could drive, Ellis ought to have answered: 'That depends--on the horse.' +Many men can tool a fifteen-year-old screw down a country lane who would +hesitate to get up behind a five-year-old animal (in need of exercise) +for a spin down Broad Street, Hanbridge, on Knype Wakes Sunday. Ellis +could drive; he could just drive. His father had always steadfastly +refused to keep horses, but the fathers of other dogs were more +progressive, and Ellis had had opportunities. He knew how to take the +reins, and get up, and give the office; indeed, he had read a handbook +on the subject. So he rook the reins and got up, and the Wakes girl got +up. + +He chirruped. The mare merely backed. + +'Give 'er 'er mouth,' said the yardman disgustedly. + +'Oh!' said Ellis, and slackened the reins, and the mare pawed forward. + +Then he had to turn her in the yard, and get her and the dogcart down +the passage. He doubted whether he should do it, for the passage seemed +a size too small. However, he did it, or the mare did it, and the entire +organism swerved across a portion of the footpath into Broad Street. + +For quite a quarter of a mile down Broad Street Ellis blushed, and kept +his gaze between the mare's ears. However, the mare went beautifully. +You could have driven her with a silken thread, so it seemed. And then +the dog, growing accustomed to his prominence up there on the dogcart, +began to be a bit doggy. He knew the little thing's age and weight, +but, really, when you take a girl out for a Sunday spin you want more +information about her than that. Her asked her name, and her name was +Jenkins--Ada. She was the great Jenkins's daughter. + +('Oh,' thought Ellis, 'the deuce you are!') + +'Father's gone to Manchester for the day, and aunt's looking after me,' +said Ada. + +'Do they know you've come out--like this?' + +'Not much!' She laughed deliciously. 'How lovely it is!' + +At Knype they drew up before the Five Towns Hotel and descended. The +Five Towns Hotel is the greatest hotel in North Staffordshire. It has +two hundred rooms. It would not entirely disgrace Northumberland Avenue. +In the Five Towns it is august, imposing, and unique. They had a +lemonade there, and proceeded. A clock struck; it was a near thing. No +more refreshments now until they had passed the three-mile limit! + +Yes! Not two hundred yards further on she spied an ice-cream shop in +Fleet Road, and Ellis learnt that she adored ice-cream. The mare waited +patiently outside in the thronged street. + +After that the pilgrimage to Sneyd was punctuated with ice-creams. At +the Stag at Sneyd (where, among ninety-and-nine dogcarts, Ellis's +dogcart was the brightest green of them all) Ada had another lemonade, +and Ellis had something else. They saw the Park, and Ada giggled +charmingly her appreciation of its beauty. The conversation throughout +consisted chiefly of Ada's teeth. Ellis said he would return by a +different route, and he managed to get lost. How anyone driving to +Hanbridge from Sneyd could arrive at the mining village of Silverton is +a mystery. But Ellis arrived there, and he ultimately came out at +Hillport, the aristocratic suburb of Bursley, where he had always lived +till the last year. He feared recognition there, and his fear was +justified. Some silly ass, a schoolmate, cried, 'Go it!' as the machine +bowled along, and the mischief was that the mare, startled, went it. She +went it down the curving hill, and the vehicle after her, like a kettle +tied to a dog's tail. + +Ellis winked stoutly at Ada when they reached the bottom, and gave the +mare a piece of his mind, to which she objected. As they crossed the +railway-bridge a goods-train ran underneath and puffed smoke into the +mare's eyes. She set her ears back. + +'Would you!' cried Ellis authoritatively, and touched her with the whip +(he had forgotten the handbook). + +He scarcely touched her, but you never know where you are with any +horse. That mare, which had been a mirror of all the virtues all the +afternoon, was off like a rocket. She overtook an electric car as if it +had been standing still. Ellis sawed her mouth; he might as well have +sawed the funnel of a locomotive. He had meant to turn off and traverse +Bursley by secluded streets, but he perceived that safety lay solely in +letting her go straight ahead up the very steep slope of Oldcastle +Street into the middle of the town. It would be an amazing mare that +galloped to the top of Oldcastle Street! She galloped nearly to the top, +and then Ellis began to get hold of her a bit. + +'Don't be afraid,' he said masculinely to Ada. + +And, conscious of victory, he jerked the mare to the left to avoid an +approaching car.... + +The next instant they were anchored against the roots of a lamp-post. +When Ellis saw the upper half of the lamp-post bent down at right +angles, and pieces of glass covering the pavement, he could not believe +that he and his dogcart had done that, especially as neither the mare, +nor the dogcart, nor its freight, was damaged. The machine was merely +jammed, and the mare, satisfied, stood quiet, breathing rapidly. + +But Ada Jenkins was crying. + +And the car stopped a moment to observe. And then a number of +chapel-goers on their way to the Sytch Chapel, which the Carter family +still faithfully attended, joined the scene; and then a policeman. + +Ellis sat like a stuck pig in the dogcart. He knew that speech was +demanded of him, but he did not know where to begin. + +The worst thing of all was the lamp-post, bent, moveless, unnatural, +atrociously comic, accusing him. + +The affair was over the town in a minute; the next morning it reached +Llandudno. Ellis Carter had been out on the spree with _a Wakes girl_ in +a dogcart on Sunday afternoon, and had got into such a condition that he +had driven into a lamp-post at the top of Oldcastle Street just as +people were going into chapel. + +The lamp-post remained bent for three days--a fearful warning to all +dogs that doggishness has limits. + +If it had not been a dogcart, and such a high, green dogcart; if it had +been, say, a brougham, or even a cab! If it had not been Sunday! And, +granting Sunday, if it had not been just as people were going into +chapel! If he had not chosen that particular lamp-post, visible both +from the market-place and St. Luke's Square! If he had only contrived to +destroy a less obtrusive lamp-post in some unfrequented street! And if +it had not been a Wakes girl--if the reprobate had only selected for his +guilty amours an actress from one of the touring companies, or even a +star from the Hanbridge Empire--yea, or even a local barmaid! But _a +Wakes girl_! + +Ellis himself saw the enormity of his transgression. He lay awake +astounded by his own doggishness. + +And yet he had seldom felt less doggy than during that trip. It seemed +to him that doggishness was not the glorious thing he had thought. +However, he cut a heroic figure at the dogs' club. Every admiring face +said: 'Well, you _have_ been going the pace! We always knew you were a +hot un, but, really----' + + + +V + +On the following Friday evening, when Ellis jumped off the car opposite +his home on the Hawkins, he saw in the road, halted, a train of vast and +queer-shaped waggons in charge of two traction-engines. They were +painted on all sides with the great name of Jenkins. They contained +Jenkins's roundabouts and shooting-saloons, on their way to rouse the +joy of life in other towns. And he perceived in front of the portico the +high, green dogcart and the lamp-post-destroying mare. + +He went in. The family had come home that afternoon. Sundry of his +sisters greeted him with silent horror on their faces in the hall. In +the breakfast-room, which gave off the drawing-room, was his mother in +the attitude of an intent listener. She spoke no word. + +And Ellis listened, too. + +'Yes,' a very powerful and raucous voice was saying in the drawing-room, +'I reckoned I'd call and tell ye myself, Mister Carter, what I thought +on it. My gell, a motherless gell, but brought up respectable; sixth +standard at Whalley Range Board School; and her aunt a strict +God-fearing woman! And here your son comes along and gets hold of the +girl while her aunt's at the special service for Wakes folks in Bethesda +Chapel, and runs off with her in my dogcart with one of my hosses, and +raises a scandal all o'er the Five Towns. God bless my soul, mister! I +tell'n ye I hardly liked to open o' Monday afternoon, I was that +ashamed! And I packed Ada off to Manchester. It seems to me that if the +upper classes, as they call 'em--the immoral classes _I_ call 'em--'ud +look after themselves a bit instead o' looking after other people so +much, things might be a bit better, Mister Carter. I dare say you think +it's nothing as your son should go about ruining the reputation of any +decent, respectable girl as he happens to fancy, Mister Carter; but this +is what I say. I say----' + +Mr. Carter was understood to assert, in his most pacific and pained +public-meeting voice, that he regretted, infinitely regretted---- + +Mrs. Carter, weeping, ran out of the breakfast-room. + +And soon afterwards the traction-engines rumbled off, and the high, +green dogcart followed them. + +Ellis sat spell-bound. + +He heard the parlourmaid go into the drawing-room and announce, 'Tea is +ready, sir!' and then his father's dry cough. + +And then the parlourmaid came into the breakfast-room: 'Tea is ready, +Mr. Ellis!' + +Oh, the meal! + + * * * * * + + + + +A FEUD + + +When Clive Timmis paused at the side-door of Ezra Brunt's great shop in +Machin Street, and the door was opened to him by Ezra Brunt's daughter +before he had had time to pull the bell, not only all Machin Street knew +it within the hour, but also most persons of consequence left in +Hanbridge on a Thursday afternoon--Thursday being early-closing day. For +Hanbridge, though it counts sixty thousand inhabitants, and is the chief +of the Five Towns--that vast, huddled congeries of boroughs devoted to +the manufacture of earthenware--is a place where the art of attending to +other people's business still flourishes in rustic perfection. + +Ezra Brunt's drapery establishment was the foremost retail house, in any +branch of trade, of the Five Towns. It had no rival nearer than +Manchester, thirty-six miles off; and even Manchester could exhibit +nothing conspicuously superior to it. The most acutely critical shoppers +of the Five Towns--women who were in the habit of going to London every +year for the January sales--spoke of Brunt's as a 'right-down good +shop.' And the husbands of these ladies, manufacturers who employed from +two hundred to a thousand men, regarded Ezra Brunt as a commercial +magnate of equal importance with themselves. Brunt, who had served his +apprenticeship at Birmingham, started business in Machin Street in 1862, +when Hanbridge was half its present size and all the best shops of the +district were in Oldcastle, an ancient burg contiguous with, but holding +itself proudly aloof from, the industrial Five Towns. He paid eighty +pounds a year rent, and lived over the shop, and in the summer quarter +his gas bill was always under a sovereign. For ten years success +tarried, but in 1872 his daughter Eva was born and his wife died, and +from that moment the sun of his prosperity climbed higher and higher +into heaven. He had been profoundly attached to his wife, and, having +lost her he abandoned himself to the mercantile struggle with that +morose and terrible ferocity which was the root of his character. Of +rude, gaunt aspect, gruffly taciturn by nature, and variable in temper, +he yet had the precious instinct for soothing customers. To this day he +can surpass his own shop-walkers in the admirable and tender solicitude +with which, forsaking dialect, he drops into a lady's ear his famous +stereotyped phrase: 'Are you receiving proper attention, madam?' From +the first he eschewed the facile trickeries and ostentations which +allure the populace. He sought a high-class trade, and by waiting he +found it. He would never advertise on hoardings; for many years he had +no signboard over his shop-front; and whereas the name of 'Bostocks,' +the huge cheap drapers lower down Machin Street, on the opposite side, +attacks you at every railway-station and in every tramcar, the name of +'E. Brunt' is to be seen only in a modest regular advertisement on the +front page of the _Staffordshire Signal_. Repose, reticence, +respectability--it was these attributes which he decided his shop should +possess, and by means of which he succeeded. To enter Brunt's, with its +silently swinging doors, its broad, easy staircases, its long floors +covered with warm, red linoleum, its partitioned walls, its smooth +mahogany counters, its unobtrusive mirrors, its rows of youths and +virgins in black, and its pervading atmosphere of quietude and +discretion, was like entering a temple before the act of oblation has +commenced. You were conscious of some supreme administrative influence +everywhere imposing itself. That influence was Ezra Brunt. And yet the +man differed utterly from the thing he had created. His was one of those +dark and passionate souls which smoulder in this harsh Midland district +as slag-heaps smoulder on the pit-banks, revealing their strange fires +only in the darkness. + +In 1899 Brunt's establishment occupied four shops, Nos. 52, 56, 58, and +60, in Machin Street. He had bought the freeholds at a price which timid +people regarded as exorbitant, but the solicitors of Hanbridge secretly +applauded his enterprise and shrewdness in anticipating the enormous +rise in ground-values which has now been in rapid, steady progress there +for more than a decade. He had thrown the interiors together and rebuilt +the frontages in handsome freestone. He had also purchased several +shops opposite, and rumour said that it was his intention to offer these +latter to the Town Council at a low figure if the Council would cut a +new street leading from his premises to the Market Square. Such a scheme +would have met with general approval. But there was one serious hiatus +in the plans of Ezra Brunt--to wit, No. 54, Machin Street. No. 54, +separating 52 and 56, was a chemist's shop, shabby but sedate as to +appearance, owned and occupied by George Christopher Timmis, a mild and +venerable citizen, and a local preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist +Connexion. For nearly thirty years Brunt had coveted Mr. Timmis's shop; +more than twenty years have elapsed since he first opened negotiations +for it. Mr. Timmis was by no means eager to sell--indeed, his attitude +was distinctly a repellent one--but a bargain would undoubtedly have +been concluded had not a report reached the ears of Mr. Timmis to the +effect that Ezra Brunt had remarked at the Turk's Head that 'th' old +leech was only sticking out for every brass farthing he could get.' The +report was untrue, but Mr. Timmis believed it, and from that moment Ezra +Brunt's chances of obtaining the chemist's shop vanished completely. +His lawyer expended diplomacy in vain, raising the offer week by week +till the incredible sum of three thousand pounds was reached. Then Ezra +Brunt himself saw Mr. Timmis, and without a word of prelude said: + +'Will ye take three thousand guineas for this bit o' property?' + +'Not thirty thousand guineas,' said Mr. Timmis quietly; the stern pride +of the benevolent old local preacher had been aroused. + +'Then be damned to you!' said Ezra Brunt, who had never been known to +swear before. + +Thenceforth a feud existed, not less bitter because it was a feud in +which nothing was said and nothing done--a silent and implacable mutual +resistance. The sole outward sign of it was the dirty and stumpy +brown-brick shop-front of Mr. Timmis, squeezed in between those massive +luxurious façades of stone which Ezra Brunt soon afterwards erected. The +pharmaceutical business of Mr. Timmis was not a very large one, and, +fiscally, Ezra Brunt could have swallowed him at a meal and suffered no +inconvenience; but in that the aged chemist had lived on just half his +small income for some fifty years past, his position was impregnable. +Hanbridge smiled cynically at this _impasse_ produced by an idle word, +and, recognising the equality of the antagonists, leaned neither to one +side nor to the other. At intervals, however, the legend of the feud was +embroidered with new and effective detail in the mouth of some inventive +gossip, and by degrees it took high place among those piquant social +histories which illustrate the real life of a town, and which parents +recount to their children with such zest in moods of reminiscence. + +When George Christopher Timmis buried his wife, Ezra Brunt, as a near +neighbour, was asked to the funeral. 'The cortège will move at 1.30,' +ran the printed invitation, and at 1.15 Brunt's carriage was decorously +in place behind the hearse and the two mourning-coaches. The demeanour +of the chemist and the draper towards each other was a sublime answer to +the demands of the occasion; some people even said that the breach had +been healed, but these were not of the discerning. + +The most active person at the funeral was the chemist's only nephew, +Clive Timmis, partner in a small but prosperous firm of majolica +manufacturers at Bursley. Clive, who was seldom seen in Hanbridge, made +a favourable impression on everyone by his pleasing, unaffected manner +and his air of discretion and success. He was a bachelor of thirty-two, +and lived in lodgings at Bursley. On the return of the funeral-party +from the cemetery, Clive Timmis found Brunt's daughter Eva in his +uncle's house. Uninvited, she had left her place in the private room at +her father's shop in order to assist Timmis's servant Sarah in the +preparation of that solid and solemn repast which must inevitably follow +every proper interment in the Five Towns. Without false modesty, she +introduced herself to one or two of the men who had surprised her at her +work, and then quietly departed just as they were sitting down to table +and Sarah had brought in the hot tea-cakes. Clive Timmis saw her only +for a moment, but from that moment she was his one thought. During the +evening, which he spent alone with his uncle, he behaved in every +particular as a nephew should, yet he was acting a part; his real self +roved after Ezra Brunt's daughter, wherever she might be. Clive had +never fallen in love, though several times in his life he had tried hard +to do so. He had long wished to marry--wished ardently; he had even got +into the way of regarding every woman he met--and he met many--in the +light of a possible partner. 'Can it be _she_? he had asked himself a +thousand times, and then answered half sadly, 'No.' Not one woman had +touched his imagination, coincided with his dream. It is strange that +after seeing Eva Brunt he forgot thus to interrogate himself. For a +fortnight, while he went his ways as usual, her image occupied his +heart, throwing that once orderly chamber into the wildest confusion; +and he let it remain, dimly aware of some delicious danger. He inspected +the image every night before he slept, and every morning when he awoke, +and made no effort to define its distracting charm; he knew only that +Eva Brunt was absolutely and in every detail unlike all other women. On +the second Sunday he murmured during the sermon: 'But I only saw her for +a minute.' A few days afterwards he took the tram to Hanbridge. + +'Uncle,' he said, 'how should you like me to come and live here with +you? I've been thinking things out a bit, and I thought perhaps you'd +like it. I expect you must feel rather lonely now.' + +The neat, fragrant shop was empty, and the two men stood behind the big +glass-fronted case of Burroughs and Wellcome's preparations. Clive's +venerable uncle happened to be looking into a drawer marked 'Gentianæ +Rad. Pulv.' He closed the drawer with slow hesitation, and then, +stroking his long white beard, replied in that deliberate voice which +seemed always to tremble with religious fervour: + +'The hand of the Lord is in this thing, Clive. I have wished that you +might come to live here with me. But I was afraid it would be too far +from the works.' + +'Pooh! that's nothing,' said Clive. + +As he lingered at the shop door for the Bursley car to pass the end of +Machin Street, Eva Brunt went by. He raised his hat with diffidence, and +she smiled. It was a marvellous chance. His heart leapt into a throb +which was half agony and half delight. + +'I am in love,' he said gravely. + +He had just discovered the fact, and the discovery filled him with +exquisite apprehension. + +If he had waited till the age of thirty-two for that springtime of the +soul which we call love, Clive had not waited for nothing. Eva was a +woman to enravish the heart of a man whose imagination could pierce the +agitating secrets immured in that calm and silent bosom. Slender and +scarcely tall, she belonged to the order of spare, slight-made women, +who hide within their slim frames an endowment of profound passion far +exceeding that of their more voluptuously-formed sisters, who never +coarsen into stoutness, and who at forty are as disturbing as at twenty. +At this date Eva was twenty-six. She had a rather small, white face, +which was a mask to the casual observer, and the very mirror of her +feelings to anyone with eyes to read its signs. + +'I tell you what you are like,' said Clive to her once: 'you are like a +fine racehorse, always on the quiver.' + +Yet many people considered her cold and impassive. Her walk and bearing +showed a sensitive independence, and when she spoke it was usually in +tones of command. The girls in the shop, where she was a power second +only to Ezra Brunt, were a little afraid of her, chiefly because she +poured terrible scorn on their small affectations, jealousies, and +vendettas. But they liked her because, in their own phrase, 'there was +no nonsense about' this redoubtable woman. She hated shams and +make-believes with a bitter and ruthless hatred. She was the heiress to +at least five thousand a year, and knew it well, but she never +encouraged her father to complicate their simple mode of life with the +pomps of wealth. They lived in a house with a large garden at Pireford, +which is on the summit of the steep ridge between the Five Towns and +Oldcastle, and they kept two servants and a coachman, who was also +gardener. Eva paid the servants good wages, and took care to get good +value therefor. + +'It's not often I have any bother with my servants,' she would say, 'for +they know that if there is any trouble I would just as soon clear them +out and put on an apron and do the work myself.' + +She was an accomplished house-mistress, and could bake her own bread: in +towns not one woman in a thousand can bake. With the coachman she had +little to do, for she could not rid herself of a sentimental objection +to the carriage--it savoured of 'airs'; when she used it she used it as +she might use a tramcar. It was her custom, every day except Saturday, +to walk to the shop about eleven o'clock, after her house had been set +in order. She had been thoroughly trained in the business, and had spent +a year at a first-rate shop in High Street, Kensington. Millinery was +her speciality, and she still watched over that department with a +particular attention; but for some time past she had risen beyond the +limitations of departments, and assisted her father in the general +management of the vast concern. In commercial aptitude she resembled the +typical Frenchwoman. + +Although he was her father, Ezra Brunt had the wit to recognise her +talents, and he always listened to her suggestions, which, however, +sometimes startled him. One of them was that he should import into the +Five Towns a modiste from Paris, offering a salary of two hundred a +year. The old provincial stood aghast. He had the idea that all Parisian +women were stage-dancers. And to pay four pounds a week to a female! + +Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Bertot--styled in the shop 'Madame'--now +presides over Ezra Brunt's dressmakers, draws her four pounds a week (of +which she saves two), and by mere nationality has given a unique +distinction and success to her branch of the business. + +Eva occupied a small room opening off the principal showroom, and during +hours of work she issued thence but seldom. Only customers of the +highest importance might speak with her. She was a power felt rather +than seen. Employés who knocked at her door always did so with a certain +awe of what awaited them on the other side, and a consciousness that the +moment was unsuitable for levity. 'If you please, Miss Eva----'. Here +she gave audience to the 'buyers' and window-dressers, listened to +complaints and excuses, and occasionally had a secret orgy of afternoon +tea with one or two of her friends. None but these few girls--mostly +younger than herself, and remarkable only in that their dislike of the +snobbery of the Five Towns, though less fiercely displayed, agreed with +her own--really knew Eva. To them alone did she unveil herself, and by +them she was idolized. + +'She is simply splendid when you know her--such a jolly girl!' they +would say to other people; but other people, especially other women, +could not believe it. They fearfully respected her because she was very +well dressed and had quantities of money. But they called her 'a curious +creature'; it was inconceivable to them that she should choose to work +in a shop; and her tongue had a causticity which was sometimes +exceedingly disconcerting and mortifying. As for men, she was shy of +them, and, moreover, she loathed the elaborate and insincere ritual of +deference which the average man practises towards women unrelated to +him, particularly when they are young and rich. Her father she adored, +without knowing it; for he often angered her, and humiliated her in +private. As for the rest, she was, after all, only six-and-twenty. + +'If you don't mind, I should like to walk along with you,' Clive Timmis +said to her one Sunday evening in the porch of the Bethesda Chapel. + +'I shall be glad,' she answered at once; 'father isn't here, and I'm all +alone.' + +Ezra Brunt was indeed seldom there, counting in the matter of +attendance at chapel among what were called 'the weaker brethren.' + +'I am going over to Oldcastle,' Clive explained calmly. + +So began the formal courtship--more than a month after Clive had settled +in Machin Street, for he was far too discreet to engender by +precipitancy any suspicion in the haunts of scandal that his true reason +for establishing himself in his uncle's household was a certain rich +young woman who was to be found every day next door. Guided as much by +instinct as by tact, Clive approached Eva with an almost savage +simplicity and naturalness of manner, ignoring not only her father's +wealth, but all the feigned punctilio of a wooer. His face said: 'Let +there be no beating about the bush--I like you.' Hers answered: 'Good! +we will see.' + +From the first he pleased her, and not least in treating her exactly as +she would have wished to be treated--namely, as a quite plain person of +that part of the middle class which is neither upper nor lower. Few men +in the Five Towns would have been capable of forgetting Ezra Brunt's +income in talking to Ezra Brunt's daughter. Fortunately, Timmis had a +proud, confident spirit--the spirit of one who, unaided, has wrested +success from the world's deathlike clutch. Had Eva the reversion of +fifty thousand a year instead of five, he, Clive, was still a prosperous +plain man, well able to support a wife in the position to which God had +called him. + +Their walks together grew more and more frequent, and they became +intimate, exchanging ideas and rejoicing openly at the similarity of +those ideas. Although there was no concealment in these encounters, +still, there was a circumspection which resembled the clandestine. By a +silent understanding Clive did not enter the house at Pireford; to have +done so would have excited remark, for this house, unlike some, had +never been the rendezvous of young men; much less, therefore, did he +invade the shop. No! The chief part of their love-making (for such it +was, though the term would have roused Eva's contemptuous anger) +occurred in the streets; in this they did but follow the traditions of +their class. Thus, the idyll, so matter-of-fact upon the surface, but +within which glowed secret and adorable fires, progressed towards its +culmination. Eva, the artless fool--oh, how simple are the wisest at +times!--thought that the affair was hid from the shop. But was it +possible? Was it possible that in those tiny bedrooms on the third +floor, where the heavy evening hours were ever lightened with breathless +interminable recitals of what some 'he' had said and some 'she' had +replied, such an enthralling episode should escape discovery? The +dormitories knew of Eva's 'attachment' before Eva herself. Yet none knew +how it was known. The whisper arose like Venus from a sea of trivial +gossip, miraculously, exquisitely. On the night when the first rumour of +it traversed the passages there was scarcely any sleep at Brunt's, while +Eva up at Pireford slumbered as a young girl. + +On the Thursday afternoon with which we began, Brunt's was deserted save +for the housekeeper and Eva, who was writing letters in her room. + +'I saw you from my window, coming up the street,' she said to Clive, +'and so I ran down to open the door. Will you come into father's room? +He is in Manchester for the day, buying. + +'I knew that,' said Timmis. + +'How did you know?' She observed that his manner was somewhat nervous +and constrained. + +'You yourself told me last night--don't you remember?' + +'So I did.' + +'That's why I sent the note round this morning to say I'd call this +afternoon. You got it, I suppose?' + +She nodded thoughtfully. + +'Well, what is this business you want to talk about?' + +It was spoken with a brave carelessness, but he caught the tremor in her +voice, and saw her little hand shake as it lay on the table amid her +father's papers. Without knowing why he should do so, he stepped hastily +forward and seized that hand. Her emotion unmanned him. He thought he +was going to cry; he could not account for himself. + +'Eva,' he said thickly, 'you know what the business is; you know, don't +you?' + +She smiled. That smile, the softness of her hand, the sparkle in her +eye, the heave of her small bosom ... it was the divinest miracle! +Clive, manufacturer of majolica, went hot and then cold, and then his +wits were suddenly his own again. + +'That's all right,' he murmured, and sighed, and placed on Eva's lips +the first kiss that had ever lain there. + +'Dear boy,' she said later, 'you should have come up to Pireford, not +here, and when father was there.' + +'Should I?' he answered happily. 'It just occurred to me all of a sudden +this morning that you would be here, and that I couldn't wait.' + +'You will come up to-night and see father?' + +'I had meant to.' + +'You had better go home now.' + +'Had I?' + +She nodded, putting her lips tightly together--a trick of hers. + +'Come up about half-past eight.' + +'Good! I will let myself out.' + +He left her, and she gazed dreamily at the window, which looked on to a +whitewashed yard. The next moment someone else entered the room with +heavy footsteps. She turned round a little startled. + +It was her father. + +'Why! You _are_ back early, father! How----' She stopped. Something in +the old man's glance gave her a premonition of disaster. To this day she +does not know what accident brought him from Manchester two hours sooner +than usual, and to Machin Street instead of Pireford. + +'Has young Timmis been here?' he inquired curtly. + +'Yes.' + +'Ha!' with subdued, sinister satisfaction, 'I saw him going out. He +didna see me.' Ezra Brunt deposited his hat and sat down. + +Intimate with all her father's various moods, she saw instantly and with +terrible certainty that a series of chances had fatally combined +themselves against her. If only she had not happened to tell Clive that +her father would be at Manchester this day! If only her father had +adhered to his customary hour of return! If only Clive had had the sense +to make his proposal openly at Pireford some evening! If only he had +left a little earlier! If only her father had not caught him going out +by the side-door on a Thursday afternoon when the place was empty! +Here, she guessed, was the suggestion of furtiveness which had raised +her father's unreasoning anger, often fierce, and always incalculable. + +'Clive Timmis has asked me to marry him, father.' + +'Has he!' + +'Surely you must have known, father, that he and I were seeing each +other a great deal.' + +'Not from your lips, my girl.' + +'Well, father----' Again she stopped, this strong and capable woman, +gifted with a fine brain to organize and a powerful will to command. She +quailed, robbed of speech, before the causeless, vindictive, and +infantile wrath of an old man who happened to be in a bad temper. She +actually felt like a naughty schoolgirl before him. Such is the +tremendous influence of lifelong habit, the irresistible power of the +_patria potestas_ when it has never been relaxed. Ezra Brunt saw in +front of him only a cowering child. 'Clive is coming up to see you +to-night,' she went on timidly, clearing her throat. + +'Humph! Is he?' + +The rosy and tender dream of five minutes ago lay in fragments at Eva's +feet. She brooded with stricken apprehension upon the forms of +obstruction which his despotism might choose. + + * * * * * + +The next morning Clive and his uncle breakfasted together as usual in +the parlour behind, the chemist's shop. + +'Uncle,' said Clive brusquely, when the meal was nearly finished, 'I'd +better tell you that I've proposed to Eva Brunt.' + +Old George Timmis lowered the _Manchester Guardian_ and gazed at Clive +over his steel-rimmed spectacles. + +'She is a good girl,' he remarked; 'she will make you a good wife. Have +you spoken to her father?' + +'That's the point. I saw him last night, and I'll tell you what he said. +These were his words: "You can marry my daughter, Mr. Timmis, when your +uncle agrees to part with his shop!"' + +'That I shall never do, nephew,' said the aged patriarch quietly and +deliberately. + +'Of course you won't, uncle. I shouldn't think of suggesting it. I'm +merely telling you what he said.' Clive laughed harshly. 'Why,' he +added, 'the man must be mad!' + +'What did the young woman say to that?' his uncle inquired. + +Clive frowned. + +'I didn't see her last night,' he said. 'I didn't ask to see her. I was +too angry.' + +Just then the post arrived, and there was a letter for Clive, which he +read and put carefully in his waistcoat pocket. + +'Eva writes asking me to go to Pireford to-night,' he said, after a +pause. 'I'll soon settle it, depend on that. If Ezra Brunt refuses his +consent, so much the worse for him. I wonder whether he actually +imagines that a grown man and a grown woman are to be.... Ah well, I +can't talk about it! It's too silly. I'll be off to the works.' + +When Clive reached Pireford that night, Eva herself opened the door to +him. She was wearing a gray frock, and over it a large white apron, +perfectly plain. + +'My girls are both out to-night,' she said, 'and I was making some puffs +for the sewing-meeting tea. Come into the breakfast-room.... This way,' +she added, guiding him. He had entered the house on the previous night +for the first time. She spoke hurriedly, and, instead of stopping in +the breakfast-room, wandered uncertainly through it into the greenhouse, +to which it gave access by means of a French window. In the dark, +confined space, amid the close-packed blossoms, they stood together. She +bent down to smell at a musk-plant. He took her hand and drew her soft +and yielding form towards him and kissed her warm face. + +'Oh, Clive!' she said. 'Whatever are we to do?' + +'Do?' he replied, enchanted by her instinctive feminine surrender and +reliance upon him, which seemed the more precious in that creature so +proud and reserved to all others. 'Do! Where is your father?' + +'Reading the _Signal_ in the dining-room.' + +Every business man in the Five Towns reads the _Staffordshire Signal_ +from beginning to end every night. + +'I will see him. Of course he is your father; but I will just tell +him--as decently as I can--that neither you nor I will stand this +nonsense.' + +'You mustn't--you mustn't see him.' + +'Why not?' + +'It will only lead to unpleasantness.' + +'That can't be helped.' + +'He never, never changes when once he has _said_ a thing. I know him.' + +Clive was arrested by something in her tone, something new to him, that +in its poignant finality seemed to have caught up and expressed in a +single instant that bitterness of a lifetime's renunciation which falls +to the lot of most women. + +'Will you come outside?' he asked in a different voice. + +Without replying, she led the way down the long garden, which ended in +an ivy-grown brick wall and a panorama of the immense valley of +industries below. It was a warm, cloudy evening. The last silver tinge +of an August twilight lay on the shoulder of the hill to the left. There +was no moon, but the splendid watch-fires of labour flamed from ore-heap +and furnace across the whole expanse, performing their nightly miracle +of beauty. Trains crept with noiseless mystery along the middle +distance, under their canopies of yellow steam. Further off the +far-extending streets of Hanbridge made a map of starry lines on the +blackness. To the south-east stared the cold, blue electric lights of +Knype railway-station. All was silent, save for a distant thunderous +roar, the giant breathing of the forge at Cauldon Bar Ironworks. + +Eva leaned both elbows on the wall and looked forth. + +'Do you mean to say,' said Clive, 'that Mr. Brunt will actually stick by +what he has said?' + +'Like grim death,' said Eva. + +'But what's his idea?' + +'Oh! how can I tell you?' she burst out passionately. + +'Perhaps I did wrong. Perhaps I ought to have warned him earlier--said +to him, "Father, Clive Timmis is courting me!" Ugh! He cannot bear to be +surprised about anything. But yet he must have known.... It was all an +accident, Clive--all an accident. He saw you leaving the shop yesterday. +He would say he _caught_ you leaving the shop--_sneaking_ off like----' + +'But, Eva----' + +'I know--I know! Don't tell me! But it was that, I am sure. He would +resent the mere look of things, and then he would think and think, and +the notion of your uncle's shop would occur to him again, after all +these years. I can see his thoughts as plain ... My dear, if he had not +seen you at Machin Street yesterday, or if you had seen him and spoken +to him, all might have gone right. He would have objected, but he would +have given way in a day or two. Now he will never give way! I asked you +just now what was to be done, but I knew all the time that there was +nothing.' + +'There is one thing to be done, Eva, and the sooner the better.' + +'Do you mean that old Mr. Timmis must give up his shop to my father? +Never! never!' + +'I mean,' said Clive quietly, 'that we must marry without your father's +consent.' + +She shook her head slowly and sadly, relapsing into calmness. + +'You shake your head, Eva, but it must be so.' + +'I can't, my dear.' + +'Do you mean to say that you will allow your father's childish whim--for +it's nothing else; he can't find any objection to me as a husband for +you, and he knows it--that you will allow his childish whim to spoil +your life and mine? Remember, you are twenty-six and I am thirty-two.' + +'I can't do it! I daren't! I'm mad with myself for feeling like this, +but I daren't! And even if I dared I wouldn't. Clive, you don't know! +You can't tell how it is!' + +Her sorrowful, pathetic firmness daunted him. She was now composed, +mistress again of herself, and her moral force dominated him. + +'Then, you and I are to be unhappy all our lives, Eva?' + +The soft influences of the night seemed to direct her voice as, after a +long pause, she uttered the words: 'No one is ever quite unhappy in all +this world.' There was another pause, as she gazed steadily down into +the wonderful valley. 'We must wait.' + +'Wait!' echoed Clive with angry grimness. 'He will live for twenty +years!' + +'No one is ever quite unhappy in all this world,' she repeated dreamily, +as one might turn over a treasure in order to examine it. + +Now for the epilogue to the feud. Two years passed, and it happened +that there was to be a Revival at the Bethesda Chapel. One morning the +superintendent minister and the revivalist called on Ezra Brunt at his +shop. When informed of their presence, the great draper had an impulse +of anger, for, like many stouter chapel-goers than himself, he would +scarcely tolerate the intrusion of religion into commerce. However, the +visit had an air of ceremony, and he could not decline to see these +ambassadors of heaven in his private room. The revivalist, a cheery, +shrewd man, whose powers of organization were obvious, and who seemed to +put organization before everything else, pleased Ezra Brunt at once. + +'We want a specially good congregation at the opening meeting to-night,' +said the revivalist. 'Now, the basis of a good congregation must +necessarily be the regular pillars of the church, and therefore we are +making a few calls this morning to insure the presence of our chief +men--the men of influence and position. You will come, Mr. Brunt, and +you will let it be known among your employés that they will please you +by coming too?' + +Ezra Brunt was by no means a regular pillar of the Bethesda, but he had +a vague sensation of flattery, and he consented; indeed, there was no +alternative. + +The first hymn was being sung when he reached the chapel. To his +surprise, he found the place crowded in every part. A man whom he did +not know led him to a wooden form which had been put in the space +between the front pews and the Communion-rail. He felt strange there, +and uneasy, apprehensive. + +The usual discreet somnolence of the chapel had been disturbed as by +some indecorous but formidable awakener; the air was electric; anything +might occur. Ezra was astounded by the mere volume of the singing; never +had he heard such singing. At the end of the hymn the congregation sat +down, hiding their faces in expectation. The revivalist stood erect and +terrible in the pulpit, no longer a shrewd, cheery man of the world, but +the very mouthpiece of the wrath and mercy of God. Ezra's +self-importance dwindled before that gaze, till, from a renowned magnate +of the Five Towns, he became an item in the multitude of suppliants. He +profoundly wished he had never come. + +'Remember the hymn,' said the revivalist, with austere emphasis: + + '"My richest gain I count but loss, + And pour contempt on all my pride."' + +The admirable histrionic art with which he intensified the consonants in +the last line produced a tremendous effect. Not for nothing was this man +cerebrated throughout Methodism as a saver of souls. When, after a +pause, he raised his hand and ejaculated, 'Let us pray,' sobs could be +heard throughout the chapel. The Revival had begun. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour Ezra Brunt would have given fifty +pounds to be outside, but he could not stir; he was magnetized. Soon the +revivalist came down from the pulpit and stood within the +Communion-rail, whence he addressed the nearmost part of the people in +low, soothing tones of persuasion. Apparently he ignored Ezra Brunt, but +the man was convicted of sin, and felt himself melting like an icicle in +front of a fire. He recalled the days of his youth, the piety of his +father and mother, and the long traditions of a stern Dissenting +family. He had backslidden, slackened in the use of the means of grace, +run after the things of this world. It is true that none of his chiefest +iniquities presented themselves to him; he was quite unconscious of them +even then; but the lesser ones were more than sufficient to overwhelm +him. Class-leaders were now reasoning with stricken sinners, and Ezra, +who could not take his eyes off the revivalist, heard the footsteps of +those who were going to the 'inquiry-room' for more private counsel. In +vain he argued that he was about to be ridiculous; that the idea of him, +Ezra Brunt, a professed Wesleyan for half a century, being publicly +'saved' at the age of fifty-seven was not to be entertained; that the +town would talk; that his business might suffer if for any reason he +should be morally bound to apply to it too strictly the principles of +the New Testament. He was under the spell. The tears coursed down his +long cheeks, and he forgot to care, but sat entranced by the +revivalist's marvellous voice. Suddenly, with an awful sob, he bent and +hid his face in his hands. The spectacle of the old, proud man helpless +in the grasp of profound emotion was a sight to rend the heart-strings. + +'Brother, be of good cheer,' said a tremulous and benign voice above +him. 'The love of God compasseth all things. Only believe.' + +He looked up and saw the venerable face and long white beard of George +Christopher Timmis. + +Ezra Brunt shrank away, embittered and ashamed. + +'I cannot,' he murmured with difficulty. + +'The love of God is all-powerful.' + +'Will it make you part with that bit o' property, think you?' said Ezra +Brunt, with a kind of despairing ferocity. + +'Brother,' replied the aged servant of God, unmoved, 'if my shop is in +truth a stumbling-block in this solemn hour, you shall have it.' + +Ezra Brunt was staggered. + +'I believe! I believe!' he cried. + +'Praise God!' said the chemist, with majestic joy. + + * * * * * + +Three months afterwards Eva Brunt and Clive Timmis were married. It is +characteristic of the fine sentimentality which underlies the surface +harshness of the inhabitants of the Five Towns that, though No. 54 +Machin Street was duly transferred to Ezra Brunt, the chemist retiring +from business, he has never rebuilt it to accord with the rest of his +premises. In all its shabbiness it stands between the other big dazzling +shops as a reminding monument. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHANTOM + + +I + +The heart of the Five Towns--that undulating patch of England covered +with mean streets, and dominated by tall smoking chimneys, whence are +derived your cups and saucers and plates, some of your coal, and a +portion of your iron--is Hanbridge, a borough larger and busier than its +four sisters, and even more grimy and commonplace than they. And the +heart of Hanbridge is probably the offices of the Five Towns Banking +Company, where the last trace of magic and romance is beaten out of +human existence, and the meaning of life is expressed in balances, +deposits, percentages, and overdrafts--especially overdrafts. In a fine +suite of rooms on the first floor of the bank building resides Mr. +Lionel Woolley, the manager, with his wife May and their children. Mrs. +Woolley is compelled to change her white window-curtains once a week +because of the smuts. Mr. Woolley, forty-five, rather bald, frigidly +suave, positive, egotistic, and pontifical, is a specimen of the man of +business who is nothing else but a man of business. His career has been +a calculation from which sentiment is entirely omitted; he has no +instinct for the things which cannot be defined and assessed. Scarcely a +manufacturer in Hanbridge but who inimically and fearfully regards Mr. +Woolley as an amazing instance of a creature without a soul; and the +absence of soul in a fellow-man must be very marked indeed before a +Hanbridge manufacturer notices it. There are some sixty thousand +immortal souls in Hanbridge, but they seldom attract attention. + +Yet Mr. Woolley was once brought into contact with the things which +cannot be defined and assessed; once he stood face to face with some +strange visible resultant of those secret forces that lie beyond the +human ken. And, moreover, the adventure affected the whole of his +domestic life. The wonder and the pathos of the story lie in the fact +that Nature, prodigal though she is known to be, should have wasted the +rare and beautiful visitation on just Mr. Woolley. Mr. Woolley was +bathed in romance of the most singular kind, and the precious fluid ran +off him like water off a duck's back. + + + +II + +Ten years ago on a Thursday afternoon in July, Lionel Woolley, as he +walked up through the new park at Bursley to his celibate rooms in Park +Terrace, was making addition sums out of various items connected with +the institution of marriage. Bursley is next door to Hanbridge, and +Lionel happened then to be cashier of the Bursley branch of the bank. He +had in mind two possible wives, each of whom possessed advantages which +appealed to him, and he was unable to decide between them by any +mathematical process. Suddenly, from a glazed shelter near the empty +bandstand, there emerged in front of him one of the delectable creatures +who had excited his fancy. May Lawton was twenty-eight, an orphan, and a +schoolmistress. She, too, had celibate rooms in Park Terrace, and it +was owing to this coincidence that Lionel had made her acquaintance six +months previously. She was not pretty, but she was tall, straight, well +dressed, well educated, and not lacking in experience; and she had a +little money of her own. + +'Well, Mr. Woolley,' she said easily, stopping for him as she raised her +sunshade, 'how satisfied you look!' + +'It's the sight of you,' he replied, without a moment's hesitation. + +He had a fine assured way with women (he need not have envied a curate +accustomed to sewing meetings), and May Lawton belonged to the type of +girl whose demeanour always challenges the masculine in a man. Gazing at +her, Lionel was swiftly conscious of several things: the piquancy of her +snub nose, the brightness of her smile, at once defiant and wistful, the +lingering softness of her gloved hand, and the extraordinary charm of +her sunshade, which matched her dress and formed a sort of canopy and +frame for that intelligent, tantalizing face. He remembered that of late +he and she had grown very intimate; and it came upon him with a shock, +as though he had just opened a telegram which said so, that May, and not +the other girl, was his destined mate. And he thought of her fortune, +tiny but nevertheless useful, and how clever she was, and how +inexplicably different from the rest of her sex, and how she would adorn +his house, and set him off, and help him in his career. He heard himself +saying negligently to friends: 'My wife speaks French like a native. Of +course, my wife has travelled a great deal. My wife has thoroughly +studied the management of children. Now, my wife does understand the art +of dress. I put my wife's bit of money into so-and-so.' In short, Lionel +was as near being in love as his character permitted. + +And while he walked by May's side past the bowling-greens at the summit +of the hill, she lightly quizzing the raw newness of the park and its +appurtenances, he wondered, he honestly wondered, that he could ever +have hesitated between May Lawton and the other. Her superiority was too +obvious; she was a woman of the world! She.... In a flash he knew that +he would propose to her that very afternoon. And when he had suggested +a stroll towards Moorthorne, and she had deliciously agreed, he was +conscious of a tumultuous uplifting and splendid carelessness of +spirits. 'Imagine me bringing it to a climax to-day,' he reflected, +profoundly pleased with himself. 'Ah well, it will be settled once for +all!' He admired his own decision; he was quite struck by it. 'I shall +call her May before I leave her,' he thought, gazing at her, and +discovering how well the name suited her, with its significances of +alertness, geniality, and half-mocking coyness. + +'So school is closed,' he said, and added humorously: '"Broken up" is +the technical term, I believe.' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'and I had walked out into the park to meditate +seriously upon the question of my holiday.' + +She caught his eye in a net of bright glances, and romance was in the +air. They had crossed a couple of smoke-soiled fields, and struck into +the old Hanbridge road just below the abandoned toll-house with its +broad eaves. + +'And whither do your meditations point?' he demanded playfully. + +'My meditations point to Switzerland,' she said. 'I have friends in +Lausanne.' + +The reference to foreign climes impressed him. + +'Would that I could go to Switzerland too!' he exclaimed; and privately: +'Now for it! I'm about to begin.' + +'Why?' she questioned, with elaborate simplicity. + +At the moment, as they were passing the toll-house, the other girl +appeared surprisingly from round the corner of the toll-house, where the +lane from Toft End joins the highroad. This second creature was smaller +than Miss Lawton, less assertive, less intelligent, perhaps, but much +more beautiful. + +Everyone halted and everyone blushed. + +'May!' the interrupter at length stammered. + +'May!' responded Miss Lawton lamely. + +The other girl was named May too--May Deane, child of the well-known +majolica manufacturer, who lived with his sons and daughter in a +solitary and ancient house at Toft End. + +Lionel Woolley said nothing until they had all shaken hands--his famous +way with women seemed to have deserted him--and then he actually stated +that he had forgotten an appointment, and must depart. He had gone +before the girls could move. + +When they were alone, the two Mays fronted each other, confused, +hostile, almost homicidal. + +'I hope I didn't spoil a _tête-à-tête_,' said May Deane, stiffly and +sharply, in a manner quite foreign to her soft and yielding nature. + +The schoolmistress, abandoning herself to an inexplicable but +overwhelming impulse, took breath for a proud lie. + +'No,' she answered; 'but if you had come three minutes earlier----' + +She smiled calmly. + +'Oh!' murmured May Deane, after a pause. + + + +III + +That evening May Deane returned home at half-past nine. She had been +with her two brothers to a lawn-tennis party at Hillport, and she told +her father, who was reading the _Staffordshire Signal_ in his accustomed +solitude, that the boys were staying later for cards, but that she had +declined to stay because she felt tired. She kissed the old widower +good-night, and said that she should go to bed at once. But before +retiring she visited the housekeeper in the kitchen in order to discuss +certain household matters: Jim's early breakfast, the proper method of +washing Herbert's new flannels (Herbert would be very angry if they were +shrunk), and the dog-biscuits for Carlo. These questions settled, she +went to her room, drew the blind, lighted some candles, and sat down +near the window. + +She was twenty-two, and she had about her that strange and charming +nunlike mystery which often comes to a woman who lives alone and +unguessed-at among male relatives. Her room was her bower. No one, save +the servants and herself, ever entered it. Mr. Deane and Jim and Bertie +might glance carelessly through the open door in passing along the +corridor, but had they chanced in idle curiosity to enter, the room +would have struck them as unfamiliar, and they might perhaps have +exclaimed with momentary interest, 'So this is May's room!' And some +hint that May was more than a daughter and sister--a woman, withdrawn, +secret, disturbing, living her own inner life side by side with the +household life--might have penetrated their obtuse paternal and +fraternal masculinity. Her beautiful face (the nose and mouth were +perfect, and at either extremity of the upper lip grew a soft down), her +dark hair, her quiet voice and her gentle acquiescence (diversified by +occasional outbursts of sarcasm), appealed to them and won them; but +they accepted her as something of course, as something which went +without saying. They adored her, and did not know that they adored her. + +May took off her hat, stuck the pins into it again, and threw it on the +bed, whose white and green counterpane hung down nearly to the floor on +either side. Then she lay back in the chair, and, pulling away the +blind, glanced through the window; the moon, rather dim behind the +furnace lights of Red Cow Ironworks, was rising over Moorthorne. May +dropped the blind with a wearied gesture, and turned within the room, +examining its contents as if she had not seen them before: the wardrobe, +the chest of drawers, which was also a dressing-table, the washstand, +the dwarf book-case with its store of Edna Lyalls, Elizabeth Gaskells, +Thackerays, Charlotte Yonges, Charlotte Brontës, a Thomas Hardy or so, +and some old school-books. She looked at the pictures, including a +sampler worked by a deceased aunt, at the loud-ticking Swiss clock on +the mantelpiece, at the higgledy-piggledy photographs there, at the new +Axminster carpet, the piece of linoleum in front of the washstand, and +the bad joining of the wallpaper to the left of the door. She missed +none of the details which she knew so well, with such long monotonous +intimacy, and sighed. + +Then she got up from the chair, and, opening a small drawer in the chest +of drawers, put her hand familiarly to the back and drew forth a +photograph. She carried the photograph to the light of the candles on +the mantelpiece, and gazed at it attentively, puckering her brows. It +was a portrait of Lionel Woolley. Heaven knows by what subterfuge or +lucky accident she had obtained it, for Lionel certainly had not given +it to her. She loved Lionel. She had loved him for five years, with a +love silent, blind, intense, irrational, and too elemental to be +concealed. Everyone knew of May's passion. Many women admired her taste; +a few were shocked and puzzled by it. All the men of her acquaintance +either pitied or despised her for it. Her father said nothing. Her +brothers were less cautious, and summed up their opinion of Lionel in +the curt, scornful assertion that he showed a tendency to cheat at +tennis. But May would never hear ill of him; he was a god to her, and +she could not hide her worship. For more than a year, until lately, she +had been almost sure of him, and then came a faint vague rumour +concerning Lionel and May Lawton, a rumour which she had refused to take +seriously. The encounter of that afternoon, and Miss Lawton's triumphant +remark, had dazed her. For seven hours she had existed in a kind of +semi-conscious delirium, in which she could perceive nothing but the +fatal fact, emerging more clearly every moment from the welter of her +thoughts, that she had lost Lionel. Lionel had proposed to May Lawton, +and been accepted, just before she surprised them together; and Lionel, +with a man's excusable cowardice, had left his betrothed to announce +the engagement. + +She tore up the photograph, put the fragments in the grate, and set a +light to them. + +Her father's step sounded on the stairs; he hesitated, and knocked +sharply at her door. + +'What's burning, May?' + +'It's all right, father,' she answered calmly, 'I'm only burning some +papers in the fire-grate.' + +'Well, see you don't burn the house down.' + +He passed on. + +Then she found a sheet of notepaper, and wrote on it in pencil, using +the mantelpiece for a desk: 'Dear home. Good-night, good-bye.' She +cogitated, and wrote further: 'Forgive me.--MAY.' + +She put the message in an envelope, and wrote on the envelope 'Jim,' and +placed it prominently in front of the clock. But after she had looked at +it for a minute, she wrote 'Father' above Jim, and then 'Herbert' below. + +There were noises in the hall; the boys had returned earlier than she +expected. As they went along the corridor and caught a glimpse of her +light under the door, Jim cried gaily: 'Now then, out with that light! A +little thing like you ought to be asleep hours since.' + +She listened for the bang of their door, and then, very hurriedly, she +removed her pink frock and put on an old black one, which was rather +tight in the waist. And she donned her hat, securing it carefully with +both pins, extinguished the candles, and crept quietly downstairs, and +so by the back-door into the garden. Carlo, the retriever, came halfway +out of his kennel and greeted her in the moonlight with a yawn. She +patted his head and ran stealthily up the garden, through the gate, and +up the waste green land towards the crown of the hill. + + + +IV + +The top of Toft End is the highest land in the Five Towns, and from it +may be clearly seen all the lurid evidences of manufacture which sweep +across the borders of the sky on north, east, west, and south. +North-eastwards lie the moorlands, and far off Manifold, the 'metropolis +of the moorlands,' as it is called. On this night the furnaces of Red +Cow Ironworks, in the hollow to the east, were in full blast; their +fluctuating yellow light illuminated queerly the grass of the fields +above Deane's house, and the regular roar of their breathing reached +that solitary spot like the distant rumour of some leviathan beast +angrily fuming. Further away to the south-west the Cauldon Bar Ironworks +reproduced the same phenomena, and round the whole horizon, near and +far, except to the north-east, the lesser fires of labour leapt and +flickered and glinted in their mists of smoke, burning ceaselessly, as +they burned every night and every day at all seasons of all years. The +town of Bursley slept in the deep valley to the west, and vast Hanbridge +in the shallower depression to the south, like two sleepers accustomed +to rest quietly amid great disturbances; the beacons of their Town Halls +and churches kept watch, and the whole scene was dominated by the +placidity of the moon, which had now risen clear of the Red Cow furnace +clouds, and was passing upwards through tracts of stars. + +Into this scene, climbing up from the direction of Manifold, came Lionel +Woolley, nearly at midnight, having walked some eighteen miles in a +vain effort to re-establish his self-satisfaction by a process of +reasoning and ingenious excuses. Lionel felt that in the brief episode +of the afternoon he had scarcely behaved with dignity. In other words, +he was fully and painfully aware that he must have looked a fool, a +coward, an ass, a contemptible and pitiful person, in the eyes of at +least one girl, if not of two. He did not like this--no man would have +liked it; and to Lionel the memory of an undignified act was acute +torture. Why had he bidden the girls adieu and departed? Why had he, in +fact, run away? What precisely would May Lawton think of him? How could +he explain his conduct to her--and to himself? And had that worshipping, +affectionate thing, May Deane, taken note of his confusion--of the +confusion of him who was never confused, who was equal to every occasion +and every emergency? These were some of the questions which harried him +and declined to be settled. He had walked to Manifold, and had tea at +the Roebuck, and walked back, and still the questions were harrying; and +as he came over the hill by the field-path, and descried the lone house +of the Deanes in the light of the Red Cow furnaces and of the moon, the +worship of May Deane seemed suddenly very precious to him, and he could +not bear to think that any stupidity of his should have impaired it. + +Then he saw May Deane walking slowly across the field, close to an +abandoned pit-shaft, whose low protecting circular wall of brick was +crumbling to ruin on the side nearest to him. + +She stopped, appeared to gaze at him intently, turned, and began to +approach him. And he too, moved by a mysterious impulse which he did not +pause to examine, swerved, and quickened his step in order to lessen the +distance between them. He did not at first even feel surprise that she +should be wandering solitary on the hill at that hour. Presently she +stood still, while he continued to move forward. It was as if she drew +him; and soon, in the pale moonlight and the wavering light of the +furnaces, he could decipher all the details of her face, and he saw that +she was smiling fondly, invitingly, admiringly, lustrously, with the old +undiminished worship and affection. And he perceived a dark +discoloration on her right cheek, as though she had suffered a blow, +but this mark did not long occupy his mind. He thought suddenly of the +strong probability that her father would leave a nice little bit of +money to each of his three children; and he thought of her beauty, and +of her timid fragility in the tight black dress, and of her immense and +unquestioning love for him, which would survive all accidents and +mishaps. He seemed to sink luxuriously into this grand passion of hers +(which he deemed quite natural and proper) as into a soft feather-bed. +To live secure in an atmosphere of exhaustless worship; to keep a fount +of balm and admiration for ever in the house, a bubbling spring of +passionate appreciation which would be continually available for the +refreshment of his self-esteem! To be always sure of an obedience blind +and willing, a subservience which no tyranny and no harshness and no +whim would rouse into revolt; to sit on a throne with so much beauty +kneeling at his feet! + +And the possession of her beauty would be a source of legitimate pride +to him. People would often refer to the beautiful Mrs. Woolley. + +He felt that in sending May Deane to interrupt his highly emotional +conversation with May Lawton Providence had watched over him and done +him a good turn. May Lawton had advantages, and striking advantages, but +he could not be sure of her. The suspicion that if she married him she +would marry him for her own ends caused him a secret disquiet, and he +feared that one day, perhaps one morning at breakfast, she might take it +into her intelligent head to mock him, to exercise upon him her gift of +irony, and to intimate to him that if he fancied she was his slave he +was deceived. That she sincerely admired him he never for an instant +doubted. But---- + +And, moreover, the unfortunate episode of the afternoon might have +cooled her ardour to freezing-point. + +He stood now in front of his worshipper, and the notion crossed his mind +that in after-years he could say to his friends: 'I proposed to my wife +at midnight under the moon. Not many men have done that.' + +'Good-evening,' he ventured to the girl; and he added with bravado: +'We've met before to-day, haven't we?' + +She made no reply, but her smile was more affectionate, more inviting, +than ever. + +'I'm glad of this opportunity--very glad,' he proceeded. 'I've been +wanting to ... You must know, my dear girl, how I feel....' + +She gave a gesture, charming in its sweet humility, as if to say: 'Who +am I that I should dare----' + +And then he proposed to her, asked her to share his life, and all that +sort of thing; and when he had finished he thought, 'It's done now, +anyway.' + +Strange to relate, she offered no immediate reply, but she bent a little +towards him with shining, happy eyes. He had an impulse to seize her in +his arms and kiss her, but prudence suggested that he should defer the +rite. She turned and began to walk slowly and meditatively towards the +pit-shaft. He followed almost at her side, but a foot or so behind, +waiting for her to speak. And as he waited, expectant, he looked at her +profile and reflected how well the name May suited her, with its +significances of shyness and dreamy hope, and hidden fire and the +modesty of spring. + +And while he was thus savouring her face, and they were still ten yards +from the pit-shaft, she suddenly disappeared from his vision, as it were +by a conjuring trick. He had a horrible sensation in his spinal column. +He was not the man to mistrust the evidence of his senses, and he knew, +therefore, that he had been proposing to a phantom. + + + +V + +The next morning--early, because of Jim's early breakfast--when May +Deane's disappearance became known to the members of the household, Jim +had the idea of utilizing Carlo in the search for her. The retriever +went straight, without a fault, to the pit-shaft, and May was discovered +alive and unscathed, save for a contusion of the face and a sprain in +the wrist. + +Her suicidal plunge had been arrested, at only a few feet from the top +of the shaft, by a cross-stay of timber, upon which she lay prone. There +was no reason why the affair should be made public, and it was not. It +was suppressed into one of those secrets which embed themselves in the +history of families, and after two or three generations blossom into +romantic legends full of appropriate circumstantial detail. + +Lionel Woolley spent a woeful night at his rooms. He did not know what +to do, and on the following day May Lawton encountered him again, and +proved by her demeanour that the episode of the previous afternoon had +caused no estrangement. Lionel vacillated. The sway of the +schoolmistress was almost restored, and it would have been restored +fully had he not been preoccupied by a feverish curiosity--the curiosity +to know whether or not May Deane was dead. He felt that she must indeed +be dead, and he lived through the day expectant of the news of her +sudden decease. Towards night his state of mind was such that he was +obliged to call at the Deanes'. May heard him, and insisted on seeing +him; more, she insisted on seeing him alone in the breakfast-room, where +she reclined, interestingly white, on the sofa. Her father and brothers +objected strongly to the interview, but they yielded, afraid that a +refusal might induce hysteria and worse things. + +And when Lionel Woolley came into the room, May, steeped in felicity, +related to him the story of her impulsive crime. + +'I was so happy,' she said, 'when I knew that Miss Lawton had deceived +me.' And before he could inquire what she meant, she continued rapidly: +'I must have been unconscious, but I felt you were there, and something +of me went out towards you. And oh! the answer to your question--I heard +your question; the real _me_ heard it, but that _something_ could not +speak.' + +'My question?' + +'You asked a question, didn't you?' she faltered, sitting up. + +He hesitated, and then surrendered himself to her immense love and sank +into it, and forgot May Lawton. + +'Yes,' he said. + +'The answer is yes. Oh, you must have known the answer would be yes! You +did know, didn't you?' + +He nodded grandly. + +She sighed with delicious and overwhelming joy. + +In the ecstasy of the achievement of her desire the girl gave little +thought to the psychic aspect of the possibly unique wooing. + +As for Lionel, he refused to dwell on it even in thought. And so that +strange, magic, yearning effluence of a soul into a visible projection +and shape was ignored, slurred over, and, after ten years of domesticity +in the bank premises, is gradually being forgotten. + +He is a man of business, and she, with her fading beauty, her ardent, +continuous worship of the idol, her half-dozen small children, the +eldest of whom is only eight, and the white window-curtains to change +every week because of the smuts--do you suppose she has time or +inclination to ponder upon the theory of the subliminal consciousness +and kindred mysteries? + + * * * * * + + + + +TIDDY-FOL-LOL + + +It was the dinner-hour, and a group of ragged and clay-soiled apprentice +boys were making a great noise in the yard of Henry Mynors and Co.'s +small, compact earthenware manufactory up at Toft End. Toft End caps the +ridge to the east of Bursley; and Bursley, which has been the home of +the potter for ten centuries, is the most ancient of the Five Towns in +Staffordshire. The boys, dressed for the most part in shirt, trousers, +and boots, all equally ragged and insecure, were playing at prison-bars. + +Soon the game ended abruptly in a clamorous dispute upon a point of law, +and it was not recommenced. The dispute dying a natural death, the +tireless energies of the boys needed a fresh outlet. Inspired by a +common instinct, they began at once to bait one of their number, a +slight youngster of twelve years, much better clothed than the rest, who +had adventurously strolled in from a neighbouring manufactory. This +child answered their jibes in an amiable, silly, drawling tone which +seemed to justify the epithet 'Loony,' frequently applied to him. Now +and then he stammered; and then companions laughed loud, and he with +them. It was known that several years ago he had fallen down a flight of +stone steps, alighting on the back of his head, and that ever since he +had been deaf of one ear and under some trifling mental derangement. His +sublime calmness under their jests baffled them until the terrible +figure of Mr. Machin, the engine-man, standing at the door of the +slip-house, caught their attention and suggested a plan full of joyous +possibilities. They gathered round the lad, and, talking in subdued +murmurs, unanimously urged him with many persuasions to a certain course +of action. He declined the scheme, and declined again. Suddenly a boy +shouted: + +'Thee dars' na'!' + +'I dare,' was the drawled, smiling answer. + +'I tell thee thee dars' na'!' + +'I tell thee I dare.' And thereupon he slowly but resolutely set out +for the slip-house door and Mr. Machin. + +Eli Machin was beyond doubt the most considerable employé on Clarke's +'bank' (manufactory). Even Henry Clarke approached him with a +subtly-indicated deference, and whenever Silas Emery, the immensely rich +and miserly sleeping partner in the firm, came up to visit the works, +these two old men chatted as old friends. In a modern earthenware +manufactory the engine-room is the source of all activity, for, owing to +the inventive genius of a famous and venerable son of the Five Towns, +steam now presides at nearly every stage in the long process of turning +earth into ware. It moves the pug-mill, the jollies, and the marvellous +batting machines, dries the unfired clay, heats the printers' stoves, +and warms the offices where the 'jacket-men' dwell. Coal is a tremendous +item in the cost of production, and a competent, economical engine-man +can be sure of good wages and a choice of berths; he is desired like a +good domestic servant. Eli Machin was the prince of engine-men. His +engine never went wrong, his coal bills were never extravagant, and +(supreme virtue!) he was never absent on Mondays. From his post in the +slip-house he watched over the whole works like a father, stern, gruff, +forbidding, but to be trusted absolutely. He was sixty years old, and +had been 'putting by' for nearly half a century. He lived in a tiny +villa-cottage with his bed-ridden, cheerful wife, and lent small sums on +mortgage of approved freeholds at 5 per cent.--no more and no less. +Secure behind this rampart of saved money, he was the equal of the King +on the throne. Not a magnate in all the Five Towns who would dare to be +condescending to Eli Machin. He had been a sidesman at the old church. A +trades-union had once asked him to become a working-man candidate for +the Bursley Town Council, but he had refused because he did not care for +the possibility of losing caste by being concerned in a strike. His +personal respectability was entirely unsullied, and he worshipped this +abstract quality as he worshipped God. + +There was only one blot--but how foul!--on Eli Machin's career, and that +had been dropped by his daughter Miriam, when, defying his authority, +she married a scene-shifter at Hanbridge Theatre. The atrocious idea of +being connected with the theatre had rendered him speechless for a +time. He could but endure it in the most awful silence that ever hid +passionate feeling. Then one day he had burst out, 'The wench is no +better than a tiddy-fol-lol!' Only this solitary phrase--nothing else. + +What a tiddy-fol-lol was no one quite knew; but the word, getting about, +stuck to him, and for some weeks boys used to shout it after him in the +streets, until he caught one of them, and in thirty seconds put an end +to the practice. Thenceforth Miriam, with all hers, was dead to him. +When her husband expired of consumption, Eli Machin saw the avenging arm +of the Lord in action; and when her boy grew to be a source of painful +anxiety to her, he said to himself that the wrath of Heaven was not yet +cooled towards this impious daughter. The passage of fifteen years had +apparently in no way softened his resentment. + +The challenged lad in Mynors' yard slowly approached the slip-house +door, and halted before Eli Machin, grinning. + +'Well, young un,' the old man said absently, 'what dost want?' + +'Tiddy-fol-lol, grandfeyther,' the child drawled in his silly, +irritating voice, and added: 'They said I darena say it to ye.' + +Without and instant's hesitation Eli Machin raised his still powerful +arm, and, catching the boy under the ear, knocked him down. The other +boys yelled with unaffected pleasure and ran away. + +'Get up, and be off wi' ye. Ye dunna belong to this bank,' said Eli +Machin in cold anger to the lad. But the lad did not stir; the lad's +eyes were closed, and he lay white on the stones. + +Eli Machin bent down, and peered through his spectacles at the prone +form upon which the mid-day sun was beating. + +'It's Miriam's boy!' he ejaculated under his breath, and looked round as +if in inquiry--the yard was empty. Then with quick decision he picked up +this limp and inconvenient parcel of humanity and hastened--ran--with it +out of the yard into the road. + +Down the road he ran, turned to the left into Clowes Street, and stopped +before a row of small brown cottages. At the open door of one of these +cottages a woman sat sewing. She was rather stout and full-bosomed, +with a fair, fresh face, full of sense and peace; she looked under +thirty, but was older. + +'Here's thy Tommy, Miriam,' said Eli Machin shortly. 'He give me some of +his sauce, and I doubt I've done him an injury.' + +The woman dropped her sewing. + +'Eh, dear!' she cried, 'is that lad o' mine in mischief again? I do hope +he's no limb brokken.' + +'It in'na that,' said the old man, 'but he's dazed-like. Better lay him +on th' squab.' + +She calmly took Tommy and placed him gently down on the check-covered +sofa under the window. 'Come in, father, do.' + +The man obeyed, astonished at the entire friendliness of this daughter, +whom, though he had frequently seen her, he had never spoken to for more +than ten years. Her manner, at once filial and quite natural, perfectly +ignored the long breach, and disclosed no trace of animosity. + +Father and daughter examined the unconscious child. Pale, pulseless, +cold, he lay on the sofa like a corpse except for the short, faint +breaths which he drew through his blue lips. + +'I doubt I've killed him,' said Eli. + +'Nay, nay, father!' And her face actually smiled. This supremacy of the +soul against years of continued misfortune lifted her high above him, +and he suddenly felt himself an inferior creature. + +'I'll go for th' doctor,' he said. + +'Nay! I shall need ye.' And she put her head out of the window. 'Mrs. +Walley, will ye let your Lucy run quick for th' club doctor? my Tommy's +hurt.' + +The whole street awoke instantly from its nap, and in a few moments +every door was occupied. Miriam closed her own door softly, as though +she might wake the boy, and spoke in whispers to people through the +window, finally telling them to go away. When the doctor came, half an +hour afterwards, she had done all that she knew for Tommy, without the +slightest apparent result. + +'What is it?' asked the doctor curtly, as he lifted the child's thin and +lifeless hand. + +Eli Machin explained that he had boxed the boy's ear. + +'Tommy was impudent to his grandfather,' Miriam added hastily. + +'Which ear?' the doctor inquired. It was the left. He gazed into it, +and then raised the boy's right leg and arm. 'There is no paralysis,' he +said. Then he felt the heart, and then took out his stethoscope and +applied it, listening intently. + +'Canst hear owt?' the old man said. + +'I cannot,' he answered. + +'Don't say that, doctor--don't say that! said Miriam, with an accent of +appeal. + +'In these cases it is almost impossible to tell whether the patient is +alive or dead. We must wait. Mrs. Baddeley, make a mustard plaster for +his feet, and we will put another over the heart.' And so they waited +one hour, while the clock ticked and the mustard plasters gradually +cooled. Then Tommy's lips parted. + +After another half-hour the doctor said: + +'I must go now; I will come again at six. Do nothing but apply fresh +plasters. Be sure to keep his neck free. He is breathing, but I may as +well be plain with you--there is a great risk of your child dying in +this condition.' + +Neighbours were again at the window, and Miriam drew the blind, waving +them away. At six o'clock the doctor reappeared. 'There is no change,' +he remarked. 'I will call in before I go to bed.' + +When he lifted the latch for the third time, at ten o'clock, Eli Machin +and Miriam still sat by the sofa, and Tommy still lay thereon, moveless, +a terrible enigma. But the glass lamp was lighted on the mantelpiece, +and Miriam's sewing, by which she earned a livelihood, had been hidden +out of sight. + +'There is no change,' said the doctor. 'You can do nothing except hope.' + +'And pray,' the calm mother added. + +Eli neither stirred nor spoke. For nine hours he had absolutely +forgotten his engine. He knew the boy would die. + +The clock struck eleven, twelve, one, two, three, each time fretting the +nerves of the old man like a rasp. It was the hour of summer dawn. A +cold gray light fell unkindly across the small figure on the sofa. + +'Open th' door a bit, father,' said Miriam. 'This parlour's gettin' +close; th' lad canna breathe.' + +'Nay, lass,' Eli sighed, as he stumbled obediently to the door. 'The +lad'll breathe no more. I've killed him i' my anger.' He frowned +heavily, as though someone was annoying him. + +'Hist!' she exclaimed, when, after extinguishing the lamp, she returned +to her boy's side. 'He's reddened--he's reddened! Look thee at his +cheeks, father!' She seized the child's inert hands and rubbed them +between her own. The blood was now plain in Tommy's face. His legs +faintly twitched. His breathing was slower. Miriam moved the coverlet +and put her head upon his heart. 'It's beating loud, father,' she cried. +'Bless God!' + +Eli stared at the child with the fixity of a statue. Then Tommy opened +his eyes for an instant. The old man groaned. Tommy looked vacantly +round, closed his eyes again, and was unmistakably asleep. He slept for +one minute, and then waked. Eli involuntarily put a hand on the sofa. +Tommy gazed at him, and, with the most heavenly innocent smile of +recognition, lightly touched his grandfather's hand. Then he turned over +on his right side. In the anguish of sudden joy Eli gave a deep, piteous +sob. That smile burnt into him like a coal of fire. + +'Now for the beef-tea,' said Miriam, crying. + +'Beef-tea?' the boy repeated after her, mildly questioning. + +'Yes, my poppet,' she answered; and then aside, 'Father, he can hear i' +his left ear. Did ye notice it?' + +'It's a miracle--a miracle of God!' said Eli. + +In a few hours Tommy was as well as ever--indeed, better; not only was +his hearing fully restored, but he had ceased to stammer, and the thin, +almost imperceptible cloud upon his intellect was dissipated. The doctor +expressed but little surprise at these phenomena, and, in fact, stated +that similar things had occurred often before, and were duly written +down in the books of medicine. But Eli Machin's firm, instinctive faith +that Providence had intervened will never be shaken. + +Miriam and Tommy now live in the villa-cottage with the old people. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE IDIOT + + +William Froyle, ostler at the Queen's Arms at Moorthorne, took the +letter, and, with a curt nod which stifled the loquacity of the village +postman, went at once from the yard into the coach-house. He had +recognised the hand-writing on the envelope, and the recognition of it +gave form and quick life to all the vague suspicions that had troubled +him some months before, and again during the last few days. He felt +suddenly the near approach of a frightful calamity which had long been +stealing towards him. + +A wire-sheathed lantern, set on a rough oaken table, cast a wavering +light round the coach-house, and dimly showed the inner stable. Within +the latter could just be distinguished the mottled-gray flanks of a fat +cob which dragged its chain occasionally, making the large slow +movements of a horse comfortably lodged in its stall. The pleasant odour +of animals and hay filled the wide spaces of the shed, and through the +half-open door came a fresh thin mist rising from the rain-soaked yard +in the November evening. + +Froyle sat down on the oaken table, his legs dangling, and looked again +at the envelope before opening it. He was a man about thirty years of +age, with a serious and thoughtful, rather heavy countenance. He had a +long light moustache, and his skin was a fresh, rosy salmon colour; his +straw-tinted hair was cut very short, except over the forehead, where it +grew full and bushy. Dressed in his rough stable corduroys, his forearms +bare and white, he had all the appearance of the sturdy Englishman, the +sort of Englishman that crosses the world in order to find vent for his +taciturn energy on virgin soils. From the whole village he commanded and +received respect. He was known for a scholar, and it was his scholarship +which had obtained for him the proud position of secretary to the +provident society styled the Queen's Arms Slate Club. His respectability +and his learning combined had enabled him to win with dignity the hand +of Susie Trimmer, the grocer's daughter, to whom he had been engaged +about a year. The village could not make up its mind concerning that +match; without doubt it was a social victory for Froyle, but everyone +wondered that so sedate and sagacious a man should have seen in Susie a +suitable mate. + +He tore open the envelope with his huge forefinger, and, bending down +towards the lantern, began to read the letter. It ran: + + 'OLDCASTLE STREET, + + 'BURSLEY. + + 'DEAR WILL, + + 'I asked father to tell you, but he would not. He said I must + write. Dear Will, I hope you will never see me again. As you will + see by the above address, I am now at Aunt Penrose's at Bursley. + She is awful angry, but I was obliged to leave the village because + of my shame. I have been a wicked girl. It was in July. You know + the man, because you asked me about him one Sunday night. He is no + good. He is a villain. Please forget all about me. I want to go to + London. So many people know me here, and what with people coming + in from the village, too. Please forgive me. + + 'S. TRIMMER.' + +After reading the letter a second time, Froyle folded it up and put it +in his pocket. Beyond a slight unaccustomed pallor of the red cheeks, he +showed no sign of emotion. Before the arrival of the postman he had been +cleaning his master's bicycle, which stood against the table. To this he +returned. Kneeling down in some fresh straw, he used his dusters slowly +and patiently--rubbing, then stopping to examine the result, and then +rubbing again. When the machine was polished to his satisfaction, he +wheeled it carefully into the stable, where it occupied a stall next to +that of the cob. As he passed back again, the animal leisurely turned +its head and gazed at Froyle with its large liquid eyes. He slapped the +immense flank. Content, the animal returned to its feed, and the +weighted chain ran down with a rattle. + +The fortnightly meeting of the Slate Club was to take place at eight +o'clock that evening. Froyle had employed part of the afternoon in +making ready his books for the event, to him always so solemn and +ceremonious; and the affairs of the club were now prominent in his mind. +He was sorry that it would be impossible for him to attend the meeting; +fortunately, all the usual preliminaries were complete. + +He took a piece of notepaper from a little hanging cupboard, and, +sprawling across the table, began to write under the lantern. The pencil +seemed a tiny toy in his thick roughened fingers: + + '_To Mr. Andrew McCall, Chairman Queen's Arms Slate Club._ + + 'DEAR SIR, + + 'I regret to inform you that I shall not be at the meeting + to-night. You will find the' books in order....' + +Here he stopped, biting the end of the pencil in thought. He put down +the pencil and stepped hastily out of the stable, across the yard, and +into the hotel. In the large room, the room where cyclists sometimes +took tea and cold meat during the summer season, the long deal table +and the double line of oaken chairs stood ready for the meeting. A fire +burnt warmly in the big grate, and the hanging lamp had been lighted. On +the wall was a large card containing the rules of the club, which had +been written out in a fair hand by the schoolmaster. It was to this card +that Froyle went. Passing his thumb down the card, he paused at Rule +VII.: + + 'Each member shall, on the death of another member, pay 1s. for + benefit of widow or nominee of deceased, same to be paid within + one month after notice given.' + + 'Or nominee--nominee,' he murmured reflectively, staring at the + card. He mechanically noticed, what he had noticed often before + with disdain, that the chairman had signed the rules without the + use of capitals. + + He went back to the dusk of the coach-house to finish his letter, + still murmuring the word 'nominee,' of whose meaning he was not + quite sure: + + 'I request that the money due to me from the Slate Club on my death + shall be paid to my nominee, Miss Susan Trimmer, now staying with + her aunt, Mrs. Penrose, at Bursley. + + 'Yours respectfully, + + 'WILLIAM FROYLE.' + +After further consideration he added: + + 'P.S.--My annual salary of sixpence per member would be due at the + end of December. If so be the members would pay that, or part of + it, should they consider the same due, to Susan Trimmer as well, I + should be thankful.--Yours resp, W.F.' + +He put the letter in an envelope, and, taking it to the large room, laid +it carefully at the end of the table opposite the chairman's seat. Once +more he returned to the coach-house. From the hanging cupboard he now +produced a piece of rope. Standing on the table he could just reach, by +leaning forward, a hook in the ceiling, that was sometimes used for the +slinging of bicycles. With difficulty he made the rope fast to the hook. +Putting a noose on the other end, he tightened it round his neck. He +looked up at the ceiling and down at the floor in order to judge whether +the rope was short enough. + +'Good-bye, Susan, and everyone,' he whispered, and then stepped off the +table. + +The tense rope swung him by his neck halfway across the coach-house. He +swung twice to and fro, but as he passed under the hook for the fifth +time his toes touched the floor. The rope had stretched. In another +second he was standing firm on the floor, purple and panting, but +ignominiously alive. + +'Good-even to you, Mr. Froyle. Be you committing suicide?' The tones +were drawling, uncertain, mildly astonished. + +He turned round hastily, his hands busy with the rope, and saw in the +doorway the figure of Daft Jimmy, the Moorthorne idiot. + +He hesitated before speaking, but he was not confused. No one could have +been confused before Daft Jimmy. Neither man nor woman in the village +considered his presence more than that of a cat. + +'Yes, I am,' he said. + +The middle-aged idiot regarded him with a vague, interested smile, and +came into the coach-house. + +'You'n gotten the rope too long, Mr. Froyle. Let me help you.' + +Froyle calmly assented. He stood on the table, and the two rearranged +the noose and made it secure. As they did so the idiot gossiped: + +'I was going to Bursley to-night to buy me a pair o' boots, and when I +was at top o' th' hill I remembered as I'd forgotten the measure o' my +feet. So I ran back again for it. Then I saw the light in here, and I +stepped up to bid ye good-evening.' + +Someone had told him the ancient story of the fool and his boots, and, +with the pride of an idiot in his idiocy, he had determined that it +should be related of himself. + +Froyle was silent. + +The idiot laughed with a dry cackle. + +'Now you go,' said Froyle, when the rope was fixed. + +'Let me see ye do it,' the idiot pleaded with pathetic eyes. + +'No; out you get!' + +Protesting, the idiot went forth, and his irregular clumsy footsteps +sounded on the pebble-paved yard. When the noise of them ceased in the +soft roadway, Froyle jumped off the table again. Gradually his body, +like a stopping pendulum, came to rest under the hook, and hung +twitching, with strange disconnected movements. The horse in the stable, +hearing unaccustomed noises, rattled his chain and stamped about in the +straw of his box. + +Furtive steps came down the yard again, and Daft Jimmy peeped into the +coach-house. + +'He done it! he done it!' the idiot cried gleefully. 'Damned if he +hasna'.' He slapped his leg and almost danced. The body still twitched +occasionally. 'He done it!' + +'Done what, Daft Jimmy? You're making a fine noise there! Done what?' + +The idiot ran out of the stable. At the side-entrance to the hotel stood +the barmaid, the outline of her fine figure distinct against the light +from within. + +The idiot continued to laugh. + +'Done what?' the girl repeated, calling out across the dark yard in +clear, pleasant tones of amused inquiry. 'Done what?' + +'What's that to you, Miss Tucker?' + +'Now, none of your sauce, Daft Jimmy! Is Willie Froyle in there?' + +The idiot roared with laughter. + +'Yes, he is, miss.' + +'Well, tell him his master wants him. I don't want to cross this mucky, +messy yard.' + +'Yes, miss.' + +The girl closed the door. + +The idiot went into the coach-house, and, slapping William's body in a +friendly way so that it trembled on the rope, he spluttered out between +his laughs: + +'Master wants ye, Mr. Froyle.' + +Then he walked out into the village street, and stood looking up the +muddy road, still laughing quietly. It was quite dark, but the moon +aloft in the clear sky showed the highway with its shining ruts leading +in a straight line over the hill to Bursley. + +'Them shoes!' the idiot ejaculated suddenly. 'Well, I be an idiot, and +that's true! They can take the measure from my feet, and I never thought +on it till this minute!' + +Laughing again, he set off at a run up the hill. + + * * * * * + + + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + + +I + +After a honeymoon of five weeks in the shining cities of the +Mediterranean and in Paris, they re-entered the British Empire by the +august portals of the Chatham and Dover Railway. They stood impatiently +waiting, part of a well-dressed, querulous crowd, while a few officials +performed their daily task of improvising a Custom-house for registered +luggage on a narrow platform of Victoria Station. John, Mr. Norris's +man, who had met them, attended behind. Suddenly, with a characteristic +movement, the husband lifted his head, and then looked down at his wife. + +'I say, May!' + +'Well?' + +She knew that he was about to propose some swift alteration of their +plans, but she smiled upwards out of her furs at his grave face, and +the tone of her voice granted all requests in advance. + +'I think I'd better go to the office,' he said. + +'Now?' + +She smiled again, inviting him to do exactly what he chose. She was +already familiar with his restiveness under enforced delays and +inaction, and his unfortunate capacity for being actively bored by +trifles which did not interest him aroused in her a sort of maternal +sympathy. + +'Yes,' he answered. 'I can be there and back in an hour or less. You +titivate yourself, and we'll dine at the Savoy, or anywhere you please. +We'll keep the ball rolling to-night. Yes,' he repeated, as if to +convince himself that he was not a deserter, 'I really must call in at +the office. You and John can see to the luggage, can't you?' + +'Of course,' she replied, with calm good-nature, and also with perfect +self-confidence. 'But give me the keys of the trunks, and don't be late, +Ted.' + +'Oh, I shan't be late,' he said. + +Their fingers touched as she took the keys. He went away enraptured +anew by her delightful acquiescences, her unique smile, her +common-sense, her mature charm, and the astonishing elegance of her +person. The honeymoon was over--and with what finished discretion, +combining the innocent girl with the woman of the world, she had lived +through the honeymoon!--another life, more delicious, was commencing. + +'What a wife!' he thought triumphantly. 'She does understand a man! And +fancy leaving any ordinary bride to look after luggage!' + +Nevertheless, once in his offices at Winchester House, he managed to +forget her, and to forget time, for nearly an hour and a half. When at +last he came to himself from the enchantment of affairs, he jumped into +a hansom, and told the driver to drive fast to Knightsbridge. He was +ardent to see her again. In the dark seclusion of the cab he speculated +upon her toilette, the colour of her shoes. He thought of the last five +weeks, of the next five years. Dwelling on their mutual love and esteem, +their health, their self-knowledge and experience and cheerfulness, her +sense and grace, his talent for getting money first and keeping it +afterwards, he foresaw nothing but happiness for them. Children? H'm! +Possibly.... + +At Piccadilly Circus it began to rain--cold, heavy March rain. + +'Window down, sir?' asked the voice of the cabman. + +'Yes,' he ordered sardonically. 'Better be suffocated than drowned.' + +'You're right, sir,' said the voice. + +Soon, through the streaming glass, which made every gas-jet into a +shooting pillar of flame, Norris discerned vaguely the vast bulk of Hyde +Park Mansions. 'Good!' he muttered, and at that very moment he was shot +through the window into the thin, light-reflecting mire of the street. +Enormous and strange beasts menaced him with pitiless hoofs. Millions of +people crowded about him. In response to a question that seemed to float +slowly towards him, he tried to give his address. He realized, by a +considerable feat of intellect, that the horse must have fallen down; +and then, with a dim notion that nothing mattered, he went to sleep. + + + +II + +In the boudoir of the magnificent flat on the first floor, shielded from +the noise and the inclemency of the world by four silk-hung walls and a +double window, and surrounded by all the multitudinous and costly luxury +that a stockbroker with brains and taste can obtain for the wife of his +love, May was leisurely finishing her toilette. And every detail in the +long, elaborate process was accomplished with a passionate intention to +bewitch the man at Winchester House. + +These two had first met seven years before, when May, the daughter of a +successful wholesale draper at Hanbridge, in the Five Towns district of +Staffordshire, was aged twenty-two. Mr. Scarratt went to Manchester each +Tuesday to buy, and about once a month he took May with him. One day, +when they were lunching at the Exchange Restaurant, a young man came up +whom her father introduced as Mr. Edward Norris, his stockbroker. Mr. +Norris, whose years were thirty, glanced keenly at May, and accepted Mr. +Scarratt's invitation to join them. Ever afterwards May vividly +remembered the wonderful sensation, joyous yet disconcerting, which she +then experienced--the sensation of having captivated her father's +handsome and correct stockbroker. The three talked horses with a certain +freedom, and since May was accustomed to drive the Scarratt dogcart, so +famous in the Five Towns, she could bring her due share to the +conversation. The meal over, Mr. Norris discussed business matters with +his client, and then sedately departed, but not without the obviously +sincere expression of a desire to meet Miss Scarratt again. The +wholesale draper praised Edward's financial qualities behind his back, +and wondered that a man of such aptitude should remain in Manchester +while London existed. As for May, she decided that she would have a new +frock before she came to Manchester in the following month. + +She had a new frock, but not of the colour intended. By the following +month her father was enclosed in a coffin, and it happened to his +estate, as to the estates of many successful men who employ +stockbrokers, that the liabilities far more than covered the assets. May +and her mother were left without a penny. The mother did the right +thing, and died--it was best. May went direct to Brunt's, the largest +draper in the Five Towns, and asked for a place under 'Madame' in the +dress-making department. Brunt's daughter, who was about to be married, +gave her the place instantly. Three years later, when 'Madame' returned +to Paris, May stepped into the French-woman's shoes. + +On Sundays and on Thursday afternoons, and sometimes (but not too often) +at the theatre, May was the finest walking advertisement that Brunt's +ever had. Old Brunt would have proposed to her, it was rumoured, had he +not been scared by her elegance. Sundry sons of prosperous +manufacturers, unabashed by this elegance, did in fact secretly propose, +but with what result was known only to themselves. + +Later, as May waxed in importance at Brunt's, she was sent to Manchester +to buy. She lunched at the Exchange Restaurant. The world and Manchester +are very small. The first man she set eyes on was Edward Norris. Another +week, Norris said to her with a thrill, and he would have been gone for +ever to London. Chance is not to be flouted. The sequel was inevitable. +They loved. And all the select private bars in Hanbridge tinkled to the +news that May Scarratt had been and hooked a stockbroker! + +When the toilette was done, and the maid gone, she wound a thin black +scarf round her olive neck and shoulders, and sat down negligently on a +Chippendale settee in the attitude of a portrait by Boldini; her little +feet were tucked up sideways on the settee; the perforated lace ends of +the scarf fell over her low corsage to the level of the seat. And she +waited, still the bride. He was late, but she knew he would be late. +Sure in the conviction that he was a strong man, a man of imagination +and of deeds, she could easily excuse this failing in him, as she did +that other habit of impulsive action in trifles. Nay, more, she found +keen pleasure in excusing it. 'Dear thing!' she reflected, 'he forgets +so.' Therefore she waited, content in enjoying the image in the glass of +her dark face, her small plump person, and her Paris gown--that dream! +She thought with assuaged grief of her father's tragedy; she would have +liked him to see her now, the jewel in the case--her father and she had +understood each other. + +All around, and above and below, she felt, without hearing it, the +activity of the opulent, complex life of the mansions. Her mind dwelt +with satisfaction on long carpeted corridors noiselessly paraded by +flunkeys, mahogany lifts continually ascending and descending like the +angels of the ladder, the great entrance hall with its fire always +burning and its doors always swinging, the _salle à manger_ sown with +rose-shaded candles, and all the splendid privacies rising stage upon +stage to the attics, where the flunkeys philosophized together. She +confessed the beauty and distinction achieved by this extravagant +organization for gratifying earthly desires. Often, in the pinching days +of her servitude, she had murmured against the injustice of things, and +had called wealth a crime while poverty starved. But now she perceived +that society was what it was inevitably, and could not be altered. She +accepted it in profound peace of mind, gaily fraternal towards the +fortunate, compassionate towards those in adversity. + +In the next flat someone began to play very brilliantly a Hungarian +Rhapsody of Liszt's. And even the faint sound of that riotous torrent of +melody, so arrogantly gorgeous, intoxicated her soul. She shivered under +the sudden vision of the splendid joy of being alive. And how she envied +the player! French she had learned from 'Madame,' but she had no skill +on the piano; it was her one regret. + +She touched the bell. + +'Has your master come in yet?' she inquired of the maid. + +'No, madam, not yet.' + +She knew he had not come in, but she could not resist the impulse to +ask. + +Ten minutes later, when the piano had ceased, she jumped up, and, +creeping to the front-door of the flat, gazed foolishly across the +corridor at the grille of the lift. She heard the lift in travail. It +appeared and passed out of sight above. No, he had not come! Glancing +aside, she saw the tall slender figure of a girl in a green tea-gown--a +mere girl: it was the player of the Hungarian Rhapsody. And this girl, +too, she thought, was expectant and disappointed! They shut their doors +simultaneously, she and May, who also had her girlish moments. Then the +rhapsody recommenced. + +'Oh, madam!' screamed the maid, almost tumbling into the boudoir. + +'What is it?' May demanded with false calm. + +The maid lifted the corner of her black apron to her eyes, as though she +had been a stage soubrette in trouble. + +'The master, madam! He's fell out of his cab--just in front of the +mansions--and they're bringing him in--such blood I never did see!' + +The maid finished with hysterics. + + + +III + +'And them just off their honeymoon!' + +The inconsolable tones of the lady's-maid came from the kitchen to the +open door of the bedroom, where May was giving instructions to the +elderly cook. + +'Send that girl out of the flat this moment!' May said. + +'Yes, ma'am.' + +'Make the beef-tea in case it's wanted, and let me have some more warm +water. There's John and the doctor!' + +She started at a knock. + +'No, it's only the postman, ma'am.' + +Some letters danced on the hall floor and on her nerves. + +'Oh dear!' May whispered. 'I thought it was the doctor at last.' + +'John's bound to be back with one in a minute, ma'am. Do bear up,' urged +the cook, hurrying to the kitchen. + +She could have destroyed the woman for those last words. + +With the proud certainty of being equal to the dreadful crisis, she +turned abruptly into the bedroom, where her husband lay insensible on +one of the new beds. Assisted by the policemen and the cook, she had +done everything that could be done: cut away the coats and the +waistcoat, removed the boots, straightened the limbs, washed the face +and neck--especially the neck--which had to be sponged continually, and +scattered messengers, including John, over the vicinity in search of +medical aid. And now the policemen had gone, the general emotion on the +staircase had subsided, the front-door of the flat was shut. The great +ocean of the life of the mansions had closed smoothly upon her little +episode. She was alone with the shattered organism. + +She bent fondly over the bed, and her Paris frock, and the black scarf +which she had not removed, touched its ruinous burden. Her right hand +directed the sponge with ineffable tenderness, and then the long thin +fingers tightened to a frenzied clutch to squeeze it over the basin. The +whole of her being was absorbed in a deep passion of pity and an +intolerable hunger for the doctor. + +Through the wall came once more the faint sound of the Hungarian +Rhapsody, astonishingly rapid and brilliant. She set her teeth to endure +its unconscious message of the vast indifference of life to death. + +The organism stirred, and May watched the deathly face for a sign. The +eyes opened and stared at her in agonized bewilderment. The lips tried +to speak, and failed. + +'It's all right, darling,' she said softly. 'You're in your own bed. The +doctor will be here directly. Drink this.' + +She gave him some brandy-and-water, and they looked at each other. He +was no longer Edward Norris, the finely regulated intelligence, the +masterful volition, the conqueror of the world and of a woman; but +merely the embodiment of a frightened, despairing, flickering, +hysterical will-to-live, which glanced in terror at the corners of the +room as though it saw fate there. And beneath her intense solicitude was +the instinctive feeling, which hurt her, but which she could not +dismiss, of her measureless, dominating superiority. With what glad +relief would she have changed places with him! + +'I'm dying, May,' he murmured at length, with a sigh. 'Why doesn't the +doctor come?' + +'He is coming,' she replied soothingly. 'You'll be better soon.' + +But his effort in speaking obliged her to use the sponge again, and he +saw it, and drew another sigh, more mortal than the first. + +'Oh! I'm dying,' he repeated. + +'Not you, Ted!' And her smile cost her an awful pang. + +'I am. I know it.' This time he spoke with sad resignation. 'You must +face it. And--listen.' + +'What, dear?' + +A physical sensation of sickness came over her. She could not disguise +from herself the fact that he was dying. The warped and pallid face, the +panic-struck eyes, the sweat, the wound in the neck, the damp hands +nervously pulling the hem of the sheet--these indications were not to be +gainsaid. The truth was too horrible to grasp; she wanted to put it away +from her. 'This calamity cannot happen to me!' she thought urgently, and +all the while she knew that it was happening to her. + +He collected the feeble remnant of his powers by an immense effort, and +began to speak, slowly and fragmentarily, and with such weakness that +she could only catch his words by putting her ear to his mouth. The +restless hands dropped the sheet and took the end of the black scarf. + +'You'll be comfortable--for money,' he said. 'Will made.... It's not +that. It's ... I must tell you. It's----' + +'Yes?' she encouraged him. 'Tell me. I can hear.' + +'It's about your father. I didn't treat him quite right ... once.... +Week after I first met you, May.... No, not quite right. He was holding +Hull and Barnsley shares ... you know, railway ... great gambling stock, +then, Hull and Barn--Barnsley. Holding them on cover; for the rise.... +They dropped too much--dropped to 23.... He couldn't hold any longer ... +wired to me to sell and cut the loss. Understand?' + +'Yes,' she said, trembling. 'I quite understand.' + +'Well ... I wired back, "Sold at 23." ... But some mistake. Shares not +sold. Clerk's mistake.... Clerk didn't sell.... Next day rise began.... +I didn't wire him shares not sold. Somehow, I couldn't.... Put it +off.... Rise went on.... I took over shares myself ... you +see--myself.... Made nearly five thousand clear.... I wanted money +then.... I think I would have told him, perhaps, later ... made it +right ... but he died ... sudden ... I wasn't going to let his creditors +have that five thou.... No, he'd meant to sell ... and, look here, May, +if those shares had dropped lower ... 'stead of rising ... I should have +had to stand the racket ... with your father, for my clerk's +mistake.... See?... He'd meant to sell.... Hard lines on him, but he'd +meant to sell.... He'd meant----' + +'Don't say any more, dear.' + +'Must explain this, May. Why didn't I give the money to you ... when he +was dead?... Because I knew you'd only ... give it ... to creditors.... +I knew you.... That's straight.... I've told you now.' + +He lost consciousness again, but for an instant May did not notice it. +She was crying, and her tears fell on his face. + +Then came a doctor, a little dark man, who explained with calm +politeness that he had been out when the messenger first arrived. He +took off his coat, hung it up, opened his bag, and proceeded to a minute +examination of the patient. His movements were so methodical, and he +gave orders to May in a tone so quiet, casual, and ordinary, that she +almost lost her sense of the reality of the scene. + +'Yes, yes,' he said, from time to time, as if to himself; nothing else; +not a single enlightening word to May. + +'I'm dying,' moaned Edward, opening his eyes. + +The doctor glanced round at May and winked. That wink, deliberate and +humorous, was like an electric shock to her. She could actually feel her +heart leap in her breast. If she had not been afraid of the doctor, she +would have fainted. + +'You all think you're dying,' the doctor remarked in a low, amused tone +to the ceiling, as he wiped a pair of scissors, 'when you've been +knocked silly, especially if there's a lot of blood about.' + +The door opened. + +'Here's John, ma'am,' said the cook, 'with two more doctors. What am I +to do?' + +May involuntarily turned towards the door. + +'Don't you go, Mrs. Norris,' the little dark man commanded. 'I want +you.' Then he carelessly scrutinized the elderly servant. 'Tell 'em +they're too late,' he said. 'It's generally like that when there's an +accident,' he continued after the housekeeper had gone. 'First you can't +get a doctor anywhere, and then in half an hour or so we come in crowds. +I've known seven doctors turn up one after another. But in that affair +the man happened to have been killed outright.' + +He smiled grimly. In a little while he was snapping his bag. + +'I'll come in the morning, of course,' he said, as he wrote on a piece +of paper. 'Have this made up, and give it him in the night if he is +wakeful. Keep him warm. You might put a couple of hot-water bags, one on +either side of him. You've got beef-tea made, you say? That's right. Let +him have as much as he wants. Mr. Norris, you'll sleep like a top.' + +'But, doctor,' May inquired the next morning in the hall, after Edward +had smiled at a joke, and been informed that he must run down to +Bournemouth in a week, 'have we nothing to fear?' + +'I think not,' was the measured answer. 'These affairs nearly always +seem much worse than they are. Of course, the immediate upset is +tremendous--the disorganization, and all that sort of thing. But +Nature's pretty wonderful. You'll find your husband will soon get over +it. I should say he had a good constitution.' + +'And there will be no permanent effects?' + +'Yes,' said the doctor, with genial cynicism. 'There'll be one +permanent effect. Nobody will ever persuade him to ride in a hansom +again. If he can't find a four-wheeler, he'll walk in future.' + +She returned to the bedroom. The man on the bed was Edward Norris once +more, in control of himself, risen out of his humiliation. A feeling of +thankfulness overwhelmed her for a moment, and she sat down. + +'Well, May?' he murmured. + +'Well, dear.' + +They both realized that what they had been through was a common, daily +street accident. The smile of each was self-conscious, apprehensive, +insincere. + +'Quite a concert going on next door,' he said with an affectation of +lightness. + +It was the Hungarian Rhapsody, impetuous and brilliant as ever. How she +hated it now--this symbol of the hurried, unheeding, relentless, hollow +gaiety of the world! Yet she longed for the magic fingers of the player, +that she, too, might smother grief in such glittering veils! + + + +IV + +The marriage which had begun so dramatically fell into placid routine. +Edward fulfilled the prophecy of the doctor. In a week they were able to +go to Bournemouth for a few days, and in less than a fortnight he was at +the office--the strong man again, confident and ambitious. + +After days devoted to finance, he came home in the evenings +high-spirited and determined to enjoy himself. His voice was firm and +his eye steady when he spoke to his wife; there was no trace of +self-consciousness in his demeanour. She admired the masculinity of the +brain that could forget by an effort of will. She felt that he trusted +her to forget also; that he relied on her common-sense, her +characteristic sagacity, to extinguish for ever the memory of an awkward +incident. He loved her. He was intensely proud of her. He treated her +with every sort of generosity. And in return he expected her to behave +like a man. + +She loved him. She esteemed him as a wife should. She made a profession +of wifehood. He gave his days to finance and his nights to diversion; +but her vocation was always with her--she was never off duty. She aimed +to please him to the uttermost in everything, to be in all respects the +ideal helpmate of a husband who was at once strenuous, fastidious, and +wealthy. Elegance and suavity were a religion with her. She was the +delight of the eye and of the ear, the soother of groans, the refuge of +distress, the uplifter of the heart. + +She made new acquaintances for him, and cemented old friendships. Her +manner towards his old friends enchanted him; but when they were gone +she had a way of making him feel that she was only his. She thought that +she was succeeding in her aim. She thought that all these sweet, endless +labours--of traffic with dressmakers, milliners, coiffeurs, maids, +cooks, and furnishers; of paying and receiving calls; of delicious +surprise journeys to the City to bring home the breadwinner; of giving +and accepting dinners; of sitting alert and appreciative in theatres and +music-halls; of supping in golden restaurants; of being serious, +cautionary, submissive, and seductive; of smiles, laughter, and kisses; +and of continuous sympathetic responsiveness--she thought that all these +labours had attained their object: Edward's complete serenity and +satisfaction. She imagined that love and duty had combined successfully +to deceive him on one solitary point. She was sure that he was deceived. +But she was wrong. + +One evening they were at the theatre alone together. It was a musical +comedy, and they had a large stage-box. May sat a little behind. After +having been darkened for a scenic conjuring trick, the stage was very +suddenly thrown into brilliant light. Edward turned with equal +suddenness to share his appreciation of the effect with his wife, and +the light and his eye caught her unawares. She smiled instantly, but too +late; he had seen the expression of her features. For a second she felt +as if the whole fabric which she had been building for the last six +months had crumbled; but this disturbing idea passed as she recovered +herself. + +'Let's go home, eh?' he said, at the end of the first act. + +'Yes,' she agreed. 'It would be nice to be in early, wouldn't it?' + +In the brougham they exchanged the amiable banalities of people who are +thoroughly intimate. When they reached the flat, she poured out his +whisky-and-potass, and sat on the arm of his particular arm-chair while +he sipped it; then she whispered that she was going to bed. + +'Wait a bit,' he said; 'I want to talk to you seriously.' + +'Dear thing!' she murmured, stroking his coat. + +She had not the slightest notion of his purpose. + +'You've tried your best, May,' he said bluntly, 'but you've failed. I've +suspected it for a long time.' + +She flushed, and retired to a sofa, away from the orange electric lamp. + +'What do you mean, Edward?' she asked. + +'You know very well what I mean, my dear,' he replied. 'What I told +you--that night! You've tried to forget it. You've tried to look at me +as though you had forgotten it. But you can't do it. It's on your mind. +I've noticed it again and again. I noticed it at the theatre to-night. +So I said to myself, "I'll have it out with her." And I'm having it +out.' + +'My dear Ted, I assure you----' + +'No, you don't,' he stopped her. 'I wish you did. Now you must just +listen. I know exactly what sort of an idiot I was that night as well as +you do. But I couldn't help it. I was a fool to tell you. Still, I +thought I was dying. I simply had a babbling fit. People are like that. +You thought I was dying, too, didn't you?' + +'Yes,' she said quietly, 'for a minute or two.' + +'Ah! It was that minute or two that did it. Well, I let it out, the +rotten little secret. I admit it wasn't on the square, that bit of +business. But, on the other hand, it wasn't anything really bad--like +cruelty to animals or ruining a girl. Of course, the chap was your +father, but, but----. Look here, May, you ought to be able to see that I +was exactly the same man after I told you as I was before. You ought to +be able to see that. My character wasn't wrecked because I happened to +split on myself, like an ass, about that affair. Mind you, I don't blame +you. You can't help your feelings. But do you suppose there's a single +man on this blessed earth without a secret? I'm not going to grovel +before gods or men. I'm not going to pretend I'm so frightfully sorry. +I'm sorry in a way. But can't you see----' + +'Don't say any more, Ted,' she begged him, fingering her sash. 'I know +all that. I know it all, and everything else you can say. Oh, my darling +boy! do you think I would look down on you ever so little because +of--what you told me? Who am I? I wouldn't care twopence even if----' + +'But it's between us all the same,' he broke in. 'You can't get over +it.' + +'Get over it!' she repeated lamely. + +'Can you? Have you?' He pinned her to a direct answer. + +She did not flinch. + +'No,' she said. + +'I thought you would have done,' he remarked, half to himself. 'I +thought you would. I thought you were enough a woman of the world for +that, May. It isn't as if the confounded thing had made any real +difference to your father. The old man died, and----' + +'Ted!' she exclaimed, 'I shall have to tell you, after all. It killed +him.' + +'What killed him? He died of gastritis.' + +'He was ill with gastritis, but he died of suicide. It's easy for a +gastritis patient to commit suicide. And father did.' + +'Why?' + +'Oh, ruin, despair! He'd been in difficulties for a long time. He said +that selling those shares just one day too soon was the end of it. When +he saw them going up day after day, it got on his mind. He said he knew +he would never, never have any luck. And then ...' + +'You kept it quiet.' He was walking about the room. + +'Yes, that was pretty easy.' + +'And did your mother know?' + +He turned and looked at her. + +'Yes, mother knew. It finished her. Oh, Ted!' she burst out, 'if you'd +only telegraphed to him the next morning that the shares weren't sold, +things might have been quite different.' + +'You mean I killed your father--and your mother.' + +'No, I don't,' she cried passionately. 'I tell you I don't. You didn't +know. But I think of it all, sometimes. And that's why--that's why----' + +She sat down again. + +'By God, May,' he swore, 'I'm frightfully sorry!' + +'I never meant to tell you,' she said, composing herself. 'But, there! +things slip out. Good-night.' + +She was gone, but in passing him she had timidly caressed his shoulder. + +'It's all up,' he said to himself. 'This will always be between us. No +one could expect her to forget it.' + + + +V + +Gradually her characteristic habits deserted her; she seemed to lose +energy and a part of her interest in those things which had occupied her +most. She changed her dress less frequently, ignoring dressmakers, and +she showed no longer the ravishing elegance of the bride. She often lay +in bed till noon, she who had always entered the dining-room at nine +o'clock precisely to dispense his coffee and listen to his remarks on +the contents of the newspaper. She said 'As you please' to the cook, and +the meals began to lose their piquancy. She paid no calls, but some of +her women friends continued, nevertheless, to visit her. Lastly, she +took to sewing. The little dark doctor, who had become an acquaintance, +smiled at her and told her to do no more than she felt disposed to do. +She reclined on sofas in shaded rooms, and appeared to meditate. She was +not depressed, but thoughtful. It was as though she had much to settle +in her own mind. At intervals the faint sound of the Hungarian Rhapsody +mingled with her reveries. + +As for Edward, his behaviour was immaculate. During the day he made +money furiously. In the evening he sat with his wife. They did not talk +much, and he never questioned her. She developed a certain curious +whimsicality now and then; but for him she could do no wrong. + +The past was not mentioned. They both looked apprehensively towards the +future, towards a crisis which they knew was inexorably approaching. +They were afraid, while pretending to have no fear. + +And one afternoon, precipitately, surprisingly, the crisis came. + +'You are the father of a son--a very noisy son,' said the doctor, coming +into the drawing-room where Edward had sat in torture for three hours. + +'And May?' + +'Oh, never fear: she's doing excellently.' + +'Can I go and see her?' he asked, like a humble petitioner. + +'Well--yes,' said the doctor, 'for one minute; not more.' + +So he went into the bedroom as into a church, feeling a fool. The nurse, +miraculously white and starched, stood like a sentinel at the foot of +the bed of mystery. + +'All serene, May?' he questioned. If he had attempted to say another +word he would have cried. + +The pale mother nodded with a fatigued smile, and by a scarcely +perceptible gesture drew his attention to a bundle. From the next flat +came a faint, familiar sound, insolently joyous. + +'Yes,' he thought, 'but if they had both been lying dead here that tune +would have been the same.' + +Two months later he left the office early, telling his secretary that he +had a headache. It was a mere fibbing excuse. He suffered from sudden +fits of anxiety about his wife and child. When he reached the flat, he +found no one at home but the cook. + +'Where's your mistress?' he demanded. + +'She's out in the park with baby and nurse, sir.' + +'But it's going to rain,' he cried angrily. 'It is raining. They'll get +wet through.' + +He rushed into the corridor, and met the procession--May, the +perambulator, and the nursemaid. + +'Only fancy, Ted!' May exclaimed, 'the perambulator will go into the +lift, after all. Aren't you glad?' + +'Yes,' he said. 'But you're wet, surely?' + +'Not a drop. We just got in in time.' + +'Sure?' + +'Quite.' + +The tableau of May, elegant as ever, but her eyes brighter and her body +more leniently curved, of the hooded perambulator, and of the +fluffy-white nursemaid behind--it was too much for him. Touching +clumsily the apron of the perambulator, the stockbroker turned into his +doorway. Just then the girl from the next flat came out into the +corridor, dressed for social rites of the afternoon. The perambulator +was her excuse for stopping. + +'What a pretty boy!' she exclaimed in ecstasy, trying to squeeze her +picture hat under the hood of the perambulator. + +'Do you really think so?' said the mother, enchanted. + +'Of course! The darling! How I envy you!' + +May wanted to reciprocate this politeness. + +'I can't tell you,' she said, 'how I envy you your piano-playing. +There's one piece----' + +'Envy me! Why! It's only a pianola we've got!' + +'Isn't he the picture of his granddad?' said May to Edward when they +bent over the cot that night before retiring. + +And as she said it there was such candour in her voice, such content in +her smiling and courageous eyes, that Edward could not fail to +comprehend her message to him. Down in some very secret part of his soul +he felt for the first time the real force of the great explanatory truth +that one generation succeeds another. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SISTERS QITA + +The manuscript ran thus: + + * * * * * + +When I had finished my daily personal examination of the ropes +and-trapezes, I hesitated a moment, and then climbed up again, to the +roof, where the red and the blue long ropes were fastened. I took my +sharp scissors from my chatelaine, and gently fretted the blue rope with +one blade of the scissors until only a single strand was left intact. I +gazed down at the vast floor a hundred feet below. The afternoon +varieties were over, and a phrenologist was talking to a small crowd of +gapers in a corner. The rest of the floor was pretty empty save for the +chairs and the fancy stalls, and the fatigued stall-girls in their black +dresses. I too, had once almost been a stall-girl at the Aquarium! I +descended. Few observed me in my severe street dress. Our secretary, +Charles, attended me on the stage. + +'Everything right, Miss Paquita?' he said, handing me my hat and gloves, +which I had given him, to hold. + +I nodded. I could see that he thought I was in one of my stern, far-away +moods. + +'Miss Mariquita is waiting for you in the carriage,' he said. + +We drove away in silence--I with my inborn melancholy too sad, Sally +(Mariquita) too happy to speak. This daily afternoon drive was really +part of our 'turn'! A team of four mules driven by a negro will make a +sensation even in Regent Street. All London looked at us, and contrasted +our impassive beauty--mine mature (too mature!) and dark, Sally's so +blonde and youthful, our simple costumes, and the fact that we stayed at +an exclusive Mayfair hotel, with the stupendous flourish of our turnout. +The renowned Sisters Qita--Paquita and Mariquita Qita--and the renowned +mules of the Sisters Qita! Two hundred pounds a week at the Aquarium! +Twenty-five thousand francs for one month at the Casino de Paris! Twelve +thousand five hundred dollars for a tour of fifty performances in the +States! Fifteen hundred pesos a night and a special train _de luxe_ in +Argentina and Brazil! I could see the loungers and the drivers talking +and pointing as usual. The gilded loungers in Verrey's café got up and +watched us through the windows as we passed. This was fame. For nearly +twenty years I had been intimate with fame, and with the envy of women +and the foolish homage of men. + +We saw dozens of omnibuses bearing the legend 'Qita.' Then we met one +which said: 'Empire Theatre. Valdès, the matchless juggler,' and Sally +smiled with pleasure. + +'He's coming to see our turn to-night, after his,' she remarked, +blushing. + +'Valdès? Why?' I asked, without turning my head. + +'He wants us to sup with him, to celebrate our engagement.' + +'When do you mean to get married?' I asked her shortly. I felt quite +calm. + +'I guess you're a Tartar to-day,' said the pretty thing, with a touch of +her American sauciness. 'We haven't studied it out yet. It was only +yesterday afternoon he kissed me for the first time.' Then she bent +towards me with her characteristic plaintive, wistful appeal. 'Say! You +aren't vexed, Selina, are you, because of this? Of course, he wants me +to tour with him after we're married, and do a double act. He's got lots +of dandy ideas for a double act. But I won't, I won't, Selina, unless +you say the word. Now, don't you go and be cross, Selina.' + +I let myself expand generously. + +'My darling girl!' I said, glancing at her kindly. 'You ought to know me +better. Of course I'm not cross. And of course you must tour with +Valdès. I shall be all right. How do you suppose I managed before I +invented you?' I smiled like an indulgent mother. + +'Oh! I didn't mean that,' she said. 'I know you're frightfully clever. +I'm nothing----' + +'I hope you'll be awfully happy,' I whispered, squeezing her hand. 'And +don't forget that I introduced him to you--I knew him years before you +did. I'm the cause of this bliss----Do you remember that cold morning in +Berlin?' + +'Oh! well, I should say!' she exclaimed in ecstasy. + +When we reached our rooms in the hotel I kissed her warmly. Women do +that sort of thing. + +Then a card was brought to me. 'George Capey,' it said; and in pencil, +'Of the Five Towns.' + +I shrugged my shoulders. Sally had gone to scribble a note to her +Valdès. 'Show Mr. Capey in,' I said, and a natty young man entered, half +nervousness, half audacity. + +'How did you know I come from the Five Towns?' I questioned him. + +'I am on the _Evening Mail_,' he said, 'where they know everything, +madam.' + +I was annoyed. 'Then they know, on the _Evening Mail_ that Paquita Qita +has never been interviewed, and never will be,' I said. + +'Besides,' he went on, 'I come from the Five Towns myself.' + +'Bursley?' I asked mechanically. + +'Bursley,' he ejaculated; then added, 'you haven't been near old Bosley +since----' + +It was true. + +'No,' I said hastily. 'It is many years since I have been in England, +even. Do they know down there who Qita is?' + +'Not they!' he replied. + +I grew reflective. Stars such as I have no place of origin. We shoot up +out of a void, and sink back into a void. I had forgotten Bursley and +Bursley folk. Recollections rushed in upon me.... I felt beautifully +sad. I drew off my gloves, and flung my hat on a chair with a movement +that would have bewitched a man of the world, but Mr. George Capey was +unimpressed. I laughed. + +'What's the joke?' he inquired. I adored him for his Bursliness. + +'I was just thinking, of fat Mrs. Cartledge, who used to keep that +fishmonger's shop in Oldcastle Street, opposite Bates's. I wonder if +she's still there?' + +'She is,' he said. 'And fatter than ever! She's getting on in years +now.' + +I broke the rule of a lifetime, and let him interview me. + +'Tell them I'm thirty-seven,' I said. 'Yes, I mean it. Tell them.' + +And then for another tit-bit I explained to him how I had discovered +Sally at Koster and Bial's, in New York, five years ago, and made her my +sister for stage purposes because I was lonely, and liked her American +simplicity and twang. He departed full of tea and satisfaction. + + * * * * * + +It was our last night at the Aquarium. The place was crammed. The houses +where I performed were always crammed. Our turn was in three parts, and +lasted half an hour. The first part was a skirt dance in full afternoon +dress (_danse de modernité_, I called it); the second was a double +horizontal bar act; the third was the famous act of the red and the blue +ropes, in full evening dress. It was 10.45 when we climbed the silk +ladders for the third part. High up in the roof, separated from each +other by nearly the length of the great hall, Sally and I stood on two +little platforms. I held the ends of the red and the blue ropes. I had +to let the blue rope swing across the hall to her. She would seize it, +and, clutching it, swoop like the ball of an enormous pendulum from her +platform to mine. (But would she?) I should then swing on the red rope +to the platform she had left. + +Then the band would stop for the thrilling moment, and the lights would +be lowered. Each lighting and holding a powerful electric +hand-light--one red, one blue--we should signal the drummer and plunge +simultaneously into space, flash past each other in mid-flight, +exchanging lights as we passed (this was the trick), and soar to +opposite platforms again, amid frenzied applause. There were no nets. + +That was what ought to occur. + +I stood bowing to the floor of tiny upturned heads, and jerking the +ropes a little. Then I let Sally's rope go with a push, and it dropped +away from me, and in a few seconds she had it safe in her strong hand. +She was taller than me, with a fuller figure, yet she looked quite small +on her distant platform. All the evening I had been thinking of fat old +Mrs. Cartledge messing and slopping among cod and halibut on white +tiles. I could not get Bursley and my silly infancy out of my head. I +followed my feverish career from the age of fifteen, when that strange +Something in me, which makes an artist, had first driven me forth to +conquer two continents. I thought of all the golden loves I had scorned, +and my own love, which had been ignored, unnoticed, but which still +obstinately burned. I glanced downwards and descried Valdès precisely +where Sally had said he would be. Valdès, what a fool you were! And I +hated a fool. I am one of those who can love and hate, who can love and +despise, who can love and loathe the same object in the same moment. +Then I signalled to Sally to plunge, and my eyes filled with tears. For, +you see, somehow, in some senseless sentimental way, the thought of fat +Mrs. Cartledge and my silly infancy had forced me to send Sally the red +rope, not the blue one. We exchanged ropes on alternate nights, but this +was her night for the blue one. + +She swung over, alighting accurately at my side with that exquisite +outward curve of the spine which had originally attracted me to her. + +'You sent me the red one,' she said to me, after she had acknowledged +the applause. + +'Yes,' I said. 'Never mind; stick to it now you've got it. Here's the +red light. Have you seen Valdès?' + +She nodded. + +I took the blue light and clutched the blue rope. Instead of +murder--suicide, since it must be one or the other. And why not? Indeed, +I censured myself in that second for having meant to kill Sally. Not +because I was ashamed of the sin, but because the revenge would have +been so pitiful and weak. If Valdès the matchless was capable of passing +me over and kneeling to the pretty thing---- + +I stood ready. The world was to lose that fineness, that distinction, +that originality, that disturbing subtlety, which constituted Paquita +Qita. I plunged. + +... I was on the other platform. The rope had held, then: I remembered +nothing of the flight except that I had passed near the upturned, +pleasant face of Valdès. + +The band stopped. The lights of the hall were lowered. All was dark. I +switched on my dazzling blue light; Sally switched on her red one. I +stood ready. The rope could not possibly endure a second strain. I waved +to Sally and signalled to the conductor. The world was to lose Paquita. +The drum began its formidable roll. Whirrr! I plunged, and saw the red +star rushing towards me. I snatched it and soared upwards. The blue rope +seemed to tremble. As I came near the platform at decreasing speed, it +seemed to stretch like elastic. It broke! The platform jumped up +suddenly over my head, but I caught at the silk ladder. I was saved! +There was a fearful silence, and then the appalling shock of hysterical +applause from seven thousand throats. I slid down the ladder, ran across +the stage into my dressing-room for a cloak, out again into the street. +In two days I was in Buda-Pesth. + + * * * * * + + + + +NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + + +I + +In the daily strenuous life of a great hotel there are periods during +which its bewildering activities slacken, and the vast organism seems to +be under the influence of an opiate. Such a period recurs after dinner +when the guests are preoccupied by the mysterious processes of digestion +in the drawing-rooms or smoking-rooms or in the stalls of a theatre. On +the evening of this nocturne the well-known circular entrance-hall of +the Majestic, with its tessellated pavement, its malachite pillars, its +Persian rugs, its lounges, and its renowned stuffed bears at the foot of +the grand stairway, was for the moment deserted, save by the head +hall-porter and the head night-porter and the girl in the bureau. It was +a quarter to nine, and the head hall-porter was abdicating his pagoda +to the head night-porter, and telling him the necessary secrets of the +day. These two lords, before whom the motley panorama of human existence +was continually being enrolled, held a portentous confabulation night +and morning. They had no illusions; they knew life. Shakespeare himself +might have listened to them with advantage. + +The girl in the bureau, like a beautiful and languishing animal in its +cage, leaned against her window, and looked between two pillars at the +magnificent lords. She was too far off to catch their talk, and, indeed, +she watched them absently in a reverie induced by the sweet melancholy +of the summer twilight, by the torpidity of the hour, and by the +prospect of the next day, which was her day off. The liveried +functionaries ignored her, probably scorned her as a mere pretty little +morsel. Nevertheless, she was the centre of energy, not they. If money +were payable, she was the person to receive it; if a customer wanted a +room, she would choose it; and the lords had to call her 'miss.' The +immense and splendid hotel pulsed round this simple heart hidden under a +white blouse. Especially in summer, her presence and the presence of +her companions in the bureau (but to-night she was alone) ministered to +the satisfaction of male guests, whose cruel but profoundly human +instincts found pleasure in the fact that, no matter when they came in +from their wanderings, the pretty captives were always there in the +bureau, smiling welcome, puzzling stupid little brains and puckering +pale brows over enormous ledgers, twittering borrowed facetiousness from +rosy mouths, and smoothing out seductive toilettes with long thin hands +that were made for ring and bracelet and rudder-lines, and not a bit for +the pen and the ruler. + +The pretty little thing despised of the functionaries corresponded +almost exactly in appearance to the typical bureau girl. She was +moderately tall; she had a good slim figure, all pleasant curves, flaxen +hair and plenty of it, and a dainty, rather expressionless face; the +ears and mouth were very small, the eyes large and blue, the nose so-so, +the cheeks and forehead of an equal ivory pallor, the chin trifling, +with a crease under the lower lip and a rich convexity springing out +from below the crease. The extremities of the full lips were nearly +always drawn up in a smile, mechanical, but infallibly attractive. The +hair was of an orthodox frizziness. You would have said she was a nice, +kind, good-natured girl, flirtatious but correct, well adapted to adorn +a dogcart on Sundays. + +This was Nina, foolish Nina, aged twenty-one. In her reverie the entire +Hôtel Majestic weighed on her; she had a more than adequate sense of her +own solitary importance in the bureau, and stirring obscurely beneath +that consciousness were the deep ineradicable longings of a poor pretty +girl for heaps of money, endless luxury of finery and chocolates, and +sentimental silken dalliance. + +Suddenly a stranger entered the hall. His advent seemed to wake the +place out of the trance into which it had fallen. The nocturne had +begun. Nina straightened herself and intensified her eternal smile. The +two porters became military, and smiled with a special and peculiar +urbanity. Several lesser but still lordly functionaries appeared among +the pillars; a page-boy emerged by magic from the region of the +chimney-piece like Mephistopheles in Faust's study; and some guests of +both sexes strolled chattering across the tessellated pavement as they +passed from one wing of the hotel to the other. + +'How do, Tom?' said the stranger, grasping the hand of the head +hall-porter, and nodding to the head night-porter. + +His voice showed that he was an American, and his demeanour that he was +one of those experienced, wealthy, and kindly travellers who know the +Christian names of all the hall-porters in the world, and have the trick +of securing their intimacy and fealty. He wore a blue suit and a light +gray wideawake, and his fine moustache was grizzled. In his left hand he +carried a brown bag. + +'Nicely, thank you, sir,' Tom replied. 'How are you, sir?' + +'Oh, about six and six.' + +Whereupon both porters laughed heartily. + +Tom escorted him to the bureau, and tried to relieve him of his bag. +Inferior lords escorted Tom. + +'I guess I'll keep the grip,' said the stranger. 'Mr. Pank will be +around with some more baggage pretty soon. We've expressed the rest on +to the steamer. Well, my dear,' he went on, turning to Nina, 'you're a +fresh face here.' + +He looked her steadily in the eyes. + +'Yes, I am,' she said, conquered instantly. + +Radiant and triumphant, the man brought good-humour into every face, +like some wonderful combination of the sun and the sea-breeze. + +'Give me two bedrooms and a parlour, please,' he commanded. + +'First floor?' asked Nina prettily. + +'First floor! Well--I should say! _And_ on the Strand, my dear.' + +She bent over her ledgers, blushing. + +'Send someone to the 'phone, Tom, and let 'em put me on to the Regency, +will you?' said the stranger. + +'Yes, sir. Samuels, go and ring up the Regency Theatre--quick!' + +Swift departure of a lord. + +'And ask Alphonse to come up to my bedroom in ten minutes from now,' the +stranger proceeded to Tom. 'I shall want a dandy supper for fourteen at +a quarter after eleven.' + +'Yes, sir. No dinner, sir?' + +'No; we dined on the Pullman. Well, my dear, figured it out yet?' + +'Numbers 102, 120, and 107,' said Nina. + +'Keys 102, 120, and 107,' said Tom. + +Swift departure of another lord to the pagoda. + +'How much?' demanded the stranger. + +'The bedrooms are twenty-five shillings, and the sitting-room two +guineas.' + +'I guess Mr. Pank won't mind that. Hullo, Pank, you're here! I'm +through. Your number's 102 or 120, which you fancy. Just going to the +'phone a minute, and then I'll join you upstairs.' + +Mr. Pank was a younger man, possessing a thin, astute, intellectual +face. He walked into the hall with noticeable deliberation. His +travelling costume was faultless, but from beneath his straw hat his +black hair sprouted in a somewhat peculiar fashion over his broad +forehead. He smiled lazily and shrewdly, and without a word disappeared +into a lift. Two large portmanteaus accompanied him. + +Presently the elder stranger could be heard battling with the obstinate +idiosyncrasies of a London telephone. + +'You haven't registered,' Nina called to him in her tremulous, +delicate, captivating voice, as he came out of the telephone-box. + +He advanced to sign, and, taking a pen and leaning on the front of the +bureau, wrote in the visitor's book, in a careful, legible hand: 'Lionel +Belmont, New York.' Having thus written, and still resting on the right +elbow, he raised his right hand a little and waved the pen like a +delicious menace at Nina. + +'Mr. Pank hasn't registered, either,' he said slowly, with a charming +affectation of solemnity, as though accusing Mr. Pank of some appalling +crime. + +Nina laughed timidly as she pushed his room-ticket across the page of +the big book. She thought that Mr. Lionel Belmont was perfectly +delightful. + +'No,' he hasn't,' she said, trying also to be arch; 'but he must.' + +At that moment she happened to glance at the right hand of Mr. Belmont. +In the brilliance of the electric light she could see the fair skin of +the wrist and forearm within the whiteness of his shirt-sleeve. She +stared at what she saw, every muscle tense. + +'I guess you can round up Mr. Pank yourself, my dear, later on,' said +Lionel Belmont, and turned quickly away, intent on the next thing. + +He did not notice that her large eyes had grown larger and her pale face +paler. In another moment the hall was deserted again. Mr. Belmont had +ascended in the lift, Tom had gone to his rest, and the head +night-porter was concealed in the pagoda. Nina sank down limply on her +stool, her nostrils twitching; she feared she was about to faint, but +this final calamity did not occur. She had, nevertheless, experienced +the greatest shock of her brief life, and the way of it was thus. + + + +II + +Nina Malpas was born amid the embers of one of those fiery conjugal +dramas which occur with romantic frequency in the provincial towns of +the northern Midlands, where industrial conditions are such as to foster +an independent spirit among women of the lower class generally, and +where by long tradition 'character' is allowed to exploit itself more +freely than in the southern parts of our island. Lemuel Malpas was a +dashing young commercial traveller, with what is known as 'an agreeable +address,' in Bursley, one of the Five Towns, Staffordshire. On the +strength of his dash he wooed and married the daughter of an +hotel-keeper in the neighbouring town of Hanbridge. Six months after the +wedding--in other words, at the most dangerous period of the connubial +career--Mrs. Malpas's father died, and Mrs. Malpas became the absolute +mistress of eight thousand pounds. Lemuel[1] had carefully foreseen this +windfall, and wished to use the money in enterprises of the earthenware +trade. Mrs. Malpas, pretty and vivacious, with a self-conceit hardened +by the adulation of saloon-bars, very decidedly thought otherwise. Her +motto was, 'What's yours is mine, but what's mine's my own.' The +difference was accentuated. Long mutual resistances were followed by +reconciliations, which grew more and more transitory, and at length both +recognised that the union, not founded on genuine affection, had been a +mistake. + + [1] This name is pronounced with the accent on the first syllable in + the Five Towns. + +'Keep your d----d brass!' Lemuel exclaimed one morning, and he went off +on a journey and forgot to come back. A curious letter dated from +Liverpool wished his wife happiness, and informed her that, since she +was well provided for, he had no scruples about leaving her. Mrs. Malpas +was startled at first, but she soon perceived that what Lemuel had done +was exactly what the brilliant and enterprising Lemuel might have been +expected to do. She jerked up her doll's head, and ejaculated, 'So much +the better!' + +A few weeks later she sold the furniture and took rooms in Scarborough, +where, amid pleasurable surroundings, she determined to lead the joyous +life of a grass-widow, free of all cares. Then, to her astonishment and +disgust, Nina was born. She had not bargained for Nina. She found +herself in the tiresome position of a mother whose explanations of her +child lack plausibility. One lodging-housekeeper to whom she hazarded +the statement that Lemuel was in Australia had saucily replied: 'I +thought maybe it was the North Pole he was gone to!' + +This decided Mrs. Malpas. She returned suddenly to the Five Towns, +where at least her reputation was secure. Only a week previously Lemuel +had learnt indirectly that she had left their native district. He +determined thenceforward to forget her completely. Mrs. Malpas's +prettiness was of the fleeting sort. After Nina's birth she began to get +stout and coarse, and the nostalgia of the saloon-bar, the coffee-room, +and the sanded portico overtook her. The Tiger at Bursley was for sale, +a respectable commercial hotel, the best in the town. She purchased it, +wines, omnibus connection, and all, and developed into the typical +landlady in black silk and gold rings. + +In the Tiger Nina was brought up. She was a pretty child from her +earliest years, and received the caresses of all as a matter of course. +She went to a good school, studied the piano, and learnt dancing, and at +sixteen did her hair up. She did as she was told without fuss, being +apparently of a lethargic temperament; she had all the money and all the +clothes that her heart could desire; she was happy, and in a quiet way +she deemed herself a rather considerable item in the world. When she was +eighteen her mother died miserably of cancer, and it was discovered +that the liabilities of Mrs. Malpas's estate exceeded its assets--and +the Tiger mortgaged up to its value! The creditors were not angry; they +attributed the state of affairs to illness and the absence of male +control, and good-humouredly accepted what they could get. None the +less, Nina, the child of luxury and sloth, had to start life with +several hundreds of pounds less than nothing. Of her father all trace +had been long since lost. A place was found for her, and for over two +years she saw the world from the office of a famous hotel in Doncaster. +Her lethargy, and an invaluable gift of adapting herself to +circumstances, saved her from any acute unhappiness in the Yorkshire +town. Instinctively she ceased to remember the Tiger and past +splendours. (Equally, if she had married a Duke instead of becoming a +book-keeper, she would have ceased to remember the Tiger and past +humility.) Then by good or ill fortune she had the offer of a situation +at the Hôtel Majestic, Strand, London. The Majestic and the sights +thereof woke up the sleeping soul. + +Before her death Mrs. Malpas had told Nina many things about the +vanished Lemuel; among others, the curious detail that he had two small +moles--one hairless, the other hirsute--close together on the under side +of his right wrist. Nina had seen precisely such marks of identification +on the right wrist of Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +She was convinced that Lionel Belmont was her father. There could not be +two men in the world so stamped by nature. She perceived that in +changing his name he had chosen Lionel because of its similarity to +Lemuel. She felt certain, too, that she had noticed vestiges of the Five +Towns accent beneath his Americanisms. But apart from these reasons, she +knew by a superrational instinct that Lionel Belmont was her father; it +was not the call of blood, but the positiveness of a woman asserting +that a thing is so because she is sure it is so. + + + +III + +Nina was not of an imaginative disposition. The romance of this +extraordinary encounter made no appeal to her. She was the sort of girl +that constantly reads novelettes, and yet always, with fatigued scorn, +refers to them as 'silly.' Stupid little Nina was intensely practical +at heart, and it was the practical side of her father's reappearance +that engaged her birdlike mind. She did not stop to reflect that truth +is stranger than fiction. Her tiny heart was not agitated by any +ecstatic ponderings upon the wonder and mystery of fate. She did not +feel strangely drawn towards Lionel Belmont, nor did she feel that he +supplied a something which had always been wanting to her. + +On the other hand, her pride--and Nina was very proud--found much +satisfaction in the fact that her father, having turned up, was so fine, +handsome, dashing, good-humoured, and wealthy. It was well, and +excellently well, and delicious, to have a father like that. The +possession of such a father opened up vistas of a future so enticing and +glorious that her present career became instantly loathsome to her. + +It suddenly seemed impossible that she could have tolerated the +existence of a hotel clerk for a single week. Her eyes were opened, and +she saw, as many women have seen, that luxury was an absolute necessity +to her. All her ideas soared with the magic swiftness of the +bean-stalk. And at the same time she was terribly afraid, unaccountably +afraid, to confront Mr. Belmont and tell him that she was his Nina; he +was entirely unaware that he had a Nina. + +'I'm your daughter! I know by your moles!' + +She whispered the words in her tiny heart, and felt sure that she could +never find courage to say them aloud to that great and important man. +The announcement would be too monstrous, incredible, and absurd. People +would laugh. He would laugh. And Nina could stand anything better than +being laughed at. Even supposing she proved to him his paternity--she +thought of the horridness of going to lawyers' offices--he might decline +to recognise her. Or he might throw her fifty pounds a year, as one +throws sixpence to an importunate crossing-sweeper, to be rid of her. +The United States existed in her mind chiefly as a country of +highly-remarkable divorce laws, and she thought that Mr. Belmont might +have married again. A fashionable and arrogant Mrs. Belmont, and a +dazzling Miss Belmont, aged possibly eighteen, might arrive, both of +them steeped in all conceivable luxury, at any moment. Where would Nina +be then, with her two-and-eleven-pence-halfpenny blouse from Glave's?... + +Mr. Belmont, accompanied by Alphonse, the head-waiter in the _salle à +manger_, descended in the lift and crossed the hall to the portico, +where he stood talking for a few seconds. Mr. Belmont turned, and, as he +conversed with Alphonse, gazed absently in the direction of the bureau. +He looked straight through the pretty captive. After all, despite his +superficial heartiness, she could be nothing to him--so rich, assertive, +and truly important. A hansom was called for him, and he departed; she +observed that he was in evening dress now. + +No! Her cause was just; but it was too startling--that was what was the +matter with it. + +Then she told herself she would write to Lionel Belmont. She would write +a letter that night. + +At nine-thirty she was off duty. She went upstairs to her perch in the +roof, and sat on her bed for over two hours. Then she came down again +to the bureau with some bluish note-paper and envelopes in her hand, +and, in response to the surprised question of the pink-frocked colleague +who had taken her place, she explained that she wanted to write a +letter. + +'You do look that bad, Miss Malpas,' said the other girl, who made a +speciality of compassion. + +'Do I?' said Nina. + +'Yes, you do. What have you got _on_, _now_, my poor dear?' + +'What's that to you? I'll thank you to mind your own business, Miss +Bella Perkins.' + +Usually Nina was not soon ruffled; but that night all her nerves were +exasperated and exceedingly sensitive. + +'Oh!' said the girl. 'What price the Duchess of Doncaster? And I was +just going to wish you a nice day to-morrow for your holiday, too.' + +Nina seated herself at the table to write the letter. An electric light +burned directly over her frizzy head. She wrote a weak but legible and +regular back-hand. She hated writing letters, partly because she was +dubious about her spelling, and partly because of an obscure but +irrepressible suspicion that her letters were of necessity silly. She +pondered for a long time, and then wrote: 'Dear Mr. Belmont,--I +venture----' She made a new start: 'Dear Sir,--I hope you will not think +me----' And a third attempt: 'My dear Father----' No! it was +preposterous. It could no more be written than it could be said. + +The situation was too much for simple Nina. + +Suddenly the grand circular hall of the Majestic was filled with a +clamour at once charming and fantastic. There was chattering of musical, +gay American voices, pattering of elegant feet on the tessellated +pavement, the unique incomparable sound of the _frou-frou_ of many +frocks; and above all this the rich tones of Mr. Lionel Belmont. Nina +looked up and saw her radiant father the centre of a group of girls all +young, all beautiful, all stylish, all with picture hats, all +self-possessed, all sparkling, doubtless the recipients of the dandy +supper. + +Oh, how insignificant and homicidal Nina felt! + +'Thirteen of you!' exclaimed Lionel Belmont, pulling his superb +moustache. 'Two to a hansom. I guess I'll want six and a half hansoms, +boy.' + +There was an explosion of delicious laughter, and the page-boy grinned, +ran off, and began whistling in the portico like a vexed locomotive. The +thirteen fair, shepherded by Lionel Belmont, passed out into the +murmurous summer night of the Strand. Cab after cab drove up, and Nina +saw that her father, after filling each cab, paid each cabman. In three +minutes the dream-like scene was over. Mr. Belmont re-entered the hotel, +winked humorously at the occupant of the pagoda, ignored the bureau, and +departed to his rooms. + +Nina ripped her inchoate letters into small pieces, and, with a tart +good-night to Miss Bella Perkins, who was closing her ledgers, the hour +being close upon twelve-thirty, she passed sedately, stiffly, as though +in performance of some vestal's ritual, up the grand staircase. Turning +to the right at the first landing, she traversed a long corridor which +was no part of the route to her cubicle on the ninth floor. This +corridor was lighted by glowing sparks, which hung on yellow cords from +the central line of the ceiling; underfoot was a heavy but narrow +crimson patterned carpet with a strip of polished oak parquet on either +side of it. Exactly along the central line of the carpet Nina tripped, +languorously, like an automaton, and exactly over her head glittered the +line of electric sparks. The corridor and the journey seemed to be +interminable, and Nina on some inscrutable and mystic errand. At length +she moved aside from the religious line, went into a service cabinet, +and emerged with a small bunch of pass-keys. No. 107 was Lionel +Belmont's sitting-room; No. 102, his bedroom, was opposite to 107. No. +108, another sitting-room, was, as Nina knew, unoccupied. She +noiselessly let herself into No. 108, closed the door, and stood still. +After a minute she switched on the light. These two rooms, Nos. 108 and +107, had once communicated, but, as space grew precious with the growing +success of the Majestic, they had been finally separated, and the door +between them locked and masked by furniture. By reason of the door, Nina +could hear Lionel Belmont moving to and fro in No. 107. She listened a +long time. Then, involuntarily, she yawned with fatigue. + +'How silly of me to be here!' she thought. 'What good will this do me?' + +She extinguished the light and opened the door to leave. At the same +instant the door of No. 107, three feet off, opened. She drew back with +a start of horror. Suppose she had collided with her father on the +landing! Timorously she peeped out, and saw Lionel Belmont, in his +shirt-sleeves, disappear round the corner. + +'He is going to talk with his friend Mr. Pank,' Nina thought, knowing +that No. 120 lay at some little distance round that corner. + +Mr. Belmont had left the door of No. 107 slightly ajar. An unseen and +terrifying force compelled Nina to venture into the corridor, and then +to push the door of No. 107 wide open. The same force, not at all +herself, quite beyond herself, seemed to impel her by the shoulders into +the room. As she stood unmistakably within her father's private +sitting-room, scared, breathing rapidly, inquisitive, she said to +herself: + +'I shall hear him coming back, and I can run out before he turns the +corner of the corridor.' And she kept her little pink ears alert. + +She looked about the softly brilliant room, such an extravagant triumph +of luxurious comfort as twenty years ago would have aroused comment even +in Mayfair; but there were scores of similar rooms in the Majestic. No +one thought twice of them. Her father's dress-coat was thrown arrogantly +over a Louis Quatorze chair, and this careless flinging of the expensive +shining coat across the gilded chair somehow gave Nina a more intimate +appreciation of her father's grandeur and of the great and glorious life +he led. She longed to recline indolently in a priceless tea-gown on the +couch by the fireplace and issue orders.... She approached the +writing-table, littered with papers, documents, in scores and hundreds. +To the left was the brown bag. It was locked, and very heavy, she +thought. To the right was a pile of telegrams. She picked up one, and +read: + + '_Pank, Grand Hotel, Birmingham. Why not burgle hotel? Simplest + most effective plan and solves all difficulties._--BELMONT.' + +She read it twice, crunched it in her left hand, and picked up another +one: + + '_Pank, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. Your objection absurd. See safe + in bureau at Majestic. Quite easy. Scene with girl second + evening_.--BELMONT.' + +The thing flashed blindingly upon her. Her father and Mr. Pank belonged +to the swell mob of which she had heard and seen so much at Doncaster. +She at once became the excessively knowing and suspicious hotel employé, +to whom every stranger is a rogue until he has proved the contrary. Had +she lived through three St. Leger weeks for nothing? At the hotel at +Doncaster, what they didn't know about thieves and sharpers was not +knowledge. The landlord kept a loaded revolver in his desk there during +the week. And she herself had been provided with a whistle which she was +to blow at the slightest sign of a row; she had blown it once, and seven +policemen had appeared within thirty seconds. The landlord used to tell +tales of masterly and huge scoundrelism that would make Charles Peace +turn in his grave. And the landlord had ever insisted that no one, no +one at all, could always distinguish with certainty between a real gent +and a swell-mobsman. + +So her father and Mr. Pank had deceived everyone in the hotel except +herself, and they meant to rob the safe in the bureau to-morrow night. +Of course Mr. Lionel Belmont was a villain, or he would not have +deserted her poor dear mother; it was annoying, but indubitable.... Even +now he was maturing his plans round the corner with that Mr. Pank.... +Burglars always went about in shirt-sleeves.... The brown bag contained +the tools.... + +The shock was frightful, disastrous, tragic; but it had solved the +situation by destroying it. Practically, Nina no longer had a father. He +had existed for about four hours as a magnificent reality, full of +possibilities; he now ceased to be recognisable. + +She was about to pick up a third telegram when a slight noise caused her +to turn swiftly; she had forgotten to keep her little pink ears alert. +Her father stood in the doorway. He was certainly the victim of some +extraordinary emotion; his face worked; he seemed at a loss what to do +or say; he seemed pained, confused, even astounded. Simple, foolish Nina +had upset the balance of his equations. + +Then he resumed his self-control and came forward into the room with a +smile intended to be airy. Meanwhile Nina had not moved. One is inclined +to pity the artless and defenceless girl in this midnight duel of wits +with a shrewd, resourceful, and unscrupulous man of the world. But one's +pity should not be lavished on an undeserving object. Though Nina +trembled, she was mistress of herself. She knew just where she was, and +just how to behave. She was as impregnable as Gibraltar. + +'Well,' said Mr. Lionel Belmont, genially gazing at her pose, 'you do +put snap into it, any way.' + +'Into what?' she was about to inquire, but prudently she held her +tongue. Drawing, herself up with the gesture of an offended and +unapproachable queen, the little thing sailed past him, close past her +own father, and so out of the room. + +'Say!' she heard him remark: 'let's straighten this thing out, eh?' + +But she heroically ignored him, thinking the while that, with all his +sins, he was attractive enough. She still held the first telegram in her +long, thin fingers. + +So ended the nocturne. + + + +IV + +At five o'clock the next morning Nina's trifling nose was pressed +against the windowpane of her cubicle. In the enormous slate roof of the +Majestic are three rows of round windows, like port-holes. Out of the +highest one, at the extremity of the left wing, Nina looked. From thence +she could see five other vast hotels, and the yard of Charing Cross +Station, with three night-cabs drawn up to the kerb, and a red van of +W.H. Smith and Son disappearing into the station. The Strand was quite +empty. It was a strange world of sleep and grayness and disillusion. +Within a couple of hundred yards or so of her thousands of people lay +asleep, and they would all soon wake into the disillusion, and the +Strand would wake, and the first omnibus of all the omnibuses would come +along.... + +Never had simple Nina felt so sad and weary. She was determined to give +up her father. She was bound to tell the manager of her discovery, for +Nina was an honest servant, and she was piqued in her honesty. No one +should know that Lionel Belmont was her father.... She saw before her +the task of forgetting him and forgetting the rich dreams of which he +had been the origin. She was once more a book-keeper with no prospects. + +At eight she saw the manager in the managerial room. Mr. Reuben was a +young Jew, aged about thirty-four, with a cold but indestructibly polite +manner. He was a great man, and knew it; he had almost invented the +Majestic. + +She told him her news; it was impossible for foolish Nina to conceal her +righteousness and her sense of her importance. + +'Whom did you say, Miss Malpas?' asked Mr. Reuben. + +'Mr. Lionel Belmont--at least, that's what he calls himself.' + +'Calls himself, Miss Malpas?' + +'Here's one of the telegrams.' + +Mr. Reuben read it, looked at little Nina, and smiled; he never laughed. + +'Is it possible, Miss Malpas,' said he, 'that you don't know who Mr. +Belmont and Mr. Pank are?' And then, as she shook her head, he continued +in his impassive, precise way: 'Mr. Belmont is one of the principal +theatrical managers in the United States. Mr. Pank is one of the +principal playwrights in the United States. Mr. Pank's melodrama +'Nebraska' is now being played at the Regency by Mr. Belmont's own +American company. Another of Mr. Belmont's companies starts shortly for +a tour in the provinces with the musical comedy 'The Dolmenico Doll.' I +believe that Mr. Pank and Mr. Belmont are now writing a new melodrama, +and as they have both been travelling, but not together, I expect that +these telegrams relate to that melodrama. Did you suppose that +safe-burglars wire their plans to each other like this?' He waved the +telegram with a gesture of fatigue. + +Silly, ruined Nina made no answer. + +'Do you ever read the papers--the _Telegraph_ or the _Mail_, Miss +Malpas?' + +'N-no, sir.' + +'You ought to, then you wouldn't be so ignorant and silly. A hotel-clerk +can't know too much. And, by-the-way, what were you doing in Mr. +Belmont's room last night, when you found these wonderful telegrams?' + +'I went there--I went there--to----' + +'Don't cry, please, it won't help you. You must leave here to-day. +You've been here three weeks, I think. I'll tell Mr. Smith to pay you +your month's wages. You don't know enough for the Majestic, Miss Malpas. +Or perhaps you know too much. I'm sorry. I had thought you would suit +us. Keep straight, that's all I have to say to you. Go back to +Doncaster, or wherever it is you came from. Leave before five o'clock. +That will do.' + +With a godlike air, Mr. Reuben swung round his office-chair and faced +his desk. He tried not to perceive that there was a mysterious quality +about this case which he had not quite understood. Nina tripped +piteously out. + +In the whole of London Nina had one acquaintance, and an hour or so +later, after drinking some tea, she set forth to visit this +acquaintance. The weight of her own foolishness, fatuity, silliness, and +ignorance was heavy upon her. And, moreover, she had been told that Mr. +Lionel Belmont had already departed back to America, his luggage being +marked for the American Transport Line. + +She was primly walking, the superlative of the miserable, past the +façade of the hotel, when someone sprang out of a cab and spoke to her. +And it was Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +'Get right into this hansom, Miss Malpas,' he said kindly, 'and I guess +we'll talk it out.' + +'Talk what out?' she thought. + +But she got in. + +'Marble Arch, and go up Regent Street, and don't hurry,' said Mr. +Belmont to the cabman. + +'How did he know my name?' she asked herself. + +'A hansom's the most private place in London,' he said after a pause. + +It certainly did seem to her very cosy and private, and her nearness to +one of the principal theatrical managers in America was almost +startling. Her white frock, with the black velvet decorations, touched +his gray suit. + +'Now,' he said, 'I do wish you'd tell me why you were in my parlour last +night. Honest.' + +'What for?' she parried, to gain time. + +Should she begin to disclose her identity? + +'Because--well, because--oh, look here, my girl, I want to be on very +peculiar terms with you. I want to straighten out everything. You'll be +sort of struck, but I'll be bound to tell you I'm your father. Now, +don't faint or anything.' + +'Oh, I knew that!' she gasped. 'I saw the moles on your wrist when your +were registering--mother told me about them. Oh, if I had only known you +knew!' + +They looked at one another. + +'It was only the day before yesterday I found out I possessed such a +thing as a daughter. I had a kind of fancy to go around to the old spot. +This notion of me having a daughter struck me considerable, and I +concluded to trace her and size her up at once.' Nina was bound to +smile. 'So your poor mother's been dead three years?' + +'Yes,' said Nina. + +'Ah! don't let us talk about that. I feel I can't say just the right +thing.... And so you knew me by those pips.' He pulled up his right +sleeve. 'Was that why you came up to my parlour?' + +Nina nodded, and Lionel Belmont sighed with relief. + +'Why didn't you tell me at once, my dear, who you where?' + +'I didn't dare,' she smiled; 'I was afraid. I thought you wouldn't----' + +'Listen,' he said; 'I've wanted someone like you for years, years, and +years. I've got no one to look after----' + +'Then why didn't _you_ tell _me_ at once who you were?' she questioned +with adorable pertness. + +'Oh!' he laughed; 'how could I--plump like that? When I saw you first, +in the bureau, the stricken image of your mother at your age, I was +nearly down. But I came up all right, didn't I, my dear? I acted it out +well, didn't I?' + + * * * * * + +The hansom was rolling through Hyde Park, and the sunshiny hour was +eleven in June. Nina looked forth on the gay and brilliant scene: +rhododendrons, duchesses, horses, dandies--the incomparable wealth and +splendour of the capital. She took a long breath, and began to be happy +for the rest of her life. She felt that, despite her plain frock, she +was in this picture. Her father had told her that his income was rising +on a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and he would thank her +to spend it. Her father had told her, when she had confessed the scene +with Mr. Reuben and what led to it, that she had grit, and that the +mistake was excusable, and that a girl as pretty as she was didn't want +to be as fly as Mr. Reuben had said. Her father had told her that he was +proud of her, and he had not been so rude as to laugh at her blunder. + +She felt that she was about to enter upon the true and only vocation of +a dainty little morsel--namely, to spend money earned by other people. +She thought less homicidally now of the thirteen chorus-girls of the +previous night. + +'Say,' said her father, 'I sail this afternoon for New York, Nina.' + +'They said you'd gone, at the hotel.' + +'Only my baggage. The _Minnehaha_ clears at five. I guess I want you to +come along too. On the voyage we'll get acquainted, and tell each other +things.' + +'Suppose I say I won't?' + +She spoke despotically, as the pampered darling should. + +'Then I'll wait for the next boat. But it'll be awkward.' + +'Then I'll come. But I've got no things.' + +He pushed up the trap-door. + +Driver, Bond Street. And get on to yourself, for goodness' sake! Hurry!' + +'You told me not to hurry,' grumbled the cabby. + +'And now I tell you to hustle. See?' + +'Shall you want me to call myself Belmont?' Nina asked. + +'I chose it because it was a fine ten-horse-power name twenty years +ago,' said her father; and she murmured that she liked the name very +much. + +As Lionel Belmont the Magnificent paid the cabman, and Nina walked +across the pavement into one of the most famous repositories of +expensive frippery in the world, she thrilled with the profoundest +pleasure her tiny soul was capable of. Foolish, simple Nina had achieved +the _nec plus ultra_ of her languorous dreams. + + * * * * * + + + + +CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + + +I + +'What did you say your name was?' asked Otto, the famous concert +manager. + +'Clara Toft.' + +'That won't do,' he said roughly. + +'My real proper name is Clarice,' she added, blushing. 'But----' + +'That's better, that's better.' His large, dark face smiled carelessly. +'Clarice--and stick an "e" on to Toft--Clarice Tofte. Looks like either +French or German then. I'll send you the date. It'll be the second week +in September. And you can come round to the theatre and try the +piano--Bechstein.' + +'And what do you think I had better play, Mr. Otto?' + +'You must play what you have just played, of course. Tschaikowsky's all +the rage just now. Your left hand's very weak, especially in the last +movement. You've got to make more noise--at my concerts. And see here, +Miss Toft, don't you go and make a fool of me. I believe you have a +great future, and I'm backing my opinion. Don't you go and make a fool +of me.' + +'I shall play my very best,' she smiled nervously. 'I'm awfully obliged +to you, Mr. Otto.' + +'Well,' he said, 'you ought to be.' + +At the age of fifteen her father, an earthenware manufacturer, and the +flamboyant Alderman of Turnhill, in the Five Towns, had let her depart +to London to the Royal College of Music. Thence, at nineteen, she had +proceeded to the Conservatoire of Liége. At twenty-two she could play +the great concert pieces--Liszt's 'Rhapsodies Hongroises,' Chopin's +Ballade, Op. 47, Beethoven's Op. 111, etc.--in concert style, and she +was the wonder of the Five Towns when she visited Turnhill. But in +London she had obtained neither engagements nor pupils: she had never +believed in herself. She knew of dozens of pianists whom she deemed +more brilliant than little, pretty, modest Clara Toft; and after her +father's death and the not surprising revelation of his true financial +condition, she settled with her faded, captious mother in Turnhill as a +teacher of the pianoforte, and did nicely. + +Then, when she was twenty-six, and content in provincialism, she had met +during an August holiday at Llandudno her old fellow pupil, Albert +Barbellion, who was conducting the Pier concerts. Barbellion had asked +her to play at a 'soirée musicale' which he gave one night in the +ball-room of his hotel, and she had performed Tschaikowsky's immense and +lurid Slavonic Sonata; and the unparalleled Otto, renowned throughout +the British Empire for Otto's Bohemian Autumn Nightly Concerts at Covent +Garden Theatre, had happened to hear her and that seldom played sonata +for the first time. It was a wondrous chance. Otto's large, picturesque, +extempore way of inviting her to appear at his promenade concerts +reminded her of her father. + + + +II + +In the bleak three-cornered artists'-room she could faintly hear the +descending impetuous velocities of the Ride of the Walkyries. She was +waiting in her new yellow dress, waiting painfully. Otto rushed in, a +glass in his hand. + +'You all right?' he questioned sharply. + +'Oh, yes,' she said, getting up from the cane-chair. + +'Let me see you stand on one leg,' he said; and then, because she +hesitated: 'Go on, quick! Stand on one leg. It's a good test.' So she +stood on one leg, foolishly smiling. 'Here, drink this,' he ordered, and +she had to drink brandy-and-soda out of the glass. 'You're better now,' +he remarked; and decidedly, though her throat tingled and she coughed, +she felt equal to anything at that moment. + +A stout, middle-aged woman, in a rather shabby opera cloak, entered the +room. + +'Ah, Cornelia!' exclaimed Otto grandly. + +'My dear Otto!' the woman responded, wrinkling her wonderfully enamelled +cheeks. + +'Miss Toft, let me introduce you to Madame Lopez.' He turned to the +newcomer. 'Keep her calm for me, bright star, will you?' + +Then Otto went, and Clarice was left alone with the world-famous +operatic soprano, who was advertised to sing that night the Shadow Song +from 'Dinorah.' + +'Where did he pick you up, my dear?' the decayed diva inquired +maternally. + +Clarice briefly explained. + +'You aren't paying him anything, are you?' + +'Oh, no!' said Clarice, shocked. 'But I get no fee this time----' + +'Of course not, my dear,' the Lopez cut her short. 'It's all right so +long as you aren't paying him anything to let you go on. Now run along.' + +Clarice's heart stopped. The call-boy, with his cockney twang, had +pronounced her name. + +She moved forward, and, by dint of following the call-boy, at length +reached the stage. Applause--good-natured applause--seemed to roll +towards her from the uttermost parts of the vast auditorium. She +realized with a start that this applause was exclusively for her. She +sat down to the piano, and there ensued a death-like silence--a silence +broken only by the striking of matches and the tinkle of the embowered +fountain in front of the stage. She had a consciousness, rather than a +vision, of a floor of thousands of upturned faces below her, and tier +upon tier of faces rising above her and receding to the illimitable dark +distances of the gallery. She heard a door bang, and perceived that some +members of the orchestra were creeping quietly out at the back. Then she +plunged, dizzy, into the sonata, as into a heaving and profound sea. The +huge concert piano resounded under the onslaught of her broad hands. +When she had played ten bars she knew with an absolute conviction that +she would do justice to her talent. She could see, as it were, the +entire sonata stretched out in detail before her like a road over which +she had to travel.... + +At the end of the first movement the clapping enheartened her; she +smiled confidently at the conductor, who, unemployed during her number, +sat on a chair under his desk. Before recommencing she gazed boldly at +the house, and certain placards--'Smoking permitted,' 'Emergency exit,' +'Ices,' and 'Fancy Dress Balls'--were fixed for ever on the retina of +her eye. At the end of the second movement there was more applause, and +the conductor tapped appreciation with his stick against the pillar of +his desk; the leader of the listless orchestra also tapped with his +fiddle-bow and nodded. It seemed to her now that she more and more +dominated the piano, and that she rendered the great finale with +masterful and fierce assurance.... + +She was pleased with herself as she banged the last massive chord. And +the applause, the clapping, the hammering of sticks, astounded her, +staggered her. She might have died of happiness while she bowed and +bowed again. She ran off the stage triumphant, and the applause seemed +to assail her little figure from all quarters and overwhelm it. As she +stood waiting, concealed behind a group of palms, it suddenly occurred +to her that, after all, she had underestimated herself. She saw her rosy +future as the spoiled darling of continental capitals. The hail of +clapping persisted, and the apparition of Otto violently waved her to +return to the stage. She returned, bowed her passionate exultation with +burning face and trembling knees, and retired. The clapping continued. +Yes, she would be compelled to grant an encore--to _grant_ one. She +would grant it like a honeyed but imperious queen. + +Suddenly she heard the warning tap of the conductor's baton; the +applause was hushed as though by a charm, and the orchestra broke into +the overture to 'Zampa.' She could not understand, she could not think. +As she tripped tragically to the artists'-room in her new yellow dress +she said to herself that the conductor must have made some mistake, and +that---- + +'Very nice, my dear,' said the Lopez kindly to her. 'You got quite a +call--quite a call.' + +She waited for Otto to come and talk to her. + +At length the Lopez was summoned, and Clarice followed to listen to her. +And when the Lopez had soared with strong practised flight through the +brilliant intricacy of the Shadow Song, Clarice became aware what real +applause sounded like from the stage. It shook the stage as the old +favourite of two generations, wearing her set smile, waddled back to the +debutante. Scores of voices hoarsely shouted 'Encore!' and 'Last Rose +of Summer,' and with a proud sigh the Lopez went on again, bowing. + +Clarice saw nothing more of Otto, who doubtless had other birds to +snare. The next day only three daily papers mentioned the concert at +all. In fact, Otto expected press notices but once a week. All three +papers praised the matchless Lopez in her Shadow Song. One referred to +Clarice as talented; another called her well-intentioned; the third +merely said that she had played. The short dream of artistic ascendancy +lay in fragments around her. She was a sensible girl, and stamped those +iridescent fragments into dust. + + + +III + +The _Staffordshire Signal_ contained the following advertisement: 'Miss +Clara Toft, solo pianist, of the Otto Autumn Concerts, London, will +resume lessons on the 1st proximo at Liszt House, Turnhill. Terms on +application.' At thirty Clarice married James Sillitoe, the pianoforte +dealer in Market Square, Turnhill, and captious old Mrs. Toft formed +part of the new household. At thirty-four Clarice possessed a little +girl and two little boys, twins. Sillitoe was a money-maker, and she no +longer gave lessons. + +Happy? Perhaps not unhappy. + + * * * * * + + + + +A LETTER HOME[2] + + [2] Written in 1893. + + +I + +Rain was falling--it had fallen steadily through the night--but the sky +showed promise of fairer weather. As the first streaks of dawn appeared, +the wind died away, and the young leaves on the trees were almost +silent. The birds were insistently clamorous, vociferating times without +number that it was a healthy spring morning and good to be alive. + +A little, bedraggled crowd stood before the park gates, awaiting the +hour named on the notice board when they would be admitted to such +lodging and shelter as iron seats and overspreading branches might +afford. A weary, patient-eyed, dogged crowd--a dozen men, a boy of +thirteen, and a couple of women, both past middle age--which had been +gathering slowly since five o'clock. The boy appeared to be the least +uncomfortable. His feet were bare, but he had slept well in an area in +Grosvenor Place, and was not very damp yet. The women had nodded on many +doorsteps, and were soaked. They stood apart from the men, who seemed +unconscious of their existence. The men were exactly such as one would +have expected to find there--beery and restless as to the eyes, quaintly +shod, and with nondescript greenish clothes which for the most part bore +traces of the yoke of the sandwich board. Only one amongst them was +different. + +He was young, and his cap, and manner of wearing it, gave sign of the +sea. His face showed the rough outlines of his history. Yet it was a +transparently honest face, very pale, but still boyish and fresh enough +to make one wonder by what rapid descent he had reached his present +level. Perhaps the receding chin, the heavy, pouting lower lip, and the +ceaselessly twitching mouth offered a key to the problem. + +'Say, Darkey!' he said. + +'Well?' + +'How much longer?' + +'Can't ye see the clock? It's staring ye in the face.' + +'No. Something queer's come over my eyes.' + +Darkey was a short, sturdy man, who kept his head down and his hands +deep in his pockets. The raindrops clinging to the rim of an ancient hat +fell every now and then into his gray beard, which presented a drowned +appearance. He was a person of long and varied experiences; he knew that +queer feeling in the eyes, and his heart softened. + +'Come, lean against the pillar,' he said, 'if you don't want to tumble. +Three of brandy's what you want. There's four minutes to wait yet.' + +With body flattened to the masonry, legs apart, and head thrown back, +Darkey's companion felt more secure, and his mercurial spirits began to +revive. He took off his cap, and brushing back his light brown curly +hair with the hand which held it, he looked down at Darkey through +half-closed eyes, the play of his features divided between a smile and a +yawn. + +He had a lively sense of humour, and the irony of his situation was not +lost on him. He took a grim, ferocious delight in calling up the +might-have-beens and the 'fatuous ineffectual yesterdays' of life. There +is a certain sardonic satisfaction to be gleaned from a frank +recognition of the fact that you are the architect of your own +misfortune. He felt that satisfaction, and laughed at Darkey, who was +one of those who moan about 'ill-luck' and 'victims of circumstance.' + +'No doubt,' he would say, 'you're a very deserving fellow, Darkey, who's +been treated badly. I'm not.' + +To have attained such wisdom at twenty-five is not to have lived +altogether in vain. + +A park-keeper presently arrived to unlock the gates, and the band of +outcasts straggled indolently towards the nearest sheltered seats. Some +went to sleep at once, in a sitting posture. Darkey produced a clay +pipe, and, charging it with a few shreds of tobacco laboriously gathered +from his waistcoat pocket, began to smoke. He was accustomed to this +sort of thing, and with a pipe in his mouth could contrive to be +moderately philosophical upon occasion. He looked curiously at his +companion, who lay stretched at full length on another bench. + +'I say, pal,' he remarked, 'I've known ye two days; ye've never told me +yer name, and I don't ask ye to. But I see ye've not slep' in a park +before.' + +'You hit it, Darkey; but how?' + +'Well, if the keeper catches ye lying down, he'll be on to ye. Lying +down's not allowed.' + +The man raised himself on his elbow. + +'Really now,' he said; 'that's interesting. But I think I'll give the +keeper the opportunity of moving me. Why, it's quite fine, the sun's +coming out, and the sparrows are hopping round--cheeky little devils! +I'm not sure that I don't feel jolly.' + +'I wish I'd got the price of a pint about me,' sighed Darkey, and the +other man dropped his head and appeared to sleep. Then Darkey dozed a +little, and heard in his waking sleep the heavy, crunching tread of an +approaching park-keeper; he started up to warn his companion, but +thought better of it, and closed his eyes again. + +'Now then, there,' the park-keeper shouted to the man with the sailor's +cap, 'get up! This ain't a fourpenny doss, you know. No lying down.' + +A rough shake accompanied the words, and the man sat up. + +'All right, my friend.' + +The keeper, who was a good-humoured man, passed on without further +objurgation. + +The face of the younger man had grown whiter. + +'Look here, Darkey,' he said, 'I believe I'm done for.' + +'Never say die.' + +'No, just die without speaking.' + +His head fell forward and his eyes closed. + +'At any rate, this is better than some deaths I've seen,' he began again +with a strange accession of liveliness. 'Darkey, did I tell you the +story of the five Japanese girls?' + +'What, in Suez Bay?' said Darkey, who had heard many sea-stories during +the last two days, and recollected them but hazily. + +'No, man. This was at Nagasaki. We were taking in a cargo of coal for +Hong Kong. Hundreds of little Jap girls pass the coal from hand to hand +over the ship's side in tiny baskets that hold about a plateful. In that +way you can get three thousand tons aboard in two days.' + +'Talking of platefuls reminds me of sausage and mash,' said Darkey. + +'Don't interrupt. Well, five of these gay little dolls wanted to go to +Hong Kong, and they arranged with the Chinese sailors to stow away; I +believe their friends paid those cold-blooded fiends something to pass +them down food on the voyage, and give them an airing at nights. We had +a particularly lively trip, battened everything down tight, and scarcely +uncovered till we got into port. Then I and another man found those five +girls among the coal.' + +'Dead, eh?' + +'They'd simply torn themselves to pieces. Their bits of frock things +were in strips, and they were scratched deep from top to toe. The +Chinese had never troubled their heads about them at all, although they +must have known it meant death. You may bet there was a row. The +Japanese authorities make you search ship before sailing, now.' + +'Well?' + +'Well, I shan't die like that. That's all.' + +He stretched himself out once more, and for ten minutes neither spoke. +The park-keeper strolled up again. + +'Get up, there!' he said shortly and gruffly. + +'Up ye get, mate,' added Darkey, but the man on the bench did not stir. +One look at his face sufficed to startle the keeper, and presently two +policemen were wheeling an ambulance cart to the hospital. Darkey +followed, gave such information as he could, and then went his own ways. + + + +II + +In the afternoon the patient regained full consciousness. His eyes +wandered vacantly about the illimitable ward, with its rows of beds +stretching away on either side of him. A woman with a white cap, a white +apron, and white wristbands bent over him, and he felt something +gratefully warm passing down his throat. For just one second he was +happy. Then his memory returned, and the nurse saw that he was crying. +When he caught the nurse's eye he ceased, and looked steadily at the +distant ceiling. + +'You're better?' + +'Yes.' + +He tried to speak boldly, decisively, nonchalantly. He was filled with a +sense of physical shame, the shame which bodily helplessness always +experiences in the presence of arrogant, patronizing health. He would +have got up and walked briskly away if he could. He hated to be waited +on, to be humoured, to be examined and theorized about. This woman would +be wanting to feel his pulse. She should not; he would turn +cantankerous. No doubt they had been saying to each other, 'And so +young, too! How sad!' Confound them! + +'Have you any friends that you would like to send for?' + +'No, none.' + +The girl--she was only a girl--looked at him, and there was that in her +eye which overcame him. + +'None at all?' + +'Not that I want to see.' + +'Are your parents alive?' + +'My mother is, but she lives away in the Five Towns.' + +'You've not seen her lately, perhaps?' + +He did not reply, and the nurse spoke again, but her voice sounded +indistinct and far off. + +When he awoke it was night. At the other end of the ward was a long +table covered with a white cloth, and on this table a lamp. + +In the ring of light under the lamp was an open book, an inkstand and a +pen. A nurse--not _his_ nurse--was standing by the table, her fingers +idly drumming the cloth, and near her a man in evening dress. Perhaps a +doctor. They were conversing in low tones. In the middle of the ward was +an open stove, and the restless flames were reflected in all the brass +knobs of the bedsteads and in some shining metal balls which hung from +an unlighted chandelier. His part of the ward was almost in darkness. A +confused, subdued murmur of little coughs, breathings, rustlings, was +continually audible, and sometimes it rose above the conversation at the +table. He noticed all these things. He became conscious, too, of a +strangely familiar smell. What was it? Ah, yes! Acetic acid; his mother +used it for her rheumatics. + +Suddenly, magically, a great longing came over him. He must see his +mother, or his brothers, or his little sister--someone who knew him, +someone who _belonged_ to him. He could have cried out in his desire. +This one thought consumed all his faculties. If his mother could but +walk in just now through that doorway! If only old Spot even could amble +up to him, tongue out and tail furiously wagging! He tried to sit up, +and he could not move! Then despair settled on him, and weighed him +down. He closed his eyes. + +The doctor and the nurse came slowly up the ward, pausing here and +there. They stopped before his bed, and he held his breath. + +'Not roused up again, I suppose?' + +'No.' + +'H'm! He may flicker on for forty-eight hours. Not more.' + +They went on, and with a sigh of relief he opened his eyes again. The +doctor shook hands with the nurse, who returned to the table and sat +down. + +Death! The end of all this! Yes, it was coming. He felt it. His had been +one of those wasted lives of which he used to read in books. How +strange! Almost amusing! He was one of those sons who bring sorrow and +shame into a family. Again, how strange! What a coincidence that +he--just _he_ and not the man in the next bed--should be one of those +rare, legendary good-for-nothings who go recklessly to ruin. And yet, he +was sure that he was not such a bad fellow after all. Only somehow he +had been careless. Yes, careless; that was the word ... nothing +worse.... As to death, he was indifferent. Remembering his father's +death, he reflected that it was probably less disturbing to die one's +self than to watch another pass. + +He smelt the acetic acid once more, and his thoughts reverted to his +mother. Poor mother! No, great mother! The grandeur of her life's +struggle filled him with a sense of awe. Strange that until that moment +he had never seen the heroic side of her humdrum, commonplace existence! +He must write to her, now, at once, before it was too late. His letter +would trouble her, add another wrinkle to her face, but he must write; +she must know that he had been thinking of her. + +'Nurse!' he cried out, in a thin, weak voice. + +'Ssh!' + +She was by his side directly, but not before he had lost consciousness +again. + +The following morning he managed with infinite labour to scrawl a few +lines: + + 'DEAR MAMMA, + + 'You will be surprised but not glad to get this letter. I'm done + for, and you will never see me again. I'm sorry for what I've done, + and how I've treated you, but it's no use saying anything now. If + Pater had only lived he might have kept me in order. But you were + too kind, you know. You've had a hard struggle these last six + years, and I hope Arthur and Dick will stand by you better than I + did, now they are growing up. Give them my love, and kiss little + Fannie for me. + + 'WILLIE. + + '_Mrs. Hancock_----' + +He got no further with the address. + + + +III + +By some turn of the wheel, Darkey gathered several shillings during the +next day or two, and, feeling both elated and benevolent, he called one +afternoon at the hospital, 'just to inquire like.' They told him the man +was dead. + +'By the way, he left a letter without an address. Mrs. Hancock--here it +is.' + +'That'll be his mother; he did tell me about her--lived at Knype, +Staffordshire, he said. I'll see to it.' + +They gave Darkey the letter. + +'So his name's Hancock,' he soliloquized, when he got into the street. +'I knew a girl of that name--once. I'll go and have a pint of +four-half.' + +At nine o'clock that night Darkey was still consuming four-half, and +relating certain adventures by sea which, he averred, had happened to +himself. He was very drunk. + +'Yes,' he said, 'and them five lil' gals was lying there without a +stitch on 'em, dead as meat; 's 'true as I'm 'ere. I've seen a thing or +two in my time, I can tell ye.' + +'Talking about these Anarchists--' said a man who appeared anxious to +change the subject. + +'An--kists,' Darkey interrupted. 'I tell ye what I'd do with that muck.' + +He stopped to light his pipe, looked in vain for a match, felt in his +pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper--the letter. + +'I tell you what I'd do. I'd--' + +He slowly and meditatively tore the letter in two, dropped one piece on +the floor, thrust the other into a convenient gas-jet, and applied it to +the tobacco. + +'I'd get 'em 'gether in a heap, and I'd--Damn this pipe!' + +He picked up the other half of the letter, and relighted the pipe. + +'After you, mate,' said a man sitting near, who was just biting the end +from a cigar. + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +***** This file should be named 13293-8.txt or 13293-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/9/13293/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/old/13293-8.zip b/old/old/13293-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1a581a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/13293-8.zip diff --git a/old/old/13293.txt b/old/old/13293.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1935234 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/13293.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6653 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13293] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +TALES + +OF THE FIVE TOWNS + +By + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + * * * * * + +First published January 1905 + + * * * * * + +TO + +MARCEL SCHWOB + +MY LITERARY GODFATHER IN FRANCE + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + THE DOG + A FEUD + PHANTOM + TIDDY-FOL-LOL + THE IDIOT + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + THE SISTERS QITA + NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + A LETTER HOME + + * * * * * + + + + +PART I + +AT HOME + + + * * * * * + + + + +HIS WORSHIP THE GOOSEDRIVER + + +I + +It was an amiable but deceitful afternoon in the third week of December. +Snow fell heavily in the windows of confectioners' shops, and Father +Christmas smiled in Keats's Bazaar the fawning smile of a myth who knows +himself to be exploded; but beyond these and similar efforts to remedy +the forgetfulness of a careless climate, there was no sign anywhere in +the Five Towns, and especially in Bursley, of the immediate approach of +the season of peace, goodwill, and gluttony on earth. + +At the Tiger, next door to Keats's in the market-place, Mr. Josiah +Topham Curtenty had put down his glass (the port was kept specially for +him), and told his boon companion, Mr. Gordon, that he must be going. +These two men had one powerful sentiment in common: they loved the same +woman. Mr. Curtenty, aged twenty-six in heart, thirty-six in mind, and +forty-six in looks, was fifty-six only in years. He was a rich man; he +had made money as an earthenware manufacturer in the good old times +before Satan was ingenious enough to invent German competition, American +tariffs, and the price of coal; he was still making money with the aid +of his son Harry, who now managed the works, but he never admitted that +he was making it. No one has yet succeeded, and no one ever will +succeed, in catching an earthenware manufacturer in the act of making +money; he may confess with a sigh that he has performed the feat in the +past, he may give utterance to a vague, preposterous hope that he will +perform it again in the remote future, but as for surprising him in the +very act, you would as easily surprise a hen laying an egg. Nowadays Mr. +Curtenty, commercially secure, spent most of his energy in helping to +shape and control the high destinies of the town. He was Deputy-Mayor, +and Chairman of the General Purposes Committee of the Town Council; he +was also a Guardian of the Poor, a Justice of the Peace, President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons, a sidesman, an Oddfellow, and +several other things that meant dining, shrewdness, and good-nature. He +was a short, stiff, stout, red-faced man, jolly with the jollity that +springs from a kind heart, a humorous disposition, a perfect digestion, +and the respectful deference of one's bank-manager. Without being a +member of the Browning Society, he held firmly to the belief that all's +right with the world. + +Mr. Gordon, who has but a sorry part in the drama, was a younger, +quieter, less forceful person, rather shy; a municipal mediocrity, +perhaps a little inflated that day by reason of his having been elected +to the Chairmanship of the Gas and Lighting Committee. + +Both men had sat on their committees at the Town Hall across the way +that deceitful afternoon, and we see them now, after refreshment well +earned and consumed, about to separate and sink into private life. But +as they came out into the portico of the Tiger, the famous Calypso-like +barmaid of the Tiger a hovering enchantment in the background, it +occurred that a flock of geese were meditating, as geese will, in the +middle of the road. The gooseherd, a shabby middle-aged man, looked as +though he had recently lost the Battle of Marathon, and was asking +himself whether the path of his retreat might not lie through the +bar-parlour of the Tiger. + +'Business pretty good?' Mr. Curtenty inquired of him cheerfully. + +In the Five Towns business takes the place of weather as a topic of +salutation. + +'Business!' echoed the gooseherd. + +In that one unassisted noun, scorning the aid of verb, adjective, or +adverb, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound and subtle emphasis, +contrived to express the fact that he existed in a world of dead +illusions, that he had become a convert to Schopenhauer, and that Mr. +Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a final grievance to him. + +'There ain't no business!' he added. + +'Ah!' returned Mr. Curtenty, thoughtful: such an assertion of the entire +absence of business was a reflection upon the town. + +'Sithee!' said the gooseherd in ruthless accents, 'I druv these 'ere +geese into this 'ere town this morning.' (Here he exaggerated the +number of miles traversed.) 'Twelve geese and two gander--a Brent and a +Barnacle. And how many is there now? How many?' + +'Fourteen,' said Mr. Gordon, having counted; and Mr. Curtenty gazed at +him in reproach, for that he, a Town Councillor, had thus mathematically +demonstrated the commercial decadence of Bursley. + +'Market overstocked, eh?' Mr. Curtenty suggested, throwing a side-glance +at Callear the poulterer's close by, which was crammed with everything +that flew, swam, or waddled. + +'Call this a market?' said the gooseherd. 'I'st tak' my lot over to +Hanbridge, wheer there _is_ a bit doing, by all accounts.' + +Now, Mr. Curtenty had not the least intention of buying those geese, but +nothing could be better calculated to straighten the back of a Bursley +man than a reference to the mercantile activity of Hanbridge, that +Chicago of the Five Towns. + +'How much for the lot?' he inquired. + +In that moment he reflected upon his reputation; he knew that he was a +cure, a card, a character; he knew that everyone would think it just +like Jos Curtenty, the renowned Deputy-Mayor of Bursley, to stand on +the steps of the Tiger and pretend to chaffer with a gooseherd for a +flock of geese. His imagination caught the sound of an oft-repeated +inquiry, 'Did ye hear about old Jos's latest--trying to buy them there +geese?' and the appreciative laughter that would follow. + +The gooseherd faced him in silence. + +'Well,' said Mr. Curtenty again, his eyes twinkling, 'how much for the +lot?' + +The gooseherd gloomily and suspiciously named a sum. + +Mr. Curtenty named a sum startlingly less, ending in sixpence. + +'I'll tak' it,' said the gooseherd, in a tone that closed on the bargain +like a vice. + +The Deputy-Mayor perceived himself the owner of twelve geese and two +ganders--one Brent, one Barnacle. It was a shock, but he sustained it. +Involuntarily he looked at Mr. Gordon. + +'How are you going to get 'em home, Curtenty?' asked Gordon, with coarse +sarcasm; 'drive 'em?' + +Nettled, Mr. Curtenty retorted: + +'Now, then, Gas Gordon!' + +The barmaid laughed aloud at this sobriquet, which that same evening +was all over the town, and which has stuck ever since to the Chairman of +the Gas and Lighting Committee. Mr. Gordon wished, and has never ceased +to wish, either that he had been elected to some other committee, or +that his name had begun with some other letter. + +The gooseherd received the purchase-money like an affront, but when Mr. +Curtenty, full of private mirth, said, 'Chuck us your stick in,' he give +him the stick, and smiled under reservation. Jos Curtenty had no use for +the geese; he could conceive no purpose which they might be made to +serve, no smallest corner for them in his universe. Nevertheless, since +he had rashly stumbled into a ditch, he determined to emerge from it +grandly, impressively, magnificently. He instantaneously formed a plan +by which he would snatch victory out of defeat. He would take Gordon's +suggestion, and himself drive the geese up to his residence in Hillport, +that lofty and aristocratic suburb. It would be an immense, an +unparalleled farce; a wonder, a topic for years, the crown of his +reputation as a card. + +He announced his intention with that misleading sobriety and +ordinariness of tone which it has been the foible of many great +humorists to assume. Mr. Gordon lifted his head several times very +quickly, as if to say, 'What next?' and then actually departed, which +was a clear proof that the man had no imagination and no soul. + +The gooseherd winked. + +'You be rightly called "Curtenty," mester,' said he, and passed into the +Tiger. + +'That's the best joke I ever heard,' Jos said to himself 'I wonder +whether he saw it.' + +Then the procession of the geese and the Deputy-Mayor commenced. Now, it +is not to be assumed that Mr. Curtenty was necessarily bound to look +foolish in the driving of geese. He was no nincompoop. On the contrary, +he was one of those men who, bringing common-sense and presence of mind +to every action of their lives, do nothing badly, and always escape the +ridiculous. He marshalled his geese with notable gumption, adopted +towards them exactly the correct stress of persuasion, and presently he +smiled to see them preceding him in the direction of Hillport. He +looked neither to right nor left, but simply at his geese, and thus the +quidnuncs of the market-place and the supporters of shop-fronts were +unable to catch his eye. He tried to feel like a gooseherd; and such was +his histrionic quality, his instinct for the dramatic, he _was_ a +gooseherd, despite his blue Melton overcoat, his hard felt hat with the +flattened top, and that opulent-curving collar which was the secret +despair of the young dandies of Hillport. He had the most natural air in +the world. The geese were the victims of this imaginative effort of Mr. +Curtenty's. They took him seriously as a gooseherd. These fourteen +intelligences, each with an object in life, each bent on +self-aggrandisement and the satisfaction of desires, began to follow the +line of least resistance in regard to the superior intelligence unseen +but felt behind them, feigning, as geese will, that it suited them so to +submit, and that in reality they were still quite independent. But in +the peculiar eye of the Barnacle gander, who was leading, an observer +with sufficient fancy might have deciphered a mild revolt against this +triumph of the absurd, the accidental, and the futile; a passive yet +Promethean spiritual defiance of the supreme powers. + +Mr. Curtenty got his fourteen intelligences safely across the top of St. +Luke's Square, and gently urged them into the steep defile of Oldcastle +Street. By this time rumour had passed in front of him and run off down +side-streets like water let into an irrigation system. At every corner +was a knot of people, at most windows a face. And the Deputy-Mayor never +spoke nor smiled. The farce was enormous; the memory of it would survive +revolutions and religions. + +Halfway down Oldcastle Street the first disaster happened. Electric +tramways had not then knitted the Five Towns in a network of steel; but +the last word of civilization and refinement was about to be uttered, +and a gang of men were making patterns with wires on the skyscape of +Oldcastle Street. One of the wires, slipping from its temporary gripper, +swirled with an extraordinary sound into the roadway, and writhed there +in spirals. Several of Mr. Curtenty's geese were knocked down, and rose +obviously annoyed; but the Barnacle gander fell with a clinging circle +of wire round his muscular, glossy neck, and did not rise again. It was +a violent, mysterious, agonizing, and sudden death for him, and must +have confirmed his theories about the arbitrariness of things. The +thirteen passed pitilessly on. Mr. Curtenty freed the gander from the +coiling wire, and picked it up, but, finding it far too heavy to carry, +he handed it to a Corporation road-sweeper. + +'I'll send for it,' he said; 'wait here.' + +These were the only words uttered by him during a memorable journey. + +The second disaster was that the deceitful afternoon turned to +rain--cold, cruel rain, persistent rain, full of sinister significance. +Mr. Curtenty ruefully raised the velvet of his Melton. As he did so a +brougham rolled into Oldcastle Street, a little in front of him, from +the direction of St. Peter's Church, and vanished towards Hillport. He +knew the carriage; he had bought it and paid for it. Deep, far down, in +his mind stirred the thought: + +'I'm just the least bit glad she didn't see me.' + +He had the suspicion, which recurs even to optimists, that happiness is +after all a chimera. + +The third disaster was that the sun set and darkness descended. Mr. +Curtenty had, unfortunately, not reckoned with this diurnal phenomenon; +he had not thought upon the undesirability of being under compulsion to +drive geese by the sole illumination of gas-lamps lighted by Corporation +gas. + +After this disasters multiplied. Dark and the rain had transformed the +farce into something else. It was five-thirty when at last he reached +The Firs, and the garden of The Firs was filled with lamentable +complainings of a remnant of geese. His man Pond met him with a +stable-lantern. + +'Damp, sir,' said Pond. + +'Oh, nowt to speak of,' said Mr. Curtenty, and, taking off his hat, he +shot the fluid contents of the brim into Pond's face. It was his way of +dotting the 'i' of irony. 'Missis come in?' + +'Yes, sir; I have but just rubbed the horse down.' + +So far no reference to the surrounding geese, all forlorn in the heavy +winter rain. + +'I've gotten a two-three geese and one gander here for Christmas,' said +Mr. Curtenty after a pause. To inferiors he always used the dialect. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Turn 'em into th' orchard, as you call it.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'They aren't all here. Thou mun put th' horse in the trap and fetch the +rest thysen.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'One's dead. A roadman's takkin' care on it in Oldcastle Street. He'll +wait for thee. Give him sixpence.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another got into th' cut [canal].' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'There's another strayed on the railway-line--happen it's run over by +this.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'And one's making the best of her way to Oldcastle. I couldna coax her +in here.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Collect 'em.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +Mr. Curtenty walked away towards the house. + +'Mester!' Pond called after him, flashing the lantern. + +'Well, lad?' + +'There's no gander i' this lot.' + +'Hast forgotten to count thysen?' Mr. Curtenty answered blithely from +the shelter of the side-door. + +But within himself he was a little crest-fallen to think that the +surviving gander should have escaped his vigilance, even in the +darkness. He had set out to drive the geese home, and he had driven them +home, most of them. He had kept his temper, his dignity, his +cheerfulness. He had got a bargain in geese. So much was indisputable +ground for satisfaction. And yet the feeling of an anticlimax would not +be dismissed. Upon the whole, his transit lacked glory. It had begun in +splendour, but it had ended in discomfort and almost ignominy. +Nevertheless, Mr. Curtenty's unconquerable soul asserted itself in a +quite genuine and tuneful whistle as he entered the house. + +The fate of the Brent gander was never ascertained. + + + +II + +The dining-room of The Firs was a spacious and inviting refectory, which +owed nothing of its charm to William Morris, Regent Street, or the Arts +and Crafts Society. Its triple aim, was richness, solidity, and comfort, +but especially comfort; and this aim was achieved in new oak furniture +of immovable firmness, in a Turkey carpet which swallowed up the feet +like a feather bed, and in large oil-paintings, whose darkly-glinting +frames were a guarantee of their excellence. On a winter's night, as +now, the room was at its richest, solidest, most comfortable. The blue +plush curtains were drawn on their stout brass rods across door and +French window. Finest selected silkstone fizzed and flamed in a patent +grate which had the extraordinary gift of radiating heat into the +apartment instead of up the chimney. The shaded Welsbach lights of the +chandelier cast a dazzling luminance on the tea-table of snow and +silver, while leaving the pictures in a gloom so discreet that not +Ruskin himself could have decided whether these were by Whistler or +Peter Paul Rubens. On either side of the marble mantelpiece were two +easy-chairs of an immense, incredible capacity, chairs of crimson plush +for Titans, chairs softer than moss, more pliant than a loving heart, +more enveloping than a caress. In one of these chairs, that to the left +of the fireplace, Mr. Curtenty was accustomed to snore every Saturday +and Sunday afternoon, and almost every evening. The other was usually +empty, but to-night it was occupied by Mrs. Curtenty, the jewel of the +casket. In the presence of her husband she always used a small +rocking-chair of ebonized cane. + +To glance at this short, slight, yet plump little creature as she +reclined crosswise in the vast chair, leaving great spaces of the seat +unfilled, was to think rapturously to one's self: _This is a woman_. Her +fluffy head was such a dot against the back of the chair, the curve of +her chubby ringed hand above the head was so adorable, her black eyes +were so provocative, her slippered feet so wee--yes, and there was +something so mysteriously thrilling about the fall of her skirt that you +knew instantly her name was Clara, her temper both fiery and obstinate, +and her personality distracting. You knew that she was one of those +women of frail physique who can endure fatigues that would destroy a +camel; one of those daemonic women capable of doing without sleep for ten +nights in order to nurse you; capable of dying and seeing you die +rather than give way about the tint of a necktie; capable of laughter +and tears simultaneously; capable of never being in the wrong except for +the idle whim of so being. She had a big mouth and very wide nostrils, +and her years were thirty-five. It was no matter; it would have been no +matter had she been a hundred and thirty-five. In short.... + +Clara Curtenty wore tight-fitting black silk, with a long gold chain +that descended from her neck nearly to her waist, and was looped up in +the middle to an old-fashioned gold brooch. She was in mourning for a +distant relative. Black pre-eminently suited her. Consequently her +distant relatives died at frequent intervals. + +The basalt clock on the mantelpiece trembled and burst into the song of +six. Clara Curtenty rose swiftly from the easy-chair, and took her seat +in front of the tea-tray. Almost at the same moment a neat +black-and-white parlourmaid brought in teapot, copper kettle, and a +silver-covered dish containing hot pikelets; then departed. Clara was +alone again; not the same Clara now, but a personage demure, prim, +precise, frightfully upright of back--a sort of impregnable +stronghold--without doubt a Deputy-Mayoress. + +At five past six Josiah Curtenty entered the room, radiant from a hot +bath, and happy in dry clothes--a fine, if mature, figure of a man. His +presence filled the whole room. + +'Well, my chuck!' he said, and kissed her on the cheek. + +She gazed at him with a look that might mean anything. Did she raise her +cheek to his greeting, or was it fancy that she had endured, rather than +accepted, his kiss? He was scarcely sure. And if she had endured instead +of accepting the kiss, was her mood to be attributed to his lateness for +tea, or to the fact that she was aware of the episode of the geese? He +could not divine. + +'Pikelets! Good!' he exclaimed, taking the cover off the dish. + +This strong, successful, and dominant man adored his wife, and went in +fear of her. She was his first love, but his second spouse. They had +been married ten years. In those ten years they had quarrelled only five +times, and she had changed the very colour of his life. Till his second +marriage he had boasted that he belonged to the people and retained the +habits of the people. Clara, though she also belonged to the people, +very soon altered all that. Clara had a passion for the genteel. Like +many warm-hearted, honest, clever, and otherwise sensible persons, Clara +was a snob, but a charming little snob. She ordered him to forget that +he belonged to the people. She refused to listen when he talked in the +dialect. She made him dress with opulence, and even with tidiness; she +made him buy a fashionable house and fill it with fine furniture; she +made him buy a brougham in which her gentility could pay calls and do +shopping (she shopped in Oldcastle, where a decrepit aristocracy of +tradesmen sneered at Hanbridge's lack of style); she had her 'day'; she +taught the servants to enter the reception-rooms without knocking; she +took tea in bed in the morning, and tea in the afternoon in the +drawing-room. She would have instituted dinner at seven, but she was a +wise woman, and realized that too much tyranny often means revolution +and the crumbling of-thrones; therefore the ancient plebeian custom of +high tea at six was allowed to persist and continue. + +She it was who had compelled Josiah (or bewitched, beguiled, coaxed and +wheedled him), after a public refusal, to accept the unusual post of +Deputy-Mayor. In two years' time he might count on being Mayor. Why, +then, should Clara have been so anxious for this secondary dignity? +Because, in that year of royal festival, Bursley, in common with many +other boroughs, had had a fancy to choose a Mayor out of the House of +Lords. The Earl of Chell, a magnate of the county, had consented to wear +the mayoral chain and dispense the mayoral hospitalities on condition +that he was provided with a deputy for daily use. + +It was the idea of herself being deputy to the lovely, meddlesome, and +arrogant Countess of Chell that had appealed to Clara. + +The deputy of a Countess at length spoke. + +'Will Harry be late at the works again to-night?' she asked in her +colder, small-talk manner, which committed her to nothing, as Josiah +well knew. + +Her way of saying that word 'Harry' was inimitably significant. She gave +it an air. She liked Harry, and she liked Harry's name, because it had a +Kensingtonian sound. Harry, so accomplished in business, was also a +dandy, and he was a dog. 'My stepson'--she loved to introduce him, so +tall, manly, distinguished, and dandiacal. Harry, enriched by his own +mother, belonged to a London club; he ran down to Llandudno for +week-ends; and it was reported that he had been behind the scenes at the +Alhambra. Clara felt for the word 'Harry' the unreasoning affection +which most women lavish on 'George.' + +'Like as not,' said Josiah. 'I haven't been to the works this +afternoon.' + +Another silence fell, and then Josiah, feeling himself unable to bear +any further suspense as to his wife's real mood and temper, suddenly +determined to tell her all about the geese, and know the worst. And +precisely at the instant that he opened his mouth, the maid opened the +door and announced: + +'Mr. Duncalf wishes to see you at once, sir. He won't keep you a +minute.' + +'Ask him in here, Mary,' said the Deputy-Mayoress sweetly; 'and bring +another cup and saucer.' + +Mr. Duncalf was the Town Clerk of Bursley: legal, portly, dry, and a +little shy. + +'I won't stop, Curtenty. How d'ye do, Mrs. Curtenty? No, thanks, +really----' But she, smiling, exquisitely gracious, flattered and +smoothed him into a chair. + +'Any interesting news, Mr. Duncalf?' she said, and added: 'But we're +glad that _anything_ should have brought you in.' + +'Well,' said Duncalf, 'I've just had a letter by the afternoon post from +Lord Chell.' + +'Oh, the Earl! Indeed; how very interesting.' + +'What's he after?' inquired Josiah cautiously. + +'He says he's just been appointed Governor of East +Australia--announcement 'll be in to-morrow's papers--and so he must +regretfully resign the mayoralty. Says he'll pay the fine, but of course +we shall have to remit that by special resolution of the Council.' + +'Well, I'm damned!' Josiah exclaimed. + +'Topham!' Mrs. Curtenty remonstrated, but with a delightful acquitting +dimple. She never would call him Josiah, much less Jos. Topham came more +easily to her lips, and sometimes Top. + +'Your husband,' said Mr. Duncalf impressively to Clara, 'will, of +course, have to step into the Mayor's shoes, and you'll have to fill +the place of the Countess.' He paused, and added: 'And very well you'll +do it, too--very well. Nobody better.' + +The Town Clerk frankly admired Clara. + +'Mr. Duncalf--Mr. Duncalf!' She raised a finger at him. 'You are the +most shameless flatterer in the town.' + +The flatterer was flattered. Having delivered the weighty news, he had +leisure to savour his own importance as the bearer of it. He drank a cup +of tea. Josiah was thoughtful, but Clara brimmed over with a fascinating +loquacity. Then Mr. Duncalf said that he must really be going, and, +having arranged with the Mayor-elect to call a special meeting of the +Council at once, he did go, all the while wishing he had the enterprise +to stay. + +Josiah accompanied him to the front-door. The sky had now cleared. + +'Thank ye for calling,' said the host. + +'Oh, that's all right. Good-night, Curtenty. Got that goose out of the +canal?' + +So the story was all abroad! + +Josiah returned to the dining-room, imperceptibly smiling. At the door +the sight of his wife halted him. The face of that precious and +adorable woman flamed out lightning and all menace and offence. Her +louring eyes showed what a triumph of dissimulation she must have +achieved in the presence of Mr. Duncalf, but now she could speak her +mind. + +'Yes, Topham!' she exploded, as though finishing an harangue. 'And on +this day of all days you choose to drive geese in the public road behind +my carriage!' + +Jos was stupefied, annihilated. + +'Did you see me, then, Clarry?' + +He vainly tried to carry it off. + +'Did I see you? Of course I saw you!' + +She withered him up with the hot wind of scorn. + +'Well,' he said foolishly, 'how was I to know that the Earl would resign +just to-day?' + +'How were you to----?' + +Harry came in for his tea. He glanced from one to the other, discreet, +silent. On the way home he had heard the tale of the geese in seven +different forms. The Deputy-Mayor, so soon to be Mayor, walked out of +the room. + +'Pond has just come back, father,' said Harry; 'I drove up the hill +with him.' + +And as Josiah hesitated a moment in the hall, he heard Clara exclaim, +'Oh, Harry!' + +'Damn!' he murmured. + + + +III + +The _Signal_ of the following day contained the announcement which Mr. +Duncalf had forecast; it also stated, on authority, that Mr. Josiah +Curtenty would wear the mayoral chain of Bursley immediately, and added +as its own private opinion that, in default of the Right Honourable the +Earl of Chell and his Countess, no better 'civic heads' could have been +found than Mr. Curtenty and his charming wife. So far the tone of the +_Signal_ was unimpeachable. But underneath all this was a sub-title, +'Amusing Exploit of the Mayor-elect,' followed by an amusing description +of the procession of the geese, a description which concluded by +referring to Mr. Curtenty as His Worship the Goosedriver. + +Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, and Turnhill laughed heartily, and perhaps a +little viciously, at this paragraph, but Bursley was annoyed by it. In +print the affair did not look at all well. Bursley prided itself on +possessing a unique dignity as the 'Mother of the Five Towns,' and to be +presided over by a goosedriver, however humorous and hospitable he might +be, did not consort with that dignity. A certain Mayor of Longshaw, +years before, had driven a sow to market, and derived a tremendous +advertisement therefrom, but Bursley had no wish to rival Longshaw in +any particular. Bursley regarded Longshaw as the Inferno of the Five +Towns. In Bursley you were bidden to go to Longshaw as you were bidden +to go to ... Certain acute people in Hillport saw nothing but a +paralyzing insult in the opinion of the _Signal_ (first and foremost a +Hanbridge organ), that Bursley could find no better civic head than +Josiah Curtenty. At least three Aldermen and seven Councillors +privately, and in the Tiger, disagreed with any such view of Bursley's +capacity to find heads. + +And underneath all this brooding dissatisfaction lurked the thought, as +the alligator lurks in a muddy river, that 'the Earl wouldn't like +it'--meaning the geese episode. It was generally felt that the Earl had +been badly treated by Jos Curtenty. The town could not explain its +sentiments--could not argue about them. They were not, in fact, capable +of logical justification; but they were there, they violently existed. +It would have been useless to point out that if the inimitable Jos had +not been called to the mayoralty the episode of the geese would have +passed as a gorgeous joke; that everyone had been vastly amused by it +until that desolating issue of the _Signal_ announced the Earl's +retirement; that Jos Curtenty could not possibly have foreseen what was +about to happen; and that, anyhow, goosedriving was less a crime than a +social solecism, and less a social solecism than a brilliant +eccentricity. Bursley was hurt, and logic is no balm for wounds. + +Some may ask: If Bursley was offended, why did it not mark its sense of +Josiah's failure to read the future by electing another Mayor? The +answer is, that while all were agreed that his antic was inexcusable, +all were equally agreed to pretend that it was a mere trifle of no +importance; you cannot deprive a man of his prescriptive right for a +mere trifle of no importance. Besides, nobody could be so foolish as to +imagine that goosedriving, though reprehensible in a Mayor about to +succeed an Earl, is an act of which official notice can be taken. + +The most curious thing in the whole imbroglio is that Josiah Curtenty +secretly agreed with his wife and the town. He was ashamed, overset. His +procession of geese appeared to him in an entirely new light, and he had +the strength of mind to admit to himself, 'I've made a fool of myself.' + +Harry went to London for a week, and Josiah, under plea of his son's +absence, spent eight hours a day at the works. The brougham remained in +the coach-house. + +The Town Council duly met in special conclave, and Josiah Topham +Curtenty became Mayor of Bursley. + +Shortly after Christmas it was announced that the Mayor and Mayoress had +decided to give a New Year's treat to four hundred poor old people in +the St. Luke's covered market. It was also spread about that this treat +would eclipse and extinguish all previous treats of a similar nature, +and that it might be accepted as some slight foretaste of the +hospitality which the Mayor and Mayoress would dispense in that +memorable year of royal festival. The treat was to occur on January 9, +the Mayoress's birthday. + +On January 7 Josiah happened to go home early. He was proceeding into +the drawing-room without enthusiasm to greet his wife, when he heard +voices within; and one voice was the voice of Gas Gordon. + +Jos stood still. It has been mentioned that Gordon and the Mayor were in +love with the same woman. The Mayor had easily captured her under the +very guns of his not formidable rival, and he had always thereafter felt +a kind of benevolent, good-humoured, contemptuous pity for +Gordon--Gordon, whose life was a tragic blank; Gordon, who lived, a +melancholy and defeated bachelor, with his mother and two unmarried +sisters older than himself. That Gordon still worshipped at the shrine +did not disturb him; on the contrary, it pleased him. Poor Gordon! + +'But, really, Mrs. Curtenty,' Gordon was saying--'really, you know +I--that--is--really--' + +'To please me!' Mrs. Curtenty entreated, with a seductive charm that +Jos felt even outside the door. + +Then there was a pause. + +'Very well,' said Gordon. + +Mr. Curtenty tiptoed away and back into the street. He walked in the +dark nearly to Oldcastle, and returned about six o'clock. But Clara said +no word of Gordon's visit. She had scarcely spoken to Topham for three +weeks. + +The next morning, as Harry was departing to the works, Mrs. Curtenty +followed the handsome youth into the hall. + +'Harry,' she whispered, 'bring me two ten-pound notes this afternoon, +will you, and say nothing to your father.' + + + +IV + +Gas Gordon was to be on the platform at the poor people's treat. As he +walked down Trafalgar Road his eye caught a still-exposed fragment of a +decayed bill on a hoarding. It referred to a meeting of the local branch +of the Anti-Gambling League a year ago in the lecture-hall of the +Wesleyan Chapel, and it said that Councillor Gordon would occupy the +chair on that occasion. Mechanically Councillor Gordon stopped and tore +the fragment away from the hoarding. + +The treat, which took the form of a dinner, was an unqualified success; +it surpassed all expectations. Even the diners themselves were +satisfied--a rare thing at such affairs. Goose was a prominent item in +the menu. After the repast the replete guests were entertained from the +platform, the Mayor being, of course, in the chair. Harry sang 'In Old +Madrid,' accompanied by his stepmother, with faultless expression. Mr. +Duncalf astonished everybody with the famous North-Country recitation, +'The Patent Hair-brushing Mashane.' There were also a banjo solo, a +skirt dance of discretion, and a campanological turn. At last, towards +ten o'clock, Mr. Gordon, who had hitherto done nothing, rose in his +place, amid good-natured cries of 'Gas!' + +'I feel sure you will all agree with me,' he began, 'that this evening +would not be complete without a vote of thanks--a very hearty vote of +thanks--to our excellent host and chairman.' + +Ear-splitting applause. + +'I've got a little story to tell you,' he continued--'a story that up +to this moment has been a close secret between his Worship the Mayor and +myself.' His Worship looked up sharply at the speaker. 'You've heard +about some geese, I reckon. (_Laughter_.) Well, you've not heard all, +but I'm going to tell you. I can't keep it to myself any longer. You +think his Worship drove those geese--I hope they're digesting well +(_loud laughter_)--just for fun. He didn't. I was with him when he +bought them, and I happened to say that goosedriving was a very +difficult accomplishment.' + +'Depends on the geese!' shouted a voice. + +'Yes, it does,' Mr. Gordon admitted. 'Well, his Worship contradicted me, +and we had a bit of an argument. I don't bet, as you know--at least, not +often--but I don't mind confessing that I offered to bet him a sovereign +he couldn't drive his geese half a mile. "Look here, Gordon," he said to +me: "there's a lot of distress in the town just now--trade bad, and so +on, and so on. I'll lay you a level ten pounds I drive these geese to +Hillport myself, the loser to give the money to charity." "Done," I +said. "Don't say anything about it," he says. "I won't," I says--but I +am doing. (_Applause_.) I feel it my duty to say something about it. +(_More applause_.) Well, I lost, as you all know. He drove 'em to +Hillport. ('_Good old Jos!_') That's not all. The Mayor insisted on +putting his own ten pounds to mine and making it twenty. Here are the +two identical notes, his and mine.' Mr. Gordon waved the identical notes +amid an uproar. 'We've decided that everyone who has dined here to-night +shall receive a brand-new shilling. I see Mr. Septimus Lovatt from the +bank there with a bag. He will attend to you as you go out. (_Wild +outbreak and tumult of rapturous applause_.) And now three cheers for +your Mayor--and Mayoress!' + +It was colossal, the enthusiasm. + +'_And_ for Gas Gordon!' called several voices. + +The cheers rose again in surging waves. + +Everyone remarked that the Mayor, usually so imperturbable, was quite +overcome--seemed as if he didn't know where to look. + +Afterwards, as the occupants of the platform descended, Mr. Gordon +glanced into the eyes of Mrs. Curtenty, and found there his exceeding +reward. The mediocrity had blossomed out that evening into something new +and strange. Liar, deliberate liar and self-accused gambler as he was, +he felt that he had lived during that speech; he felt that it was the +supreme moment of his life. + +'What a perfectly wonderful man your husband is!' said Mrs. Duncalf to +Mrs. Curtenty. + +Clara turned to her husband with a sublime gesture of satisfaction. In +the brougham, going home, she bewitched him with wifely endearments. She +could afford to do so. The stigma of the geese episode was erased. + +But the barmaid of the Tiger, as she let down her bright hair that night +in the attic of the Tiger, said to herself, 'Well, of all the----' Just +that. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH + + +It was Monday afternoon of Bursley Wakes--not our modern rectified +festival, but the wild and naive orgy of seventy years ago, the days of +bear-baiting and of bull-baiting, from which latter phrase, they say, +the town derives its name. In those times there was a town-bull, a sort +of civic beast; and a certain notorious character kept a bear in his +pantry. The 'beating' (baiting) occurred usually on Sunday mornings at +six o'clock, with formidable hungry dogs; and little boys used to look +forward eagerly to the day when they would be old enough to be permitted +to attend. On Sunday afternoons colliers and potters, gathered round the +jawbone of a whale which then stood as a natural curiosity on the waste +space near the corn-mill, would discuss the fray, and make bets for next +Sunday, while the exhausted dogs licked their wounds, or died. During +the Wakes week bull and bear were baited at frequent intervals, +according to popular demand, for thousands of sportsmen from +neighbouring villages seized the opportunity of the fair to witness the +fine beatings for which Bursley was famous throughout the country of the +Five Towns. In that week the Wakes took possession of the town, which +yielded itself with savage abandonment to all the frenzies of license. +The public-houses remained continuously open night and day, and the +barmen and barmaids never went to bed; every inn engaged special +'talent' in order to attract custom, and for a hundred hours the whole +thronged town drank, drank, until the supply of coin of George IV., +converging gradually into the coffers of a few persons, ceased to +circulate. Towards the end of the Wakes, by way of a last ecstasy, the +cockfighters would carry their birds, which had already fought and been +called off, perhaps, half a dozen times, to the town-field (where the +discreet 40 per cent. brewery now stands), and there match them to a +finish. It was a spacious age. + +On this Monday afternoon in June the less fervid activities of the +Wakes were proceeding as usual in the market-place, overshadowed by the +Town Hall--not the present stone structure with its gold angel, but a +brick edifice built on an ashlar basement. Hobby-horses and revolving +swing-boats, propelled, with admirable economy to the proprietors, by +privileged boys who took their pay in an occasional ride, competed +successfully with the skeleton man, the fat or bearded woman, and Aunt +Sally. The long toy-tents, artfully roofed with a tinted cloth which +permitted only a soft, mellow light to illuminate the wares displayed, +were crowded with jostling youth and full of the sound of whistles, +'squarkers,' and various pipes; and multitudes surrounded the +gingerbread, nut, and savoury stalls which lined both sides of the +roadway as far as Duck Bank. In front of the numerous boxing-booths +experts of the 'fancy,' obviously out of condition, offered to fight all +comers, and were not seldom well thrashed by impetuous champions of +local fame. There were no photographic studios and no cocoanut-shies, +for these things had not been thought of; and to us moderns the fair, +despite its uncontrolled exuberance of revelry, would have seemed +strangely quiet, since neither steam-organ nor hooter nor hurdy-gurdy +was there to overwhelm the ear with crashing waves of gigantic sound. +But if the special phenomena of a later day were missing from the +carnival, others, as astonishing to us as the steam-organ would have +been to those uncouth roisterers, were certainly present. Chief, +perhaps, among these was the man who retailed the elixir of youth, the +veritable _eau de jouvence_, to credulous drinkers at sixpence a bottle. +This magician, whose dark mysterious face and glittering eyes indicated +a strain of Romany blood, and whose accent proved that he had at any +rate lived much in Yorkshire, had a small booth opposite the watch-house +under the Town Hall. On a banner suspended in front of it was painted +the legend: + + THE INCA OF PERU'S + ELIXER OF YOUTH + SOLD HERE. + ETERNAL YOUTH FOR ALL. + DRINK THIS AND YOU WILL NEVER GROW OLD + AS SUPPLIED TO THE NOBILITY & GENTRY + SIXPENCE PER BOT. + WALK IN, WALK IN, & + CONSULT THE INCA OF PERU. + +The Inca of Peru, dressed in black velveteens, with a brilliant scarf +round his neck, stood at the door of his tent, holding an empty glass in +one jewelled hand, and with the other twirling a long and silken +moustache. Handsome, graceful, and thoroughly inured to the public gaze, +he fronted a small circle of gapers like an actor adroit to make the +best of himself, and his tongue wagged fast enough to wag a man's leg +off. At a casual glance he might have been taken for thirty, but his age +was fifty and more--if you could catch him in the morning before he had +put the paint on. + +'Ladies and gentlemen of Bursley, this enlightened and beautiful town +which I am now visiting for the first time,' he began in a hard, +metallic voice, employing again with the glib accuracy of a machine the +exact phrases which he had been using all day, 'look at me--look well at +me. How old do you think I am? How old do I seem? Twenty, my dear, do +you say?' and he turned with practised insolence to a pot-girl in a red +shawl who could not have uttered an audible word to save her soul, but +who blushed and giggled with pleasure at this mark of attention. 'Ah! +you flatter, fair maiden! I look more than twenty, but I think I may +say that I do not look thirty. Does any lady or gentleman think I look +thirty? No! As a matter of fact, I was twenty-nine years of age when, in +South America, while exploring the ruins of the most ancient +civilization of the world--of the world, ladies and gentlemen--I made my +wonderful discovery, the Elixir of Youth!' + +'What art blethering at, Licksy?' a drunken man called from the back of +the crowd, and the nickname stuck to the great discoverer during the +rest of the Wakes. + +'That, ladies and gentlemen,' the Inca of Peru continued unperturbed, +'was--seventy-two years ago. I am now a hundred and one years old +precisely, and as fresh as a kitten, all along of my marvellous elixir. +Far older, for instance, than this good dame here.' + +He pointed to an aged and wrinkled woman, in blue cotton and a white +mutch, who was placidly smoking a short cutty. This creature, bowed and +satiate with monotonous years, took the pipe from her indrawn lips, and +asked in a weary, trembling falsetto: + +'How many wives hast had?' + +'Seventane,' the Inca retorted quickly, dropping at once into broad +dialect, 'and now lone and lookin' to wed again. Wilt have me?' + +'Nay,' replied the crone. 'I've buried four mysen, and no man o' mine +shall bury me.' + +There was a burst of laughter, amid which the Inca, taking the crowd +archly into his confidence, remarked: + +'I've never administered my elixir to any of my wives, ladies and +gentlemen. You may blame me, but I freely confess the fact;' and he +winked. + +'Licksy! Licksy!' the drunken man idiotically chanted. + +'And now,' the Inca proceeded, coming at length to the practical part of +his ovation, 'see here!' With the rapidity of a conjurer he whipped from +his pocket a small bottle, and held it up before the increasing +audience. It contained a reddish fluid, which shone bright and rich in +the sunlight. 'See here!' he cried magnificently, but he was destined to +interruption. + +A sudden cry arose of 'Black Jack! Black Jack! 'Tis him! He's caught!' +And the Inca's crowd, together with all the other crowds filling the +market-place, surged off eastward in a dense, struggling mass. + +The cynosure of every eye was a springless clay-cart, which was being +slowly driven past the newly-erected 'big house' of Enoch Wood, Esquire, +towards the Town Hall. In this, cart were two constables, with their +painted staves drawn, and between the constables sat a man securely +chained--Black Jack of Moorthorne, the mining village which lies over +the ridge a mile or so east of Bursley. The captive was a ferocious and +splendid young Hercules, tall, with enormous limbs and hands and heavy +black brows. He was dressed in his soiled working attire of a collier, +the trousers strapped under the knees, and his feet shod in vast clogs. +With open throat, small head, great jaws, and bold beady eyes, he looked +what he was, the superb brute--the brute reckless of all save the +instant satisfaction of his desires. He came of a family of colliers, +the most debased class in a lawless district. Jack's father had been a +colliery-serf, legally enslaved to his colliery, legally liable to be +sold with the colliery as a chattel, and legally bound to bring up all +his sons as colliers, until the Act of George III. put an end to this +incredible survival from the customs of the Dark Ages. Black Jack was +now a hero to the crowd, and knew it, for those vast clogs had kicked a +woman to death on the previous day. She was a Moorthorne woman, not his +wife, but his sweetheart, older than he; people said that she nagged +him, and that he was tired of her. The murderer had hidden for a night, +and then, defiantly, surrendered to the watch, and the watch were taking +him to the watch-house in the ashlar basement of the Town Hall. The +feeble horse between the shafts of the cart moved with difficulty +through the press, and often the coloured staves of the constables came +down thwack on the heads of heedless youth. At length the cart reached +the space between the watch-house and the tent of the Inca of Peru, +where it stopped while the constables unlocked a massive door; the +prisoner remained proudly in the cart, accepting, with obvious delight, +the tribute of cheers and jeers, hoots and shouts, from five thousand +mouths. + +The Inca of Peru stood at the door of his tent and surveyed Black Jack, +who was not more than a few feet away from him. + +'Have a glass of my elixir,' he said to the death-dealer; 'no one in +this town needs it more than thee, by all accounts. Have a glass, and +live for ever. Only sixpence.' + +The man in the cart laughed aloud. + +'I've nowt on me--not a farden,' he answered, in a strong grating voice. + +At that moment a girl, half hidden by the cart, sprang forward, offering +something in her outstretched palm to the Inca; but he, misunderstanding +her intention, merely glanced with passing interest at her face, and +returned his gaze to the prisoner. + +'I'll give thee a glass, lad,' he said quickly, 'and then thou canst +defy Jack Ketch.' + +The crowd yelled with excitement, and the murderer held forth his great +hand for the potion. Using every art to enhance the effect of this +dramatic advertisement, the Inca of Peru raised his bottle on high, and +said in a loud, impressive tone: + +'This precious liquid has the property, possessed by no other liquid on +earth, of frothing twice. I shall pour it into the glass, and it will +froth. Black Jack will drink it, and after he has drunk it will froth +again. Observe!' + +He uncorked the bottle and filled the glass with the reddish fluid, +which after a few seconds duly effervesced, to the vague wonder of the +populace. The Inca held the glass till the froth had subsided, and then +solemnly gave it to Black Jack. + +'Drink!' commanded the Inca. + +Black Jack took the draught at a gulp, and instantly flung the glass at +the Inca's face. It missed him, however. There were signs of a fracas, +but the door of the watch-house swung opportunely open, and Jack was +dragged from the cart and hustled within. The crowd, with a crowd's +fickleness, turned to other affairs. + +That evening the ingenious Inca of Peru did good trade for several +hours, but towards eleven o'clock the attraction of the public-houses +and of a grand special combined bull and bear beating by moonlight in +the large yard of the Cock Inn drew away the circle of his customers +until there was none left. He retired inside the tent with several +pounds in his pocket and a god's consciousness of having made immortal +many of the sons and daughters of Adam. + +As he was counting out his gains on the tub of eternal youth by the +flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and stealthily +entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, which was +sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the young girl who +had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black Jack his priceless +boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing interest several times +during the evening as she loitered restless near the door of the +watch-house. + +'What do you want?' he asked her, with the ingratiating affability of +the rake who foresees everything. + +'Give me a drink.' + +'A drink of what, my dear?' + +'Licksy.' + +He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a kind of +face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out of ten, but +which will haunt the tenth: a child's face with a passionate woman's +eyes burning and dying in it--black hair, black eyes, thin pale cheeks, +equine nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin +conceivable. He smiled at her, pleased. + +'Can you pay for it?' he said pleasantly. + +The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, uncovered +head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of hardship and +neglect. + +'I've a silver groat,' she answered, and closed her small fist tighter. + +'A silver groat!' he exclaimed, rather astonished. 'Where did you get +that from?' + +'He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.' + +'Who?' + +'Him yonder'--she jerked her head back to indicate the +watch-house--'Black Jack.' + +'What for?' + +'He kissed me,' she said boldly; 'I'm his sweetheart.' + +'Eh!' The Inca paused a moment, startled. 'But he killed his sweetheart +yesterday.' + +'What! Meg!' the girl exclaimed with deep scorn. 'Her weren't his true +sweetheart. Her druv him to it. Serve her well right! Owd Meg!' + +'How old are you, my dear?' + +'Don't know. But feyther said last Wakes I was fourtane. I mun keep +young for Jack. He wunna have me if I'm owd.' + +'But he'll be hanged, they say.' + +She gave a short, satisfied laugh. + +'Not now he's drunk Licksy--hangman won't get him. I heard a man say +Jack 'd get off wi' twenty year for manslaughter, most like.' + +'And you'll wait twenty years for him?' + +'Yes,' she said; 'I'll meet him at prison gates. But I mun be young. +Give me a drink o' Licksy.' + +He drew the red draught in silence, and after it had effervesced offered +it to her. + +''Tis raight?' she questioned, taking the glass. + +The Inca nodded, and, lifting the vessel, she opened her eager lips and +became immortal. It was the first time in her life that she had drunk +out of a glass, and it would be the last. + +Struck dumb by the trusting joy in those profound eyes, the Inca took +the empty glass from her trembling hand. Frail organism and prey of +love! Passion had surprised her too young. Noon had come before the +flower could open. She went out of the tent. + +'Wench!' the Inca called after her, 'thy groat!' + +She paid him and stood aimless for a second, and then started to cross +the roadway. Simultaneously there was a rush and a roar from the Cock +yard close by. The raging bull, dragging its ropes, and followed by a +crowd of alarmed pursuers, dashed out. The girl was plain in the +moonlight. Many others were abroad, but the bull seemed to see nothing +but her, and, lowering his huge head, he charged with shut eyes and +flung her over the Inca's booth. + +'Thou's gotten thy wish: thou'rt young for ever!' the Inca of Peru, made +a poet for an instant by this disaster, murmured to himself as he bent +with the curious crowd over the corpse. + +Black Jack was hanged. + +Many years after all this Bursley built itself a new Town Hall (with a +spire, and a gold angel on the top in the act of crowning the bailiwick +with a gold crown), and began to think about getting up in the world. + + * * * * * + + + + +MARY WITH THE HIGH HAND + + +In the front-bedroom of Edward Beechinor's small house in Trafalgar Road +the two primary social forces of action and reaction--those forces which +under a thousand names and disguises have alternately ruled the world +since the invention of politics--were pitted against each other in a +struggle rendered futile by the equality of the combatants. Edward +Beechinor had his money, his superior age, and the possible advantage of +being a dying man; Mark Beechinor had his youth and his devotion to an +ideal. Near the window, aloof and apart, stood the strange, silent girl +whose aroused individuality was to intervene with such effectiveness on +behalf of one of the antagonists. It was early dusk on an autumn day. + +'Tell me what it is you want, Edward,' said Mark quietly. 'Let us come +to the point.' + +'Ay,' said the sufferer, lifting his pale hand from the counterpane, +'I'll tell thee.' + +He moistened his lips as if in preparation, and pushed back a tuft of +sparse gray hair, damp with sweat. + +The physical and moral contrast between these two brothers was complete. +Edward was forty-nine, a small, thin, stunted man, with a look of narrow +cunning, of petty shrewdness working without imagination. He had been +clerk to Lawyer Ford for thirty-five years, and had also furtively +practised for himself. During this period his mode of life had never +varied, save once, and that only a year ago. At the age of fourteen he +sat in a grimy room with an old man on one side of him, a copying-press +on the other, and a law-stationer's almanac in front, and he earned half +a crown a week. At the age of forty-eight he still sat in the same grimy +room (of which the ceiling had meanwhile been whitened three times), +with the same copying-press and the almanac of the same law-stationers, +and he earned thirty shillings a week. But now he, Edward Beechinor, was +the old man, and the indispensable lad of fourteen, who had once been +himself, was another lad, perhaps thirtieth of the dynasty of +office-boys. Throughout this interminable and sterile desert of time he +had drawn the same deeds, issued the same writs, written the same +letters, kept the same accounts, lied the same lies, and thought the +same thoughts. He had learnt nothing except craft, and forgotten nothing +except happiness. He had never married, never loved, never been a rake, +nor deviated from respectability. He was a success because he had +conceived an object, and by sheer persistence attained it. In the eyes +of Bursley people he was a very decent fellow, a steady fellow, a +confirmed bachelor, a close un, a knowing customer, a curmudgeon, an +excellent clerk, a narrow-minded ass, a good Wesleyan, a thrifty +individual, and an intelligent burgess--according to the point of view. +The lifelong operation of rigorous habit had sunk him into a groove as +deep as the canon of some American river. His ideas on every subject +were eternally and immutably fixed, and, without being altogether aware +of it, he was part of the solid foundation of England's greatness. In +1892, when the whole of the Five Towns was agitated by the great probate +case of Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, in which Mr. Ford acted for the +defendants, Beechinor, then aged forty-eight, was torn from his stool +and sent out to Rio de Janeiro as part of a commission to take the +evidence of an important witness who had declined all offers to come +home. + +The old clerk was full of pride and self-importance at being thus +selected, but secretly he shrank from the journey, the mere idea of +which filled him with vague apprehension and alarm. His nature had lost +all its adaptability; he trembled like a young girl at the prospect of +new experiences. On the return voyage the vessel was quarantined at +Liverpool for a fortnight, and Beechinor had an attack of low fever. +Eight months afterwards he was ill again. Beechinor went to bed for the +last time, cursing Providence, Wilbraham _v._ Wilbraham, and Rio. + +Mark Beechinor was thirty, just nineteen years younger than his brother. +Tall, uncouth, big-boned, he had a rather ferocious and forbidding +aspect; yet all women seemed to like him, despite the fact that he +seldom could open his mouth to them. There must have been something in +his wild and liquid dark eyes which mutely appealed for their protective +sympathy, something about him of shy and wistful romance that atoned for +the huge awkwardness of this taciturn elephant. Mark was at present the +manager of a small china manufactory at Longshaw, the farthest of the +Five Towns in Staffordshire, and five miles from Bursley. He was an +exceptionally clever potter, but he never made money. He had the dreamy +temperament of the inventor. He was a man of ideas, the kind of man who +is capable of forgetting that he has not had his dinner, and who can +live apparently content amid the grossest domestic neglect. He had once +spoilt a hundred and fifty pounds' worth of ware by firing it in a new +kiln of his own contrivance; it cost him three years of atrocious +parsimony to pay for the ware and the building of the kiln. He was +impulsively and recklessly charitable, and his Saturday afternoons and +Sundays were chiefly devoted to the passionate propagandism of the +theories of liberty, equality, and fraternity. + +'Is it true as thou'rt for marrying Sammy Mellor's daughter over at +Hanbridge?' Edward Beechinor asked, in the feeble, tremulous voice of +one agonized by continual pain. + +Among relatives and acquaintances he commonly spoke the Five Towns +dialect, reserving the other English for official use. + +Mark stood at the foot of the bed, leaning with his elbows on the brass +rail. Like most men, he always felt extremely nervous and foolish in a +sick-room, and the delicacy of this question, so bluntly put, added to +his embarrassment. He looked round timidly in the direction of the girl +at the window; her back was towards him. + +'It's possible,' he replied. 'I haven't asked her yet.' + +'Her'll have no money?' + +'No.' + +'Thou'lt want some brass to set up with. Look thee here, Mark: I made my +will seven years ago i' thy favour.' + +'Thank ye,' said Mark gratefully. + +'But that,' the dying man continued with a frown--'that was afore +thou'dst taken up with these socialistic doctrines o' thine. I've heard +as thou'rt going to be th' secretary o' the Hanbridge Labour Church, as +they call it.' + +Hanbridge is the metropolis of the Five Towns, and its Labour Church is +the most audacious and influential of all the local activities, half +secret, but relentlessly determined, whose aim is to establish the new +democratic heaven and the new democratic earth by means of a gradual and +bloodless revolution. Edward Beechinor uttered its abhorred name with a +bitter and scornful hatred characteristic of the Toryism of a man who, +having climbed high up out of the crowd, fiercely resents any widening +or smoothing of the difficult path which he himself has conquered. + +'They've asked me to take the post,' Mark answered. + +'What's the wages?' the older man asked, with exasperated sarcasm. + +'Nothing.' + +'Mark, lad,' the other said, softening, 'I'm worth seven hundred pounds +and this freehold house. What dost think o' that?' + +Even in that moment, with the world and its riches slipping away from +his dying grasp, the contemplation of this great achievement of thrift +filled Edward Beechinor with a sublime satisfaction. That sum of seven +hundred pounds, which many men would dissipate in a single night, and +forget the next morning that they had done so, seemed vast and almost +incredible to him. + +'I know you've always been very careful,' said Mark politely. + +'Give up this old Labour Church'--again old Beechinor laid a withering +emphasis on the phrase--'give up this Labour Church, and its all +thine--house and all.' + +Mark shook his head. + +'Think twice,' the sick man ordered angrily. 'I tell thee thou'rt +standing to lose every shilling.' + +'I must manage without it, then.' + +A silence fell. + +Each brother was absolutely immovable in his decision, and the other +knew it. Edward might have said: 'I am a dying man: give up this thing +to oblige me.' And Mark could have pleaded: 'At such a moment I would do +anything to oblige you--except this, and this I really can't do. Forgive +me.' Such amenities would possibly have eased the cord which was about +to snap; but the idea of regarding Edward's condition as a factor in +the case did not suggest itself favourably to the grim Beechinor stock, +so stern, harsh, and rude. The sick man wiped from his sunken features +the sweat which continually gathered there. Then he turned upon his side +with a grunt. + +'Thou must fetch th' lawyer,' he said at length, 'for I'll cut thee +off.' + +It was a strange request--like ordering a condemned man to go out and +search for his executioner; but Mark answered with perfect naturalness: + +'Yes. Mr. Ford, I suppose?' + +'Ford? No! Dost think I want _him_ meddling i' my affairs? Go to young +Baines up th' road. Tell him to come at once. He's sure to be at home, +as it's Saturday night.' + +'Very well.' + +Mark turned to leave the room. + +'And, young un, I've done with thee. Never pass my door again till thou +know'st I'm i' my coffin. Understand?' + +Mark hesitated a moment, and then went out, quietly closing the door. No +sooner had he done so than the girl, hitherto so passive at the window, +flew after him. + +There are some women whose calm, enigmatic faces seem always to suggest +the infinite. It is given to few to know them, so rare as they are, and +their lives usually so withdrawn; but sometimes they pass in the street, +or sit like sphinxes in the church or the theatre, and then the memory +of their features, persistently recurring, troubles us for days. They +are peculiar to no class, these women: you may find them in a print gown +or in diamonds. Often they have thin, rather long lips and deep rounded +chins; but it is the fine upward curve of the nostrils and the fall of +the eyelids which most surely mark them. Their glances and their faint +smiles are beneficent, yet with a subtle shade of half-malicious +superiority. When they look at you from under those apparently fatigued +eyelids, you feel that they have an inward and concealed existence far +beyond the ordinary--that they are aware of many things which you can +never know. It is as though their souls, during former incarnations, had +trafficked with the secret forces of nature, and so acquired a +mysterious and nameless quality above all the transient attributes of +beauty, wit, and talent. They exist: that is enough; that is their +genius. Whether they control, or are at the mercy of, those secret +forces; whether they have in fact learnt, but may not speak, the true +answer to the eternal Why; whether they are not perhaps a riddle even to +their own simple selves: these are points which can never be decided. + +Everyone who knew Mary Beechinor, in her cousin's home, or at chapel, or +on Titus Price's earthenware manufactory, where she worked, said or +thought that 'there was something about her ...' and left the phrase +unachieved. She was twenty-five, and she had lived under the same roof +with Edward Beechinor for seven years, since the sudden death of her +parents. The arrangement then made was that Edward should keep her, +while she conducted his household. She had insisted on permission to +follow her own occupation, and in order that she might be at liberty to +do so she personally paid eighteenpence a week to a little girl who came +in to perform sundry necessary duties every day at noon. Mary Beechinor +was a paintress by trade. As a class the paintresses of the Five Towns +are somewhat similar to the more famous mill-girls of Lancashire and +Yorkshire--fiercely independent by reason of good wages earned, loving +finery and brilliant colours, loud-tongued and aggressive, perhaps, and +for the rest neither more nor less kindly, passionate, faithful, than +any other Saxon women anywhere. The paintresses, however, have some +slight advantage over the mill-girls in the outward reticences of +demeanour, due no doubt to the fact that their ancient craft demands a +higher skill, and is pursued under more humane and tranquil conditions. +Mary Beechinor worked in the 'band-and-line' department of the +painting-shop at Price's. You may have observed the geometrical +exactitude of the broad and thin coloured lines round the edges of a +common cup and saucer, and speculated upon the means by which it was +arrived at. A girl drew those lines, a girl with a hand as sure as +Giotto's, and no better tools than a couple of brushes and a small +revolving table called a whirler. Forty-eight hours a week Mary +Beechinor sat before her whirler. Actuating the treadle, she placed a +piece of ware on the flying disc, and with a single unerring flip of the +finger pushed it precisely to the centre; then she held the full brush +firmly against the ware, and in three seconds the band encircled it +truly; another brush taken up, and the line below the band also stood +complete. And this process was repeated, with miraculous swiftness, hour +after hour, week after week, year after year. Mary could decorate over +thirty dozen cups and saucers in a day, at three halfpence the dozen. +'Doesn't she ever do anything else?' some visitor might curiously +inquire, whom Titus Price was showing over his ramshackle manufactory. +'No, always the same thing,' Titus would answer, made proud for the +moment of this phenomenon of stupendous monotony. 'I wonder how she can +stand it--she has a refined face,' the visitor might remark; and Mary +Beechinor was left alone again. The idea that her work was monotonous +probably never occurred to the girl. It was her work--as natural as +sleep, or the knitting which she always did in the dinner-hour. The calm +and silent regularity of it had become part of her, deepening her +original quiescence, and setting its seal upon her inmost spirit. She +was not in the fellowship of the other girls in the painting-shop. She +seldom joined their more boisterous diversions, nor talked their talk, +and she never manoeuvred for their men. But they liked her, and their +attitude showed a certain respect, forced from them by they knew not +what. The powers in the office spoke of Mary Beechinor as 'a very +superior girl.' + +She ran downstairs after Mark, and he waited in the narrow hall, where +there was scarcely room for two people to pass. Mark looked at her +inquiringly. Rather thin, and by no means tall, she seemed the merest +morsel by his side. She was wearing her second-best crimson merino +frock, partly to receive the doctor and partly because it was Saturday +night; over this a plain bibless apron. Her cold gray eyes faintly +sparkled in anger above the cheeks white with watching, and the dropped +corners of her mouth showed a contemptuous indignation. Mary Beechinor +was ominously roused from the accustomed calm of years. Yet Mark at +first had no suspicion that she was disturbed. To him that pale and +inviolate face, even while it cast a spell over him, gave no sign of the +fires within. + +She took him by the coat-sleeve and silently directed him into the +gloomy little parlour crowded with mahogany and horsehair furniture, +white antimacassars, wax flowers under glass, and ponderous +gilt-clasped Bibles. + +'It's a cruel shame!' she whispered, as though afraid of being overheard +by the dying man upstairs. + +'Do you think I ought to have given way?' he questioned, reddening. + +'You mistake me,' she said quickly; and with a sudden movement she went +up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The caress, so innocent, +unpremeditated, and instinctive, ran through him like a voltaic shock. +These two were almost strangers; they had scarcely met till within the +past week, Mark being seldom in Bursley. 'You mistake me--it is a shame +of _him_! I'm fearfully angry.' + +'Angry?' he repeated, astonished. + +'Yes, angry.' She walked to the window, and, twitching at the +blind-cord, gazed into the dim street. It was beginning to grow dark. +'Shall you fetch the lawyer? I shouldn't if I were you. I won't.' + +'I must fetch him,' Mark said. + +She turned round and admired him. 'What _will_ he do with his precious +money?' she murmured. + +'Leave it to you, probably.' + +'Not he. I wouldn't touch it--not now; it's yours by rights. Perhaps you +don't know that when I came here it was distinctly understood I wasn't +to expect anything under his will. Besides, I have my own money ... Oh +dear! If he wasn't in such pain, wouldn't I talk to him--for the first +and last time in my life!' + +'You must please not say a word to him. I don't really want the money.' + +'But you ought to have it. If he takes it away from you he's _unjust_.' + +'What did the doctor say this afternoon?' asked Mark, wishing to change +the subject. + +'He said the crisis would come on Monday, and when it did Edward would +be dead all in a minute. He said it would be just like taking prussic +acid.' + +'Not earlier than Monday?' + +'He said he thought Monday.' + +'Of course I shall take no notice of what Edward said to me--I shall +call to-morrow morning--and stay. Perhaps he won't mind seeing me. And +then you can tell me what happens to-night.' + +'I'm sure I shall send that lawyer man about his business,' she +threatened. + +'Look here,' said Mark timorously as he was leaving the house, 'I've +told you I don't want the money--I would give it away to some charity; +but do you think I ought to pretend to yield, just to humour him, and +let him die quiet and peaceful? I shouldn't like him to die hating----' + +'Never--never!' she exclaimed. + + * * * * * + +'What have you and Mark been talking about?' asked Edward Beechinor +apprehensively as Mary re-entered the bedroom. + +'Nothing,' she replied with a grave and soothing kindliness of tone. + +'Because, miss, if you think----' + +'You must have your medicine now, Edward.' + +But before giving the patient his medicine she peeped through the +curtain and watched Mark's figure till it disappeared up the hill +towards Bleakridge. He, on his part, walked with her image always in +front of him. He thought hers was the strongest, most righteous soul he +had ever encountered; it seemed as if she had a perfect passion for +truth and justice. And a week ago he had deemed her a capable girl, +certainly--but lackadaisical! + + * * * * * + +The clock had struck ten before Mr. Baines, the solicitor, knocked at +the door. Mary hesitated, and then took him upstairs in silence while he +suavely explained to her why he had been unable to come earlier. This +lawyer was a young Scotsman who had descended upon the town from +nowhere, bought a small decayed practice, and within two years had +transformed it into a large and flourishing business by one of those +feats of energy, audacity, and tact, combined, of which some Scotsmen +seem to possess the secret. + +'Here is Mr. Baines, Edward,' Mary said quietly; and then, having +rearranged the sick man's pillow, she vanished out of the room and went +into the kitchen. + +The gas-jet there showed only a point of blue, but she did not turn it +up. Dragging an old oak rush-seated rocking-chair near to the range, +where a scrap of fire still glowed, she rocked herself gently in the +darkness. + +After about half an hour Mr. Baines's voice sounded at the head of the +stairs: + +'Miss Beechinor, will ye kindly step up? We shall want some +asseestance.' + +She obeyed, but not instantly. + +In the bedroom Mr. Baines, a fountain-pen between his fine white teeth, +was putting some coal on the fire. He stood up as she entered. + +'Mr. Beechinor is about to make a new will,' he said, without removing +the pen from his mouth, 'and ye will kindly witness it.' + +The small room appeared to be full of Baines--he was so large and fleshy +and assertive. The furniture, even the chest of drawers, was dwarfed +into toy-furniture, and Beechinor, slight and shrunken-up, seemed like a +cadaverous manikin in the bed. + +'Now, Mr. Beechinor.' Dusting his hands, the lawyer took a newly-written +document from the dressing-table, and, spreading it on the lid of a +cardboard box, held it before the dying man. 'Here's the pen. There! +I'll help ye to hold it.' + +Beechinor clutched the pen. His wrinkled and yellow face, flushed in +irregular patches as though the cheeks had been badly rouged, was +covered with perspiration, and each difficult movement, even to the +slightest lifting of the head, showed extreme exhaustion. He cast at +Mary a long sinister glance of mistrust and apprehension. + +'What is there in this will?' + +Mr. Baines looked sharply up at the girl, who now stood at the side of +the bed opposite him. Mechanically she smoothed the tumbled bed-clothes. + +'That's nowt to do wi' thee, lass,' said Beechinor resentfully. + +'It isn't necessary that a witness to a will should be aware of its +contents,' said Baines. 'In fact, it's quite unusual.' + +'I sign nothing in the dark,' she said, smiling. Through their +half-closed lids her eyes glimmered at Baines. + +'Ha! Legal caution acquired from your cousin, I presume.' Baines smiled +at her. 'But let me assure ye, Miss Beechinor, this is a mere matter of +form. A will must be signed in the presence of two witnesses, both +present at the same time; and there's only yeself and me for it.' + +Mary looked at the dying man, whose features were writhed in pain, and +shook her head. + +'Tell her,' he murmured with bitter despair, and sank down into the +pillows, dropping the fountain-pen, which had left a stain of ink on the +sheet before Baines could pick it up. + +'Well, then, Miss Beechinor, if ye must know,' Baines began with +sarcasm, 'the will is as follows: The testator--that's Mr. +Beechinor--leaves twenty guineas to his brother Mark to show that he +bears him no ill-will and forgives him. The rest of his estate is to be +realized, and the proceeds given to the North Staffordshire Infirmary, +to found a bed, which is to be called the Beechinor bed. If there is any +surplus, it is to go to the Law Clerks' Provident Society. That is all.' + +'I shall have nothing to do with it,' Mary said coldly. + +'Young lady, we don't want ye to have anything to do with it. We only +desire ye to witness the signature.' + +'I won't witness the signature, and I won't see it signed.' + +'Damn thee, Mary! thou'rt a wicked wench,' Beechinor whispered in +hoarse, feeble tones. He saw himself robbed of the legitimate fruit of +all those interminable years of toilsome thrift. This girl by a trick +would prevent him from disposing of his own. He, Edward Beechinor, +shrewd and wealthy, was being treated like a child. He was too weak to +rave, but from his aggrieved and furious heart he piled silent curses on +her. 'Go, fetch another witness,' he added to the lawyer. + +'Wait a moment,' said Baines. 'Miss Beechinor, do ye mean to say that ye +will cross the solemn wish of a dying man?' + +'I mean to say I won't help a dying man to commit a crime.' + +'A crime?' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'a crime. Seven years ago Mr. Beechinor willed +everything to his brother Mark, and Mark ought to have everything. Mark +is his only brother--his only relation except me. And Edward knows it +isn't me wants any of his money. North Staffordshire Infirmary indeed! +It's a crime!... What business have _you_,' she went on to Edward +Beechinor, 'to punish Mark just because his politics aren't----' + +'That's beside the point,' the lawyer interrupted. 'A testator has a +perfect right to leave his property as he chooses, without giving +reasons. Now, Miss Beechinor, I must ask ye to be judeecious.' + +Mary shut her lips. + +'Her'll never do it. I tell thee, fetch another witness.' + +The old man sprang up in a sort of frenzy as he uttered the words, and +then fell back in a brief swoon. + +Mary wiped his brow, and pushed away the wet and matted hair. Presently +he opened his eyes, moaning. Mr. Baines folded up the will, put it in +his pocket, and left the room with quick steps. Mary heard him open the +front-door and then return to the foot of the stairs. + +'Miss Beechinor,' he called, 'I'll speak with ye a moment.' + +She went down. + +'Do you mind coming into the kitchen?' she said, preceding him and +turning up the gas; 'there's no light in the front-room.' + +He leaned up against the high mantelpiece; his frock-coat hung to the +level of the oven-knob. She had one hand on the white deal table. +Between them a tortoiseshell cat purred on the red-tiled floor. + +'Ye're doing a verra serious thing, Miss Beechinor. As Mr. Beechinor's +solicitor, I should just like to be acquaint with the real reasons for +this conduct.' + +'I've told you.' She had a slightly quizzical look. + +'Now, as to Mark,' the lawyer continued blandly, 'Mr. Beechinor +explained the whole circumstances to me. Mark as good as defied his +brother.' + +'That's nothing to do with it.' + +'By the way, it appears that Mark is practically engaged to be married. +May I ask if the lady is yeself?' + +She hesitated. + +'If so,' he proceeded, 'I may tell ye informally that I admire the pluck +of ye. But, nevertheless, that will has got to be executed.' + +'The young lady is a Miss Mellor of Hanbridge.' + +'I'm going to fetch my clerk,' he said shortly. 'I can see ye're an +obstinate and unfathomable woman. I'll be back in half an hour.' + +When he had departed she bolted the front-door top and bottom, and went +upstairs to the dying man. + +Nearly an hour elapsed before she heard a knock. Mr. Baines had had to +arouse his clerk from sleep. Instead of going down to the front-door, +Mary threw up the bedroom window and looked out. It was a mild but +starless night. Trafalgar Road was silent save for the steam-car, which, +with its load of revellers returning from Hanbridge--that centre of +gaiety--slipped rumbling down the hill towards Bursley. + +'What do you want--disturbing a respectable house at this time of +night?' she called in a loud whisper when the car had passed. 'The +door's bolted, and I can't come down. You must come in the morning.' + +'Miss Beechinor, ye will let us in--I charge ye.' + +'It's useless, Mr. Baines.' + +'I'll break the door down. I'm a strong man, and a determined. Ye are +carrying things too far.' + +In another moment the two men heard the creak of the bolts. Mary stood +before them, vaguely discernible, but a forbidding figure. + +'If you must--come upstairs,' she said coldly. + +'Stay here in the passage, Arthur,' said Mr. Baines; 'I'll call ye when +I want ye;' and he followed Mary up the stairs. + +Edward Beechinor lay on his back, and his sunken eyes stared glassily at +the ceiling. The skin of his emaciated face, stretched tightly over the +protruding bones, had lost all its crimson, and was green, white, +yellow. The mouth was wide open. His drawn features wore a terribly +sardonic look--a purely physical effect of the disease; but it seemed to +the two spectators that this mean and disappointed slave of a miserly +habit had by one superb imaginative effort realized the full vanity of +all human wishes and pretensions. + +'Ye can go; I shan't want ye,' said Mr. Baines, returning to the clerk. + +The lawyer never spoke of that night's business. Why should he? To what +end? Mark Beechinor, under the old will, inherited the seven hundred +pounds and the house. Miss Mellor of Hanbridge is still Miss Mellor, her +hand not having been formally sought. But Mark, secretary of the Labour +Church, is married. Miss Mellor, with a quite pardonable air of tolerant +superiority, refers to his wife as 'a strange, timid little +creature--she couldn't say Bo to a goose.' + + * * * * * + + + + +THE DOG + + +This is a scandalous story. It scandalized the best people in Bursley; +some of them would wish it forgotten. But since I have begun to tell it +I may as well finish. Moreover, like most tales whispered behind fans +and across club-tables, it carries a high and valuable moral. The +moral--I will let you have it at once--is that those who love in glass +houses should pull down the blinds. + + + +I + +He had got his collar on safely; it bore his name--Ellis Carter. Strange +name for a dog, perhaps; and perhaps it was even more strange that his +collar should be white. But such dogs are not common dogs. He tied his +necktie exquisitely; caressed his hair again with two brushes; curved +his young moustache, and then assumed his waistcoat and his coat; the +trousers had naturally preceded the collar. He beheld the suit in the +glass, and saw that it was good. And it was not built in London, either. +There are tailors in Bursley. And in particular there is the dog's +tailor. Ask the dog's tailor, as the dog once did, whether he can really +do as well as London, and he will smile on you with gentle pity; he will +not stoop to utter the obvious Yes. He may casually inform you that, if +he is not in London himself, the explanation is that he has reasons for +preferring Bursley. He is the social equal of all his clients. He +belongs to the dogs' club. He knows, and everybody knows, that he is a +first-class tailor with a first-class connection, and no dog would dare +to condescend to him. He is a great creative artist; the dogs who wear +his clothes may be said to interpret his creations. Now, Ellis was a +great interpretative artist, and the tailor recognised the fact. When +the tailor met Ellis on Duck Bank greatly wearing a new suit, the scene +was impressive. It was as though Elgar had stopped to hear Paderewski +play 'Pomp and Circumstance' on the piano. + +Ellis descended from his bedroom into the hall, took his straw hat, +chose a stick, and went out into the portico of the new large house on +the Hawkins, near Oldcastle. In the neighbourhood of the Five Towns no +road is more august, more correct, more detached, more umbrageous, than +the Hawkins. M.P.'s live there. It is the link between the aristocratic +and antique aloofness of Oldcastle and the solid commercial prosperity +of the Five Towns. Ellis adorned the portico. Young (a bare twenty-two), +fair, handsome, smiling, graceful, well-built, perfectly groomed, he was +an admirable and a characteristic specimen of the race of dogs which, +with the modern growth of luxury and the Luxurious Spirit, has become so +marked a phenomenon in the social development of the once barbarous Five +Towns. + +When old Jack Carter (reputed to be the best turner that Bursley ever +produced) started a little potbank near St. Peter's Church in 1861--he +was then forty, and had saved two hundred pounds--he little dreamt that +the supreme and final result after forty years would be the dog. But so +it was. Old Jack Carter had a son John Carter, who married at +twenty-five and lived at first on twenty-five shillings a week, and +enthusiastically continued the erection of the fortune which old Jack +had begun. At thirty-three, after old Jack's death, John became a Town +Councillor. At thirty-six he became Mayor and the father of Ellis, and +the recipient of a silver cradle. Ellis was his wife's maiden name. At +forty-two he built the finest earthenware manufactory in Bursley, down +by the canal-side at Shawport. At fifty-two he had been everything that +a man can be in the Five Towns--from County Councillor to President of +the Society for the Prosecution of Felons. Then Ellis left school and +came to the works to carry on the tradition, and his father suddenly +discovered him. The truth was that John Carter had been so laudably busy +with the affairs of his town and county that he had nearly forgotten his +family. Ellis, in the process of achieving doghood, soon taught his +father a thing or two. And John learnt. John could manage a public +meeting, but he could not manage Ellis. Besides, there was plenty of +money; and Ellis was so ingratiating, and had curly hair that somehow +won sympathy. And, after all, Ellis was not such a duffer as all that at +the works. John knew other people's sons who were worse. And Ellis could +keep order in the paintresses' 'shops' as order had never been kept +there before. + +John sometimes wondered what old Jack would have said about Ellis and +his friends, those handsome dogs, those fine dandies, who taught to the +Five Towns the virtue of grace and of style and of dash, who went up to +London--some of them even went to Paris--and brought back civilization +to the Five Towns, who removed from the Five Towns the reproach of being +uncouth and behind the times. Was the outcome of two generations of +unremitting toil merely Ellis? (Ellis had several pretty sisters, but +they did not count.) John could only guess at what old Jack's attitude +might have been towards Ellis--Ellis, who had his shirts made to +measure. He knew exactly what was Ellis's attitude towards the ideals of +old Jack, old Jack the class-leader, who wore clogs till he was thirty, +and dined in his shirt-sleeves at one o'clock to the end of his life. + +Ellis quitted the portico, ran down the winding garden-path, and jumped +neatly and fearlessly on to an electric tramcar as it passed at the rate +of fifteen miles an hour. The car was going to Hanbridge, and it was +crowded with the joy of life; Ellis had to stand on the step. This was +the Saturday before the first Monday in August, and therefore the formal +opening of Knype Wakes, the most carnivalesque of all the carnivals +which enliven the four seasons in the Five Towns. It is still called +Knype Wakes, because once Knype overshadowed Hanbridge in importance; +but its headquarters are now quite properly at Hanbridge, the hub, the +centre, the Paris of the Five Towns--Hanbridge, the county borough of +sixty odd thousand inhabitants. It is the festival of the masses that +old Jack sprang from, and every genteel person who can leaves the Five +Towns for the seaside at the end of July. Nevertheless, the district is +never more crammed than at Knype Wakes. And, of course, genteel persons, +whom circumstances have forced to remain in the Five Towns, sally out in +the evening to 'do' the Wakes in a spirit of tolerant condescension. +Ellis was in this case. His parents and sisters were at Llandudno, and +he had been left in charge of the works and of the new house. He was +always free; he could always pity the bondage of his sisters; but now he +was more free than ever--he was absolutely free. Imagine the delicious +feeling that surged in his heart as he prepared to plunge himself +doggishly into the wild ocean of the Wakes. By the way, in that heart +was the image of a girl. + + + +II + +He stepped off the car on the outskirts of Hanbridge, and strolled +gently and spectacularly into the joyous town. The streets became more +and more crowded and noisy as he approached the market-place, and in +Crown Square tramcars from the four quarters of the earth discharged +tramloads of humanity at the rate of two a minute, and then glided off +again empty in search of more humanity. The lower portion of Crown +Square was devoted to tramlines; in the upper portion the Wakes began, +and spread into the market-place, and thence by many tentacles into all +manner of streets. + +No Wakes is better than Knype Wakes; that is to say, no Wakes is more +ear-splitting, more terrific, more dizzying, or more impassable. When +you go to Knype Wakes you get stuck in the midst of an enormous crowd, +and you see roundabouts, swings, switchbacks, myrioramas, atrocity +booths, quack dentists, shooting-galleries, cocoanut-shies, and bazaars, +all around you. Every establishment is jewelled, gilded, and +electrically lighted; every establishment has an orchestra, most often +played by steam and conducted by a stoker; every establishment has a +steam--whistle, which shrieks at the beginning and at the end of each +round or performance. You stand fixed in the multitude listening to a +thousand orchestras and whistles, with the roar of machinery and the +merry din of car-bells, and the popping of rifles for a background of +noise. Your eyes are charmed by the whirling of a million lights and the +mad whirling of millions of beautiful girls and happy youths under the +lights. For the roundabouts rule the scene; the roundabouts take the +money. The supreme desire of the revellers is to describe circles, +either on horseback or in yachts, either simple circles or complex +circles, either up and down or straight along, but always circles. And +it is as though inventors had sat up at nights puzzling their brains how +best to make revellers seasick while keeping them equidistant from a +steam-orchestra.... Then the crowd solidly lurches, and you find +yourself up against a dentist, or a firm of wrestlers, or a roundabout, +or an ice-cream refectory, and you take what comes. You have begun to +'do' the Wakes. The splendid insanity seizes you. The lights, the +colours, the explosions, the shrieks, the feathered hats, the pretty +faces as they fly past, the gilding, the statuary, the August night, and +the mingling of a thousand melodies in a counterpoint beyond the dreams +of Wagner--these things have stirred the sap of life in you, have shown +you how fine it is to be alive, and, careless and free, have caught up +your spirit into a heaven from which you scornfully survey the year of +daily toil between one Wakes and another as the eagle scornfully surveys +the potato-field. Your nostrils dilate--nay, matters reach such a pass +that, even if you are genteel, you forget to condescend. + + + +III + +After Ellis had had the correct drink in the private bar up the passage +at the Turk's Head, and after he had plunged into the crowd and got lost +in it, and submitted good-humouredly to the frequent ordeal of the penny +squirt as administered by adorable creatures in bright skirts, he found +himself cast up by the human ocean on the macadam shore near a +shooting-gallery. This was no ordinary shooting-gallery. It was one of +Jenkins's affairs (Jenkins of Manchester), and on either side of it +Jenkins's Venetian gondalas and Jenkins's Mexican mustangs were whizzing +round two of Jenkins's orchestras at twopence a time, and taking +thirty-two pounds an hour. This gallery was very different from the old +galleries, in which you leaned against a brass bar and shot up a kind of +a drain. This gallery was a large and brilliant room, with the +front-wall taken out. It was hung with mirrors and cretonnes, it was +richly carpeted, and, of course, it was lighted by electricity. Carved +and gilded tables bore a whole armoury of weapons. You shot at +tobacco-pipes, twisting and stationary, at balls poised on jets of +water, and at proper targets. In the corners of the saloon, near the +open, were large crimson plush lounges, on which you lounged after the +fatigue of shooting. + +A pink-clad girl, young and radiant, had the concern in charge. + +She was speeding a party of bankrupt shooters, when she caught sight of +Ellis. Ellis answered her smile, and strolled up to the booth with a +countenance that might have meant anything. You can never tell what a +dog is thinking. + +''Ello!' said the girl prettily (or, rather, she shouted prettily, +having to compete with the two orchestras). 'You here again?' + +The truth was that Ellis had been there on the previous night, when the +Wakes was only half opened, and he had come again to-night expressly in +order to see her; but he would not have admitted, even to himself, that +he had come expressly in order to see her; in his mind it was just a +chance that he might see her. She was a jolly girl. (We are gradually +approaching the scandalous part.) + +'What a jolly frock!' he said, when he had shot five celluloid balls in +succession off a jet of water. + +Smiling, she mechanically took a ball out of the basket and let it roll +down the conduit to the fountain. + +'Do you think so?' she replied, smoothing the fluffy muslin apron with +her small hands, black from contact with the guns. 'That one I wore last +night was my second-best. I only wear this on Saturdays and Mondays.' + +He nodded like a connoisseur. The sixth ball had sprung up to the top of +the jet. He removed it with the certainty of a King's Prize winner, and +she complimented him. + +'Ah!' he said, 'you should have seen me before I took to smoking and +drinking!' + +She laughed freely. She was always showing her fine teeth. And she had +such a frank, jolly countenance, not exactly pretty--better than pretty. +She was a little short and a little plump, and she wore a necklace round +her neck, a ring on her dainty, dirty finger, and a watch-bracelet on +her wrist. + +'Why!' she exclaimed. 'How old are you?' + +'How old are _you_?' he retorted. + +Dogs do not give things away like that. + +'I'm nineteen,' she said submissively. 'At least, I shall be come +Martinmas.' + +And she yawned. + +'Well,' he said, 'a little girl like you ought to be in bed.' + +'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed. + +'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in Paris +you'd have to work Sundays too.' + +'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to Paris?' + +'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he told me. +He came back only last week, and he says they keep open Sundays, and all +night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over there.' + +'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police wouldn't +allow it. I know what the police are.' + +More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; he sank +into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and watched her serve +the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, and so jolly--with him. +He noticed with satisfaction that with the other marksmen she showed a +certain high reserve. + +They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across to the +lounge and gazed at him provocatively. + +'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!' + +The thought ran through him like lightning. + +'Well?' she said. + +'What do you do with yourself Sundays?' he asked her. + +'Oh, sleep.' + +'All day?' + +'All morning.' + +'What do you do in the afternoon?' + +'Oh, nothing.' + +She laughed gaily. + +'Come out with me, eh?' + +'To-morrow? Oh, I should LOVE TO!' she cried. + +Her voice expanded into large capitals because by a singular chance both +the neighbouring orchestras stopped momentarily together, and thus gave +her shout a fair field. The effect was startling. It startled Ellis. He +had not for an instant expected that she would consent. Never, dog +though he was, had he armed a girl out on any afternoon, to say nothing +of Sunday afternoon, and Knype's Wakes Sunday at that! He had talked +about girls at the club. He understood the theory. But the practice---- + +The foundation of England's greatness is that Englishmen hate to look +fools. The fear of being taken for a ninny will spur an Englishman to +the most surprising deeds of courage. Ellis said 'Good!' with apparent +enthusiasm, and arranged to be waiting for her at half-past two at the +Turk's Head. Then he left the saloon and struck out anew into the ocean. +He wanted to think it over. + +Once, painful to relate, he had thoughts of failing to keep the +appointment. However, she was so jolly and frank. And what a fancy she +must have taken to him! No, he would see it through. + + + +IV + +If anybody had prophesied to Ellis that he would be driving out a Wakes +girl in a dogcart that Sunday afternoon he would have laughed at the +prophet; but so it occurred. He arrived at the Turk's Head at two +twenty-five. She was there before him, dressed all in blue, except the +white shoes and stockings, weighing herself on the machine in the yard. +She showed her teeth, told him she weighed nine stone one, and abruptly +asked him if he could drive. He said he could. She clapped her hands and +sprang off the machine. Her father had bought a new mare the day before, +and it was in the Turk's Head stable, and the yardman said it wanted +exercise, and there was a dogcart and harness idling about, and, in +short, Ellis should drive her to Sneyd Park, which she had long desired +to see. + +Ellis wished to ask questions, but the moment did not seem auspicious. + +In a few minutes the new mare, a high and somewhat frisky bay, with big +shoulders, was in the shafts of a high, green dogcart. When asked if he +could drive, Ellis ought to have answered: 'That depends--on the horse.' +Many men can tool a fifteen-year-old screw down a country lane who would +hesitate to get up behind a five-year-old animal (in need of exercise) +for a spin down Broad Street, Hanbridge, on Knype Wakes Sunday. Ellis +could drive; he could just drive. His father had always steadfastly +refused to keep horses, but the fathers of other dogs were more +progressive, and Ellis had had opportunities. He knew how to take the +reins, and get up, and give the office; indeed, he had read a handbook +on the subject. So he rook the reins and got up, and the Wakes girl got +up. + +He chirruped. The mare merely backed. + +'Give 'er 'er mouth,' said the yardman disgustedly. + +'Oh!' said Ellis, and slackened the reins, and the mare pawed forward. + +Then he had to turn her in the yard, and get her and the dogcart down +the passage. He doubted whether he should do it, for the passage seemed +a size too small. However, he did it, or the mare did it, and the entire +organism swerved across a portion of the footpath into Broad Street. + +For quite a quarter of a mile down Broad Street Ellis blushed, and kept +his gaze between the mare's ears. However, the mare went beautifully. +You could have driven her with a silken thread, so it seemed. And then +the dog, growing accustomed to his prominence up there on the dogcart, +began to be a bit doggy. He knew the little thing's age and weight, +but, really, when you take a girl out for a Sunday spin you want more +information about her than that. Her asked her name, and her name was +Jenkins--Ada. She was the great Jenkins's daughter. + +('Oh,' thought Ellis, 'the deuce you are!') + +'Father's gone to Manchester for the day, and aunt's looking after me,' +said Ada. + +'Do they know you've come out--like this?' + +'Not much!' She laughed deliciously. 'How lovely it is!' + +At Knype they drew up before the Five Towns Hotel and descended. The +Five Towns Hotel is the greatest hotel in North Staffordshire. It has +two hundred rooms. It would not entirely disgrace Northumberland Avenue. +In the Five Towns it is august, imposing, and unique. They had a +lemonade there, and proceeded. A clock struck; it was a near thing. No +more refreshments now until they had passed the three-mile limit! + +Yes! Not two hundred yards further on she spied an ice-cream shop in +Fleet Road, and Ellis learnt that she adored ice-cream. The mare waited +patiently outside in the thronged street. + +After that the pilgrimage to Sneyd was punctuated with ice-creams. At +the Stag at Sneyd (where, among ninety-and-nine dogcarts, Ellis's +dogcart was the brightest green of them all) Ada had another lemonade, +and Ellis had something else. They saw the Park, and Ada giggled +charmingly her appreciation of its beauty. The conversation throughout +consisted chiefly of Ada's teeth. Ellis said he would return by a +different route, and he managed to get lost. How anyone driving to +Hanbridge from Sneyd could arrive at the mining village of Silverton is +a mystery. But Ellis arrived there, and he ultimately came out at +Hillport, the aristocratic suburb of Bursley, where he had always lived +till the last year. He feared recognition there, and his fear was +justified. Some silly ass, a schoolmate, cried, 'Go it!' as the machine +bowled along, and the mischief was that the mare, startled, went it. She +went it down the curving hill, and the vehicle after her, like a kettle +tied to a dog's tail. + +Ellis winked stoutly at Ada when they reached the bottom, and gave the +mare a piece of his mind, to which she objected. As they crossed the +railway-bridge a goods-train ran underneath and puffed smoke into the +mare's eyes. She set her ears back. + +'Would you!' cried Ellis authoritatively, and touched her with the whip +(he had forgotten the handbook). + +He scarcely touched her, but you never know where you are with any +horse. That mare, which had been a mirror of all the virtues all the +afternoon, was off like a rocket. She overtook an electric car as if it +had been standing still. Ellis sawed her mouth; he might as well have +sawed the funnel of a locomotive. He had meant to turn off and traverse +Bursley by secluded streets, but he perceived that safety lay solely in +letting her go straight ahead up the very steep slope of Oldcastle +Street into the middle of the town. It would be an amazing mare that +galloped to the top of Oldcastle Street! She galloped nearly to the top, +and then Ellis began to get hold of her a bit. + +'Don't be afraid,' he said masculinely to Ada. + +And, conscious of victory, he jerked the mare to the left to avoid an +approaching car.... + +The next instant they were anchored against the roots of a lamp-post. +When Ellis saw the upper half of the lamp-post bent down at right +angles, and pieces of glass covering the pavement, he could not believe +that he and his dogcart had done that, especially as neither the mare, +nor the dogcart, nor its freight, was damaged. The machine was merely +jammed, and the mare, satisfied, stood quiet, breathing rapidly. + +But Ada Jenkins was crying. + +And the car stopped a moment to observe. And then a number of +chapel-goers on their way to the Sytch Chapel, which the Carter family +still faithfully attended, joined the scene; and then a policeman. + +Ellis sat like a stuck pig in the dogcart. He knew that speech was +demanded of him, but he did not know where to begin. + +The worst thing of all was the lamp-post, bent, moveless, unnatural, +atrociously comic, accusing him. + +The affair was over the town in a minute; the next morning it reached +Llandudno. Ellis Carter had been out on the spree with _a Wakes girl_ in +a dogcart on Sunday afternoon, and had got into such a condition that he +had driven into a lamp-post at the top of Oldcastle Street just as +people were going into chapel. + +The lamp-post remained bent for three days--a fearful warning to all +dogs that doggishness has limits. + +If it had not been a dogcart, and such a high, green dogcart; if it had +been, say, a brougham, or even a cab! If it had not been Sunday! And, +granting Sunday, if it had not been just as people were going into +chapel! If he had not chosen that particular lamp-post, visible both +from the market-place and St. Luke's Square! If he had only contrived to +destroy a less obtrusive lamp-post in some unfrequented street! And if +it had not been a Wakes girl--if the reprobate had only selected for his +guilty amours an actress from one of the touring companies, or even a +star from the Hanbridge Empire--yea, or even a local barmaid! But _a +Wakes girl_! + +Ellis himself saw the enormity of his transgression. He lay awake +astounded by his own doggishness. + +And yet he had seldom felt less doggy than during that trip. It seemed +to him that doggishness was not the glorious thing he had thought. +However, he cut a heroic figure at the dogs' club. Every admiring face +said: 'Well, you _have_ been going the pace! We always knew you were a +hot un, but, really----' + + + +V + +On the following Friday evening, when Ellis jumped off the car opposite +his home on the Hawkins, he saw in the road, halted, a train of vast and +queer-shaped waggons in charge of two traction-engines. They were +painted on all sides with the great name of Jenkins. They contained +Jenkins's roundabouts and shooting-saloons, on their way to rouse the +joy of life in other towns. And he perceived in front of the portico the +high, green dogcart and the lamp-post-destroying mare. + +He went in. The family had come home that afternoon. Sundry of his +sisters greeted him with silent horror on their faces in the hall. In +the breakfast-room, which gave off the drawing-room, was his mother in +the attitude of an intent listener. She spoke no word. + +And Ellis listened, too. + +'Yes,' a very powerful and raucous voice was saying in the drawing-room, +'I reckoned I'd call and tell ye myself, Mister Carter, what I thought +on it. My gell, a motherless gell, but brought up respectable; sixth +standard at Whalley Range Board School; and her aunt a strict +God-fearing woman! And here your son comes along and gets hold of the +girl while her aunt's at the special service for Wakes folks in Bethesda +Chapel, and runs off with her in my dogcart with one of my hosses, and +raises a scandal all o'er the Five Towns. God bless my soul, mister! I +tell'n ye I hardly liked to open o' Monday afternoon, I was that +ashamed! And I packed Ada off to Manchester. It seems to me that if the +upper classes, as they call 'em--the immoral classes _I_ call 'em--'ud +look after themselves a bit instead o' looking after other people so +much, things might be a bit better, Mister Carter. I dare say you think +it's nothing as your son should go about ruining the reputation of any +decent, respectable girl as he happens to fancy, Mister Carter; but this +is what I say. I say----' + +Mr. Carter was understood to assert, in his most pacific and pained +public-meeting voice, that he regretted, infinitely regretted---- + +Mrs. Carter, weeping, ran out of the breakfast-room. + +And soon afterwards the traction-engines rumbled off, and the high, +green dogcart followed them. + +Ellis sat spell-bound. + +He heard the parlourmaid go into the drawing-room and announce, 'Tea is +ready, sir!' and then his father's dry cough. + +And then the parlourmaid came into the breakfast-room: 'Tea is ready, +Mr. Ellis!' + +Oh, the meal! + + * * * * * + + + + +A FEUD + + +When Clive Timmis paused at the side-door of Ezra Brunt's great shop in +Machin Street, and the door was opened to him by Ezra Brunt's daughter +before he had had time to pull the bell, not only all Machin Street knew +it within the hour, but also most persons of consequence left in +Hanbridge on a Thursday afternoon--Thursday being early-closing day. For +Hanbridge, though it counts sixty thousand inhabitants, and is the chief +of the Five Towns--that vast, huddled congeries of boroughs devoted to +the manufacture of earthenware--is a place where the art of attending to +other people's business still flourishes in rustic perfection. + +Ezra Brunt's drapery establishment was the foremost retail house, in any +branch of trade, of the Five Towns. It had no rival nearer than +Manchester, thirty-six miles off; and even Manchester could exhibit +nothing conspicuously superior to it. The most acutely critical shoppers +of the Five Towns--women who were in the habit of going to London every +year for the January sales--spoke of Brunt's as a 'right-down good +shop.' And the husbands of these ladies, manufacturers who employed from +two hundred to a thousand men, regarded Ezra Brunt as a commercial +magnate of equal importance with themselves. Brunt, who had served his +apprenticeship at Birmingham, started business in Machin Street in 1862, +when Hanbridge was half its present size and all the best shops of the +district were in Oldcastle, an ancient burg contiguous with, but holding +itself proudly aloof from, the industrial Five Towns. He paid eighty +pounds a year rent, and lived over the shop, and in the summer quarter +his gas bill was always under a sovereign. For ten years success +tarried, but in 1872 his daughter Eva was born and his wife died, and +from that moment the sun of his prosperity climbed higher and higher +into heaven. He had been profoundly attached to his wife, and, having +lost her he abandoned himself to the mercantile struggle with that +morose and terrible ferocity which was the root of his character. Of +rude, gaunt aspect, gruffly taciturn by nature, and variable in temper, +he yet had the precious instinct for soothing customers. To this day he +can surpass his own shop-walkers in the admirable and tender solicitude +with which, forsaking dialect, he drops into a lady's ear his famous +stereotyped phrase: 'Are you receiving proper attention, madam?' From +the first he eschewed the facile trickeries and ostentations which +allure the populace. He sought a high-class trade, and by waiting he +found it. He would never advertise on hoardings; for many years he had +no signboard over his shop-front; and whereas the name of 'Bostocks,' +the huge cheap drapers lower down Machin Street, on the opposite side, +attacks you at every railway-station and in every tramcar, the name of +'E. Brunt' is to be seen only in a modest regular advertisement on the +front page of the _Staffordshire Signal_. Repose, reticence, +respectability--it was these attributes which he decided his shop should +possess, and by means of which he succeeded. To enter Brunt's, with its +silently swinging doors, its broad, easy staircases, its long floors +covered with warm, red linoleum, its partitioned walls, its smooth +mahogany counters, its unobtrusive mirrors, its rows of youths and +virgins in black, and its pervading atmosphere of quietude and +discretion, was like entering a temple before the act of oblation has +commenced. You were conscious of some supreme administrative influence +everywhere imposing itself. That influence was Ezra Brunt. And yet the +man differed utterly from the thing he had created. His was one of those +dark and passionate souls which smoulder in this harsh Midland district +as slag-heaps smoulder on the pit-banks, revealing their strange fires +only in the darkness. + +In 1899 Brunt's establishment occupied four shops, Nos. 52, 56, 58, and +60, in Machin Street. He had bought the freeholds at a price which timid +people regarded as exorbitant, but the solicitors of Hanbridge secretly +applauded his enterprise and shrewdness in anticipating the enormous +rise in ground-values which has now been in rapid, steady progress there +for more than a decade. He had thrown the interiors together and rebuilt +the frontages in handsome freestone. He had also purchased several +shops opposite, and rumour said that it was his intention to offer these +latter to the Town Council at a low figure if the Council would cut a +new street leading from his premises to the Market Square. Such a scheme +would have met with general approval. But there was one serious hiatus +in the plans of Ezra Brunt--to wit, No. 54, Machin Street. No. 54, +separating 52 and 56, was a chemist's shop, shabby but sedate as to +appearance, owned and occupied by George Christopher Timmis, a mild and +venerable citizen, and a local preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist +Connexion. For nearly thirty years Brunt had coveted Mr. Timmis's shop; +more than twenty years have elapsed since he first opened negotiations +for it. Mr. Timmis was by no means eager to sell--indeed, his attitude +was distinctly a repellent one--but a bargain would undoubtedly have +been concluded had not a report reached the ears of Mr. Timmis to the +effect that Ezra Brunt had remarked at the Turk's Head that 'th' old +leech was only sticking out for every brass farthing he could get.' The +report was untrue, but Mr. Timmis believed it, and from that moment Ezra +Brunt's chances of obtaining the chemist's shop vanished completely. +His lawyer expended diplomacy in vain, raising the offer week by week +till the incredible sum of three thousand pounds was reached. Then Ezra +Brunt himself saw Mr. Timmis, and without a word of prelude said: + +'Will ye take three thousand guineas for this bit o' property?' + +'Not thirty thousand guineas,' said Mr. Timmis quietly; the stern pride +of the benevolent old local preacher had been aroused. + +'Then be damned to you!' said Ezra Brunt, who had never been known to +swear before. + +Thenceforth a feud existed, not less bitter because it was a feud in +which nothing was said and nothing done--a silent and implacable mutual +resistance. The sole outward sign of it was the dirty and stumpy +brown-brick shop-front of Mr. Timmis, squeezed in between those massive +luxurious facades of stone which Ezra Brunt soon afterwards erected. The +pharmaceutical business of Mr. Timmis was not a very large one, and, +fiscally, Ezra Brunt could have swallowed him at a meal and suffered no +inconvenience; but in that the aged chemist had lived on just half his +small income for some fifty years past, his position was impregnable. +Hanbridge smiled cynically at this _impasse_ produced by an idle word, +and, recognising the equality of the antagonists, leaned neither to one +side nor to the other. At intervals, however, the legend of the feud was +embroidered with new and effective detail in the mouth of some inventive +gossip, and by degrees it took high place among those piquant social +histories which illustrate the real life of a town, and which parents +recount to their children with such zest in moods of reminiscence. + +When George Christopher Timmis buried his wife, Ezra Brunt, as a near +neighbour, was asked to the funeral. 'The cortege will move at 1.30,' +ran the printed invitation, and at 1.15 Brunt's carriage was decorously +in place behind the hearse and the two mourning-coaches. The demeanour +of the chemist and the draper towards each other was a sublime answer to +the demands of the occasion; some people even said that the breach had +been healed, but these were not of the discerning. + +The most active person at the funeral was the chemist's only nephew, +Clive Timmis, partner in a small but prosperous firm of majolica +manufacturers at Bursley. Clive, who was seldom seen in Hanbridge, made +a favourable impression on everyone by his pleasing, unaffected manner +and his air of discretion and success. He was a bachelor of thirty-two, +and lived in lodgings at Bursley. On the return of the funeral-party +from the cemetery, Clive Timmis found Brunt's daughter Eva in his +uncle's house. Uninvited, she had left her place in the private room at +her father's shop in order to assist Timmis's servant Sarah in the +preparation of that solid and solemn repast which must inevitably follow +every proper interment in the Five Towns. Without false modesty, she +introduced herself to one or two of the men who had surprised her at her +work, and then quietly departed just as they were sitting down to table +and Sarah had brought in the hot tea-cakes. Clive Timmis saw her only +for a moment, but from that moment she was his one thought. During the +evening, which he spent alone with his uncle, he behaved in every +particular as a nephew should, yet he was acting a part; his real self +roved after Ezra Brunt's daughter, wherever she might be. Clive had +never fallen in love, though several times in his life he had tried hard +to do so. He had long wished to marry--wished ardently; he had even got +into the way of regarding every woman he met--and he met many--in the +light of a possible partner. 'Can it be _she_? he had asked himself a +thousand times, and then answered half sadly, 'No.' Not one woman had +touched his imagination, coincided with his dream. It is strange that +after seeing Eva Brunt he forgot thus to interrogate himself. For a +fortnight, while he went his ways as usual, her image occupied his +heart, throwing that once orderly chamber into the wildest confusion; +and he let it remain, dimly aware of some delicious danger. He inspected +the image every night before he slept, and every morning when he awoke, +and made no effort to define its distracting charm; he knew only that +Eva Brunt was absolutely and in every detail unlike all other women. On +the second Sunday he murmured during the sermon: 'But I only saw her for +a minute.' A few days afterwards he took the tram to Hanbridge. + +'Uncle,' he said, 'how should you like me to come and live here with +you? I've been thinking things out a bit, and I thought perhaps you'd +like it. I expect you must feel rather lonely now.' + +The neat, fragrant shop was empty, and the two men stood behind the big +glass-fronted case of Burroughs and Wellcome's preparations. Clive's +venerable uncle happened to be looking into a drawer marked 'Gentianae +Rad. Pulv.' He closed the drawer with slow hesitation, and then, +stroking his long white beard, replied in that deliberate voice which +seemed always to tremble with religious fervour: + +'The hand of the Lord is in this thing, Clive. I have wished that you +might come to live here with me. But I was afraid it would be too far +from the works.' + +'Pooh! that's nothing,' said Clive. + +As he lingered at the shop door for the Bursley car to pass the end of +Machin Street, Eva Brunt went by. He raised his hat with diffidence, and +she smiled. It was a marvellous chance. His heart leapt into a throb +which was half agony and half delight. + +'I am in love,' he said gravely. + +He had just discovered the fact, and the discovery filled him with +exquisite apprehension. + +If he had waited till the age of thirty-two for that springtime of the +soul which we call love, Clive had not waited for nothing. Eva was a +woman to enravish the heart of a man whose imagination could pierce the +agitating secrets immured in that calm and silent bosom. Slender and +scarcely tall, she belonged to the order of spare, slight-made women, +who hide within their slim frames an endowment of profound passion far +exceeding that of their more voluptuously-formed sisters, who never +coarsen into stoutness, and who at forty are as disturbing as at twenty. +At this date Eva was twenty-six. She had a rather small, white face, +which was a mask to the casual observer, and the very mirror of her +feelings to anyone with eyes to read its signs. + +'I tell you what you are like,' said Clive to her once: 'you are like a +fine racehorse, always on the quiver.' + +Yet many people considered her cold and impassive. Her walk and bearing +showed a sensitive independence, and when she spoke it was usually in +tones of command. The girls in the shop, where she was a power second +only to Ezra Brunt, were a little afraid of her, chiefly because she +poured terrible scorn on their small affectations, jealousies, and +vendettas. But they liked her because, in their own phrase, 'there was +no nonsense about' this redoubtable woman. She hated shams and +make-believes with a bitter and ruthless hatred. She was the heiress to +at least five thousand a year, and knew it well, but she never +encouraged her father to complicate their simple mode of life with the +pomps of wealth. They lived in a house with a large garden at Pireford, +which is on the summit of the steep ridge between the Five Towns and +Oldcastle, and they kept two servants and a coachman, who was also +gardener. Eva paid the servants good wages, and took care to get good +value therefor. + +'It's not often I have any bother with my servants,' she would say, 'for +they know that if there is any trouble I would just as soon clear them +out and put on an apron and do the work myself.' + +She was an accomplished house-mistress, and could bake her own bread: in +towns not one woman in a thousand can bake. With the coachman she had +little to do, for she could not rid herself of a sentimental objection +to the carriage--it savoured of 'airs'; when she used it she used it as +she might use a tramcar. It was her custom, every day except Saturday, +to walk to the shop about eleven o'clock, after her house had been set +in order. She had been thoroughly trained in the business, and had spent +a year at a first-rate shop in High Street, Kensington. Millinery was +her speciality, and she still watched over that department with a +particular attention; but for some time past she had risen beyond the +limitations of departments, and assisted her father in the general +management of the vast concern. In commercial aptitude she resembled the +typical Frenchwoman. + +Although he was her father, Ezra Brunt had the wit to recognise her +talents, and he always listened to her suggestions, which, however, +sometimes startled him. One of them was that he should import into the +Five Towns a modiste from Paris, offering a salary of two hundred a +year. The old provincial stood aghast. He had the idea that all Parisian +women were stage-dancers. And to pay four pounds a week to a female! + +Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Bertot--styled in the shop 'Madame'--now +presides over Ezra Brunt's dressmakers, draws her four pounds a week (of +which she saves two), and by mere nationality has given a unique +distinction and success to her branch of the business. + +Eva occupied a small room opening off the principal showroom, and during +hours of work she issued thence but seldom. Only customers of the +highest importance might speak with her. She was a power felt rather +than seen. Employes who knocked at her door always did so with a certain +awe of what awaited them on the other side, and a consciousness that the +moment was unsuitable for levity. 'If you please, Miss Eva----'. Here +she gave audience to the 'buyers' and window-dressers, listened to +complaints and excuses, and occasionally had a secret orgy of afternoon +tea with one or two of her friends. None but these few girls--mostly +younger than herself, and remarkable only in that their dislike of the +snobbery of the Five Towns, though less fiercely displayed, agreed with +her own--really knew Eva. To them alone did she unveil herself, and by +them she was idolized. + +'She is simply splendid when you know her--such a jolly girl!' they +would say to other people; but other people, especially other women, +could not believe it. They fearfully respected her because she was very +well dressed and had quantities of money. But they called her 'a curious +creature'; it was inconceivable to them that she should choose to work +in a shop; and her tongue had a causticity which was sometimes +exceedingly disconcerting and mortifying. As for men, she was shy of +them, and, moreover, she loathed the elaborate and insincere ritual of +deference which the average man practises towards women unrelated to +him, particularly when they are young and rich. Her father she adored, +without knowing it; for he often angered her, and humiliated her in +private. As for the rest, she was, after all, only six-and-twenty. + +'If you don't mind, I should like to walk along with you,' Clive Timmis +said to her one Sunday evening in the porch of the Bethesda Chapel. + +'I shall be glad,' she answered at once; 'father isn't here, and I'm all +alone.' + +Ezra Brunt was indeed seldom there, counting in the matter of +attendance at chapel among what were called 'the weaker brethren.' + +'I am going over to Oldcastle,' Clive explained calmly. + +So began the formal courtship--more than a month after Clive had settled +in Machin Street, for he was far too discreet to engender by +precipitancy any suspicion in the haunts of scandal that his true reason +for establishing himself in his uncle's household was a certain rich +young woman who was to be found every day next door. Guided as much by +instinct as by tact, Clive approached Eva with an almost savage +simplicity and naturalness of manner, ignoring not only her father's +wealth, but all the feigned punctilio of a wooer. His face said: 'Let +there be no beating about the bush--I like you.' Hers answered: 'Good! +we will see.' + +From the first he pleased her, and not least in treating her exactly as +she would have wished to be treated--namely, as a quite plain person of +that part of the middle class which is neither upper nor lower. Few men +in the Five Towns would have been capable of forgetting Ezra Brunt's +income in talking to Ezra Brunt's daughter. Fortunately, Timmis had a +proud, confident spirit--the spirit of one who, unaided, has wrested +success from the world's deathlike clutch. Had Eva the reversion of +fifty thousand a year instead of five, he, Clive, was still a prosperous +plain man, well able to support a wife in the position to which God had +called him. + +Their walks together grew more and more frequent, and they became +intimate, exchanging ideas and rejoicing openly at the similarity of +those ideas. Although there was no concealment in these encounters, +still, there was a circumspection which resembled the clandestine. By a +silent understanding Clive did not enter the house at Pireford; to have +done so would have excited remark, for this house, unlike some, had +never been the rendezvous of young men; much less, therefore, did he +invade the shop. No! The chief part of their love-making (for such it +was, though the term would have roused Eva's contemptuous anger) +occurred in the streets; in this they did but follow the traditions of +their class. Thus, the idyll, so matter-of-fact upon the surface, but +within which glowed secret and adorable fires, progressed towards its +culmination. Eva, the artless fool--oh, how simple are the wisest at +times!--thought that the affair was hid from the shop. But was it +possible? Was it possible that in those tiny bedrooms on the third +floor, where the heavy evening hours were ever lightened with breathless +interminable recitals of what some 'he' had said and some 'she' had +replied, such an enthralling episode should escape discovery? The +dormitories knew of Eva's 'attachment' before Eva herself. Yet none knew +how it was known. The whisper arose like Venus from a sea of trivial +gossip, miraculously, exquisitely. On the night when the first rumour of +it traversed the passages there was scarcely any sleep at Brunt's, while +Eva up at Pireford slumbered as a young girl. + +On the Thursday afternoon with which we began, Brunt's was deserted save +for the housekeeper and Eva, who was writing letters in her room. + +'I saw you from my window, coming up the street,' she said to Clive, +'and so I ran down to open the door. Will you come into father's room? +He is in Manchester for the day, buying. + +'I knew that,' said Timmis. + +'How did you know?' She observed that his manner was somewhat nervous +and constrained. + +'You yourself told me last night--don't you remember?' + +'So I did.' + +'That's why I sent the note round this morning to say I'd call this +afternoon. You got it, I suppose?' + +She nodded thoughtfully. + +'Well, what is this business you want to talk about?' + +It was spoken with a brave carelessness, but he caught the tremor in her +voice, and saw her little hand shake as it lay on the table amid her +father's papers. Without knowing why he should do so, he stepped hastily +forward and seized that hand. Her emotion unmanned him. He thought he +was going to cry; he could not account for himself. + +'Eva,' he said thickly, 'you know what the business is; you know, don't +you?' + +She smiled. That smile, the softness of her hand, the sparkle in her +eye, the heave of her small bosom ... it was the divinest miracle! +Clive, manufacturer of majolica, went hot and then cold, and then his +wits were suddenly his own again. + +'That's all right,' he murmured, and sighed, and placed on Eva's lips +the first kiss that had ever lain there. + +'Dear boy,' she said later, 'you should have come up to Pireford, not +here, and when father was there.' + +'Should I?' he answered happily. 'It just occurred to me all of a sudden +this morning that you would be here, and that I couldn't wait.' + +'You will come up to-night and see father?' + +'I had meant to.' + +'You had better go home now.' + +'Had I?' + +She nodded, putting her lips tightly together--a trick of hers. + +'Come up about half-past eight.' + +'Good! I will let myself out.' + +He left her, and she gazed dreamily at the window, which looked on to a +whitewashed yard. The next moment someone else entered the room with +heavy footsteps. She turned round a little startled. + +It was her father. + +'Why! You _are_ back early, father! How----' She stopped. Something in +the old man's glance gave her a premonition of disaster. To this day she +does not know what accident brought him from Manchester two hours sooner +than usual, and to Machin Street instead of Pireford. + +'Has young Timmis been here?' he inquired curtly. + +'Yes.' + +'Ha!' with subdued, sinister satisfaction, 'I saw him going out. He +didna see me.' Ezra Brunt deposited his hat and sat down. + +Intimate with all her father's various moods, she saw instantly and with +terrible certainty that a series of chances had fatally combined +themselves against her. If only she had not happened to tell Clive that +her father would be at Manchester this day! If only her father had +adhered to his customary hour of return! If only Clive had had the sense +to make his proposal openly at Pireford some evening! If only he had +left a little earlier! If only her father had not caught him going out +by the side-door on a Thursday afternoon when the place was empty! +Here, she guessed, was the suggestion of furtiveness which had raised +her father's unreasoning anger, often fierce, and always incalculable. + +'Clive Timmis has asked me to marry him, father.' + +'Has he!' + +'Surely you must have known, father, that he and I were seeing each +other a great deal.' + +'Not from your lips, my girl.' + +'Well, father----' Again she stopped, this strong and capable woman, +gifted with a fine brain to organize and a powerful will to command. She +quailed, robbed of speech, before the causeless, vindictive, and +infantile wrath of an old man who happened to be in a bad temper. She +actually felt like a naughty schoolgirl before him. Such is the +tremendous influence of lifelong habit, the irresistible power of the +_patria potestas_ when it has never been relaxed. Ezra Brunt saw in +front of him only a cowering child. 'Clive is coming up to see you +to-night,' she went on timidly, clearing her throat. + +'Humph! Is he?' + +The rosy and tender dream of five minutes ago lay in fragments at Eva's +feet. She brooded with stricken apprehension upon the forms of +obstruction which his despotism might choose. + + * * * * * + +The next morning Clive and his uncle breakfasted together as usual in +the parlour behind, the chemist's shop. + +'Uncle,' said Clive brusquely, when the meal was nearly finished, 'I'd +better tell you that I've proposed to Eva Brunt.' + +Old George Timmis lowered the _Manchester Guardian_ and gazed at Clive +over his steel-rimmed spectacles. + +'She is a good girl,' he remarked; 'she will make you a good wife. Have +you spoken to her father?' + +'That's the point. I saw him last night, and I'll tell you what he said. +These were his words: "You can marry my daughter, Mr. Timmis, when your +uncle agrees to part with his shop!"' + +'That I shall never do, nephew,' said the aged patriarch quietly and +deliberately. + +'Of course you won't, uncle. I shouldn't think of suggesting it. I'm +merely telling you what he said.' Clive laughed harshly. 'Why,' he +added, 'the man must be mad!' + +'What did the young woman say to that?' his uncle inquired. + +Clive frowned. + +'I didn't see her last night,' he said. 'I didn't ask to see her. I was +too angry.' + +Just then the post arrived, and there was a letter for Clive, which he +read and put carefully in his waistcoat pocket. + +'Eva writes asking me to go to Pireford to-night,' he said, after a +pause. 'I'll soon settle it, depend on that. If Ezra Brunt refuses his +consent, so much the worse for him. I wonder whether he actually +imagines that a grown man and a grown woman are to be.... Ah well, I +can't talk about it! It's too silly. I'll be off to the works.' + +When Clive reached Pireford that night, Eva herself opened the door to +him. She was wearing a gray frock, and over it a large white apron, +perfectly plain. + +'My girls are both out to-night,' she said, 'and I was making some puffs +for the sewing-meeting tea. Come into the breakfast-room.... This way,' +she added, guiding him. He had entered the house on the previous night +for the first time. She spoke hurriedly, and, instead of stopping in +the breakfast-room, wandered uncertainly through it into the greenhouse, +to which it gave access by means of a French window. In the dark, +confined space, amid the close-packed blossoms, they stood together. She +bent down to smell at a musk-plant. He took her hand and drew her soft +and yielding form towards him and kissed her warm face. + +'Oh, Clive!' she said. 'Whatever are we to do?' + +'Do?' he replied, enchanted by her instinctive feminine surrender and +reliance upon him, which seemed the more precious in that creature so +proud and reserved to all others. 'Do! Where is your father?' + +'Reading the _Signal_ in the dining-room.' + +Every business man in the Five Towns reads the _Staffordshire Signal_ +from beginning to end every night. + +'I will see him. Of course he is your father; but I will just tell +him--as decently as I can--that neither you nor I will stand this +nonsense.' + +'You mustn't--you mustn't see him.' + +'Why not?' + +'It will only lead to unpleasantness.' + +'That can't be helped.' + +'He never, never changes when once he has _said_ a thing. I know him.' + +Clive was arrested by something in her tone, something new to him, that +in its poignant finality seemed to have caught up and expressed in a +single instant that bitterness of a lifetime's renunciation which falls +to the lot of most women. + +'Will you come outside?' he asked in a different voice. + +Without replying, she led the way down the long garden, which ended in +an ivy-grown brick wall and a panorama of the immense valley of +industries below. It was a warm, cloudy evening. The last silver tinge +of an August twilight lay on the shoulder of the hill to the left. There +was no moon, but the splendid watch-fires of labour flamed from ore-heap +and furnace across the whole expanse, performing their nightly miracle +of beauty. Trains crept with noiseless mystery along the middle +distance, under their canopies of yellow steam. Further off the +far-extending streets of Hanbridge made a map of starry lines on the +blackness. To the south-east stared the cold, blue electric lights of +Knype railway-station. All was silent, save for a distant thunderous +roar, the giant breathing of the forge at Cauldon Bar Ironworks. + +Eva leaned both elbows on the wall and looked forth. + +'Do you mean to say,' said Clive, 'that Mr. Brunt will actually stick by +what he has said?' + +'Like grim death,' said Eva. + +'But what's his idea?' + +'Oh! how can I tell you?' she burst out passionately. + +'Perhaps I did wrong. Perhaps I ought to have warned him earlier--said +to him, "Father, Clive Timmis is courting me!" Ugh! He cannot bear to be +surprised about anything. But yet he must have known.... It was all an +accident, Clive--all an accident. He saw you leaving the shop yesterday. +He would say he _caught_ you leaving the shop--_sneaking_ off like----' + +'But, Eva----' + +'I know--I know! Don't tell me! But it was that, I am sure. He would +resent the mere look of things, and then he would think and think, and +the notion of your uncle's shop would occur to him again, after all +these years. I can see his thoughts as plain ... My dear, if he had not +seen you at Machin Street yesterday, or if you had seen him and spoken +to him, all might have gone right. He would have objected, but he would +have given way in a day or two. Now he will never give way! I asked you +just now what was to be done, but I knew all the time that there was +nothing.' + +'There is one thing to be done, Eva, and the sooner the better.' + +'Do you mean that old Mr. Timmis must give up his shop to my father? +Never! never!' + +'I mean,' said Clive quietly, 'that we must marry without your father's +consent.' + +She shook her head slowly and sadly, relapsing into calmness. + +'You shake your head, Eva, but it must be so.' + +'I can't, my dear.' + +'Do you mean to say that you will allow your father's childish whim--for +it's nothing else; he can't find any objection to me as a husband for +you, and he knows it--that you will allow his childish whim to spoil +your life and mine? Remember, you are twenty-six and I am thirty-two.' + +'I can't do it! I daren't! I'm mad with myself for feeling like this, +but I daren't! And even if I dared I wouldn't. Clive, you don't know! +You can't tell how it is!' + +Her sorrowful, pathetic firmness daunted him. She was now composed, +mistress again of herself, and her moral force dominated him. + +'Then, you and I are to be unhappy all our lives, Eva?' + +The soft influences of the night seemed to direct her voice as, after a +long pause, she uttered the words: 'No one is ever quite unhappy in all +this world.' There was another pause, as she gazed steadily down into +the wonderful valley. 'We must wait.' + +'Wait!' echoed Clive with angry grimness. 'He will live for twenty +years!' + +'No one is ever quite unhappy in all this world,' she repeated dreamily, +as one might turn over a treasure in order to examine it. + +Now for the epilogue to the feud. Two years passed, and it happened +that there was to be a Revival at the Bethesda Chapel. One morning the +superintendent minister and the revivalist called on Ezra Brunt at his +shop. When informed of their presence, the great draper had an impulse +of anger, for, like many stouter chapel-goers than himself, he would +scarcely tolerate the intrusion of religion into commerce. However, the +visit had an air of ceremony, and he could not decline to see these +ambassadors of heaven in his private room. The revivalist, a cheery, +shrewd man, whose powers of organization were obvious, and who seemed to +put organization before everything else, pleased Ezra Brunt at once. + +'We want a specially good congregation at the opening meeting to-night,' +said the revivalist. 'Now, the basis of a good congregation must +necessarily be the regular pillars of the church, and therefore we are +making a few calls this morning to insure the presence of our chief +men--the men of influence and position. You will come, Mr. Brunt, and +you will let it be known among your employes that they will please you +by coming too?' + +Ezra Brunt was by no means a regular pillar of the Bethesda, but he had +a vague sensation of flattery, and he consented; indeed, there was no +alternative. + +The first hymn was being sung when he reached the chapel. To his +surprise, he found the place crowded in every part. A man whom he did +not know led him to a wooden form which had been put in the space +between the front pews and the Communion-rail. He felt strange there, +and uneasy, apprehensive. + +The usual discreet somnolence of the chapel had been disturbed as by +some indecorous but formidable awakener; the air was electric; anything +might occur. Ezra was astounded by the mere volume of the singing; never +had he heard such singing. At the end of the hymn the congregation sat +down, hiding their faces in expectation. The revivalist stood erect and +terrible in the pulpit, no longer a shrewd, cheery man of the world, but +the very mouthpiece of the wrath and mercy of God. Ezra's +self-importance dwindled before that gaze, till, from a renowned magnate +of the Five Towns, he became an item in the multitude of suppliants. He +profoundly wished he had never come. + +'Remember the hymn,' said the revivalist, with austere emphasis: + + '"My richest gain I count but loss, + And pour contempt on all my pride."' + +The admirable histrionic art with which he intensified the consonants in +the last line produced a tremendous effect. Not for nothing was this man +cerebrated throughout Methodism as a saver of souls. When, after a +pause, he raised his hand and ejaculated, 'Let us pray,' sobs could be +heard throughout the chapel. The Revival had begun. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour Ezra Brunt would have given fifty +pounds to be outside, but he could not stir; he was magnetized. Soon the +revivalist came down from the pulpit and stood within the +Communion-rail, whence he addressed the nearmost part of the people in +low, soothing tones of persuasion. Apparently he ignored Ezra Brunt, but +the man was convicted of sin, and felt himself melting like an icicle in +front of a fire. He recalled the days of his youth, the piety of his +father and mother, and the long traditions of a stern Dissenting +family. He had backslidden, slackened in the use of the means of grace, +run after the things of this world. It is true that none of his chiefest +iniquities presented themselves to him; he was quite unconscious of them +even then; but the lesser ones were more than sufficient to overwhelm +him. Class-leaders were now reasoning with stricken sinners, and Ezra, +who could not take his eyes off the revivalist, heard the footsteps of +those who were going to the 'inquiry-room' for more private counsel. In +vain he argued that he was about to be ridiculous; that the idea of him, +Ezra Brunt, a professed Wesleyan for half a century, being publicly +'saved' at the age of fifty-seven was not to be entertained; that the +town would talk; that his business might suffer if for any reason he +should be morally bound to apply to it too strictly the principles of +the New Testament. He was under the spell. The tears coursed down his +long cheeks, and he forgot to care, but sat entranced by the +revivalist's marvellous voice. Suddenly, with an awful sob, he bent and +hid his face in his hands. The spectacle of the old, proud man helpless +in the grasp of profound emotion was a sight to rend the heart-strings. + +'Brother, be of good cheer,' said a tremulous and benign voice above +him. 'The love of God compasseth all things. Only believe.' + +He looked up and saw the venerable face and long white beard of George +Christopher Timmis. + +Ezra Brunt shrank away, embittered and ashamed. + +'I cannot,' he murmured with difficulty. + +'The love of God is all-powerful.' + +'Will it make you part with that bit o' property, think you?' said Ezra +Brunt, with a kind of despairing ferocity. + +'Brother,' replied the aged servant of God, unmoved, 'if my shop is in +truth a stumbling-block in this solemn hour, you shall have it.' + +Ezra Brunt was staggered. + +'I believe! I believe!' he cried. + +'Praise God!' said the chemist, with majestic joy. + + * * * * * + +Three months afterwards Eva Brunt and Clive Timmis were married. It is +characteristic of the fine sentimentality which underlies the surface +harshness of the inhabitants of the Five Towns that, though No. 54 +Machin Street was duly transferred to Ezra Brunt, the chemist retiring +from business, he has never rebuilt it to accord with the rest of his +premises. In all its shabbiness it stands between the other big dazzling +shops as a reminding monument. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHANTOM + + +I + +The heart of the Five Towns--that undulating patch of England covered +with mean streets, and dominated by tall smoking chimneys, whence are +derived your cups and saucers and plates, some of your coal, and a +portion of your iron--is Hanbridge, a borough larger and busier than its +four sisters, and even more grimy and commonplace than they. And the +heart of Hanbridge is probably the offices of the Five Towns Banking +Company, where the last trace of magic and romance is beaten out of +human existence, and the meaning of life is expressed in balances, +deposits, percentages, and overdrafts--especially overdrafts. In a fine +suite of rooms on the first floor of the bank building resides Mr. +Lionel Woolley, the manager, with his wife May and their children. Mrs. +Woolley is compelled to change her white window-curtains once a week +because of the smuts. Mr. Woolley, forty-five, rather bald, frigidly +suave, positive, egotistic, and pontifical, is a specimen of the man of +business who is nothing else but a man of business. His career has been +a calculation from which sentiment is entirely omitted; he has no +instinct for the things which cannot be defined and assessed. Scarcely a +manufacturer in Hanbridge but who inimically and fearfully regards Mr. +Woolley as an amazing instance of a creature without a soul; and the +absence of soul in a fellow-man must be very marked indeed before a +Hanbridge manufacturer notices it. There are some sixty thousand +immortal souls in Hanbridge, but they seldom attract attention. + +Yet Mr. Woolley was once brought into contact with the things which +cannot be defined and assessed; once he stood face to face with some +strange visible resultant of those secret forces that lie beyond the +human ken. And, moreover, the adventure affected the whole of his +domestic life. The wonder and the pathos of the story lie in the fact +that Nature, prodigal though she is known to be, should have wasted the +rare and beautiful visitation on just Mr. Woolley. Mr. Woolley was +bathed in romance of the most singular kind, and the precious fluid ran +off him like water off a duck's back. + + + +II + +Ten years ago on a Thursday afternoon in July, Lionel Woolley, as he +walked up through the new park at Bursley to his celibate rooms in Park +Terrace, was making addition sums out of various items connected with +the institution of marriage. Bursley is next door to Hanbridge, and +Lionel happened then to be cashier of the Bursley branch of the bank. He +had in mind two possible wives, each of whom possessed advantages which +appealed to him, and he was unable to decide between them by any +mathematical process. Suddenly, from a glazed shelter near the empty +bandstand, there emerged in front of him one of the delectable creatures +who had excited his fancy. May Lawton was twenty-eight, an orphan, and a +schoolmistress. She, too, had celibate rooms in Park Terrace, and it +was owing to this coincidence that Lionel had made her acquaintance six +months previously. She was not pretty, but she was tall, straight, well +dressed, well educated, and not lacking in experience; and she had a +little money of her own. + +'Well, Mr. Woolley,' she said easily, stopping for him as she raised her +sunshade, 'how satisfied you look!' + +'It's the sight of you,' he replied, without a moment's hesitation. + +He had a fine assured way with women (he need not have envied a curate +accustomed to sewing meetings), and May Lawton belonged to the type of +girl whose demeanour always challenges the masculine in a man. Gazing at +her, Lionel was swiftly conscious of several things: the piquancy of her +snub nose, the brightness of her smile, at once defiant and wistful, the +lingering softness of her gloved hand, and the extraordinary charm of +her sunshade, which matched her dress and formed a sort of canopy and +frame for that intelligent, tantalizing face. He remembered that of late +he and she had grown very intimate; and it came upon him with a shock, +as though he had just opened a telegram which said so, that May, and not +the other girl, was his destined mate. And he thought of her fortune, +tiny but nevertheless useful, and how clever she was, and how +inexplicably different from the rest of her sex, and how she would adorn +his house, and set him off, and help him in his career. He heard himself +saying negligently to friends: 'My wife speaks French like a native. Of +course, my wife has travelled a great deal. My wife has thoroughly +studied the management of children. Now, my wife does understand the art +of dress. I put my wife's bit of money into so-and-so.' In short, Lionel +was as near being in love as his character permitted. + +And while he walked by May's side past the bowling-greens at the summit +of the hill, she lightly quizzing the raw newness of the park and its +appurtenances, he wondered, he honestly wondered, that he could ever +have hesitated between May Lawton and the other. Her superiority was too +obvious; she was a woman of the world! She.... In a flash he knew that +he would propose to her that very afternoon. And when he had suggested +a stroll towards Moorthorne, and she had deliciously agreed, he was +conscious of a tumultuous uplifting and splendid carelessness of +spirits. 'Imagine me bringing it to a climax to-day,' he reflected, +profoundly pleased with himself. 'Ah well, it will be settled once for +all!' He admired his own decision; he was quite struck by it. 'I shall +call her May before I leave her,' he thought, gazing at her, and +discovering how well the name suited her, with its significances of +alertness, geniality, and half-mocking coyness. + +'So school is closed,' he said, and added humorously: '"Broken up" is +the technical term, I believe.' + +'Yes,' she answered, 'and I had walked out into the park to meditate +seriously upon the question of my holiday.' + +She caught his eye in a net of bright glances, and romance was in the +air. They had crossed a couple of smoke-soiled fields, and struck into +the old Hanbridge road just below the abandoned toll-house with its +broad eaves. + +'And whither do your meditations point?' he demanded playfully. + +'My meditations point to Switzerland,' she said. 'I have friends in +Lausanne.' + +The reference to foreign climes impressed him. + +'Would that I could go to Switzerland too!' he exclaimed; and privately: +'Now for it! I'm about to begin.' + +'Why?' she questioned, with elaborate simplicity. + +At the moment, as they were passing the toll-house, the other girl +appeared surprisingly from round the corner of the toll-house, where the +lane from Toft End joins the highroad. This second creature was smaller +than Miss Lawton, less assertive, less intelligent, perhaps, but much +more beautiful. + +Everyone halted and everyone blushed. + +'May!' the interrupter at length stammered. + +'May!' responded Miss Lawton lamely. + +The other girl was named May too--May Deane, child of the well-known +majolica manufacturer, who lived with his sons and daughter in a +solitary and ancient house at Toft End. + +Lionel Woolley said nothing until they had all shaken hands--his famous +way with women seemed to have deserted him--and then he actually stated +that he had forgotten an appointment, and must depart. He had gone +before the girls could move. + +When they were alone, the two Mays fronted each other, confused, +hostile, almost homicidal. + +'I hope I didn't spoil a _tete-a-tete_,' said May Deane, stiffly and +sharply, in a manner quite foreign to her soft and yielding nature. + +The schoolmistress, abandoning herself to an inexplicable but +overwhelming impulse, took breath for a proud lie. + +'No,' she answered; 'but if you had come three minutes earlier----' + +She smiled calmly. + +'Oh!' murmured May Deane, after a pause. + + + +III + +That evening May Deane returned home at half-past nine. She had been +with her two brothers to a lawn-tennis party at Hillport, and she told +her father, who was reading the _Staffordshire Signal_ in his accustomed +solitude, that the boys were staying later for cards, but that she had +declined to stay because she felt tired. She kissed the old widower +good-night, and said that she should go to bed at once. But before +retiring she visited the housekeeper in the kitchen in order to discuss +certain household matters: Jim's early breakfast, the proper method of +washing Herbert's new flannels (Herbert would be very angry if they were +shrunk), and the dog-biscuits for Carlo. These questions settled, she +went to her room, drew the blind, lighted some candles, and sat down +near the window. + +She was twenty-two, and she had about her that strange and charming +nunlike mystery which often comes to a woman who lives alone and +unguessed-at among male relatives. Her room was her bower. No one, save +the servants and herself, ever entered it. Mr. Deane and Jim and Bertie +might glance carelessly through the open door in passing along the +corridor, but had they chanced in idle curiosity to enter, the room +would have struck them as unfamiliar, and they might perhaps have +exclaimed with momentary interest, 'So this is May's room!' And some +hint that May was more than a daughter and sister--a woman, withdrawn, +secret, disturbing, living her own inner life side by side with the +household life--might have penetrated their obtuse paternal and +fraternal masculinity. Her beautiful face (the nose and mouth were +perfect, and at either extremity of the upper lip grew a soft down), her +dark hair, her quiet voice and her gentle acquiescence (diversified by +occasional outbursts of sarcasm), appealed to them and won them; but +they accepted her as something of course, as something which went +without saying. They adored her, and did not know that they adored her. + +May took off her hat, stuck the pins into it again, and threw it on the +bed, whose white and green counterpane hung down nearly to the floor on +either side. Then she lay back in the chair, and, pulling away the +blind, glanced through the window; the moon, rather dim behind the +furnace lights of Red Cow Ironworks, was rising over Moorthorne. May +dropped the blind with a wearied gesture, and turned within the room, +examining its contents as if she had not seen them before: the wardrobe, +the chest of drawers, which was also a dressing-table, the washstand, +the dwarf book-case with its store of Edna Lyalls, Elizabeth Gaskells, +Thackerays, Charlotte Yonges, Charlotte Brontes, a Thomas Hardy or so, +and some old school-books. She looked at the pictures, including a +sampler worked by a deceased aunt, at the loud-ticking Swiss clock on +the mantelpiece, at the higgledy-piggledy photographs there, at the new +Axminster carpet, the piece of linoleum in front of the washstand, and +the bad joining of the wallpaper to the left of the door. She missed +none of the details which she knew so well, with such long monotonous +intimacy, and sighed. + +Then she got up from the chair, and, opening a small drawer in the chest +of drawers, put her hand familiarly to the back and drew forth a +photograph. She carried the photograph to the light of the candles on +the mantelpiece, and gazed at it attentively, puckering her brows. It +was a portrait of Lionel Woolley. Heaven knows by what subterfuge or +lucky accident she had obtained it, for Lionel certainly had not given +it to her. She loved Lionel. She had loved him for five years, with a +love silent, blind, intense, irrational, and too elemental to be +concealed. Everyone knew of May's passion. Many women admired her taste; +a few were shocked and puzzled by it. All the men of her acquaintance +either pitied or despised her for it. Her father said nothing. Her +brothers were less cautious, and summed up their opinion of Lionel in +the curt, scornful assertion that he showed a tendency to cheat at +tennis. But May would never hear ill of him; he was a god to her, and +she could not hide her worship. For more than a year, until lately, she +had been almost sure of him, and then came a faint vague rumour +concerning Lionel and May Lawton, a rumour which she had refused to take +seriously. The encounter of that afternoon, and Miss Lawton's triumphant +remark, had dazed her. For seven hours she had existed in a kind of +semi-conscious delirium, in which she could perceive nothing but the +fatal fact, emerging more clearly every moment from the welter of her +thoughts, that she had lost Lionel. Lionel had proposed to May Lawton, +and been accepted, just before she surprised them together; and Lionel, +with a man's excusable cowardice, had left his betrothed to announce +the engagement. + +She tore up the photograph, put the fragments in the grate, and set a +light to them. + +Her father's step sounded on the stairs; he hesitated, and knocked +sharply at her door. + +'What's burning, May?' + +'It's all right, father,' she answered calmly, 'I'm only burning some +papers in the fire-grate.' + +'Well, see you don't burn the house down.' + +He passed on. + +Then she found a sheet of notepaper, and wrote on it in pencil, using +the mantelpiece for a desk: 'Dear home. Good-night, good-bye.' She +cogitated, and wrote further: 'Forgive me.--MAY.' + +She put the message in an envelope, and wrote on the envelope 'Jim,' and +placed it prominently in front of the clock. But after she had looked at +it for a minute, she wrote 'Father' above Jim, and then 'Herbert' below. + +There were noises in the hall; the boys had returned earlier than she +expected. As they went along the corridor and caught a glimpse of her +light under the door, Jim cried gaily: 'Now then, out with that light! A +little thing like you ought to be asleep hours since.' + +She listened for the bang of their door, and then, very hurriedly, she +removed her pink frock and put on an old black one, which was rather +tight in the waist. And she donned her hat, securing it carefully with +both pins, extinguished the candles, and crept quietly downstairs, and +so by the back-door into the garden. Carlo, the retriever, came halfway +out of his kennel and greeted her in the moonlight with a yawn. She +patted his head and ran stealthily up the garden, through the gate, and +up the waste green land towards the crown of the hill. + + + +IV + +The top of Toft End is the highest land in the Five Towns, and from it +may be clearly seen all the lurid evidences of manufacture which sweep +across the borders of the sky on north, east, west, and south. +North-eastwards lie the moorlands, and far off Manifold, the 'metropolis +of the moorlands,' as it is called. On this night the furnaces of Red +Cow Ironworks, in the hollow to the east, were in full blast; their +fluctuating yellow light illuminated queerly the grass of the fields +above Deane's house, and the regular roar of their breathing reached +that solitary spot like the distant rumour of some leviathan beast +angrily fuming. Further away to the south-west the Cauldon Bar Ironworks +reproduced the same phenomena, and round the whole horizon, near and +far, except to the north-east, the lesser fires of labour leapt and +flickered and glinted in their mists of smoke, burning ceaselessly, as +they burned every night and every day at all seasons of all years. The +town of Bursley slept in the deep valley to the west, and vast Hanbridge +in the shallower depression to the south, like two sleepers accustomed +to rest quietly amid great disturbances; the beacons of their Town Halls +and churches kept watch, and the whole scene was dominated by the +placidity of the moon, which had now risen clear of the Red Cow furnace +clouds, and was passing upwards through tracts of stars. + +Into this scene, climbing up from the direction of Manifold, came Lionel +Woolley, nearly at midnight, having walked some eighteen miles in a +vain effort to re-establish his self-satisfaction by a process of +reasoning and ingenious excuses. Lionel felt that in the brief episode +of the afternoon he had scarcely behaved with dignity. In other words, +he was fully and painfully aware that he must have looked a fool, a +coward, an ass, a contemptible and pitiful person, in the eyes of at +least one girl, if not of two. He did not like this--no man would have +liked it; and to Lionel the memory of an undignified act was acute +torture. Why had he bidden the girls adieu and departed? Why had he, in +fact, run away? What precisely would May Lawton think of him? How could +he explain his conduct to her--and to himself? And had that worshipping, +affectionate thing, May Deane, taken note of his confusion--of the +confusion of him who was never confused, who was equal to every occasion +and every emergency? These were some of the questions which harried him +and declined to be settled. He had walked to Manifold, and had tea at +the Roebuck, and walked back, and still the questions were harrying; and +as he came over the hill by the field-path, and descried the lone house +of the Deanes in the light of the Red Cow furnaces and of the moon, the +worship of May Deane seemed suddenly very precious to him, and he could +not bear to think that any stupidity of his should have impaired it. + +Then he saw May Deane walking slowly across the field, close to an +abandoned pit-shaft, whose low protecting circular wall of brick was +crumbling to ruin on the side nearest to him. + +She stopped, appeared to gaze at him intently, turned, and began to +approach him. And he too, moved by a mysterious impulse which he did not +pause to examine, swerved, and quickened his step in order to lessen the +distance between them. He did not at first even feel surprise that she +should be wandering solitary on the hill at that hour. Presently she +stood still, while he continued to move forward. It was as if she drew +him; and soon, in the pale moonlight and the wavering light of the +furnaces, he could decipher all the details of her face, and he saw that +she was smiling fondly, invitingly, admiringly, lustrously, with the old +undiminished worship and affection. And he perceived a dark +discoloration on her right cheek, as though she had suffered a blow, +but this mark did not long occupy his mind. He thought suddenly of the +strong probability that her father would leave a nice little bit of +money to each of his three children; and he thought of her beauty, and +of her timid fragility in the tight black dress, and of her immense and +unquestioning love for him, which would survive all accidents and +mishaps. He seemed to sink luxuriously into this grand passion of hers +(which he deemed quite natural and proper) as into a soft feather-bed. +To live secure in an atmosphere of exhaustless worship; to keep a fount +of balm and admiration for ever in the house, a bubbling spring of +passionate appreciation which would be continually available for the +refreshment of his self-esteem! To be always sure of an obedience blind +and willing, a subservience which no tyranny and no harshness and no +whim would rouse into revolt; to sit on a throne with so much beauty +kneeling at his feet! + +And the possession of her beauty would be a source of legitimate pride +to him. People would often refer to the beautiful Mrs. Woolley. + +He felt that in sending May Deane to interrupt his highly emotional +conversation with May Lawton Providence had watched over him and done +him a good turn. May Lawton had advantages, and striking advantages, but +he could not be sure of her. The suspicion that if she married him she +would marry him for her own ends caused him a secret disquiet, and he +feared that one day, perhaps one morning at breakfast, she might take it +into her intelligent head to mock him, to exercise upon him her gift of +irony, and to intimate to him that if he fancied she was his slave he +was deceived. That she sincerely admired him he never for an instant +doubted. But---- + +And, moreover, the unfortunate episode of the afternoon might have +cooled her ardour to freezing-point. + +He stood now in front of his worshipper, and the notion crossed his mind +that in after-years he could say to his friends: 'I proposed to my wife +at midnight under the moon. Not many men have done that.' + +'Good-evening,' he ventured to the girl; and he added with bravado: +'We've met before to-day, haven't we?' + +She made no reply, but her smile was more affectionate, more inviting, +than ever. + +'I'm glad of this opportunity--very glad,' he proceeded. 'I've been +wanting to ... You must know, my dear girl, how I feel....' + +She gave a gesture, charming in its sweet humility, as if to say: 'Who +am I that I should dare----' + +And then he proposed to her, asked her to share his life, and all that +sort of thing; and when he had finished he thought, 'It's done now, +anyway.' + +Strange to relate, she offered no immediate reply, but she bent a little +towards him with shining, happy eyes. He had an impulse to seize her in +his arms and kiss her, but prudence suggested that he should defer the +rite. She turned and began to walk slowly and meditatively towards the +pit-shaft. He followed almost at her side, but a foot or so behind, +waiting for her to speak. And as he waited, expectant, he looked at her +profile and reflected how well the name May suited her, with its +significances of shyness and dreamy hope, and hidden fire and the +modesty of spring. + +And while he was thus savouring her face, and they were still ten yards +from the pit-shaft, she suddenly disappeared from his vision, as it were +by a conjuring trick. He had a horrible sensation in his spinal column. +He was not the man to mistrust the evidence of his senses, and he knew, +therefore, that he had been proposing to a phantom. + + + +V + +The next morning--early, because of Jim's early breakfast--when May +Deane's disappearance became known to the members of the household, Jim +had the idea of utilizing Carlo in the search for her. The retriever +went straight, without a fault, to the pit-shaft, and May was discovered +alive and unscathed, save for a contusion of the face and a sprain in +the wrist. + +Her suicidal plunge had been arrested, at only a few feet from the top +of the shaft, by a cross-stay of timber, upon which she lay prone. There +was no reason why the affair should be made public, and it was not. It +was suppressed into one of those secrets which embed themselves in the +history of families, and after two or three generations blossom into +romantic legends full of appropriate circumstantial detail. + +Lionel Woolley spent a woeful night at his rooms. He did not know what +to do, and on the following day May Lawton encountered him again, and +proved by her demeanour that the episode of the previous afternoon had +caused no estrangement. Lionel vacillated. The sway of the +schoolmistress was almost restored, and it would have been restored +fully had he not been preoccupied by a feverish curiosity--the curiosity +to know whether or not May Deane was dead. He felt that she must indeed +be dead, and he lived through the day expectant of the news of her +sudden decease. Towards night his state of mind was such that he was +obliged to call at the Deanes'. May heard him, and insisted on seeing +him; more, she insisted on seeing him alone in the breakfast-room, where +she reclined, interestingly white, on the sofa. Her father and brothers +objected strongly to the interview, but they yielded, afraid that a +refusal might induce hysteria and worse things. + +And when Lionel Woolley came into the room, May, steeped in felicity, +related to him the story of her impulsive crime. + +'I was so happy,' she said, 'when I knew that Miss Lawton had deceived +me.' And before he could inquire what she meant, she continued rapidly: +'I must have been unconscious, but I felt you were there, and something +of me went out towards you. And oh! the answer to your question--I heard +your question; the real _me_ heard it, but that _something_ could not +speak.' + +'My question?' + +'You asked a question, didn't you?' she faltered, sitting up. + +He hesitated, and then surrendered himself to her immense love and sank +into it, and forgot May Lawton. + +'Yes,' he said. + +'The answer is yes. Oh, you must have known the answer would be yes! You +did know, didn't you?' + +He nodded grandly. + +She sighed with delicious and overwhelming joy. + +In the ecstasy of the achievement of her desire the girl gave little +thought to the psychic aspect of the possibly unique wooing. + +As for Lionel, he refused to dwell on it even in thought. And so that +strange, magic, yearning effluence of a soul into a visible projection +and shape was ignored, slurred over, and, after ten years of domesticity +in the bank premises, is gradually being forgotten. + +He is a man of business, and she, with her fading beauty, her ardent, +continuous worship of the idol, her half-dozen small children, the +eldest of whom is only eight, and the white window-curtains to change +every week because of the smuts--do you suppose she has time or +inclination to ponder upon the theory of the subliminal consciousness +and kindred mysteries? + + * * * * * + + + + +TIDDY-FOL-LOL + + +It was the dinner-hour, and a group of ragged and clay-soiled apprentice +boys were making a great noise in the yard of Henry Mynors and Co.'s +small, compact earthenware manufactory up at Toft End. Toft End caps the +ridge to the east of Bursley; and Bursley, which has been the home of +the potter for ten centuries, is the most ancient of the Five Towns in +Staffordshire. The boys, dressed for the most part in shirt, trousers, +and boots, all equally ragged and insecure, were playing at prison-bars. + +Soon the game ended abruptly in a clamorous dispute upon a point of law, +and it was not recommenced. The dispute dying a natural death, the +tireless energies of the boys needed a fresh outlet. Inspired by a +common instinct, they began at once to bait one of their number, a +slight youngster of twelve years, much better clothed than the rest, who +had adventurously strolled in from a neighbouring manufactory. This +child answered their jibes in an amiable, silly, drawling tone which +seemed to justify the epithet 'Loony,' frequently applied to him. Now +and then he stammered; and then companions laughed loud, and he with +them. It was known that several years ago he had fallen down a flight of +stone steps, alighting on the back of his head, and that ever since he +had been deaf of one ear and under some trifling mental derangement. His +sublime calmness under their jests baffled them until the terrible +figure of Mr. Machin, the engine-man, standing at the door of the +slip-house, caught their attention and suggested a plan full of joyous +possibilities. They gathered round the lad, and, talking in subdued +murmurs, unanimously urged him with many persuasions to a certain course +of action. He declined the scheme, and declined again. Suddenly a boy +shouted: + +'Thee dars' na'!' + +'I dare,' was the drawled, smiling answer. + +'I tell thee thee dars' na'!' + +'I tell thee I dare.' And thereupon he slowly but resolutely set out +for the slip-house door and Mr. Machin. + +Eli Machin was beyond doubt the most considerable employe on Clarke's +'bank' (manufactory). Even Henry Clarke approached him with a +subtly-indicated deference, and whenever Silas Emery, the immensely rich +and miserly sleeping partner in the firm, came up to visit the works, +these two old men chatted as old friends. In a modern earthenware +manufactory the engine-room is the source of all activity, for, owing to +the inventive genius of a famous and venerable son of the Five Towns, +steam now presides at nearly every stage in the long process of turning +earth into ware. It moves the pug-mill, the jollies, and the marvellous +batting machines, dries the unfired clay, heats the printers' stoves, +and warms the offices where the 'jacket-men' dwell. Coal is a tremendous +item in the cost of production, and a competent, economical engine-man +can be sure of good wages and a choice of berths; he is desired like a +good domestic servant. Eli Machin was the prince of engine-men. His +engine never went wrong, his coal bills were never extravagant, and +(supreme virtue!) he was never absent on Mondays. From his post in the +slip-house he watched over the whole works like a father, stern, gruff, +forbidding, but to be trusted absolutely. He was sixty years old, and +had been 'putting by' for nearly half a century. He lived in a tiny +villa-cottage with his bed-ridden, cheerful wife, and lent small sums on +mortgage of approved freeholds at 5 per cent.--no more and no less. +Secure behind this rampart of saved money, he was the equal of the King +on the throne. Not a magnate in all the Five Towns who would dare to be +condescending to Eli Machin. He had been a sidesman at the old church. A +trades-union had once asked him to become a working-man candidate for +the Bursley Town Council, but he had refused because he did not care for +the possibility of losing caste by being concerned in a strike. His +personal respectability was entirely unsullied, and he worshipped this +abstract quality as he worshipped God. + +There was only one blot--but how foul!--on Eli Machin's career, and that +had been dropped by his daughter Miriam, when, defying his authority, +she married a scene-shifter at Hanbridge Theatre. The atrocious idea of +being connected with the theatre had rendered him speechless for a +time. He could but endure it in the most awful silence that ever hid +passionate feeling. Then one day he had burst out, 'The wench is no +better than a tiddy-fol-lol!' Only this solitary phrase--nothing else. + +What a tiddy-fol-lol was no one quite knew; but the word, getting about, +stuck to him, and for some weeks boys used to shout it after him in the +streets, until he caught one of them, and in thirty seconds put an end +to the practice. Thenceforth Miriam, with all hers, was dead to him. +When her husband expired of consumption, Eli Machin saw the avenging arm +of the Lord in action; and when her boy grew to be a source of painful +anxiety to her, he said to himself that the wrath of Heaven was not yet +cooled towards this impious daughter. The passage of fifteen years had +apparently in no way softened his resentment. + +The challenged lad in Mynors' yard slowly approached the slip-house +door, and halted before Eli Machin, grinning. + +'Well, young un,' the old man said absently, 'what dost want?' + +'Tiddy-fol-lol, grandfeyther,' the child drawled in his silly, +irritating voice, and added: 'They said I darena say it to ye.' + +Without and instant's hesitation Eli Machin raised his still powerful +arm, and, catching the boy under the ear, knocked him down. The other +boys yelled with unaffected pleasure and ran away. + +'Get up, and be off wi' ye. Ye dunna belong to this bank,' said Eli +Machin in cold anger to the lad. But the lad did not stir; the lad's +eyes were closed, and he lay white on the stones. + +Eli Machin bent down, and peered through his spectacles at the prone +form upon which the mid-day sun was beating. + +'It's Miriam's boy!' he ejaculated under his breath, and looked round as +if in inquiry--the yard was empty. Then with quick decision he picked up +this limp and inconvenient parcel of humanity and hastened--ran--with it +out of the yard into the road. + +Down the road he ran, turned to the left into Clowes Street, and stopped +before a row of small brown cottages. At the open door of one of these +cottages a woman sat sewing. She was rather stout and full-bosomed, +with a fair, fresh face, full of sense and peace; she looked under +thirty, but was older. + +'Here's thy Tommy, Miriam,' said Eli Machin shortly. 'He give me some of +his sauce, and I doubt I've done him an injury.' + +The woman dropped her sewing. + +'Eh, dear!' she cried, 'is that lad o' mine in mischief again? I do hope +he's no limb brokken.' + +'It in'na that,' said the old man, 'but he's dazed-like. Better lay him +on th' squab.' + +She calmly took Tommy and placed him gently down on the check-covered +sofa under the window. 'Come in, father, do.' + +The man obeyed, astonished at the entire friendliness of this daughter, +whom, though he had frequently seen her, he had never spoken to for more +than ten years. Her manner, at once filial and quite natural, perfectly +ignored the long breach, and disclosed no trace of animosity. + +Father and daughter examined the unconscious child. Pale, pulseless, +cold, he lay on the sofa like a corpse except for the short, faint +breaths which he drew through his blue lips. + +'I doubt I've killed him,' said Eli. + +'Nay, nay, father!' And her face actually smiled. This supremacy of the +soul against years of continued misfortune lifted her high above him, +and he suddenly felt himself an inferior creature. + +'I'll go for th' doctor,' he said. + +'Nay! I shall need ye.' And she put her head out of the window. 'Mrs. +Walley, will ye let your Lucy run quick for th' club doctor? my Tommy's +hurt.' + +The whole street awoke instantly from its nap, and in a few moments +every door was occupied. Miriam closed her own door softly, as though +she might wake the boy, and spoke in whispers to people through the +window, finally telling them to go away. When the doctor came, half an +hour afterwards, she had done all that she knew for Tommy, without the +slightest apparent result. + +'What is it?' asked the doctor curtly, as he lifted the child's thin and +lifeless hand. + +Eli Machin explained that he had boxed the boy's ear. + +'Tommy was impudent to his grandfather,' Miriam added hastily. + +'Which ear?' the doctor inquired. It was the left. He gazed into it, +and then raised the boy's right leg and arm. 'There is no paralysis,' he +said. Then he felt the heart, and then took out his stethoscope and +applied it, listening intently. + +'Canst hear owt?' the old man said. + +'I cannot,' he answered. + +'Don't say that, doctor--don't say that! said Miriam, with an accent of +appeal. + +'In these cases it is almost impossible to tell whether the patient is +alive or dead. We must wait. Mrs. Baddeley, make a mustard plaster for +his feet, and we will put another over the heart.' And so they waited +one hour, while the clock ticked and the mustard plasters gradually +cooled. Then Tommy's lips parted. + +After another half-hour the doctor said: + +'I must go now; I will come again at six. Do nothing but apply fresh +plasters. Be sure to keep his neck free. He is breathing, but I may as +well be plain with you--there is a great risk of your child dying in +this condition.' + +Neighbours were again at the window, and Miriam drew the blind, waving +them away. At six o'clock the doctor reappeared. 'There is no change,' +he remarked. 'I will call in before I go to bed.' + +When he lifted the latch for the third time, at ten o'clock, Eli Machin +and Miriam still sat by the sofa, and Tommy still lay thereon, moveless, +a terrible enigma. But the glass lamp was lighted on the mantelpiece, +and Miriam's sewing, by which she earned a livelihood, had been hidden +out of sight. + +'There is no change,' said the doctor. 'You can do nothing except hope.' + +'And pray,' the calm mother added. + +Eli neither stirred nor spoke. For nine hours he had absolutely +forgotten his engine. He knew the boy would die. + +The clock struck eleven, twelve, one, two, three, each time fretting the +nerves of the old man like a rasp. It was the hour of summer dawn. A +cold gray light fell unkindly across the small figure on the sofa. + +'Open th' door a bit, father,' said Miriam. 'This parlour's gettin' +close; th' lad canna breathe.' + +'Nay, lass,' Eli sighed, as he stumbled obediently to the door. 'The +lad'll breathe no more. I've killed him i' my anger.' He frowned +heavily, as though someone was annoying him. + +'Hist!' she exclaimed, when, after extinguishing the lamp, she returned +to her boy's side. 'He's reddened--he's reddened! Look thee at his +cheeks, father!' She seized the child's inert hands and rubbed them +between her own. The blood was now plain in Tommy's face. His legs +faintly twitched. His breathing was slower. Miriam moved the coverlet +and put her head upon his heart. 'It's beating loud, father,' she cried. +'Bless God!' + +Eli stared at the child with the fixity of a statue. Then Tommy opened +his eyes for an instant. The old man groaned. Tommy looked vacantly +round, closed his eyes again, and was unmistakably asleep. He slept for +one minute, and then waked. Eli involuntarily put a hand on the sofa. +Tommy gazed at him, and, with the most heavenly innocent smile of +recognition, lightly touched his grandfather's hand. Then he turned over +on his right side. In the anguish of sudden joy Eli gave a deep, piteous +sob. That smile burnt into him like a coal of fire. + +'Now for the beef-tea,' said Miriam, crying. + +'Beef-tea?' the boy repeated after her, mildly questioning. + +'Yes, my poppet,' she answered; and then aside, 'Father, he can hear i' +his left ear. Did ye notice it?' + +'It's a miracle--a miracle of God!' said Eli. + +In a few hours Tommy was as well as ever--indeed, better; not only was +his hearing fully restored, but he had ceased to stammer, and the thin, +almost imperceptible cloud upon his intellect was dissipated. The doctor +expressed but little surprise at these phenomena, and, in fact, stated +that similar things had occurred often before, and were duly written +down in the books of medicine. But Eli Machin's firm, instinctive faith +that Providence had intervened will never be shaken. + +Miriam and Tommy now live in the villa-cottage with the old people. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE IDIOT + + +William Froyle, ostler at the Queen's Arms at Moorthorne, took the +letter, and, with a curt nod which stifled the loquacity of the village +postman, went at once from the yard into the coach-house. He had +recognised the hand-writing on the envelope, and the recognition of it +gave form and quick life to all the vague suspicions that had troubled +him some months before, and again during the last few days. He felt +suddenly the near approach of a frightful calamity which had long been +stealing towards him. + +A wire-sheathed lantern, set on a rough oaken table, cast a wavering +light round the coach-house, and dimly showed the inner stable. Within +the latter could just be distinguished the mottled-gray flanks of a fat +cob which dragged its chain occasionally, making the large slow +movements of a horse comfortably lodged in its stall. The pleasant odour +of animals and hay filled the wide spaces of the shed, and through the +half-open door came a fresh thin mist rising from the rain-soaked yard +in the November evening. + +Froyle sat down on the oaken table, his legs dangling, and looked again +at the envelope before opening it. He was a man about thirty years of +age, with a serious and thoughtful, rather heavy countenance. He had a +long light moustache, and his skin was a fresh, rosy salmon colour; his +straw-tinted hair was cut very short, except over the forehead, where it +grew full and bushy. Dressed in his rough stable corduroys, his forearms +bare and white, he had all the appearance of the sturdy Englishman, the +sort of Englishman that crosses the world in order to find vent for his +taciturn energy on virgin soils. From the whole village he commanded and +received respect. He was known for a scholar, and it was his scholarship +which had obtained for him the proud position of secretary to the +provident society styled the Queen's Arms Slate Club. His respectability +and his learning combined had enabled him to win with dignity the hand +of Susie Trimmer, the grocer's daughter, to whom he had been engaged +about a year. The village could not make up its mind concerning that +match; without doubt it was a social victory for Froyle, but everyone +wondered that so sedate and sagacious a man should have seen in Susie a +suitable mate. + +He tore open the envelope with his huge forefinger, and, bending down +towards the lantern, began to read the letter. It ran: + + 'OLDCASTLE STREET, + + 'BURSLEY. + + 'DEAR WILL, + + 'I asked father to tell you, but he would not. He said I must + write. Dear Will, I hope you will never see me again. As you will + see by the above address, I am now at Aunt Penrose's at Bursley. + She is awful angry, but I was obliged to leave the village because + of my shame. I have been a wicked girl. It was in July. You know + the man, because you asked me about him one Sunday night. He is no + good. He is a villain. Please forget all about me. I want to go to + London. So many people know me here, and what with people coming + in from the village, too. Please forgive me. + + 'S. TRIMMER.' + +After reading the letter a second time, Froyle folded it up and put it +in his pocket. Beyond a slight unaccustomed pallor of the red cheeks, he +showed no sign of emotion. Before the arrival of the postman he had been +cleaning his master's bicycle, which stood against the table. To this he +returned. Kneeling down in some fresh straw, he used his dusters slowly +and patiently--rubbing, then stopping to examine the result, and then +rubbing again. When the machine was polished to his satisfaction, he +wheeled it carefully into the stable, where it occupied a stall next to +that of the cob. As he passed back again, the animal leisurely turned +its head and gazed at Froyle with its large liquid eyes. He slapped the +immense flank. Content, the animal returned to its feed, and the +weighted chain ran down with a rattle. + +The fortnightly meeting of the Slate Club was to take place at eight +o'clock that evening. Froyle had employed part of the afternoon in +making ready his books for the event, to him always so solemn and +ceremonious; and the affairs of the club were now prominent in his mind. +He was sorry that it would be impossible for him to attend the meeting; +fortunately, all the usual preliminaries were complete. + +He took a piece of notepaper from a little hanging cupboard, and, +sprawling across the table, began to write under the lantern. The pencil +seemed a tiny toy in his thick roughened fingers: + + '_To Mr. Andrew McCall, Chairman Queen's Arms Slate Club._ + + 'DEAR SIR, + + 'I regret to inform you that I shall not be at the meeting + to-night. You will find the' books in order....' + +Here he stopped, biting the end of the pencil in thought. He put down +the pencil and stepped hastily out of the stable, across the yard, and +into the hotel. In the large room, the room where cyclists sometimes +took tea and cold meat during the summer season, the long deal table +and the double line of oaken chairs stood ready for the meeting. A fire +burnt warmly in the big grate, and the hanging lamp had been lighted. On +the wall was a large card containing the rules of the club, which had +been written out in a fair hand by the schoolmaster. It was to this card +that Froyle went. Passing his thumb down the card, he paused at Rule +VII.: + + 'Each member shall, on the death of another member, pay 1s. for + benefit of widow or nominee of deceased, same to be paid within + one month after notice given.' + + 'Or nominee--nominee,' he murmured reflectively, staring at the + card. He mechanically noticed, what he had noticed often before + with disdain, that the chairman had signed the rules without the + use of capitals. + + He went back to the dusk of the coach-house to finish his letter, + still murmuring the word 'nominee,' of whose meaning he was not + quite sure: + + 'I request that the money due to me from the Slate Club on my death + shall be paid to my nominee, Miss Susan Trimmer, now staying with + her aunt, Mrs. Penrose, at Bursley. + + 'Yours respectfully, + + 'WILLIAM FROYLE.' + +After further consideration he added: + + 'P.S.--My annual salary of sixpence per member would be due at the + end of December. If so be the members would pay that, or part of + it, should they consider the same due, to Susan Trimmer as well, I + should be thankful.--Yours resp, W.F.' + +He put the letter in an envelope, and, taking it to the large room, laid +it carefully at the end of the table opposite the chairman's seat. Once +more he returned to the coach-house. From the hanging cupboard he now +produced a piece of rope. Standing on the table he could just reach, by +leaning forward, a hook in the ceiling, that was sometimes used for the +slinging of bicycles. With difficulty he made the rope fast to the hook. +Putting a noose on the other end, he tightened it round his neck. He +looked up at the ceiling and down at the floor in order to judge whether +the rope was short enough. + +'Good-bye, Susan, and everyone,' he whispered, and then stepped off the +table. + +The tense rope swung him by his neck halfway across the coach-house. He +swung twice to and fro, but as he passed under the hook for the fifth +time his toes touched the floor. The rope had stretched. In another +second he was standing firm on the floor, purple and panting, but +ignominiously alive. + +'Good-even to you, Mr. Froyle. Be you committing suicide?' The tones +were drawling, uncertain, mildly astonished. + +He turned round hastily, his hands busy with the rope, and saw in the +doorway the figure of Daft Jimmy, the Moorthorne idiot. + +He hesitated before speaking, but he was not confused. No one could have +been confused before Daft Jimmy. Neither man nor woman in the village +considered his presence more than that of a cat. + +'Yes, I am,' he said. + +The middle-aged idiot regarded him with a vague, interested smile, and +came into the coach-house. + +'You'n gotten the rope too long, Mr. Froyle. Let me help you.' + +Froyle calmly assented. He stood on the table, and the two rearranged +the noose and made it secure. As they did so the idiot gossiped: + +'I was going to Bursley to-night to buy me a pair o' boots, and when I +was at top o' th' hill I remembered as I'd forgotten the measure o' my +feet. So I ran back again for it. Then I saw the light in here, and I +stepped up to bid ye good-evening.' + +Someone had told him the ancient story of the fool and his boots, and, +with the pride of an idiot in his idiocy, he had determined that it +should be related of himself. + +Froyle was silent. + +The idiot laughed with a dry cackle. + +'Now you go,' said Froyle, when the rope was fixed. + +'Let me see ye do it,' the idiot pleaded with pathetic eyes. + +'No; out you get!' + +Protesting, the idiot went forth, and his irregular clumsy footsteps +sounded on the pebble-paved yard. When the noise of them ceased in the +soft roadway, Froyle jumped off the table again. Gradually his body, +like a stopping pendulum, came to rest under the hook, and hung +twitching, with strange disconnected movements. The horse in the stable, +hearing unaccustomed noises, rattled his chain and stamped about in the +straw of his box. + +Furtive steps came down the yard again, and Daft Jimmy peeped into the +coach-house. + +'He done it! he done it!' the idiot cried gleefully. 'Damned if he +hasna'.' He slapped his leg and almost danced. The body still twitched +occasionally. 'He done it!' + +'Done what, Daft Jimmy? You're making a fine noise there! Done what?' + +The idiot ran out of the stable. At the side-entrance to the hotel stood +the barmaid, the outline of her fine figure distinct against the light +from within. + +The idiot continued to laugh. + +'Done what?' the girl repeated, calling out across the dark yard in +clear, pleasant tones of amused inquiry. 'Done what?' + +'What's that to you, Miss Tucker?' + +'Now, none of your sauce, Daft Jimmy! Is Willie Froyle in there?' + +The idiot roared with laughter. + +'Yes, he is, miss.' + +'Well, tell him his master wants him. I don't want to cross this mucky, +messy yard.' + +'Yes, miss.' + +The girl closed the door. + +The idiot went into the coach-house, and, slapping William's body in a +friendly way so that it trembled on the rope, he spluttered out between +his laughs: + +'Master wants ye, Mr. Froyle.' + +Then he walked out into the village street, and stood looking up the +muddy road, still laughing quietly. It was quite dark, but the moon +aloft in the clear sky showed the highway with its shining ruts leading +in a straight line over the hill to Bursley. + +'Them shoes!' the idiot ejaculated suddenly. 'Well, I be an idiot, and +that's true! They can take the measure from my feet, and I never thought +on it till this minute!' + +Laughing again, he set off at a run up the hill. + + * * * * * + + + + +PART II + +ABROAD + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY + + +I + +After a honeymoon of five weeks in the shining cities of the +Mediterranean and in Paris, they re-entered the British Empire by the +august portals of the Chatham and Dover Railway. They stood impatiently +waiting, part of a well-dressed, querulous crowd, while a few officials +performed their daily task of improvising a Custom-house for registered +luggage on a narrow platform of Victoria Station. John, Mr. Norris's +man, who had met them, attended behind. Suddenly, with a characteristic +movement, the husband lifted his head, and then looked down at his wife. + +'I say, May!' + +'Well?' + +She knew that he was about to propose some swift alteration of their +plans, but she smiled upwards out of her furs at his grave face, and +the tone of her voice granted all requests in advance. + +'I think I'd better go to the office,' he said. + +'Now?' + +She smiled again, inviting him to do exactly what he chose. She was +already familiar with his restiveness under enforced delays and +inaction, and his unfortunate capacity for being actively bored by +trifles which did not interest him aroused in her a sort of maternal +sympathy. + +'Yes,' he answered. 'I can be there and back in an hour or less. You +titivate yourself, and we'll dine at the Savoy, or anywhere you please. +We'll keep the ball rolling to-night. Yes,' he repeated, as if to +convince himself that he was not a deserter, 'I really must call in at +the office. You and John can see to the luggage, can't you?' + +'Of course,' she replied, with calm good-nature, and also with perfect +self-confidence. 'But give me the keys of the trunks, and don't be late, +Ted.' + +'Oh, I shan't be late,' he said. + +Their fingers touched as she took the keys. He went away enraptured +anew by her delightful acquiescences, her unique smile, her +common-sense, her mature charm, and the astonishing elegance of her +person. The honeymoon was over--and with what finished discretion, +combining the innocent girl with the woman of the world, she had lived +through the honeymoon!--another life, more delicious, was commencing. + +'What a wife!' he thought triumphantly. 'She does understand a man! And +fancy leaving any ordinary bride to look after luggage!' + +Nevertheless, once in his offices at Winchester House, he managed to +forget her, and to forget time, for nearly an hour and a half. When at +last he came to himself from the enchantment of affairs, he jumped into +a hansom, and told the driver to drive fast to Knightsbridge. He was +ardent to see her again. In the dark seclusion of the cab he speculated +upon her toilette, the colour of her shoes. He thought of the last five +weeks, of the next five years. Dwelling on their mutual love and esteem, +their health, their self-knowledge and experience and cheerfulness, her +sense and grace, his talent for getting money first and keeping it +afterwards, he foresaw nothing but happiness for them. Children? H'm! +Possibly.... + +At Piccadilly Circus it began to rain--cold, heavy March rain. + +'Window down, sir?' asked the voice of the cabman. + +'Yes,' he ordered sardonically. 'Better be suffocated than drowned.' + +'You're right, sir,' said the voice. + +Soon, through the streaming glass, which made every gas-jet into a +shooting pillar of flame, Norris discerned vaguely the vast bulk of Hyde +Park Mansions. 'Good!' he muttered, and at that very moment he was shot +through the window into the thin, light-reflecting mire of the street. +Enormous and strange beasts menaced him with pitiless hoofs. Millions of +people crowded about him. In response to a question that seemed to float +slowly towards him, he tried to give his address. He realized, by a +considerable feat of intellect, that the horse must have fallen down; +and then, with a dim notion that nothing mattered, he went to sleep. + + + +II + +In the boudoir of the magnificent flat on the first floor, shielded from +the noise and the inclemency of the world by four silk-hung walls and a +double window, and surrounded by all the multitudinous and costly luxury +that a stockbroker with brains and taste can obtain for the wife of his +love, May was leisurely finishing her toilette. And every detail in the +long, elaborate process was accomplished with a passionate intention to +bewitch the man at Winchester House. + +These two had first met seven years before, when May, the daughter of a +successful wholesale draper at Hanbridge, in the Five Towns district of +Staffordshire, was aged twenty-two. Mr. Scarratt went to Manchester each +Tuesday to buy, and about once a month he took May with him. One day, +when they were lunching at the Exchange Restaurant, a young man came up +whom her father introduced as Mr. Edward Norris, his stockbroker. Mr. +Norris, whose years were thirty, glanced keenly at May, and accepted Mr. +Scarratt's invitation to join them. Ever afterwards May vividly +remembered the wonderful sensation, joyous yet disconcerting, which she +then experienced--the sensation of having captivated her father's +handsome and correct stockbroker. The three talked horses with a certain +freedom, and since May was accustomed to drive the Scarratt dogcart, so +famous in the Five Towns, she could bring her due share to the +conversation. The meal over, Mr. Norris discussed business matters with +his client, and then sedately departed, but not without the obviously +sincere expression of a desire to meet Miss Scarratt again. The +wholesale draper praised Edward's financial qualities behind his back, +and wondered that a man of such aptitude should remain in Manchester +while London existed. As for May, she decided that she would have a new +frock before she came to Manchester in the following month. + +She had a new frock, but not of the colour intended. By the following +month her father was enclosed in a coffin, and it happened to his +estate, as to the estates of many successful men who employ +stockbrokers, that the liabilities far more than covered the assets. May +and her mother were left without a penny. The mother did the right +thing, and died--it was best. May went direct to Brunt's, the largest +draper in the Five Towns, and asked for a place under 'Madame' in the +dress-making department. Brunt's daughter, who was about to be married, +gave her the place instantly. Three years later, when 'Madame' returned +to Paris, May stepped into the French-woman's shoes. + +On Sundays and on Thursday afternoons, and sometimes (but not too often) +at the theatre, May was the finest walking advertisement that Brunt's +ever had. Old Brunt would have proposed to her, it was rumoured, had he +not been scared by her elegance. Sundry sons of prosperous +manufacturers, unabashed by this elegance, did in fact secretly propose, +but with what result was known only to themselves. + +Later, as May waxed in importance at Brunt's, she was sent to Manchester +to buy. She lunched at the Exchange Restaurant. The world and Manchester +are very small. The first man she set eyes on was Edward Norris. Another +week, Norris said to her with a thrill, and he would have been gone for +ever to London. Chance is not to be flouted. The sequel was inevitable. +They loved. And all the select private bars in Hanbridge tinkled to the +news that May Scarratt had been and hooked a stockbroker! + +When the toilette was done, and the maid gone, she wound a thin black +scarf round her olive neck and shoulders, and sat down negligently on a +Chippendale settee in the attitude of a portrait by Boldini; her little +feet were tucked up sideways on the settee; the perforated lace ends of +the scarf fell over her low corsage to the level of the seat. And she +waited, still the bride. He was late, but she knew he would be late. +Sure in the conviction that he was a strong man, a man of imagination +and of deeds, she could easily excuse this failing in him, as she did +that other habit of impulsive action in trifles. Nay, more, she found +keen pleasure in excusing it. 'Dear thing!' she reflected, 'he forgets +so.' Therefore she waited, content in enjoying the image in the glass of +her dark face, her small plump person, and her Paris gown--that dream! +She thought with assuaged grief of her father's tragedy; she would have +liked him to see her now, the jewel in the case--her father and she had +understood each other. + +All around, and above and below, she felt, without hearing it, the +activity of the opulent, complex life of the mansions. Her mind dwelt +with satisfaction on long carpeted corridors noiselessly paraded by +flunkeys, mahogany lifts continually ascending and descending like the +angels of the ladder, the great entrance hall with its fire always +burning and its doors always swinging, the _salle a manger_ sown with +rose-shaded candles, and all the splendid privacies rising stage upon +stage to the attics, where the flunkeys philosophized together. She +confessed the beauty and distinction achieved by this extravagant +organization for gratifying earthly desires. Often, in the pinching days +of her servitude, she had murmured against the injustice of things, and +had called wealth a crime while poverty starved. But now she perceived +that society was what it was inevitably, and could not be altered. She +accepted it in profound peace of mind, gaily fraternal towards the +fortunate, compassionate towards those in adversity. + +In the next flat someone began to play very brilliantly a Hungarian +Rhapsody of Liszt's. And even the faint sound of that riotous torrent of +melody, so arrogantly gorgeous, intoxicated her soul. She shivered under +the sudden vision of the splendid joy of being alive. And how she envied +the player! French she had learned from 'Madame,' but she had no skill +on the piano; it was her one regret. + +She touched the bell. + +'Has your master come in yet?' she inquired of the maid. + +'No, madam, not yet.' + +She knew he had not come in, but she could not resist the impulse to +ask. + +Ten minutes later, when the piano had ceased, she jumped up, and, +creeping to the front-door of the flat, gazed foolishly across the +corridor at the grille of the lift. She heard the lift in travail. It +appeared and passed out of sight above. No, he had not come! Glancing +aside, she saw the tall slender figure of a girl in a green tea-gown--a +mere girl: it was the player of the Hungarian Rhapsody. And this girl, +too, she thought, was expectant and disappointed! They shut their doors +simultaneously, she and May, who also had her girlish moments. Then the +rhapsody recommenced. + +'Oh, madam!' screamed the maid, almost tumbling into the boudoir. + +'What is it?' May demanded with false calm. + +The maid lifted the corner of her black apron to her eyes, as though she +had been a stage soubrette in trouble. + +'The master, madam! He's fell out of his cab--just in front of the +mansions--and they're bringing him in--such blood I never did see!' + +The maid finished with hysterics. + + + +III + +'And them just off their honeymoon!' + +The inconsolable tones of the lady's-maid came from the kitchen to the +open door of the bedroom, where May was giving instructions to the +elderly cook. + +'Send that girl out of the flat this moment!' May said. + +'Yes, ma'am.' + +'Make the beef-tea in case it's wanted, and let me have some more warm +water. There's John and the doctor!' + +She started at a knock. + +'No, it's only the postman, ma'am.' + +Some letters danced on the hall floor and on her nerves. + +'Oh dear!' May whispered. 'I thought it was the doctor at last.' + +'John's bound to be back with one in a minute, ma'am. Do bear up,' urged +the cook, hurrying to the kitchen. + +She could have destroyed the woman for those last words. + +With the proud certainty of being equal to the dreadful crisis, she +turned abruptly into the bedroom, where her husband lay insensible on +one of the new beds. Assisted by the policemen and the cook, she had +done everything that could be done: cut away the coats and the +waistcoat, removed the boots, straightened the limbs, washed the face +and neck--especially the neck--which had to be sponged continually, and +scattered messengers, including John, over the vicinity in search of +medical aid. And now the policemen had gone, the general emotion on the +staircase had subsided, the front-door of the flat was shut. The great +ocean of the life of the mansions had closed smoothly upon her little +episode. She was alone with the shattered organism. + +She bent fondly over the bed, and her Paris frock, and the black scarf +which she had not removed, touched its ruinous burden. Her right hand +directed the sponge with ineffable tenderness, and then the long thin +fingers tightened to a frenzied clutch to squeeze it over the basin. The +whole of her being was absorbed in a deep passion of pity and an +intolerable hunger for the doctor. + +Through the wall came once more the faint sound of the Hungarian +Rhapsody, astonishingly rapid and brilliant. She set her teeth to endure +its unconscious message of the vast indifference of life to death. + +The organism stirred, and May watched the deathly face for a sign. The +eyes opened and stared at her in agonized bewilderment. The lips tried +to speak, and failed. + +'It's all right, darling,' she said softly. 'You're in your own bed. The +doctor will be here directly. Drink this.' + +She gave him some brandy-and-water, and they looked at each other. He +was no longer Edward Norris, the finely regulated intelligence, the +masterful volition, the conqueror of the world and of a woman; but +merely the embodiment of a frightened, despairing, flickering, +hysterical will-to-live, which glanced in terror at the corners of the +room as though it saw fate there. And beneath her intense solicitude was +the instinctive feeling, which hurt her, but which she could not +dismiss, of her measureless, dominating superiority. With what glad +relief would she have changed places with him! + +'I'm dying, May,' he murmured at length, with a sigh. 'Why doesn't the +doctor come?' + +'He is coming,' she replied soothingly. 'You'll be better soon.' + +But his effort in speaking obliged her to use the sponge again, and he +saw it, and drew another sigh, more mortal than the first. + +'Oh! I'm dying,' he repeated. + +'Not you, Ted!' And her smile cost her an awful pang. + +'I am. I know it.' This time he spoke with sad resignation. 'You must +face it. And--listen.' + +'What, dear?' + +A physical sensation of sickness came over her. She could not disguise +from herself the fact that he was dying. The warped and pallid face, the +panic-struck eyes, the sweat, the wound in the neck, the damp hands +nervously pulling the hem of the sheet--these indications were not to be +gainsaid. The truth was too horrible to grasp; she wanted to put it away +from her. 'This calamity cannot happen to me!' she thought urgently, and +all the while she knew that it was happening to her. + +He collected the feeble remnant of his powers by an immense effort, and +began to speak, slowly and fragmentarily, and with such weakness that +she could only catch his words by putting her ear to his mouth. The +restless hands dropped the sheet and took the end of the black scarf. + +'You'll be comfortable--for money,' he said. 'Will made.... It's not +that. It's ... I must tell you. It's----' + +'Yes?' she encouraged him. 'Tell me. I can hear.' + +'It's about your father. I didn't treat him quite right ... once.... +Week after I first met you, May.... No, not quite right. He was holding +Hull and Barnsley shares ... you know, railway ... great gambling stock, +then, Hull and Barn--Barnsley. Holding them on cover; for the rise.... +They dropped too much--dropped to 23.... He couldn't hold any longer ... +wired to me to sell and cut the loss. Understand?' + +'Yes,' she said, trembling. 'I quite understand.' + +'Well ... I wired back, "Sold at 23." ... But some mistake. Shares not +sold. Clerk's mistake.... Clerk didn't sell.... Next day rise began.... +I didn't wire him shares not sold. Somehow, I couldn't.... Put it +off.... Rise went on.... I took over shares myself ... you +see--myself.... Made nearly five thousand clear.... I wanted money +then.... I think I would have told him, perhaps, later ... made it +right ... but he died ... sudden ... I wasn't going to let his creditors +have that five thou.... No, he'd meant to sell ... and, look here, May, +if those shares had dropped lower ... 'stead of rising ... I should have +had to stand the racket ... with your father, for my clerk's +mistake.... See?... He'd meant to sell.... Hard lines on him, but he'd +meant to sell.... He'd meant----' + +'Don't say any more, dear.' + +'Must explain this, May. Why didn't I give the money to you ... when he +was dead?... Because I knew you'd only ... give it ... to creditors.... +I knew you.... That's straight.... I've told you now.' + +He lost consciousness again, but for an instant May did not notice it. +She was crying, and her tears fell on his face. + +Then came a doctor, a little dark man, who explained with calm +politeness that he had been out when the messenger first arrived. He +took off his coat, hung it up, opened his bag, and proceeded to a minute +examination of the patient. His movements were so methodical, and he +gave orders to May in a tone so quiet, casual, and ordinary, that she +almost lost her sense of the reality of the scene. + +'Yes, yes,' he said, from time to time, as if to himself; nothing else; +not a single enlightening word to May. + +'I'm dying,' moaned Edward, opening his eyes. + +The doctor glanced round at May and winked. That wink, deliberate and +humorous, was like an electric shock to her. She could actually feel her +heart leap in her breast. If she had not been afraid of the doctor, she +would have fainted. + +'You all think you're dying,' the doctor remarked in a low, amused tone +to the ceiling, as he wiped a pair of scissors, 'when you've been +knocked silly, especially if there's a lot of blood about.' + +The door opened. + +'Here's John, ma'am,' said the cook, 'with two more doctors. What am I +to do?' + +May involuntarily turned towards the door. + +'Don't you go, Mrs. Norris,' the little dark man commanded. 'I want +you.' Then he carelessly scrutinized the elderly servant. 'Tell 'em +they're too late,' he said. 'It's generally like that when there's an +accident,' he continued after the housekeeper had gone. 'First you can't +get a doctor anywhere, and then in half an hour or so we come in crowds. +I've known seven doctors turn up one after another. But in that affair +the man happened to have been killed outright.' + +He smiled grimly. In a little while he was snapping his bag. + +'I'll come in the morning, of course,' he said, as he wrote on a piece +of paper. 'Have this made up, and give it him in the night if he is +wakeful. Keep him warm. You might put a couple of hot-water bags, one on +either side of him. You've got beef-tea made, you say? That's right. Let +him have as much as he wants. Mr. Norris, you'll sleep like a top.' + +'But, doctor,' May inquired the next morning in the hall, after Edward +had smiled at a joke, and been informed that he must run down to +Bournemouth in a week, 'have we nothing to fear?' + +'I think not,' was the measured answer. 'These affairs nearly always +seem much worse than they are. Of course, the immediate upset is +tremendous--the disorganization, and all that sort of thing. But +Nature's pretty wonderful. You'll find your husband will soon get over +it. I should say he had a good constitution.' + +'And there will be no permanent effects?' + +'Yes,' said the doctor, with genial cynicism. 'There'll be one +permanent effect. Nobody will ever persuade him to ride in a hansom +again. If he can't find a four-wheeler, he'll walk in future.' + +She returned to the bedroom. The man on the bed was Edward Norris once +more, in control of himself, risen out of his humiliation. A feeling of +thankfulness overwhelmed her for a moment, and she sat down. + +'Well, May?' he murmured. + +'Well, dear.' + +They both realized that what they had been through was a common, daily +street accident. The smile of each was self-conscious, apprehensive, +insincere. + +'Quite a concert going on next door,' he said with an affectation of +lightness. + +It was the Hungarian Rhapsody, impetuous and brilliant as ever. How she +hated it now--this symbol of the hurried, unheeding, relentless, hollow +gaiety of the world! Yet she longed for the magic fingers of the player, +that she, too, might smother grief in such glittering veils! + + + +IV + +The marriage which had begun so dramatically fell into placid routine. +Edward fulfilled the prophecy of the doctor. In a week they were able to +go to Bournemouth for a few days, and in less than a fortnight he was at +the office--the strong man again, confident and ambitious. + +After days devoted to finance, he came home in the evenings +high-spirited and determined to enjoy himself. His voice was firm and +his eye steady when he spoke to his wife; there was no trace of +self-consciousness in his demeanour. She admired the masculinity of the +brain that could forget by an effort of will. She felt that he trusted +her to forget also; that he relied on her common-sense, her +characteristic sagacity, to extinguish for ever the memory of an awkward +incident. He loved her. He was intensely proud of her. He treated her +with every sort of generosity. And in return he expected her to behave +like a man. + +She loved him. She esteemed him as a wife should. She made a profession +of wifehood. He gave his days to finance and his nights to diversion; +but her vocation was always with her--she was never off duty. She aimed +to please him to the uttermost in everything, to be in all respects the +ideal helpmate of a husband who was at once strenuous, fastidious, and +wealthy. Elegance and suavity were a religion with her. She was the +delight of the eye and of the ear, the soother of groans, the refuge of +distress, the uplifter of the heart. + +She made new acquaintances for him, and cemented old friendships. Her +manner towards his old friends enchanted him; but when they were gone +she had a way of making him feel that she was only his. She thought that +she was succeeding in her aim. She thought that all these sweet, endless +labours--of traffic with dressmakers, milliners, coiffeurs, maids, +cooks, and furnishers; of paying and receiving calls; of delicious +surprise journeys to the City to bring home the breadwinner; of giving +and accepting dinners; of sitting alert and appreciative in theatres and +music-halls; of supping in golden restaurants; of being serious, +cautionary, submissive, and seductive; of smiles, laughter, and kisses; +and of continuous sympathetic responsiveness--she thought that all these +labours had attained their object: Edward's complete serenity and +satisfaction. She imagined that love and duty had combined successfully +to deceive him on one solitary point. She was sure that he was deceived. +But she was wrong. + +One evening they were at the theatre alone together. It was a musical +comedy, and they had a large stage-box. May sat a little behind. After +having been darkened for a scenic conjuring trick, the stage was very +suddenly thrown into brilliant light. Edward turned with equal +suddenness to share his appreciation of the effect with his wife, and +the light and his eye caught her unawares. She smiled instantly, but too +late; he had seen the expression of her features. For a second she felt +as if the whole fabric which she had been building for the last six +months had crumbled; but this disturbing idea passed as she recovered +herself. + +'Let's go home, eh?' he said, at the end of the first act. + +'Yes,' she agreed. 'It would be nice to be in early, wouldn't it?' + +In the brougham they exchanged the amiable banalities of people who are +thoroughly intimate. When they reached the flat, she poured out his +whisky-and-potass, and sat on the arm of his particular arm-chair while +he sipped it; then she whispered that she was going to bed. + +'Wait a bit,' he said; 'I want to talk to you seriously.' + +'Dear thing!' she murmured, stroking his coat. + +She had not the slightest notion of his purpose. + +'You've tried your best, May,' he said bluntly, 'but you've failed. I've +suspected it for a long time.' + +She flushed, and retired to a sofa, away from the orange electric lamp. + +'What do you mean, Edward?' she asked. + +'You know very well what I mean, my dear,' he replied. 'What I told +you--that night! You've tried to forget it. You've tried to look at me +as though you had forgotten it. But you can't do it. It's on your mind. +I've noticed it again and again. I noticed it at the theatre to-night. +So I said to myself, "I'll have it out with her." And I'm having it +out.' + +'My dear Ted, I assure you----' + +'No, you don't,' he stopped her. 'I wish you did. Now you must just +listen. I know exactly what sort of an idiot I was that night as well as +you do. But I couldn't help it. I was a fool to tell you. Still, I +thought I was dying. I simply had a babbling fit. People are like that. +You thought I was dying, too, didn't you?' + +'Yes,' she said quietly, 'for a minute or two.' + +'Ah! It was that minute or two that did it. Well, I let it out, the +rotten little secret. I admit it wasn't on the square, that bit of +business. But, on the other hand, it wasn't anything really bad--like +cruelty to animals or ruining a girl. Of course, the chap was your +father, but, but----. Look here, May, you ought to be able to see that I +was exactly the same man after I told you as I was before. You ought to +be able to see that. My character wasn't wrecked because I happened to +split on myself, like an ass, about that affair. Mind you, I don't blame +you. You can't help your feelings. But do you suppose there's a single +man on this blessed earth without a secret? I'm not going to grovel +before gods or men. I'm not going to pretend I'm so frightfully sorry. +I'm sorry in a way. But can't you see----' + +'Don't say any more, Ted,' she begged him, fingering her sash. 'I know +all that. I know it all, and everything else you can say. Oh, my darling +boy! do you think I would look down on you ever so little because +of--what you told me? Who am I? I wouldn't care twopence even if----' + +'But it's between us all the same,' he broke in. 'You can't get over +it.' + +'Get over it!' she repeated lamely. + +'Can you? Have you?' He pinned her to a direct answer. + +She did not flinch. + +'No,' she said. + +'I thought you would have done,' he remarked, half to himself. 'I +thought you would. I thought you were enough a woman of the world for +that, May. It isn't as if the confounded thing had made any real +difference to your father. The old man died, and----' + +'Ted!' she exclaimed, 'I shall have to tell you, after all. It killed +him.' + +'What killed him? He died of gastritis.' + +'He was ill with gastritis, but he died of suicide. It's easy for a +gastritis patient to commit suicide. And father did.' + +'Why?' + +'Oh, ruin, despair! He'd been in difficulties for a long time. He said +that selling those shares just one day too soon was the end of it. When +he saw them going up day after day, it got on his mind. He said he knew +he would never, never have any luck. And then ...' + +'You kept it quiet.' He was walking about the room. + +'Yes, that was pretty easy.' + +'And did your mother know?' + +He turned and looked at her. + +'Yes, mother knew. It finished her. Oh, Ted!' she burst out, 'if you'd +only telegraphed to him the next morning that the shares weren't sold, +things might have been quite different.' + +'You mean I killed your father--and your mother.' + +'No, I don't,' she cried passionately. 'I tell you I don't. You didn't +know. But I think of it all, sometimes. And that's why--that's why----' + +She sat down again. + +'By God, May,' he swore, 'I'm frightfully sorry!' + +'I never meant to tell you,' she said, composing herself. 'But, there! +things slip out. Good-night.' + +She was gone, but in passing him she had timidly caressed his shoulder. + +'It's all up,' he said to himself. 'This will always be between us. No +one could expect her to forget it.' + + + +V + +Gradually her characteristic habits deserted her; she seemed to lose +energy and a part of her interest in those things which had occupied her +most. She changed her dress less frequently, ignoring dressmakers, and +she showed no longer the ravishing elegance of the bride. She often lay +in bed till noon, she who had always entered the dining-room at nine +o'clock precisely to dispense his coffee and listen to his remarks on +the contents of the newspaper. She said 'As you please' to the cook, and +the meals began to lose their piquancy. She paid no calls, but some of +her women friends continued, nevertheless, to visit her. Lastly, she +took to sewing. The little dark doctor, who had become an acquaintance, +smiled at her and told her to do no more than she felt disposed to do. +She reclined on sofas in shaded rooms, and appeared to meditate. She was +not depressed, but thoughtful. It was as though she had much to settle +in her own mind. At intervals the faint sound of the Hungarian Rhapsody +mingled with her reveries. + +As for Edward, his behaviour was immaculate. During the day he made +money furiously. In the evening he sat with his wife. They did not talk +much, and he never questioned her. She developed a certain curious +whimsicality now and then; but for him she could do no wrong. + +The past was not mentioned. They both looked apprehensively towards the +future, towards a crisis which they knew was inexorably approaching. +They were afraid, while pretending to have no fear. + +And one afternoon, precipitately, surprisingly, the crisis came. + +'You are the father of a son--a very noisy son,' said the doctor, coming +into the drawing-room where Edward had sat in torture for three hours. + +'And May?' + +'Oh, never fear: she's doing excellently.' + +'Can I go and see her?' he asked, like a humble petitioner. + +'Well--yes,' said the doctor, 'for one minute; not more.' + +So he went into the bedroom as into a church, feeling a fool. The nurse, +miraculously white and starched, stood like a sentinel at the foot of +the bed of mystery. + +'All serene, May?' he questioned. If he had attempted to say another +word he would have cried. + +The pale mother nodded with a fatigued smile, and by a scarcely +perceptible gesture drew his attention to a bundle. From the next flat +came a faint, familiar sound, insolently joyous. + +'Yes,' he thought, 'but if they had both been lying dead here that tune +would have been the same.' + +Two months later he left the office early, telling his secretary that he +had a headache. It was a mere fibbing excuse. He suffered from sudden +fits of anxiety about his wife and child. When he reached the flat, he +found no one at home but the cook. + +'Where's your mistress?' he demanded. + +'She's out in the park with baby and nurse, sir.' + +'But it's going to rain,' he cried angrily. 'It is raining. They'll get +wet through.' + +He rushed into the corridor, and met the procession--May, the +perambulator, and the nursemaid. + +'Only fancy, Ted!' May exclaimed, 'the perambulator will go into the +lift, after all. Aren't you glad?' + +'Yes,' he said. 'But you're wet, surely?' + +'Not a drop. We just got in in time.' + +'Sure?' + +'Quite.' + +The tableau of May, elegant as ever, but her eyes brighter and her body +more leniently curved, of the hooded perambulator, and of the +fluffy-white nursemaid behind--it was too much for him. Touching +clumsily the apron of the perambulator, the stockbroker turned into his +doorway. Just then the girl from the next flat came out into the +corridor, dressed for social rites of the afternoon. The perambulator +was her excuse for stopping. + +'What a pretty boy!' she exclaimed in ecstasy, trying to squeeze her +picture hat under the hood of the perambulator. + +'Do you really think so?' said the mother, enchanted. + +'Of course! The darling! How I envy you!' + +May wanted to reciprocate this politeness. + +'I can't tell you,' she said, 'how I envy you your piano-playing. +There's one piece----' + +'Envy me! Why! It's only a pianola we've got!' + +'Isn't he the picture of his granddad?' said May to Edward when they +bent over the cot that night before retiring. + +And as she said it there was such candour in her voice, such content in +her smiling and courageous eyes, that Edward could not fail to +comprehend her message to him. Down in some very secret part of his soul +he felt for the first time the real force of the great explanatory truth +that one generation succeeds another. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SISTERS QITA + +The manuscript ran thus: + + * * * * * + +When I had finished my daily personal examination of the ropes +and-trapezes, I hesitated a moment, and then climbed up again, to the +roof, where the red and the blue long ropes were fastened. I took my +sharp scissors from my chatelaine, and gently fretted the blue rope with +one blade of the scissors until only a single strand was left intact. I +gazed down at the vast floor a hundred feet below. The afternoon +varieties were over, and a phrenologist was talking to a small crowd of +gapers in a corner. The rest of the floor was pretty empty save for the +chairs and the fancy stalls, and the fatigued stall-girls in their black +dresses. I too, had once almost been a stall-girl at the Aquarium! I +descended. Few observed me in my severe street dress. Our secretary, +Charles, attended me on the stage. + +'Everything right, Miss Paquita?' he said, handing me my hat and gloves, +which I had given him, to hold. + +I nodded. I could see that he thought I was in one of my stern, far-away +moods. + +'Miss Mariquita is waiting for you in the carriage,' he said. + +We drove away in silence--I with my inborn melancholy too sad, Sally +(Mariquita) too happy to speak. This daily afternoon drive was really +part of our 'turn'! A team of four mules driven by a negro will make a +sensation even in Regent Street. All London looked at us, and contrasted +our impassive beauty--mine mature (too mature!) and dark, Sally's so +blonde and youthful, our simple costumes, and the fact that we stayed at +an exclusive Mayfair hotel, with the stupendous flourish of our turnout. +The renowned Sisters Qita--Paquita and Mariquita Qita--and the renowned +mules of the Sisters Qita! Two hundred pounds a week at the Aquarium! +Twenty-five thousand francs for one month at the Casino de Paris! Twelve +thousand five hundred dollars for a tour of fifty performances in the +States! Fifteen hundred pesos a night and a special train _de luxe_ in +Argentina and Brazil! I could see the loungers and the drivers talking +and pointing as usual. The gilded loungers in Verrey's cafe got up and +watched us through the windows as we passed. This was fame. For nearly +twenty years I had been intimate with fame, and with the envy of women +and the foolish homage of men. + +We saw dozens of omnibuses bearing the legend 'Qita.' Then we met one +which said: 'Empire Theatre. Valdes, the matchless juggler,' and Sally +smiled with pleasure. + +'He's coming to see our turn to-night, after his,' she remarked, +blushing. + +'Valdes? Why?' I asked, without turning my head. + +'He wants us to sup with him, to celebrate our engagement.' + +'When do you mean to get married?' I asked her shortly. I felt quite +calm. + +'I guess you're a Tartar to-day,' said the pretty thing, with a touch of +her American sauciness. 'We haven't studied it out yet. It was only +yesterday afternoon he kissed me for the first time.' Then she bent +towards me with her characteristic plaintive, wistful appeal. 'Say! You +aren't vexed, Selina, are you, because of this? Of course, he wants me +to tour with him after we're married, and do a double act. He's got lots +of dandy ideas for a double act. But I won't, I won't, Selina, unless +you say the word. Now, don't you go and be cross, Selina.' + +I let myself expand generously. + +'My darling girl!' I said, glancing at her kindly. 'You ought to know me +better. Of course I'm not cross. And of course you must tour with +Valdes. I shall be all right. How do you suppose I managed before I +invented you?' I smiled like an indulgent mother. + +'Oh! I didn't mean that,' she said. 'I know you're frightfully clever. +I'm nothing----' + +'I hope you'll be awfully happy,' I whispered, squeezing her hand. 'And +don't forget that I introduced him to you--I knew him years before you +did. I'm the cause of this bliss----Do you remember that cold morning in +Berlin?' + +'Oh! well, I should say!' she exclaimed in ecstasy. + +When we reached our rooms in the hotel I kissed her warmly. Women do +that sort of thing. + +Then a card was brought to me. 'George Capey,' it said; and in pencil, +'Of the Five Towns.' + +I shrugged my shoulders. Sally had gone to scribble a note to her +Valdes. 'Show Mr. Capey in,' I said, and a natty young man entered, half +nervousness, half audacity. + +'How did you know I come from the Five Towns?' I questioned him. + +'I am on the _Evening Mail_,' he said, 'where they know everything, +madam.' + +I was annoyed. 'Then they know, on the _Evening Mail_ that Paquita Qita +has never been interviewed, and never will be,' I said. + +'Besides,' he went on, 'I come from the Five Towns myself.' + +'Bursley?' I asked mechanically. + +'Bursley,' he ejaculated; then added, 'you haven't been near old Bosley +since----' + +It was true. + +'No,' I said hastily. 'It is many years since I have been in England, +even. Do they know down there who Qita is?' + +'Not they!' he replied. + +I grew reflective. Stars such as I have no place of origin. We shoot up +out of a void, and sink back into a void. I had forgotten Bursley and +Bursley folk. Recollections rushed in upon me.... I felt beautifully +sad. I drew off my gloves, and flung my hat on a chair with a movement +that would have bewitched a man of the world, but Mr. George Capey was +unimpressed. I laughed. + +'What's the joke?' he inquired. I adored him for his Bursliness. + +'I was just thinking, of fat Mrs. Cartledge, who used to keep that +fishmonger's shop in Oldcastle Street, opposite Bates's. I wonder if +she's still there?' + +'She is,' he said. 'And fatter than ever! She's getting on in years +now.' + +I broke the rule of a lifetime, and let him interview me. + +'Tell them I'm thirty-seven,' I said. 'Yes, I mean it. Tell them.' + +And then for another tit-bit I explained to him how I had discovered +Sally at Koster and Bial's, in New York, five years ago, and made her my +sister for stage purposes because I was lonely, and liked her American +simplicity and twang. He departed full of tea and satisfaction. + + * * * * * + +It was our last night at the Aquarium. The place was crammed. The houses +where I performed were always crammed. Our turn was in three parts, and +lasted half an hour. The first part was a skirt dance in full afternoon +dress (_danse de modernite_, I called it); the second was a double +horizontal bar act; the third was the famous act of the red and the blue +ropes, in full evening dress. It was 10.45 when we climbed the silk +ladders for the third part. High up in the roof, separated from each +other by nearly the length of the great hall, Sally and I stood on two +little platforms. I held the ends of the red and the blue ropes. I had +to let the blue rope swing across the hall to her. She would seize it, +and, clutching it, swoop like the ball of an enormous pendulum from her +platform to mine. (But would she?) I should then swing on the red rope +to the platform she had left. + +Then the band would stop for the thrilling moment, and the lights would +be lowered. Each lighting and holding a powerful electric +hand-light--one red, one blue--we should signal the drummer and plunge +simultaneously into space, flash past each other in mid-flight, +exchanging lights as we passed (this was the trick), and soar to +opposite platforms again, amid frenzied applause. There were no nets. + +That was what ought to occur. + +I stood bowing to the floor of tiny upturned heads, and jerking the +ropes a little. Then I let Sally's rope go with a push, and it dropped +away from me, and in a few seconds she had it safe in her strong hand. +She was taller than me, with a fuller figure, yet she looked quite small +on her distant platform. All the evening I had been thinking of fat old +Mrs. Cartledge messing and slopping among cod and halibut on white +tiles. I could not get Bursley and my silly infancy out of my head. I +followed my feverish career from the age of fifteen, when that strange +Something in me, which makes an artist, had first driven me forth to +conquer two continents. I thought of all the golden loves I had scorned, +and my own love, which had been ignored, unnoticed, but which still +obstinately burned. I glanced downwards and descried Valdes precisely +where Sally had said he would be. Valdes, what a fool you were! And I +hated a fool. I am one of those who can love and hate, who can love and +despise, who can love and loathe the same object in the same moment. +Then I signalled to Sally to plunge, and my eyes filled with tears. For, +you see, somehow, in some senseless sentimental way, the thought of fat +Mrs. Cartledge and my silly infancy had forced me to send Sally the red +rope, not the blue one. We exchanged ropes on alternate nights, but this +was her night for the blue one. + +She swung over, alighting accurately at my side with that exquisite +outward curve of the spine which had originally attracted me to her. + +'You sent me the red one,' she said to me, after she had acknowledged +the applause. + +'Yes,' I said. 'Never mind; stick to it now you've got it. Here's the +red light. Have you seen Valdes?' + +She nodded. + +I took the blue light and clutched the blue rope. Instead of +murder--suicide, since it must be one or the other. And why not? Indeed, +I censured myself in that second for having meant to kill Sally. Not +because I was ashamed of the sin, but because the revenge would have +been so pitiful and weak. If Valdes the matchless was capable of passing +me over and kneeling to the pretty thing---- + +I stood ready. The world was to lose that fineness, that distinction, +that originality, that disturbing subtlety, which constituted Paquita +Qita. I plunged. + +... I was on the other platform. The rope had held, then: I remembered +nothing of the flight except that I had passed near the upturned, +pleasant face of Valdes. + +The band stopped. The lights of the hall were lowered. All was dark. I +switched on my dazzling blue light; Sally switched on her red one. I +stood ready. The rope could not possibly endure a second strain. I waved +to Sally and signalled to the conductor. The world was to lose Paquita. +The drum began its formidable roll. Whirrr! I plunged, and saw the red +star rushing towards me. I snatched it and soared upwards. The blue rope +seemed to tremble. As I came near the platform at decreasing speed, it +seemed to stretch like elastic. It broke! The platform jumped up +suddenly over my head, but I caught at the silk ladder. I was saved! +There was a fearful silence, and then the appalling shock of hysterical +applause from seven thousand throats. I slid down the ladder, ran across +the stage into my dressing-room for a cloak, out again into the street. +In two days I was in Buda-Pesth. + + * * * * * + + + + +NOCTURNE AT THE MAJESTIC + + +I + +In the daily strenuous life of a great hotel there are periods during +which its bewildering activities slacken, and the vast organism seems to +be under the influence of an opiate. Such a period recurs after dinner +when the guests are preoccupied by the mysterious processes of digestion +in the drawing-rooms or smoking-rooms or in the stalls of a theatre. On +the evening of this nocturne the well-known circular entrance-hall of +the Majestic, with its tessellated pavement, its malachite pillars, its +Persian rugs, its lounges, and its renowned stuffed bears at the foot of +the grand stairway, was for the moment deserted, save by the head +hall-porter and the head night-porter and the girl in the bureau. It was +a quarter to nine, and the head hall-porter was abdicating his pagoda +to the head night-porter, and telling him the necessary secrets of the +day. These two lords, before whom the motley panorama of human existence +was continually being enrolled, held a portentous confabulation night +and morning. They had no illusions; they knew life. Shakespeare himself +might have listened to them with advantage. + +The girl in the bureau, like a beautiful and languishing animal in its +cage, leaned against her window, and looked between two pillars at the +magnificent lords. She was too far off to catch their talk, and, indeed, +she watched them absently in a reverie induced by the sweet melancholy +of the summer twilight, by the torpidity of the hour, and by the +prospect of the next day, which was her day off. The liveried +functionaries ignored her, probably scorned her as a mere pretty little +morsel. Nevertheless, she was the centre of energy, not they. If money +were payable, she was the person to receive it; if a customer wanted a +room, she would choose it; and the lords had to call her 'miss.' The +immense and splendid hotel pulsed round this simple heart hidden under a +white blouse. Especially in summer, her presence and the presence of +her companions in the bureau (but to-night she was alone) ministered to +the satisfaction of male guests, whose cruel but profoundly human +instincts found pleasure in the fact that, no matter when they came in +from their wanderings, the pretty captives were always there in the +bureau, smiling welcome, puzzling stupid little brains and puckering +pale brows over enormous ledgers, twittering borrowed facetiousness from +rosy mouths, and smoothing out seductive toilettes with long thin hands +that were made for ring and bracelet and rudder-lines, and not a bit for +the pen and the ruler. + +The pretty little thing despised of the functionaries corresponded +almost exactly in appearance to the typical bureau girl. She was +moderately tall; she had a good slim figure, all pleasant curves, flaxen +hair and plenty of it, and a dainty, rather expressionless face; the +ears and mouth were very small, the eyes large and blue, the nose so-so, +the cheeks and forehead of an equal ivory pallor, the chin trifling, +with a crease under the lower lip and a rich convexity springing out +from below the crease. The extremities of the full lips were nearly +always drawn up in a smile, mechanical, but infallibly attractive. The +hair was of an orthodox frizziness. You would have said she was a nice, +kind, good-natured girl, flirtatious but correct, well adapted to adorn +a dogcart on Sundays. + +This was Nina, foolish Nina, aged twenty-one. In her reverie the entire +Hotel Majestic weighed on her; she had a more than adequate sense of her +own solitary importance in the bureau, and stirring obscurely beneath +that consciousness were the deep ineradicable longings of a poor pretty +girl for heaps of money, endless luxury of finery and chocolates, and +sentimental silken dalliance. + +Suddenly a stranger entered the hall. His advent seemed to wake the +place out of the trance into which it had fallen. The nocturne had +begun. Nina straightened herself and intensified her eternal smile. The +two porters became military, and smiled with a special and peculiar +urbanity. Several lesser but still lordly functionaries appeared among +the pillars; a page-boy emerged by magic from the region of the +chimney-piece like Mephistopheles in Faust's study; and some guests of +both sexes strolled chattering across the tessellated pavement as they +passed from one wing of the hotel to the other. + +'How do, Tom?' said the stranger, grasping the hand of the head +hall-porter, and nodding to the head night-porter. + +His voice showed that he was an American, and his demeanour that he was +one of those experienced, wealthy, and kindly travellers who know the +Christian names of all the hall-porters in the world, and have the trick +of securing their intimacy and fealty. He wore a blue suit and a light +gray wideawake, and his fine moustache was grizzled. In his left hand he +carried a brown bag. + +'Nicely, thank you, sir,' Tom replied. 'How are you, sir?' + +'Oh, about six and six.' + +Whereupon both porters laughed heartily. + +Tom escorted him to the bureau, and tried to relieve him of his bag. +Inferior lords escorted Tom. + +'I guess I'll keep the grip,' said the stranger. 'Mr. Pank will be +around with some more baggage pretty soon. We've expressed the rest on +to the steamer. Well, my dear,' he went on, turning to Nina, 'you're a +fresh face here.' + +He looked her steadily in the eyes. + +'Yes, I am,' she said, conquered instantly. + +Radiant and triumphant, the man brought good-humour into every face, +like some wonderful combination of the sun and the sea-breeze. + +'Give me two bedrooms and a parlour, please,' he commanded. + +'First floor?' asked Nina prettily. + +'First floor! Well--I should say! _And_ on the Strand, my dear.' + +She bent over her ledgers, blushing. + +'Send someone to the 'phone, Tom, and let 'em put me on to the Regency, +will you?' said the stranger. + +'Yes, sir. Samuels, go and ring up the Regency Theatre--quick!' + +Swift departure of a lord. + +'And ask Alphonse to come up to my bedroom in ten minutes from now,' the +stranger proceeded to Tom. 'I shall want a dandy supper for fourteen at +a quarter after eleven.' + +'Yes, sir. No dinner, sir?' + +'No; we dined on the Pullman. Well, my dear, figured it out yet?' + +'Numbers 102, 120, and 107,' said Nina. + +'Keys 102, 120, and 107,' said Tom. + +Swift departure of another lord to the pagoda. + +'How much?' demanded the stranger. + +'The bedrooms are twenty-five shillings, and the sitting-room two +guineas.' + +'I guess Mr. Pank won't mind that. Hullo, Pank, you're here! I'm +through. Your number's 102 or 120, which you fancy. Just going to the +'phone a minute, and then I'll join you upstairs.' + +Mr. Pank was a younger man, possessing a thin, astute, intellectual +face. He walked into the hall with noticeable deliberation. His +travelling costume was faultless, but from beneath his straw hat his +black hair sprouted in a somewhat peculiar fashion over his broad +forehead. He smiled lazily and shrewdly, and without a word disappeared +into a lift. Two large portmanteaus accompanied him. + +Presently the elder stranger could be heard battling with the obstinate +idiosyncrasies of a London telephone. + +'You haven't registered,' Nina called to him in her tremulous, +delicate, captivating voice, as he came out of the telephone-box. + +He advanced to sign, and, taking a pen and leaning on the front of the +bureau, wrote in the visitor's book, in a careful, legible hand: 'Lionel +Belmont, New York.' Having thus written, and still resting on the right +elbow, he raised his right hand a little and waved the pen like a +delicious menace at Nina. + +'Mr. Pank hasn't registered, either,' he said slowly, with a charming +affectation of solemnity, as though accusing Mr. Pank of some appalling +crime. + +Nina laughed timidly as she pushed his room-ticket across the page of +the big book. She thought that Mr. Lionel Belmont was perfectly +delightful. + +'No,' he hasn't,' she said, trying also to be arch; 'but he must.' + +At that moment she happened to glance at the right hand of Mr. Belmont. +In the brilliance of the electric light she could see the fair skin of +the wrist and forearm within the whiteness of his shirt-sleeve. She +stared at what she saw, every muscle tense. + +'I guess you can round up Mr. Pank yourself, my dear, later on,' said +Lionel Belmont, and turned quickly away, intent on the next thing. + +He did not notice that her large eyes had grown larger and her pale face +paler. In another moment the hall was deserted again. Mr. Belmont had +ascended in the lift, Tom had gone to his rest, and the head +night-porter was concealed in the pagoda. Nina sank down limply on her +stool, her nostrils twitching; she feared she was about to faint, but +this final calamity did not occur. She had, nevertheless, experienced +the greatest shock of her brief life, and the way of it was thus. + + + +II + +Nina Malpas was born amid the embers of one of those fiery conjugal +dramas which occur with romantic frequency in the provincial towns of +the northern Midlands, where industrial conditions are such as to foster +an independent spirit among women of the lower class generally, and +where by long tradition 'character' is allowed to exploit itself more +freely than in the southern parts of our island. Lemuel Malpas was a +dashing young commercial traveller, with what is known as 'an agreeable +address,' in Bursley, one of the Five Towns, Staffordshire. On the +strength of his dash he wooed and married the daughter of an +hotel-keeper in the neighbouring town of Hanbridge. Six months after the +wedding--in other words, at the most dangerous period of the connubial +career--Mrs. Malpas's father died, and Mrs. Malpas became the absolute +mistress of eight thousand pounds. Lemuel[1] had carefully foreseen this +windfall, and wished to use the money in enterprises of the earthenware +trade. Mrs. Malpas, pretty and vivacious, with a self-conceit hardened +by the adulation of saloon-bars, very decidedly thought otherwise. Her +motto was, 'What's yours is mine, but what's mine's my own.' The +difference was accentuated. Long mutual resistances were followed by +reconciliations, which grew more and more transitory, and at length both +recognised that the union, not founded on genuine affection, had been a +mistake. + + [1] This name is pronounced with the accent on the first syllable in + the Five Towns. + +'Keep your d----d brass!' Lemuel exclaimed one morning, and he went off +on a journey and forgot to come back. A curious letter dated from +Liverpool wished his wife happiness, and informed her that, since she +was well provided for, he had no scruples about leaving her. Mrs. Malpas +was startled at first, but she soon perceived that what Lemuel had done +was exactly what the brilliant and enterprising Lemuel might have been +expected to do. She jerked up her doll's head, and ejaculated, 'So much +the better!' + +A few weeks later she sold the furniture and took rooms in Scarborough, +where, amid pleasurable surroundings, she determined to lead the joyous +life of a grass-widow, free of all cares. Then, to her astonishment and +disgust, Nina was born. She had not bargained for Nina. She found +herself in the tiresome position of a mother whose explanations of her +child lack plausibility. One lodging-housekeeper to whom she hazarded +the statement that Lemuel was in Australia had saucily replied: 'I +thought maybe it was the North Pole he was gone to!' + +This decided Mrs. Malpas. She returned suddenly to the Five Towns, +where at least her reputation was secure. Only a week previously Lemuel +had learnt indirectly that she had left their native district. He +determined thenceforward to forget her completely. Mrs. Malpas's +prettiness was of the fleeting sort. After Nina's birth she began to get +stout and coarse, and the nostalgia of the saloon-bar, the coffee-room, +and the sanded portico overtook her. The Tiger at Bursley was for sale, +a respectable commercial hotel, the best in the town. She purchased it, +wines, omnibus connection, and all, and developed into the typical +landlady in black silk and gold rings. + +In the Tiger Nina was brought up. She was a pretty child from her +earliest years, and received the caresses of all as a matter of course. +She went to a good school, studied the piano, and learnt dancing, and at +sixteen did her hair up. She did as she was told without fuss, being +apparently of a lethargic temperament; she had all the money and all the +clothes that her heart could desire; she was happy, and in a quiet way +she deemed herself a rather considerable item in the world. When she was +eighteen her mother died miserably of cancer, and it was discovered +that the liabilities of Mrs. Malpas's estate exceeded its assets--and +the Tiger mortgaged up to its value! The creditors were not angry; they +attributed the state of affairs to illness and the absence of male +control, and good-humouredly accepted what they could get. None the +less, Nina, the child of luxury and sloth, had to start life with +several hundreds of pounds less than nothing. Of her father all trace +had been long since lost. A place was found for her, and for over two +years she saw the world from the office of a famous hotel in Doncaster. +Her lethargy, and an invaluable gift of adapting herself to +circumstances, saved her from any acute unhappiness in the Yorkshire +town. Instinctively she ceased to remember the Tiger and past +splendours. (Equally, if she had married a Duke instead of becoming a +book-keeper, she would have ceased to remember the Tiger and past +humility.) Then by good or ill fortune she had the offer of a situation +at the Hotel Majestic, Strand, London. The Majestic and the sights +thereof woke up the sleeping soul. + +Before her death Mrs. Malpas had told Nina many things about the +vanished Lemuel; among others, the curious detail that he had two small +moles--one hairless, the other hirsute--close together on the under side +of his right wrist. Nina had seen precisely such marks of identification +on the right wrist of Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +She was convinced that Lionel Belmont was her father. There could not be +two men in the world so stamped by nature. She perceived that in +changing his name he had chosen Lionel because of its similarity to +Lemuel. She felt certain, too, that she had noticed vestiges of the Five +Towns accent beneath his Americanisms. But apart from these reasons, she +knew by a superrational instinct that Lionel Belmont was her father; it +was not the call of blood, but the positiveness of a woman asserting +that a thing is so because she is sure it is so. + + + +III + +Nina was not of an imaginative disposition. The romance of this +extraordinary encounter made no appeal to her. She was the sort of girl +that constantly reads novelettes, and yet always, with fatigued scorn, +refers to them as 'silly.' Stupid little Nina was intensely practical +at heart, and it was the practical side of her father's reappearance +that engaged her birdlike mind. She did not stop to reflect that truth +is stranger than fiction. Her tiny heart was not agitated by any +ecstatic ponderings upon the wonder and mystery of fate. She did not +feel strangely drawn towards Lionel Belmont, nor did she feel that he +supplied a something which had always been wanting to her. + +On the other hand, her pride--and Nina was very proud--found much +satisfaction in the fact that her father, having turned up, was so fine, +handsome, dashing, good-humoured, and wealthy. It was well, and +excellently well, and delicious, to have a father like that. The +possession of such a father opened up vistas of a future so enticing and +glorious that her present career became instantly loathsome to her. + +It suddenly seemed impossible that she could have tolerated the +existence of a hotel clerk for a single week. Her eyes were opened, and +she saw, as many women have seen, that luxury was an absolute necessity +to her. All her ideas soared with the magic swiftness of the +bean-stalk. And at the same time she was terribly afraid, unaccountably +afraid, to confront Mr. Belmont and tell him that she was his Nina; he +was entirely unaware that he had a Nina. + +'I'm your daughter! I know by your moles!' + +She whispered the words in her tiny heart, and felt sure that she could +never find courage to say them aloud to that great and important man. +The announcement would be too monstrous, incredible, and absurd. People +would laugh. He would laugh. And Nina could stand anything better than +being laughed at. Even supposing she proved to him his paternity--she +thought of the horridness of going to lawyers' offices--he might decline +to recognise her. Or he might throw her fifty pounds a year, as one +throws sixpence to an importunate crossing-sweeper, to be rid of her. +The United States existed in her mind chiefly as a country of +highly-remarkable divorce laws, and she thought that Mr. Belmont might +have married again. A fashionable and arrogant Mrs. Belmont, and a +dazzling Miss Belmont, aged possibly eighteen, might arrive, both of +them steeped in all conceivable luxury, at any moment. Where would Nina +be then, with her two-and-eleven-pence-halfpenny blouse from Glave's?... + +Mr. Belmont, accompanied by Alphonse, the head-waiter in the _salle a +manger_, descended in the lift and crossed the hall to the portico, +where he stood talking for a few seconds. Mr. Belmont turned, and, as he +conversed with Alphonse, gazed absently in the direction of the bureau. +He looked straight through the pretty captive. After all, despite his +superficial heartiness, she could be nothing to him--so rich, assertive, +and truly important. A hansom was called for him, and he departed; she +observed that he was in evening dress now. + +No! Her cause was just; but it was too startling--that was what was the +matter with it. + +Then she told herself she would write to Lionel Belmont. She would write +a letter that night. + +At nine-thirty she was off duty. She went upstairs to her perch in the +roof, and sat on her bed for over two hours. Then she came down again +to the bureau with some bluish note-paper and envelopes in her hand, +and, in response to the surprised question of the pink-frocked colleague +who had taken her place, she explained that she wanted to write a +letter. + +'You do look that bad, Miss Malpas,' said the other girl, who made a +speciality of compassion. + +'Do I?' said Nina. + +'Yes, you do. What have you got _on_, _now_, my poor dear?' + +'What's that to you? I'll thank you to mind your own business, Miss +Bella Perkins.' + +Usually Nina was not soon ruffled; but that night all her nerves were +exasperated and exceedingly sensitive. + +'Oh!' said the girl. 'What price the Duchess of Doncaster? And I was +just going to wish you a nice day to-morrow for your holiday, too.' + +Nina seated herself at the table to write the letter. An electric light +burned directly over her frizzy head. She wrote a weak but legible and +regular back-hand. She hated writing letters, partly because she was +dubious about her spelling, and partly because of an obscure but +irrepressible suspicion that her letters were of necessity silly. She +pondered for a long time, and then wrote: 'Dear Mr. Belmont,--I +venture----' She made a new start: 'Dear Sir,--I hope you will not think +me----' And a third attempt: 'My dear Father----' No! it was +preposterous. It could no more be written than it could be said. + +The situation was too much for simple Nina. + +Suddenly the grand circular hall of the Majestic was filled with a +clamour at once charming and fantastic. There was chattering of musical, +gay American voices, pattering of elegant feet on the tessellated +pavement, the unique incomparable sound of the _frou-frou_ of many +frocks; and above all this the rich tones of Mr. Lionel Belmont. Nina +looked up and saw her radiant father the centre of a group of girls all +young, all beautiful, all stylish, all with picture hats, all +self-possessed, all sparkling, doubtless the recipients of the dandy +supper. + +Oh, how insignificant and homicidal Nina felt! + +'Thirteen of you!' exclaimed Lionel Belmont, pulling his superb +moustache. 'Two to a hansom. I guess I'll want six and a half hansoms, +boy.' + +There was an explosion of delicious laughter, and the page-boy grinned, +ran off, and began whistling in the portico like a vexed locomotive. The +thirteen fair, shepherded by Lionel Belmont, passed out into the +murmurous summer night of the Strand. Cab after cab drove up, and Nina +saw that her father, after filling each cab, paid each cabman. In three +minutes the dream-like scene was over. Mr. Belmont re-entered the hotel, +winked humorously at the occupant of the pagoda, ignored the bureau, and +departed to his rooms. + +Nina ripped her inchoate letters into small pieces, and, with a tart +good-night to Miss Bella Perkins, who was closing her ledgers, the hour +being close upon twelve-thirty, she passed sedately, stiffly, as though +in performance of some vestal's ritual, up the grand staircase. Turning +to the right at the first landing, she traversed a long corridor which +was no part of the route to her cubicle on the ninth floor. This +corridor was lighted by glowing sparks, which hung on yellow cords from +the central line of the ceiling; underfoot was a heavy but narrow +crimson patterned carpet with a strip of polished oak parquet on either +side of it. Exactly along the central line of the carpet Nina tripped, +languorously, like an automaton, and exactly over her head glittered the +line of electric sparks. The corridor and the journey seemed to be +interminable, and Nina on some inscrutable and mystic errand. At length +she moved aside from the religious line, went into a service cabinet, +and emerged with a small bunch of pass-keys. No. 107 was Lionel +Belmont's sitting-room; No. 102, his bedroom, was opposite to 107. No. +108, another sitting-room, was, as Nina knew, unoccupied. She +noiselessly let herself into No. 108, closed the door, and stood still. +After a minute she switched on the light. These two rooms, Nos. 108 and +107, had once communicated, but, as space grew precious with the growing +success of the Majestic, they had been finally separated, and the door +between them locked and masked by furniture. By reason of the door, Nina +could hear Lionel Belmont moving to and fro in No. 107. She listened a +long time. Then, involuntarily, she yawned with fatigue. + +'How silly of me to be here!' she thought. 'What good will this do me?' + +She extinguished the light and opened the door to leave. At the same +instant the door of No. 107, three feet off, opened. She drew back with +a start of horror. Suppose she had collided with her father on the +landing! Timorously she peeped out, and saw Lionel Belmont, in his +shirt-sleeves, disappear round the corner. + +'He is going to talk with his friend Mr. Pank,' Nina thought, knowing +that No. 120 lay at some little distance round that corner. + +Mr. Belmont had left the door of No. 107 slightly ajar. An unseen and +terrifying force compelled Nina to venture into the corridor, and then +to push the door of No. 107 wide open. The same force, not at all +herself, quite beyond herself, seemed to impel her by the shoulders into +the room. As she stood unmistakably within her father's private +sitting-room, scared, breathing rapidly, inquisitive, she said to +herself: + +'I shall hear him coming back, and I can run out before he turns the +corner of the corridor.' And she kept her little pink ears alert. + +She looked about the softly brilliant room, such an extravagant triumph +of luxurious comfort as twenty years ago would have aroused comment even +in Mayfair; but there were scores of similar rooms in the Majestic. No +one thought twice of them. Her father's dress-coat was thrown arrogantly +over a Louis Quatorze chair, and this careless flinging of the expensive +shining coat across the gilded chair somehow gave Nina a more intimate +appreciation of her father's grandeur and of the great and glorious life +he led. She longed to recline indolently in a priceless tea-gown on the +couch by the fireplace and issue orders.... She approached the +writing-table, littered with papers, documents, in scores and hundreds. +To the left was the brown bag. It was locked, and very heavy, she +thought. To the right was a pile of telegrams. She picked up one, and +read: + + '_Pank, Grand Hotel, Birmingham. Why not burgle hotel? Simplest + most effective plan and solves all difficulties._--BELMONT.' + +She read it twice, crunched it in her left hand, and picked up another +one: + + '_Pank, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. Your objection absurd. See safe + in bureau at Majestic. Quite easy. Scene with girl second + evening_.--BELMONT.' + +The thing flashed blindingly upon her. Her father and Mr. Pank belonged +to the swell mob of which she had heard and seen so much at Doncaster. +She at once became the excessively knowing and suspicious hotel employe, +to whom every stranger is a rogue until he has proved the contrary. Had +she lived through three St. Leger weeks for nothing? At the hotel at +Doncaster, what they didn't know about thieves and sharpers was not +knowledge. The landlord kept a loaded revolver in his desk there during +the week. And she herself had been provided with a whistle which she was +to blow at the slightest sign of a row; she had blown it once, and seven +policemen had appeared within thirty seconds. The landlord used to tell +tales of masterly and huge scoundrelism that would make Charles Peace +turn in his grave. And the landlord had ever insisted that no one, no +one at all, could always distinguish with certainty between a real gent +and a swell-mobsman. + +So her father and Mr. Pank had deceived everyone in the hotel except +herself, and they meant to rob the safe in the bureau to-morrow night. +Of course Mr. Lionel Belmont was a villain, or he would not have +deserted her poor dear mother; it was annoying, but indubitable.... Even +now he was maturing his plans round the corner with that Mr. Pank.... +Burglars always went about in shirt-sleeves.... The brown bag contained +the tools.... + +The shock was frightful, disastrous, tragic; but it had solved the +situation by destroying it. Practically, Nina no longer had a father. He +had existed for about four hours as a magnificent reality, full of +possibilities; he now ceased to be recognisable. + +She was about to pick up a third telegram when a slight noise caused her +to turn swiftly; she had forgotten to keep her little pink ears alert. +Her father stood in the doorway. He was certainly the victim of some +extraordinary emotion; his face worked; he seemed at a loss what to do +or say; he seemed pained, confused, even astounded. Simple, foolish Nina +had upset the balance of his equations. + +Then he resumed his self-control and came forward into the room with a +smile intended to be airy. Meanwhile Nina had not moved. One is inclined +to pity the artless and defenceless girl in this midnight duel of wits +with a shrewd, resourceful, and unscrupulous man of the world. But one's +pity should not be lavished on an undeserving object. Though Nina +trembled, she was mistress of herself. She knew just where she was, and +just how to behave. She was as impregnable as Gibraltar. + +'Well,' said Mr. Lionel Belmont, genially gazing at her pose, 'you do +put snap into it, any way.' + +'Into what?' she was about to inquire, but prudently she held her +tongue. Drawing, herself up with the gesture of an offended and +unapproachable queen, the little thing sailed past him, close past her +own father, and so out of the room. + +'Say!' she heard him remark: 'let's straighten this thing out, eh?' + +But she heroically ignored him, thinking the while that, with all his +sins, he was attractive enough. She still held the first telegram in her +long, thin fingers. + +So ended the nocturne. + + + +IV + +At five o'clock the next morning Nina's trifling nose was pressed +against the windowpane of her cubicle. In the enormous slate roof of the +Majestic are three rows of round windows, like port-holes. Out of the +highest one, at the extremity of the left wing, Nina looked. From thence +she could see five other vast hotels, and the yard of Charing Cross +Station, with three night-cabs drawn up to the kerb, and a red van of +W.H. Smith and Son disappearing into the station. The Strand was quite +empty. It was a strange world of sleep and grayness and disillusion. +Within a couple of hundred yards or so of her thousands of people lay +asleep, and they would all soon wake into the disillusion, and the +Strand would wake, and the first omnibus of all the omnibuses would come +along.... + +Never had simple Nina felt so sad and weary. She was determined to give +up her father. She was bound to tell the manager of her discovery, for +Nina was an honest servant, and she was piqued in her honesty. No one +should know that Lionel Belmont was her father.... She saw before her +the task of forgetting him and forgetting the rich dreams of which he +had been the origin. She was once more a book-keeper with no prospects. + +At eight she saw the manager in the managerial room. Mr. Reuben was a +young Jew, aged about thirty-four, with a cold but indestructibly polite +manner. He was a great man, and knew it; he had almost invented the +Majestic. + +She told him her news; it was impossible for foolish Nina to conceal her +righteousness and her sense of her importance. + +'Whom did you say, Miss Malpas?' asked Mr. Reuben. + +'Mr. Lionel Belmont--at least, that's what he calls himself.' + +'Calls himself, Miss Malpas?' + +'Here's one of the telegrams.' + +Mr. Reuben read it, looked at little Nina, and smiled; he never laughed. + +'Is it possible, Miss Malpas,' said he, 'that you don't know who Mr. +Belmont and Mr. Pank are?' And then, as she shook her head, he continued +in his impassive, precise way: 'Mr. Belmont is one of the principal +theatrical managers in the United States. Mr. Pank is one of the +principal playwrights in the United States. Mr. Pank's melodrama +'Nebraska' is now being played at the Regency by Mr. Belmont's own +American company. Another of Mr. Belmont's companies starts shortly for +a tour in the provinces with the musical comedy 'The Dolmenico Doll.' I +believe that Mr. Pank and Mr. Belmont are now writing a new melodrama, +and as they have both been travelling, but not together, I expect that +these telegrams relate to that melodrama. Did you suppose that +safe-burglars wire their plans to each other like this?' He waved the +telegram with a gesture of fatigue. + +Silly, ruined Nina made no answer. + +'Do you ever read the papers--the _Telegraph_ or the _Mail_, Miss +Malpas?' + +'N-no, sir.' + +'You ought to, then you wouldn't be so ignorant and silly. A hotel-clerk +can't know too much. And, by-the-way, what were you doing in Mr. +Belmont's room last night, when you found these wonderful telegrams?' + +'I went there--I went there--to----' + +'Don't cry, please, it won't help you. You must leave here to-day. +You've been here three weeks, I think. I'll tell Mr. Smith to pay you +your month's wages. You don't know enough for the Majestic, Miss Malpas. +Or perhaps you know too much. I'm sorry. I had thought you would suit +us. Keep straight, that's all I have to say to you. Go back to +Doncaster, or wherever it is you came from. Leave before five o'clock. +That will do.' + +With a godlike air, Mr. Reuben swung round his office-chair and faced +his desk. He tried not to perceive that there was a mysterious quality +about this case which he had not quite understood. Nina tripped +piteously out. + +In the whole of London Nina had one acquaintance, and an hour or so +later, after drinking some tea, she set forth to visit this +acquaintance. The weight of her own foolishness, fatuity, silliness, and +ignorance was heavy upon her. And, moreover, she had been told that Mr. +Lionel Belmont had already departed back to America, his luggage being +marked for the American Transport Line. + +She was primly walking, the superlative of the miserable, past the +facade of the hotel, when someone sprang out of a cab and spoke to her. +And it was Mr. Lionel Belmont. + +'Get right into this hansom, Miss Malpas,' he said kindly, 'and I guess +we'll talk it out.' + +'Talk what out?' she thought. + +But she got in. + +'Marble Arch, and go up Regent Street, and don't hurry,' said Mr. +Belmont to the cabman. + +'How did he know my name?' she asked herself. + +'A hansom's the most private place in London,' he said after a pause. + +It certainly did seem to her very cosy and private, and her nearness to +one of the principal theatrical managers in America was almost +startling. Her white frock, with the black velvet decorations, touched +his gray suit. + +'Now,' he said, 'I do wish you'd tell me why you were in my parlour last +night. Honest.' + +'What for?' she parried, to gain time. + +Should she begin to disclose her identity? + +'Because--well, because--oh, look here, my girl, I want to be on very +peculiar terms with you. I want to straighten out everything. You'll be +sort of struck, but I'll be bound to tell you I'm your father. Now, +don't faint or anything.' + +'Oh, I knew that!' she gasped. 'I saw the moles on your wrist when your +were registering--mother told me about them. Oh, if I had only known you +knew!' + +They looked at one another. + +'It was only the day before yesterday I found out I possessed such a +thing as a daughter. I had a kind of fancy to go around to the old spot. +This notion of me having a daughter struck me considerable, and I +concluded to trace her and size her up at once.' Nina was bound to +smile. 'So your poor mother's been dead three years?' + +'Yes,' said Nina. + +'Ah! don't let us talk about that. I feel I can't say just the right +thing.... And so you knew me by those pips.' He pulled up his right +sleeve. 'Was that why you came up to my parlour?' + +Nina nodded, and Lionel Belmont sighed with relief. + +'Why didn't you tell me at once, my dear, who you where?' + +'I didn't dare,' she smiled; 'I was afraid. I thought you wouldn't----' + +'Listen,' he said; 'I've wanted someone like you for years, years, and +years. I've got no one to look after----' + +'Then why didn't _you_ tell _me_ at once who you were?' she questioned +with adorable pertness. + +'Oh!' he laughed; 'how could I--plump like that? When I saw you first, +in the bureau, the stricken image of your mother at your age, I was +nearly down. But I came up all right, didn't I, my dear? I acted it out +well, didn't I?' + + * * * * * + +The hansom was rolling through Hyde Park, and the sunshiny hour was +eleven in June. Nina looked forth on the gay and brilliant scene: +rhododendrons, duchesses, horses, dandies--the incomparable wealth and +splendour of the capital. She took a long breath, and began to be happy +for the rest of her life. She felt that, despite her plain frock, she +was in this picture. Her father had told her that his income was rising +on a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and he would thank her +to spend it. Her father had told her, when she had confessed the scene +with Mr. Reuben and what led to it, that she had grit, and that the +mistake was excusable, and that a girl as pretty as she was didn't want +to be as fly as Mr. Reuben had said. Her father had told her that he was +proud of her, and he had not been so rude as to laugh at her blunder. + +She felt that she was about to enter upon the true and only vocation of +a dainty little morsel--namely, to spend money earned by other people. +She thought less homicidally now of the thirteen chorus-girls of the +previous night. + +'Say,' said her father, 'I sail this afternoon for New York, Nina.' + +'They said you'd gone, at the hotel.' + +'Only my baggage. The _Minnehaha_ clears at five. I guess I want you to +come along too. On the voyage we'll get acquainted, and tell each other +things.' + +'Suppose I say I won't?' + +She spoke despotically, as the pampered darling should. + +'Then I'll wait for the next boat. But it'll be awkward.' + +'Then I'll come. But I've got no things.' + +He pushed up the trap-door. + +Driver, Bond Street. And get on to yourself, for goodness' sake! Hurry!' + +'You told me not to hurry,' grumbled the cabby. + +'And now I tell you to hustle. See?' + +'Shall you want me to call myself Belmont?' Nina asked. + +'I chose it because it was a fine ten-horse-power name twenty years +ago,' said her father; and she murmured that she liked the name very +much. + +As Lionel Belmont the Magnificent paid the cabman, and Nina walked +across the pavement into one of the most famous repositories of +expensive frippery in the world, she thrilled with the profoundest +pleasure her tiny soul was capable of. Foolish, simple Nina had achieved +the _nec plus ultra_ of her languorous dreams. + + * * * * * + + + + +CLARICE OF THE AUTUMN CONCERTS + + +I + +'What did you say your name was?' asked Otto, the famous concert +manager. + +'Clara Toft.' + +'That won't do,' he said roughly. + +'My real proper name is Clarice,' she added, blushing. 'But----' + +'That's better, that's better.' His large, dark face smiled carelessly. +'Clarice--and stick an "e" on to Toft--Clarice Tofte. Looks like either +French or German then. I'll send you the date. It'll be the second week +in September. And you can come round to the theatre and try the +piano--Bechstein.' + +'And what do you think I had better play, Mr. Otto?' + +'You must play what you have just played, of course. Tschaikowsky's all +the rage just now. Your left hand's very weak, especially in the last +movement. You've got to make more noise--at my concerts. And see here, +Miss Toft, don't you go and make a fool of me. I believe you have a +great future, and I'm backing my opinion. Don't you go and make a fool +of me.' + +'I shall play my very best,' she smiled nervously. 'I'm awfully obliged +to you, Mr. Otto.' + +'Well,' he said, 'you ought to be.' + +At the age of fifteen her father, an earthenware manufacturer, and the +flamboyant Alderman of Turnhill, in the Five Towns, had let her depart +to London to the Royal College of Music. Thence, at nineteen, she had +proceeded to the Conservatoire of Liege. At twenty-two she could play +the great concert pieces--Liszt's 'Rhapsodies Hongroises,' Chopin's +Ballade, Op. 47, Beethoven's Op. 111, etc.--in concert style, and she +was the wonder of the Five Towns when she visited Turnhill. But in +London she had obtained neither engagements nor pupils: she had never +believed in herself. She knew of dozens of pianists whom she deemed +more brilliant than little, pretty, modest Clara Toft; and after her +father's death and the not surprising revelation of his true financial +condition, she settled with her faded, captious mother in Turnhill as a +teacher of the pianoforte, and did nicely. + +Then, when she was twenty-six, and content in provincialism, she had met +during an August holiday at Llandudno her old fellow pupil, Albert +Barbellion, who was conducting the Pier concerts. Barbellion had asked +her to play at a 'soiree musicale' which he gave one night in the +ball-room of his hotel, and she had performed Tschaikowsky's immense and +lurid Slavonic Sonata; and the unparalleled Otto, renowned throughout +the British Empire for Otto's Bohemian Autumn Nightly Concerts at Covent +Garden Theatre, had happened to hear her and that seldom played sonata +for the first time. It was a wondrous chance. Otto's large, picturesque, +extempore way of inviting her to appear at his promenade concerts +reminded her of her father. + + + +II + +In the bleak three-cornered artists'-room she could faintly hear the +descending impetuous velocities of the Ride of the Walkyries. She was +waiting in her new yellow dress, waiting painfully. Otto rushed in, a +glass in his hand. + +'You all right?' he questioned sharply. + +'Oh, yes,' she said, getting up from the cane-chair. + +'Let me see you stand on one leg,' he said; and then, because she +hesitated: 'Go on, quick! Stand on one leg. It's a good test.' So she +stood on one leg, foolishly smiling. 'Here, drink this,' he ordered, and +she had to drink brandy-and-soda out of the glass. 'You're better now,' +he remarked; and decidedly, though her throat tingled and she coughed, +she felt equal to anything at that moment. + +A stout, middle-aged woman, in a rather shabby opera cloak, entered the +room. + +'Ah, Cornelia!' exclaimed Otto grandly. + +'My dear Otto!' the woman responded, wrinkling her wonderfully enamelled +cheeks. + +'Miss Toft, let me introduce you to Madame Lopez.' He turned to the +newcomer. 'Keep her calm for me, bright star, will you?' + +Then Otto went, and Clarice was left alone with the world-famous +operatic soprano, who was advertised to sing that night the Shadow Song +from 'Dinorah.' + +'Where did he pick you up, my dear?' the decayed diva inquired +maternally. + +Clarice briefly explained. + +'You aren't paying him anything, are you?' + +'Oh, no!' said Clarice, shocked. 'But I get no fee this time----' + +'Of course not, my dear,' the Lopez cut her short. 'It's all right so +long as you aren't paying him anything to let you go on. Now run along.' + +Clarice's heart stopped. The call-boy, with his cockney twang, had +pronounced her name. + +She moved forward, and, by dint of following the call-boy, at length +reached the stage. Applause--good-natured applause--seemed to roll +towards her from the uttermost parts of the vast auditorium. She +realized with a start that this applause was exclusively for her. She +sat down to the piano, and there ensued a death-like silence--a silence +broken only by the striking of matches and the tinkle of the embowered +fountain in front of the stage. She had a consciousness, rather than a +vision, of a floor of thousands of upturned faces below her, and tier +upon tier of faces rising above her and receding to the illimitable dark +distances of the gallery. She heard a door bang, and perceived that some +members of the orchestra were creeping quietly out at the back. Then she +plunged, dizzy, into the sonata, as into a heaving and profound sea. The +huge concert piano resounded under the onslaught of her broad hands. +When she had played ten bars she knew with an absolute conviction that +she would do justice to her talent. She could see, as it were, the +entire sonata stretched out in detail before her like a road over which +she had to travel.... + +At the end of the first movement the clapping enheartened her; she +smiled confidently at the conductor, who, unemployed during her number, +sat on a chair under his desk. Before recommencing she gazed boldly at +the house, and certain placards--'Smoking permitted,' 'Emergency exit,' +'Ices,' and 'Fancy Dress Balls'--were fixed for ever on the retina of +her eye. At the end of the second movement there was more applause, and +the conductor tapped appreciation with his stick against the pillar of +his desk; the leader of the listless orchestra also tapped with his +fiddle-bow and nodded. It seemed to her now that she more and more +dominated the piano, and that she rendered the great finale with +masterful and fierce assurance.... + +She was pleased with herself as she banged the last massive chord. And +the applause, the clapping, the hammering of sticks, astounded her, +staggered her. She might have died of happiness while she bowed and +bowed again. She ran off the stage triumphant, and the applause seemed +to assail her little figure from all quarters and overwhelm it. As she +stood waiting, concealed behind a group of palms, it suddenly occurred +to her that, after all, she had underestimated herself. She saw her rosy +future as the spoiled darling of continental capitals. The hail of +clapping persisted, and the apparition of Otto violently waved her to +return to the stage. She returned, bowed her passionate exultation with +burning face and trembling knees, and retired. The clapping continued. +Yes, she would be compelled to grant an encore--to _grant_ one. She +would grant it like a honeyed but imperious queen. + +Suddenly she heard the warning tap of the conductor's baton; the +applause was hushed as though by a charm, and the orchestra broke into +the overture to 'Zampa.' She could not understand, she could not think. +As she tripped tragically to the artists'-room in her new yellow dress +she said to herself that the conductor must have made some mistake, and +that---- + +'Very nice, my dear,' said the Lopez kindly to her. 'You got quite a +call--quite a call.' + +She waited for Otto to come and talk to her. + +At length the Lopez was summoned, and Clarice followed to listen to her. +And when the Lopez had soared with strong practised flight through the +brilliant intricacy of the Shadow Song, Clarice became aware what real +applause sounded like from the stage. It shook the stage as the old +favourite of two generations, wearing her set smile, waddled back to the +debutante. Scores of voices hoarsely shouted 'Encore!' and 'Last Rose +of Summer,' and with a proud sigh the Lopez went on again, bowing. + +Clarice saw nothing more of Otto, who doubtless had other birds to +snare. The next day only three daily papers mentioned the concert at +all. In fact, Otto expected press notices but once a week. All three +papers praised the matchless Lopez in her Shadow Song. One referred to +Clarice as talented; another called her well-intentioned; the third +merely said that she had played. The short dream of artistic ascendancy +lay in fragments around her. She was a sensible girl, and stamped those +iridescent fragments into dust. + + + +III + +The _Staffordshire Signal_ contained the following advertisement: 'Miss +Clara Toft, solo pianist, of the Otto Autumn Concerts, London, will +resume lessons on the 1st proximo at Liszt House, Turnhill. Terms on +application.' At thirty Clarice married James Sillitoe, the pianoforte +dealer in Market Square, Turnhill, and captious old Mrs. Toft formed +part of the new household. At thirty-four Clarice possessed a little +girl and two little boys, twins. Sillitoe was a money-maker, and she no +longer gave lessons. + +Happy? Perhaps not unhappy. + + * * * * * + + + + +A LETTER HOME[2] + + [2] Written in 1893. + + +I + +Rain was falling--it had fallen steadily through the night--but the sky +showed promise of fairer weather. As the first streaks of dawn appeared, +the wind died away, and the young leaves on the trees were almost +silent. The birds were insistently clamorous, vociferating times without +number that it was a healthy spring morning and good to be alive. + +A little, bedraggled crowd stood before the park gates, awaiting the +hour named on the notice board when they would be admitted to such +lodging and shelter as iron seats and overspreading branches might +afford. A weary, patient-eyed, dogged crowd--a dozen men, a boy of +thirteen, and a couple of women, both past middle age--which had been +gathering slowly since five o'clock. The boy appeared to be the least +uncomfortable. His feet were bare, but he had slept well in an area in +Grosvenor Place, and was not very damp yet. The women had nodded on many +doorsteps, and were soaked. They stood apart from the men, who seemed +unconscious of their existence. The men were exactly such as one would +have expected to find there--beery and restless as to the eyes, quaintly +shod, and with nondescript greenish clothes which for the most part bore +traces of the yoke of the sandwich board. Only one amongst them was +different. + +He was young, and his cap, and manner of wearing it, gave sign of the +sea. His face showed the rough outlines of his history. Yet it was a +transparently honest face, very pale, but still boyish and fresh enough +to make one wonder by what rapid descent he had reached his present +level. Perhaps the receding chin, the heavy, pouting lower lip, and the +ceaselessly twitching mouth offered a key to the problem. + +'Say, Darkey!' he said. + +'Well?' + +'How much longer?' + +'Can't ye see the clock? It's staring ye in the face.' + +'No. Something queer's come over my eyes.' + +Darkey was a short, sturdy man, who kept his head down and his hands +deep in his pockets. The raindrops clinging to the rim of an ancient hat +fell every now and then into his gray beard, which presented a drowned +appearance. He was a person of long and varied experiences; he knew that +queer feeling in the eyes, and his heart softened. + +'Come, lean against the pillar,' he said, 'if you don't want to tumble. +Three of brandy's what you want. There's four minutes to wait yet.' + +With body flattened to the masonry, legs apart, and head thrown back, +Darkey's companion felt more secure, and his mercurial spirits began to +revive. He took off his cap, and brushing back his light brown curly +hair with the hand which held it, he looked down at Darkey through +half-closed eyes, the play of his features divided between a smile and a +yawn. + +He had a lively sense of humour, and the irony of his situation was not +lost on him. He took a grim, ferocious delight in calling up the +might-have-beens and the 'fatuous ineffectual yesterdays' of life. There +is a certain sardonic satisfaction to be gleaned from a frank +recognition of the fact that you are the architect of your own +misfortune. He felt that satisfaction, and laughed at Darkey, who was +one of those who moan about 'ill-luck' and 'victims of circumstance.' + +'No doubt,' he would say, 'you're a very deserving fellow, Darkey, who's +been treated badly. I'm not.' + +To have attained such wisdom at twenty-five is not to have lived +altogether in vain. + +A park-keeper presently arrived to unlock the gates, and the band of +outcasts straggled indolently towards the nearest sheltered seats. Some +went to sleep at once, in a sitting posture. Darkey produced a clay +pipe, and, charging it with a few shreds of tobacco laboriously gathered +from his waistcoat pocket, began to smoke. He was accustomed to this +sort of thing, and with a pipe in his mouth could contrive to be +moderately philosophical upon occasion. He looked curiously at his +companion, who lay stretched at full length on another bench. + +'I say, pal,' he remarked, 'I've known ye two days; ye've never told me +yer name, and I don't ask ye to. But I see ye've not slep' in a park +before.' + +'You hit it, Darkey; but how?' + +'Well, if the keeper catches ye lying down, he'll be on to ye. Lying +down's not allowed.' + +The man raised himself on his elbow. + +'Really now,' he said; 'that's interesting. But I think I'll give the +keeper the opportunity of moving me. Why, it's quite fine, the sun's +coming out, and the sparrows are hopping round--cheeky little devils! +I'm not sure that I don't feel jolly.' + +'I wish I'd got the price of a pint about me,' sighed Darkey, and the +other man dropped his head and appeared to sleep. Then Darkey dozed a +little, and heard in his waking sleep the heavy, crunching tread of an +approaching park-keeper; he started up to warn his companion, but +thought better of it, and closed his eyes again. + +'Now then, there,' the park-keeper shouted to the man with the sailor's +cap, 'get up! This ain't a fourpenny doss, you know. No lying down.' + +A rough shake accompanied the words, and the man sat up. + +'All right, my friend.' + +The keeper, who was a good-humoured man, passed on without further +objurgation. + +The face of the younger man had grown whiter. + +'Look here, Darkey,' he said, 'I believe I'm done for.' + +'Never say die.' + +'No, just die without speaking.' + +His head fell forward and his eyes closed. + +'At any rate, this is better than some deaths I've seen,' he began again +with a strange accession of liveliness. 'Darkey, did I tell you the +story of the five Japanese girls?' + +'What, in Suez Bay?' said Darkey, who had heard many sea-stories during +the last two days, and recollected them but hazily. + +'No, man. This was at Nagasaki. We were taking in a cargo of coal for +Hong Kong. Hundreds of little Jap girls pass the coal from hand to hand +over the ship's side in tiny baskets that hold about a plateful. In that +way you can get three thousand tons aboard in two days.' + +'Talking of platefuls reminds me of sausage and mash,' said Darkey. + +'Don't interrupt. Well, five of these gay little dolls wanted to go to +Hong Kong, and they arranged with the Chinese sailors to stow away; I +believe their friends paid those cold-blooded fiends something to pass +them down food on the voyage, and give them an airing at nights. We had +a particularly lively trip, battened everything down tight, and scarcely +uncovered till we got into port. Then I and another man found those five +girls among the coal.' + +'Dead, eh?' + +'They'd simply torn themselves to pieces. Their bits of frock things +were in strips, and they were scratched deep from top to toe. The +Chinese had never troubled their heads about them at all, although they +must have known it meant death. You may bet there was a row. The +Japanese authorities make you search ship before sailing, now.' + +'Well?' + +'Well, I shan't die like that. That's all.' + +He stretched himself out once more, and for ten minutes neither spoke. +The park-keeper strolled up again. + +'Get up, there!' he said shortly and gruffly. + +'Up ye get, mate,' added Darkey, but the man on the bench did not stir. +One look at his face sufficed to startle the keeper, and presently two +policemen were wheeling an ambulance cart to the hospital. Darkey +followed, gave such information as he could, and then went his own ways. + + + +II + +In the afternoon the patient regained full consciousness. His eyes +wandered vacantly about the illimitable ward, with its rows of beds +stretching away on either side of him. A woman with a white cap, a white +apron, and white wristbands bent over him, and he felt something +gratefully warm passing down his throat. For just one second he was +happy. Then his memory returned, and the nurse saw that he was crying. +When he caught the nurse's eye he ceased, and looked steadily at the +distant ceiling. + +'You're better?' + +'Yes.' + +He tried to speak boldly, decisively, nonchalantly. He was filled with a +sense of physical shame, the shame which bodily helplessness always +experiences in the presence of arrogant, patronizing health. He would +have got up and walked briskly away if he could. He hated to be waited +on, to be humoured, to be examined and theorized about. This woman would +be wanting to feel his pulse. She should not; he would turn +cantankerous. No doubt they had been saying to each other, 'And so +young, too! How sad!' Confound them! + +'Have you any friends that you would like to send for?' + +'No, none.' + +The girl--she was only a girl--looked at him, and there was that in her +eye which overcame him. + +'None at all?' + +'Not that I want to see.' + +'Are your parents alive?' + +'My mother is, but she lives away in the Five Towns.' + +'You've not seen her lately, perhaps?' + +He did not reply, and the nurse spoke again, but her voice sounded +indistinct and far off. + +When he awoke it was night. At the other end of the ward was a long +table covered with a white cloth, and on this table a lamp. + +In the ring of light under the lamp was an open book, an inkstand and a +pen. A nurse--not _his_ nurse--was standing by the table, her fingers +idly drumming the cloth, and near her a man in evening dress. Perhaps a +doctor. They were conversing in low tones. In the middle of the ward was +an open stove, and the restless flames were reflected in all the brass +knobs of the bedsteads and in some shining metal balls which hung from +an unlighted chandelier. His part of the ward was almost in darkness. A +confused, subdued murmur of little coughs, breathings, rustlings, was +continually audible, and sometimes it rose above the conversation at the +table. He noticed all these things. He became conscious, too, of a +strangely familiar smell. What was it? Ah, yes! Acetic acid; his mother +used it for her rheumatics. + +Suddenly, magically, a great longing came over him. He must see his +mother, or his brothers, or his little sister--someone who knew him, +someone who _belonged_ to him. He could have cried out in his desire. +This one thought consumed all his faculties. If his mother could but +walk in just now through that doorway! If only old Spot even could amble +up to him, tongue out and tail furiously wagging! He tried to sit up, +and he could not move! Then despair settled on him, and weighed him +down. He closed his eyes. + +The doctor and the nurse came slowly up the ward, pausing here and +there. They stopped before his bed, and he held his breath. + +'Not roused up again, I suppose?' + +'No.' + +'H'm! He may flicker on for forty-eight hours. Not more.' + +They went on, and with a sigh of relief he opened his eyes again. The +doctor shook hands with the nurse, who returned to the table and sat +down. + +Death! The end of all this! Yes, it was coming. He felt it. His had been +one of those wasted lives of which he used to read in books. How +strange! Almost amusing! He was one of those sons who bring sorrow and +shame into a family. Again, how strange! What a coincidence that +he--just _he_ and not the man in the next bed--should be one of those +rare, legendary good-for-nothings who go recklessly to ruin. And yet, he +was sure that he was not such a bad fellow after all. Only somehow he +had been careless. Yes, careless; that was the word ... nothing +worse.... As to death, he was indifferent. Remembering his father's +death, he reflected that it was probably less disturbing to die one's +self than to watch another pass. + +He smelt the acetic acid once more, and his thoughts reverted to his +mother. Poor mother! No, great mother! The grandeur of her life's +struggle filled him with a sense of awe. Strange that until that moment +he had never seen the heroic side of her humdrum, commonplace existence! +He must write to her, now, at once, before it was too late. His letter +would trouble her, add another wrinkle to her face, but he must write; +she must know that he had been thinking of her. + +'Nurse!' he cried out, in a thin, weak voice. + +'Ssh!' + +She was by his side directly, but not before he had lost consciousness +again. + +The following morning he managed with infinite labour to scrawl a few +lines: + + 'DEAR MAMMA, + + 'You will be surprised but not glad to get this letter. I'm done + for, and you will never see me again. I'm sorry for what I've done, + and how I've treated you, but it's no use saying anything now. If + Pater had only lived he might have kept me in order. But you were + too kind, you know. You've had a hard struggle these last six + years, and I hope Arthur and Dick will stand by you better than I + did, now they are growing up. Give them my love, and kiss little + Fannie for me. + + 'WILLIE. + + '_Mrs. Hancock_----' + +He got no further with the address. + + + +III + +By some turn of the wheel, Darkey gathered several shillings during the +next day or two, and, feeling both elated and benevolent, he called one +afternoon at the hospital, 'just to inquire like.' They told him the man +was dead. + +'By the way, he left a letter without an address. Mrs. Hancock--here it +is.' + +'That'll be his mother; he did tell me about her--lived at Knype, +Staffordshire, he said. I'll see to it.' + +They gave Darkey the letter. + +'So his name's Hancock,' he soliloquized, when he got into the street. +'I knew a girl of that name--once. I'll go and have a pint of +four-half.' + +At nine o'clock that night Darkey was still consuming four-half, and +relating certain adventures by sea which, he averred, had happened to +himself. He was very drunk. + +'Yes,' he said, 'and them five lil' gals was lying there without a +stitch on 'em, dead as meat; 's 'true as I'm 'ere. I've seen a thing or +two in my time, I can tell ye.' + +'Talking about these Anarchists--' said a man who appeared anxious to +change the subject. + +'An--kists,' Darkey interrupted. 'I tell ye what I'd do with that muck.' + +He stopped to light his pipe, looked in vain for a match, felt in his +pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper--the letter. + +'I tell you what I'd do. I'd--' + +He slowly and meditatively tore the letter in two, dropped one piece on +the floor, thrust the other into a convenient gas-jet, and applied it to +the tobacco. + +'I'd get 'em 'gether in a heap, and I'd--Damn this pipe!' + +He picked up the other half of the letter, and relighted the pipe. + +'After you, mate,' said a man sitting near, who was just biting the end +from a cigar. + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +***** This file should be named 13293.txt or 13293.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/9/13293/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/old/13293.zip b/old/old/13293.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c11823 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/13293.zip |